The tent, the beach, the world is silent when I wake up the next morning. Katniss sleeps with her head tucked under my chin, her warm breath skipping across my collarbone. I release a deep sigh, utterly exhausted. And it's not the lack of sleep that's getting to me. I'm a baker who has friends who like to stay out late drinking—I'm used to getting little sleep. It's this beautiful woman sleeping on top of me, her cold toes trapped between my calves, her supple breasts pressed to my chest, her small hand wrapped out my bicep. It's Katniss. She's…taking me over. Occupying my every thought, looking at me with those devastating eyes, sleeping with me; she's possessing me body and soul. And it's both magnificent and possibly the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

I don't know what it is about her—maybe it's the fact that she drowning and she needs someone to save her or maybe it's that she's in my life at a time when I don't want anyone—but Katniss is ruining me. And I don't know how long I can stand it.

I've been hurt too many times to count. But Katniss makes me want to forget about that. She makes me want to fall in love with someone again. With her.

Katniss shifts on top of me, a tale-tell sign that she's waking up, and I release another sigh. Right now, I'm just going to try to live in the moment. And wait for Katniss to show if she wants me too.

She blinks open her eyes lazily—her grey irises so dark they're almost black—but her entire body stiffens when she realizes just how close we really are. We've been sleeping together most nights, sure, but most of the time it's cuddling. But this is a grope fest—we're basically to second base. And we've been more hesitant with our touches since I kinda, ya know, ate her out.

"Morning?" It comes out of my mouth like a question and I automatically feel like a moron. I seem to do that a lot around Katniss. No wonder she doesn't see me like I see her.

"Good morning," she mumbles before sliding off my body and out of the sleeping bag. She's gonna be silent, moody, passive aggressive Katniss today—I can already feel it. The thought makes me want to groan aloud.

And so does the boner I'm suddenly rocking. What is it about this woman that makes me constantly hard?

If Katniss notices my "excitement" she doesn't say anything. She begins to ruffle through her dufflebag and I take it as a subtle-not-so-subtle hint to get the hell out so she can change; I gladly do.

As soon as I'm removed from the cramped space, I stretch out my limbs as much as I can. I'm still shirtless and pant-less, but no one is on the beach—still. Jesus, some people need to sort out their priorities. It's summer and no one is at the beach? Dumb, dumb, people of New Hampshire.

I make my way to the cooler to grab Katniss and myself something for breakfast—but it's painfully obvious that we need to go shopping again as soon as I lift the lid. There isn't much left except beer and a half-eaten bag of Doritos (my weakness). Well, I guess it's leftovers this morning.

When Katniss finally emerges from the tent, my fingertips are orange and I'm propped up against the cooler, my legs crossed and stretched out in front of me.

"We need to go shopping," I tell her, scrambling to stand up.

She just nods at me, her beautiful mouth staying closed. I glance to the water, clear and still, before I look back to her—and I do it with impeccable timing; I watch her eyes quickly fly away from my bare chest and to the ground. I can't fight the smile that moves onto my mouth; I love knowing I have some kind of effect on her. Though I still don't know what kind it is or how strong.

I slip back into the tent to get dressed, even though I would love to have Katniss stare at me the rest of the day, and exit not five minutes later with our packed bags and rolled up sleeping bags.

Katniss and I collapse the tent and stuff it back into its bag together; then load up the car. We don't speak much, but for some reason, it doesn't feel like Katniss is purposefully giving me the cold shoulder like I first assumed. She has a spacey look on her face—her eyes glassy and dazed—that I feel like she's just caught up in her own thoughts. And Jesus, do I wish I knew what they were. To spend a day in Katniss's head—hell, twenty minutes—would be a gift for the ages. But I can't read her mind, so I just hop into the driver's seat and peel out of the empty lot.

We head to the highway and immediately look for the next town with any kind of grocery store in some kind of civilization. I grew up in a nice-sized town, and in New Hampshire, surrounded by trees on all sides, I find myself feeling at tad isolated. And honestly, I love that feeling sometimes, but right now I just need to see the face of someone I'm not thinking about fucking every single second that passes by.

Soon, we find ourselves taking the exit for Rochester, NH. We cruise down the main road until we pull off to Hannaford Supermarket. The place looks pretty nice for a kind of middle-of-nowhere town, so we hop out and head for the automatic doors.

When we cross the threshold, I glance over to the checkout stand area as I grab a basket and find all of them completely empty. A mischievous smile worms onto my face as I think about something I've always imagined doing, but never have. I just don't have the guts for it. But maybe—

And then an idea pops into my head. A brilliant, torturous, embarrassing, hilarious idea.

"Ready to cash in our 'passes'?" I ask, heading for the nearest register, still no one in sight.

Katniss glances over at me, confusion etched on her beautiful face. "What are you talking about?"

"Truth or dare yesterday. If I recall, you passed on the question about your virginity and now you have a punishment. And I'd like to use that punishment right now." I stop at the register and point to the phone. "I dare you to make an announcement."

Katniss reels back. "What?" she practically shouts.

