It was dark when we reached home. Gale immediately took to the phone in the living room while I made my way upstairs to shower. His secret plans unnerved me but I was almost beyond caring about my own comfort. In this games there was little time to think of how comfortable I was with being marched in front of crowds on a chariot, dressed like a doll, or trying to win their respect in an interview.

The shower releases a lemony scent today and when I come out I dress in the same clothes I had on earlier. Gale knocks on my door and I make a vague noise to let him enter.

"Jennica said she's fine with you borrowing her clothes. I can walk you to her place then meet you again later." He leans against the doorframe. He also looks freshly showered, his hair in damp waves.

"Is she far?" I look outside. It won't be long until the district is bright with artificial light and the only ones out are either gang members or people who attend clubs and bars.

Gale runs a hand through his hair, dislodging clinging drops of water that hit the floor. "No, a five minute walk. Ready?"

I hold out my arms and raise an eyebrow. "Do I look ready?"

He walks up to me, his hands jammed in his pockets and rakes his eyes lazily up and down. I hold my breath and ignore the blood racing in my veins like the traffic outside.

"Yes. Come on Catnip," he moves back, giving me space. If I'm not mistaken his voice sounds unsteady.

I follow him down the stairs, out the door and once he's locked it we start down the street, his arm around my waist. As store and house windows light up his eyes flash in the dark.

I look up. Because of the ash-covered skies in District 12 the moon was never visible at night. Occasionally, deep in the forest when miners were asleep and it was dark, either too early or too late for me to be awake, the clouds would shift and I would catch the round silver outline of it, moving slowly.

Here the night lights of the district obscure the stars and the moon is completely hidden by their blaring reflections off the tall buildings obscuring the skies. I lean over to Gale. "Can you see the moon in the park?"

Gale's eyes follow my gaze skyward. The corners of his mouth tilt up. "Yes, pretty clearly. The stars too."

Another thing to look forward to. I'm finding those more and more often in District 2.

Jennica's house is in what Gale calls the fashion district of District 2.

"That's what she does at the company. People's hair and make up. She's also great with tech stuff, she's like Beetee, but she prefers hair and make up. Don't worry," he adds hurriedly, seeing my panic. "She's not like the prep teams in the games."

I relax again as we come to Jennica's front door. The front of her house has huge glass windows in flawless white walls but through them I can see normal furniture. Couches that are slightly worn but colourful and ornate. Tables with rulers and paper cluttered on them. A television turned off and something playing music in the background when she opens the door to us.

Her hair is in a loose bun, wisps of it escaping and brushing around her cheeks. Her face is flushed and she's only wearing a loose tank top and tight fitting pants, her hands are stained with ink.

"Hi Katniss," she smiles and reaches for my hand. I hold mine out, prepared to shake hers but she pulls me toward the door, pushing it further open so I stumble inside. She directs her smile at Gale. "You can go now. I've got it covered."

Gale chuckles. "I've heard that before." Now I begin to panic again. What has he gotten me into? But he turns to me, craning his neck to see me over Jennica's shoulder. "See you later Katniss. Call if you need anything." I'm not sure if that last part was for me or Jennica because she is quite clearly the one with the phone.

Before I can ask for help, or possibly back up, Gale is striding away, back the way we came.

"Where's he going?" I ask as Jennica closes the door and leads me through her house. It reminds me of Madge's, which I've been in only a couple of time. But its more homely and lived in. I wonder if she's the only one who lives here, there are many possessions scattered everywhere, including clothes that look too big for her.

"Probably to see Shorin. Or Crescent. Leo's working tonight so he won't be there." She seats herself at a table and mutters for a moment before making a mark on a piece of fabric.

"Be where?" I ask, hoping Gale's secrecy doesn't extend within his entire circle of friends. But the odds aren't in my favour. Jennica smiles and shakes her head.

"Nuh uh. Not telling." She makes another mark and puts down the pen, slowly turning to look at me. "So, what do you like?"

I blink. "What?"

"To wear? What do you like to wear?" She waits patiently, expectantly.

I shrug. "I don't know. I don't think about it."

She looks exasperated. "Why not? I saw you in the games. You looked stunning. But you really don't care? You're just like Gale." As she speaks she circles me, taking in my clothes, my figure and my hair. I realize just now that though she is slim she has light lines of muscle in her arms and legs, and she is more than an inch taller than me.

"Gale doesn't care what he wears?"

She pauses and tilts my face up, studying it like a map. "Most of the time. He has to sometimes, for the company. And yes, I mean the company."

I hadn't thought the gang was much into looks but the thought crossed my mind perhaps Gale had an image to maintain with them. Not anymore.

"How do you feel about black?" she backs away again and leads to a closet I hadn't even noticed, pulling the doors open ceremoniously.

"I like black." I'm unused to giving my opinions on what I wear. In the games, that was Cinna's job.

"Hm," Jennica mutters some more as she searches the racks of her closet. There are so many. Colours and textures blend together in some coordinated vibrant symphony. Sequins and leather and lace blur as she pulls out sparkling and thin clothing, then pushes it back, abandoning it in search of something better.

Eventually she emerges with a black shirt, tight with a plunging necklice but sleeves that roll down to the elbow. The pants she hands me have a low waist and taper down near the cuffs.

"There's a curtain over there," she points. "Come out when you're done."

I pick my way across Jennica's living room and pull the curtain closed behind me. Privacy was not a luxury I got with the prep team, but then again, them seeing my naked body didn't bother me as much as Jennica seeing it would. It's hard to imagine her as one of the bird-like chattering beauticeans, primping tributes before serving them on a platter like a roast pig.

The shirt is comfortable, but my skin prickles where the air hits my chest. The pants are harder to get into and when I have finally slid them on my pelvic bone lies bare.

When I emerge, slightly chilly with my hair coming out of it's braid Jennica is half dressed up. She is still in her tank top but on her bottom half she wears a silver skirt of some diaphanous material andher hair hans in loose waves, framing her face. She looks up and frowns.

"I don't like the shirt. The pants are nice. What do you think?"

I look down at myself. Like Cinna, be honest. "It doesn't feel like me."

She holds my shoulders and put my before a mirror. Everything from below my neck belongs to a stranger.

"I think it's just the shirt. We can change that. Or you can change into this," she holds up a black dress of even thinner material than the shirt I've already got on. "I don't think this is any more you though."

I shake my head. "I'll try another shirt." To be honest, the pants aren't that bad. Or the boots Jennica pushes into my hands along with a leather shirt.

The boots have short heels, thin ones. The shirt is the most surprising aspect of the outfit. It leaves me feeling even more exposed and cold than the last one. I doesn't cover my shoulders, it doesn't even have straps. Instead is rests a few inches below my collarbone, showing part of the swell of my chest. It cinches in at the waist, seams drawn out clearly in the black leather. It slips on, allowing for the difference between the width of my shoulders and the size of my waist with stretchy material at the back, the effect of which is hidden when Jennica pulls the back together with silver snaps. She doesn't turn me to the mirror but instead scrutinizes the outfit.

"It's almost perfect. She goes through three bowls or shining metallic and glass beads before pull out a short beaded necklace. It hangs with red beads, gold pieces of glass glittering in them like embers, but the red is crimson, so dark it's almost black in the dim light. It hangs around my throat higher than my collarbone, but not so high as to choke me.

"Your hair." She sits me at a table and silently runs her hands through my braids to untangle them.

"What about your outfit?" I ask, feeling guilty, and a little annoyed when she yanks a brush through my hair, that she is spending all her time on my outfit, instead of her own.

"It won't take me long. Crescent and I won't be staying late and I had my clothes and makeup laid out before you got here. You are a different case." The brushing is done but now she twists tendrils of my hair around her fingers before letting them fall in slightly more controlled waves.

"How did you meet Crescent?" I ask politely.

"We were in the underground," she begins and I stiffen, then force myself to relax. Thankfully she hasn't noticed and continues on. "I met this guy, he offered me a job in the market. I didn't want to be sold, I told his where he could put his offer and it didn't sit well with him. He got me back later. I was watching a fight ring because back then I did." She shrugs but I can feel her discomfort. She isn't proud she used to watch the matches. "He slipped something into my drink. It was morphling and something else, but he dragged me halfway across the district underground before I could even think. I was almost out of it but Crescent showed up. I didn't know him well, just that he worked with Gale. He got me out of there. I don't know what happened to the dealer, I haven't seen him since and Crescent just promised I wouldn't have to worry about it again." The tugging on my hair stops and now she's gently rubbing her fingertips over my eyelids. As she spoke I felt warm air on my cheeks.

"That was nice of him." I can't think of anything else to say. Jennica's story is almost as terrifying as the games. The games are over but it seems like the kind of horror and fear that came with it will never leave. Thanks to the underground.