"Come on, it will be awesome," I plead. "And we can hide as soon as you're done so no one knows it's you. You get to pick the topic and everything. Just make it short and sweet."

I can tell Katniss is uncomfortable—so much so that it makes me want to take everything I've said back. But I don't. I watch a plethora of expressions and emotions pass over her features. When she finally bites her lips and meets my eyes, I know I've won; and I throw my arms up over my head victoriously.

"I say it and then we run down the aisle, okay?" she growls at me. I nod my head, concurring vehemently.

She grabs the phone, quickly glances at the piece of paper next to it, then presses a couple buttons on the keypad. There is a loud beep through the speakers of the store as Katniss brings the phone to her mouth.

"Today only, all douche bags with blonde hair will get ten percent of their massive amounts of hair gel. Thank you," she says in the fakest, most chipper voice I've ever heard from her.

And then we book it down the nearest aisle, trying not to laugh too loud and give it all away. Oh my god, that was hilarious. I'm covering my mouth as my chest heaves with laughter. I had no idea Katniss could be funny like that. I mean, she's said funny things every once in a while, but now I know she's just trying to hide her quick wit most of the time. And I have no idea why.

She's grinning uninhibited when I finally calm down enough to stop covering my mouth. "That was great," I chuckle, complimenting her. She nods her head in satisfaction. "And I don't use hair gel, by the way."

She tilts her head to the side as her eyes shift to my hair. "I just figured waves and curls like that couldn't be natural."

I take a step towards her, closing the space between us. "Was that a compliment?" I ask, my voice husky. God, I want her. Her laughter flushed cheeks are just begging me to stroke them.

She tucks some hair behind her ears and flushes even more. "Maybe," she says. Then she walks past me, down the aisle and to the next one.

I shake my head, dismissing my thoughts, and follow her. We use the basket to load up our sustenance for the next few days—cheese and meats for sandwiches, crackers, bread, some chips, veggies, and various other items that look delicious. Katniss grabs us a couple doughnuts for breakfast and I want to applaud her for the idea. I haven't had a doughnut that I didn't bake myself in years.

After a while, we finish up and begin to head for the checkout—but Katniss stops me and hauls me behind a cereal display in the shape of a chair.

"What's going on?" I question, my eyebrows raised.

Now she smirks. Shit. I'm totally fucked.

"You are going to check us out," she says.

What? "Uh, okay."

"Without your shirt on," she finishes. "And stay like that until someone calls you out on it."

No. I can't do that. "Katniss—"

"Peeta, it's your punishment," she cuts me off. "You didn't want to talk about your mom and now you have to do this. You had me do something that could have gotten us thrown out of the store so now you do too."

I open my mouth to argue, but there's no point. She's right. "You just want to see me with my shirt off again," I say, trying to get a reaction out of her.

But she just rolls hers eyes. "I see you shirtless every night. So what you're ripped? Big whoop." She turns my body towards the checkout stand, away from her, and tugs at my shirt, using surprising strength. "Off with it, Mellark."

Still dazed by her assessment of my body, I pull my shirt over my head. "Promise me that if I get thrown out, you'll finish up buying everything for me," I tell her. She simply nods her head and snags my shirt from my hands before pushing me out from behind the display.

She trails behind me as I walk shirtless towards the checkout stand—which now has a woman behind the lit up register two—basket in hand.

I set the basket down on the conveyor belt and try my best to smile as if I'm completely normal and completely dressed. "How are you today?"

The woman looks up from the Nora Roberts novel she has in her right hand and I watch as her eyes widen as she takes in my shirtless form. I cringe, waiting for her to call me out. But she says nothing. Her eyes flick down my chest momentarily, making my skin crawl, and then she begins to check out my items as if this happens every day.

"I'm wonderful, how are you, young man?" she asks me, smiling broadly. She's probably in her early forties, her thick black hair falling across her shoulders and down the front of her apron.

"I'm…great," I reply hesitantly. Why doesn't she say anything? My nipples are so hard in this air-conditioning, they could break glass; but she doesn't even care or notice.

I look over to Katniss and she that she's beaming at me, her eyes laughing—or cackling, more likely. She thinks this is hilarious. I'm sure she knows how freakin' cold it is in here and sees the goosebumps all over my chest.

The woman silently scans all of our items and politely states the total to us; and I swipe my Dad's card accordingly. Still nothing. Silence.

It's not until we're back in the jeep and all of our food is situated in our cooler that Katniss gives me my shirt back. I shrug it on over my shoulders and take my usual place behind the wheel.

"Why didn't she say anything?" I ask, my mind reeling.

Katniss looks at me as if I've grown three heads and mustache. "Seriously, you don't know?"

I frown. "Of course I don't." I put the Jeep in reverse and make my way out of the parking lot and towards the main road.

"Hot guys can get away with anything," she says, slumping into her seat. "Especially if they are hot but not cocky."

"And that's what I am?"

"Duh!" she groans.

I see her blush out of the corner of her eye, similar to what I am doing right now. Katniss said I was hot. Me.