"It was." There's a smile in her voice. My eyelashes twitch as she runs what feels like a brush over them. "I was still dating Gale then. But Crescent and I became better friends and it wasn't long after the break up that we became something more."

She puts down the brush and runs another finger over my lips. "Open," she says.

I open my eyes and look at her, blinking slightly to get used to the sparkly powder she caked my face in. I earn a smile from her and she pulls me into a tall position. "Go look in the mirror," she directs me to the floor length one on the opposite wall.

The girl in the mirror is a stranger. She has thin legs, but the pants she wears flares out at the hips. The shirt shows a strip of flesh above my pants and even more flesh near my collarbone. If I moved this wear and that I can see the height the heels give me, the flash of the beaded necklace and the sparkle of the black eye shadow and mascara that draw my eyes into huge silver orbs. My lips are just a shade more red than usual and I draw a sharp breath in through them when I feel my hair tickle my bear shoulders in cascading waves when I move.

"I like it," Jennica whispers behind me, close enough that I feel it on my skin. She runs her fingers through a few tangles in my hair then seems satisfied and searches around for a shirt, finally dredging one up from a pile of colours.

"Thank you," I say because while I don't have a completely positive opinion of it, and I'm still unsure as to if that's me in the mirror or not, she put effort into this look. I wonder if Gale suspects any of this.

Jennica slips the shirt on and resumes her make up. "Are you hungry?" She asks.

I can't imagine being hungry after the meal we ate. "No, I think I'm still full. Possibly to bursting."

She smiles. "You might need energy later, but they have energy drinks there."

Energy drinks? I've heard of drinks or substances people take to make themselves faster or stronger. Food gives you energy; all I can imagine in an energy drink is sugar or some artificial nutrient the Capitol produces. I try to whipe obvious distaste from my face at the thought of it.

Jennica seems to work quickly, her hand blurring over her face until it is just short of rapturous. She still looks human, but very beautiful. She stands and quickly checks the time.

"Una might meet us on the way. If not we'll meet Reena when we're there. Oh, and you'll get to meet Sasha. He wasn't at lunch but he works for the company as well."

I nod politely, looking for something to cover my bare shoulders with. Jennica tosses me a jacket. I pull it on quickly and go to pick up my bundle of clothes but she stops me.

"Keep them here. You won't need them tonight and you can come get them later. I'm at work all day tomorrow but Gale probably still has a spare key. You guys can pop by."

I work hard to train my face to show no emotion, but small flames of jealousy lick my insides. Gale still has a key to Jennica's. They're friends, I argue with myself. I still feel that treacherous protective streak.

Jennica and I pick our way through the haphazard piles of clothing to the front door. The temperature outside has gone up and if I weren't wearing the strapless shirt I would shed the jacket. It's humid but peaceful, like a lazy summer night in District 12 after we'd had a good haul.

"Where are we going?" I ask Jennica. She begins leading us toward the darker streets where the lights are off and the streelights dim or broken. The glass windows surrounding us cast back warped silver reflections.

"Where Gale asked me to bring you," she answers and ducks down an alleyway. The alley is free of people but my nerves begin to twist anyway. She turns back when I hesitate. "It's safe. Trust me."

I do. I try to. I follow her, putting up my hands on the walls to catch myself when I trip in Jennica's high boots.

She gracefully sashes to the end of the alley and pushes open a heavy grey door, it groans and reveals an even darker passage beyond it. Here I stop completely.

"Katniss, Gale wouldn't ask me to bring you here unless he thought you were safe, right?"

I nod but my nervousness of what's beyond the door, in the hallway, is telling every nerve right now to stay in the light. It isn't the darkness, but I feel the ahllway is leading somewhere else. Somewhere secret and quiet that the rest of the district doesn't know of.

"You want to see the underground, don't you?"

That stirs something back into me. It's curiousity and something else. Something livid that feels like danger but I recognize it as excitement. I do want to see the underground, and that is where Jennica's taking me. That is where Gal is waiting, to show me around and fulfill his promise.

"Yes Jennica. Lead the way."

She smiles and makes for the door again, this time I follow her on shaking legs.

As it swings behind us and brings with it lightlessness I can hear the smile in her voice. "It's Jenna. Call me Jenna. Come on, it's down the stairs."

I keep a handclose to her arm, not touching but close enough I can feel the heat coming off of her and can follow without getting lost. A couple of times I stumble and mutter something about the stupid shoes but Jenna brushes it off. Finally we get the what feels like the end of the hallway. It has narrowed and Jenna begins moving downward, then away from me.

"It's a circular staircase. Just put your hand on the rail."

The railing is cold metal, smooth to touch. Briefly I remember the train. The way it shook like the stairs beneath me now. The rattling sound and metallic feel. The nights when I opened my eyes to try and escape the torrent of images I saw in my nightmares but the darkness just welcomed a new void to see them in.

I hate being trapped this way. Encased the way my father was when the mine collapsed, forever in darkness.

Finally there is light. It outlines the shape of a door in a dusty room at the bottom of the stairs. It is bright enough that Jenna's eyes flash as she puts a hand on the handles. Inside is thumping sound, like many people stomping their feet in some discoordinated rhythym.

"Are you ready?" She smiles slowly. I feel almost naïve, like a small child everyone cannot wait to induldge with their first treat of the grown up world. Perhaps this is some initiation into the underground.

Ignoring the dizzy feeling in my head, the alternating numbness and prickling into figners and toes, and my dry throat I answer. "Yes."

Jenna smiles just a little wider before pushing the door open.

Once, when I was very young, just after Prim's birth, there was a problem in the square in District 12. A peacekeeper was unwell. He had succumbed to bitterness and sorrow that turned to anger and hate. He had lost his entire family through sickness and starvation. He began to rant, and while people avoided him at first, he became violent. He picked up his gun and began to shoot.

Crowds panicked. Parents grabbed their children, or just shouted at them to run, then ran for themselves. They ran in all directions, seeking shelter. Some of them ran toward me. I was in the middle of the road, waiting for my father to finish a trade. He did not see the crowd until I was in the middle of them.

So many bodies, hot and smelling of dirt and coal. They blocked out the sun even more than the coal clouds did. They were screaming, their rushing feet making sounds like thunder as they ran. It was dark, hot and loud.

That's what the club is like. I have no doubt that's where Jenna's brought me. Beyond the door are masses of bodies, some with tattoos or piercings or stained skin and oddly shaped or coloured hair. Their clothes are foreign or they are scantily clad. The lighting is almost non-existent but some lights of different colours flash from small corners of the room. There is an empty stage; no one is playing, yet music blasts from a hundred directions, pounding itself into my ears and bones. The floor is shaking and as people dance, matching their movements to the beat, the walls and ceilings release clouds of dust and plaster.

I can see a bar along on wall, a tired bartender behind it in a velvet vest, with spiked maroon hair. Others sit on the stools. One of them looks familiar, but I can't be sure.

A hot hand on my back pushes me into the swelling heat of the room; far enough inside she can pull the door closed behind us.

"You alright?" Jenna shouts t me, but her voice melts into the deafening din, just another part of the wall of sound assaulting me. I nod back, not trusting my voice to carry over the noise.

"Let's find Gale, that way!" She points toward the bar and takes my hand, winding us between the crowds. More than once I feel hands brush me, at my hips or waist. I ignore them and speed up.

When we've finally burst through the edge of the crowd the bar is cool metal to my fingertips as I put my hands squarely down on it to steady myself.

The bar is long but I finally see whom I recognized earlier. Its Leven, his hair pulled back, chatting to Reena. They are part of a larger group and if I squint through the slight fog from everyone's accumulated body heat I can see Gale.

He doesn't look as he normally does. In fact, it's chilling to see him looking so like a stranger. Like I don't know him at all. His hair seems darker, his clothes are all black and he's wearing heavy boots and a button up jacket with multple straps and pockets with tarnished silver buttons. His skin already looks damp and flushed. The effect makes my stomach turn over, partly because I want to touch him, partly because I feel like I'm meeting him all over again.

Jenna doesn't notice. She's spotted Crescent next to Gale and waves. The look they share is the same look Annie and Finnick exchanged, when they were reunited in District 13 and he refused to let go of her hand. I wonder if others see that when they look at Gale and I?

As I approach Gale doesn't notice me. I try to stay behind Jenna. The outfit isn't me. I don't feel like myself. Dressed up, in a club, late at night. Gale doesn't feel like hisself. I don't want to stand before him and feel like a stranger.