"Well, you're hot, too. Just FYI," I say, trying to sound cool. I don't want to scare her off by saying that she's the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on—though I know I've called her beautiful at least once before.

She groans louder. "Yeah, whatever. Just drive and be quiet for a while."

So I do—smiling the whole time.


Tonight, I don't even bother making us separate sleeping bags. Katniss and I know that we'll end up in each other's arms anyway, so why even pretend? I zip the two sleeping bags into one big one that we'll share.

We drove a nice amount today—over ten hours to the Ohio/Pennsylvania border. And I'm dead tired. We set up the tent as quickly as possible and crawl into our one sleeping bag to sleep for the night, staying on opposite sides for the moment.

I'm almost out when Katniss's voice brings me back to life. "I think I wanna tell you now," she whispers.

I'm suddenly wide awake. "Tell me what?"

"I didn't, uh, tell you about, ya know, before because it wasn't a good experience."

I'm totally lost for a moment until I realize what she's talking about: losing her virginity.

"What does that mean exactly? If you don't mind me asking."

She exhales and turns around to face me. I can't see much in the darkness, but I can make out her wide eyes and full mouth.

"The guy I was with, well, he just kind of used me. I had just lost Prim, and I was willing to be used—I wanted to be used. I wanted to forget about the fact that I lost one of the only people I'd ever loved—," she breaks off, her voice turning frantic. She takes a deep breath before she continues, "It was at a party. He just took me to the back room and had his way with me. I didn't really enjoy it, it was painful, and honestly, it didn't make me forget a thing."

I'm quiet for a long time, trying to process my thoughts; I'm angry, sad, heartbroken and so many other things—it's all confusing.

"Why did you decide to tell me now?" I wonder aloud.

She moves closer to me, until our noses almost touch. "Peeta, there's something going on here," she says, summing up everything I've felt in the last week with her in a few words. "I don't know what or why or how, but there is. And I want you to know things about me, even if—especially if—they are things I don't want anyone else to know."

My hand finds hers immediately and I lace our fingers. I take a deep breath. Tit for tat, right?

"I never told anyone about my mother because she was my mom."I release a heavy sigh, my chest already constricting. I don't talk about my mother. Ever. But I continue through the ache, "And I know that's a ridiculously stupid thing to say, but it was how I felt at the time. I was just a kid—I wanted my mother to love me—and I figured if she was sent away, she'd never get the chance. So I let her hit me and didn't say anything because maybe she would learn to love me if she hit me enough. That's all I wanted: to be loved by my mother."

"Why didn't your Dad say anything or stop it?" she asks immediately, her tone both hurt and angry.

I shake my head. "He didn't know. My mother hid it well and she would always make sure my dad wasn't there when I took baths. Summer was the worst though. If I was in my swimsuit and he saw a bruise, I'd have to lie to him and say that I fell down playing."

"What about your brothers then?"

"They were afraid, Katniss. Afraid that if they told someone, my mother would hit them too. You have no idea how many times they've apologized to me throughout the years for never saying anything."

"They were cowards," Katniss sneers. "If I ever found out someone was hurting Prim I would have—" She pauses as a growling sound erupts from her throat. "Let's just say staying quiet would be the last thing I did—murder would have probably been the first."

But I just shake my head again and press my forehead to hers. "Most people aren't selfless or brave like you are. It's easier not to be."

Surprising me, and I'm pretty sure herself, she press a quick kiss to my cheek. I open my mouth to say something, or kiss her again, but she just continues as if nothing happens, "So when did your father find out?"

My entire body stiffens as the memory overwhelms me. Katniss releases my hand and begins to run both of hers up and down my chest and arms, willing me to relax. But it's difficult.

"I, um," I close my eyes, fighting the tears that threaten to fall.

"You don't have to tell me," Katniss whispers, bringing her body closer to mine, but never stopping the soothing movements of her hands.

"No, I want to. I need to finally tell someone." So I do. "She was really mad one day when I got home from school. I was ten and it was a Tuesday. I came in through the kitchen back door like I always did and washed my hands in the sink. My mother was screaming, I don't know why or at whom, but as soon as she saw me walk around the corner, she headed right to me. She picked up something along the way—I don't even know if she knew what she grabbed or if she even cared—and attacked. I don't remember much after that except blinding pain and watching more and more of my own blood pour out of my head and arms, but my father came in sometime after it started and stopped her. A day later I woke up in the hospital with my father sitting at my bedside. He told me that he'd kicked her out and that he would never let her touch me again."

My whole body is shaking when I finish. Katniss buries her face in my neck and wraps her arms around me, squeezing tightly.

"It was a rolling pin," I whisper after a long time, when the trembling stops. "She hit me with a rolling pin."

Katniss squeezes me harder. And I hold her with everything I have.


Hey guys! This chapter was a little sad and fun, so I hope it was the best of both worlds for ya! These serious conversations are going to be popping up more and more as Katniss and Peeta start to get to know each other better and as they get closer to home. Like I said earlier, this story is only going to be 15 chapters, so I'm squeezing a lot of important stuff in here! Thank you all for your constant support, reviews, follows and favorites! I write for you guys!

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