Jenna steps up to Crescent, taking his hand and giving him a kiss on the cheek but not moving between his conversation with Gale. He stops all the same and turns his green-eyed gaze on her. Without her to hide behind I'm utterly exposed and Gale only takes a second to flicker his gaze to me. The look he gives me as his eyes travel from my face to my boots and back again is slow and unrelenting, I squirm and cross my arms across my chest. Strangely that does nothing for my comfort.

He stops at my face and grins. "Hi Catnip. Nice night?" I can't be sure but his voice sounds unsteady.

"Yes." I can't think of anything else to say. I turn back to the crowds dancing. It's dark and more than one of them look drunk, or just out of it, but they seem harmless. Still, that only makes them more dangerous. "So this is the underground?"

Gale shrugs, his grin slipping. "Part of it. There's more. But I wanted to bring you here first."

"Why?"

He shrugs again and pulls me toward him. I feel the heat rising off his skin in waves, like heat off a road in the summer. He slides a hand under my jacket and around my waist. I make an effort not to tense or flinch away, and then chide myself for being foolish. Right now Gale isn't my hunting partner from District 12, he's the same warrior I saw fighting in the rebellion. All fire and power, but it's a different fire now. He isn't looking around with hatred or anger. Instead he's staring at me with something else in his gaze. Something deadly but sleepy.

"What?"

He doesn't answer but slips another arm around my waist and pulls me into his lap. We don't usually do this. I don't. Public affection is strange and foreign but when I look up, cheeks burning, nobody is watching us. Crescent and Jenna are in their own world. Reena and Leven are talking. And the one with bronze hair and dark skin who I must think is Sasha is speaking with Una. Everyone is in their own world, including Gale and I.

I relax into his embrace, feeling myself begin to overheat in the jacket. "What are we doing tonight?" I ask.

"We'll stay here for a while," Gale's hand slides up my back to my shoulders and eases the jack off one of them. The pulse in the base of his throat quickens and he brushes his hand over the skin there. I have to calm my own breathing forcibly. "Then we'll go see the market," he slides the other shoulder off. "Then we'll see some entertainment," he pulls the jacket down my arms. "And then we'll go home." The jacket is off and roughly tossed onto the bar. Gale, with half lidded eyes places a soft kiss on my collarbone but I can feel him trembling and I wonder if he is holding back as much as I am.

I brush my fingers over the back of his neck where the skin is soft and tilt his face up to mine. My mouth opens beneath his, readily. His hands are digging into my hips but one moves up my spine, cupping my shoulder blade, then my neck an he pulls me deeper into the kiss. When he kisses the junction between my shoulder and neck I try to hold onto the little noise that escapes my throat but I can't and it comes out, sounding very audible to me even next to the music.

I should pull back. We're around other people. We're in an unsafe place. The underground; which I don't know. But he's pulling me hard against him, making my hips rest on his, making me want to go too fast.

Suddenly I feel him pull away. His lips are kiss-swollen, his eyes hazy. He clears his throat before speaking. "Want to dance?"

I don't want to dance. I want to stay here and feel what I was just feeling. I don't want anyone's hand on me but Gale. But he wants to dance. I wonder what dancing with him is like, and I remember that I have seen him dance before. At the festival. With Madge. "Let's dance." I stand quickly and pull him up, then turn and lead him into the mass of people, fearing I'll lose his hand and his in the crowd but he grips my fingers tightly as I make space for us somewhere in the middle.

The music is fast, something angry and hot and metallic I'm not used to. I don't know how to dance to it. I watch Gale watching me and feel self-conscious.

Gale gives me a questioning look so before he can ask me I push him into another kiss. A hand brushes my thigh and I pull back. "Was that you?" I ask. He gives me another questioning look and I realize his hands are on my arms. I hope he doesn't notice my blushing in the dark.

"I told you," he says next to my ear. "People will definitely want you." He says it jokingly, remembering what he said to me about being propositioned, but there is an edge to his voice. The same one he used to adopt when talking about Peeta.

"I don't know how to dance," I confess, ducking my head and looking at our sandwiched bodies instead of at his face.

"Just move your hips," he instructs me, as though it's the easiest thing in the world. I may not be pure, but hearing him say it like that makes me sound naïve. I don't know how to dance this way. Only the staged slow dances at Peeta's and my wedding party, or the dance in District 12.

I pull away slightly and look around, watching the way others move. They aren't coordinated but their movements look effortless, they aren't trying at all. They feel the music, bounce to it, while I feel Gale staring at me, no doubt smirking.

"Here," he says and before I can question him his fingers are around my wrist, spinning me in a circle before lining me up with his body, pulling my back flush against his chest. His body is already moving, his abdomen and legs swaying to the crashing and bass sounds. Right against him, my body is moving the same way now.

His hand brings mine up and around the back of his neck where his hair is warm and his skin slightly damp. His hands trail down my sides, lightly but enough to make me shiver, and land on my hips, holding firmly. One hand takes my free one, entwining his fingers in mine.

The music gets rougher and Gale moves faster, I feel my own heart knocking against my ribs, unsure if it is beating in time with the music or his heart.

"You okay?" His lips brush my neck and whatever heat is in the room, spikes across my skin.

"Yes. How long will we dance for?"

He chuckles. "Are you bored already? It's barely been three minutes."

"Oh." I frown. Dancing is fun and the music isn't awful, but it can only hold my attention so long.

The rest of it belongs to Gale.

I turn my head slightly and his lips are already there, waiting for me.

The kiss begins innocently. A brush of my lips against his. But he leans down and presses harder against my mouth and I go pliant in his arms. He drops both hands to spin me by the hips and pull me against him. The kiss pours through me, my organs turning to liquid fire.

He pulls away, long enough to walk me backward while I gasp for air. His hands are pushing up my leather shirt, enough that he can slip them around my waist. My back hits the brick of the wall and it is strangely cool. The same heat as the rest of the club, but almost cold in comparison to Gale. I don't have time to think about it. He bends his mouth over mine and I nip his bottom lip. His body jerks but he only pulls my tighter against him. One of the hands tickling my ribs makes it's way down my leg, the heat of his palm searing through leather, and pulls my knee up to his hip.

If I thought anyone was watching, I would pull away, just stare at him with the want I feel right now. But he is all heat and hardness, fire in his skin over stretched muscles and abdomen.

He pulls away from the kiss, perhaps to take more air, but the next kiss he places is at my collarbone and going lower. He kisses along the hem of my shirt as I breathe deeply into his hair, tangling my fingers in the end of it.

"Gale," I say, breathe the words and it only makes him worse, or better depending on how you see it. He places an open mouthed kiss on the border of my shirt and skin.

"Gale, please, stop."

It takes him a moment, a moment in which his kisses become lighter and I feel his brow furrow as he brings his head up from my chest.

"We're in public," I say, slowly regaining my breath.

I watch him work his throat and when he speaks his voice is low and rough. "Okay. Does this mean we're done dancing?"

I nod and pull away, but keep a hand on his waist. I turn away from him and scope the club for the rest of the group. Jennica is dancing, clearly with the skill I lack. Everyone has either melted into the crowd or is still talking at the bar.

"What else is in the underground?" I ask, taking Gale's hand and edging around the crowd.

Gale sighs. "I wish you were more easily distracted." He leads me away from the bar, toward a door opposite the one we entered.

I frown. "Aren't we waiting for the others?"

"No," Gale has to yell over the new din of the music. "They're staying here. They have to go to work tomorrow but it won't be the first time they get this little sleep."

I don't say anything, saving my voice until we're in the piece and quiet, where it's easier to speak.

The door Gale pulls me through leads to a dank hallway. There are dim lights on the walls, slick with grime and the floor is wet and cold. My breaths come out in small puffs and the metal of the door feels like ice.

"It won't be this cold ahead," Gale informs me, meanwhile rubbing his hands over my arms.

"Where's your jacket?" I ask. If he has it we could share it.

"It wasn't mine. I left it with Sasha."

"I should have thanked Jennica. I'm still in her clothes." Which aren't at all helpful for staving off the cold.

In the dim silver light Gale's hair is even darker, but his grey eyes are rounds a luminous. His skin is damp, shining and his shirt clings to him slightly. His pants are hanging low on his hips and a line of tanned skin shows between them and his shirt.

"You can see her tomorrow. Trust me, she won't mind. She probably won't notice they're gone."

Note:

Firstly, I have a new fanfic of Wicked Lovely. It's of Donia and Keenan but I will be starting another with Ash and Seth soon. I will also be starting a Mortal Instruments fanfic soon, and a Wither fanfic so please check those out.

Secondly, this is so lame; I'm incredibly technologically inepdt. How do I turn on anonymous reviews?

I love hints, suggestions, praise and even constructive criticism (emphasis on the constructive).

Thanks guys, until next time (which I'm trying to make soon but it's a busy time)!