DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The Hunger Games.


Chapter 9

Heat. That's the first thing that comes to mind as I begin to wake. It's practically enveloping me, wrapping me in its tight embrace. This isn't the usual warmth that Prim's body provides in our small bed. This is a burning heat. The sensation sends a tingle to my cheek and waist, where the most warmth seems to be emanating. I can tell there's no need for alarm. As hot as I am, I'm strangely comfortable.

My mind tells me to get up, but I scoot closer to the warmth, relishing in the feeling of comfort that it provides. It's oddly soothing, like a past memory that's begun to fade. Visions of my father when he used to hold me when I was little dance before me. I can still feel his arms around me, hear the beat of his heart. The heat reminds me of the fire that we used to sit by as he used to read to me and Prim. Stories of princesses and castles. A knight in shining armor.

This is slightly different. I have an overwhelming feeling that I need to be pulled closer. The fluttering in my stomach is new as well. I close my eyes tighter, my fist clutching the blanket that's draped over me. My brow furrows as the faint scent of cinnamon and dill surrounds me. Its familiar and calming so I let it pull me under even more.

Suddenly I realize something. I've never been this comfortable or relaxed since my father died. Every time I close my eyes, I battle to keep the images away. It's been the same thing every night. If I don't wake up in a pool of my own sweat or from screaming my lungs off then I consider it a good rest. But this is different. This is safe. An alarm goes off in my head at the word. Nothing is safe anymore. This has to be another nightmare.

Slowly, I open my eyes, hoping it will wake me, and for a second I'm disoriented. This is not my house. My eyes widen as I realize I'm still at the gym, in Haymitch's apartment. The beer bottles and the rotten stench of uncleanliness is a dead giveaway. As my eyes shift to my waist, where the heat is trapping me, I have to stifle a gasp when I realize that it's coming from someone's arm.

My eyes follow the arm up to the persons shoulder, then to their face. My breath catches in my throat when I see its Peeta. He sleeps soundly, his head resting on the back of the couch. I bite the inside of my cheek as I try to figure out what to do. Carefully, I lift my head away from his chest. That explains the heat that was on my cheek. He must still have a fever.

As I lift my hand to feel his forehead, I suddenly become very aware of the fact that my hand was gripping the back of his tee shirt. My cheeks flare up in embarrassment and I can do nothing but try to stifle my groan and thank heaven all mighty that he is still sleeping. Being careful not to wake him, I rest my hand against his forehead to find that he's still burning up.

As soon as I start to move my hand away, his arm that's resting on my waist pulls me closer. Before I can stop it, a gasp of surprise escapes my lips. He stirs slightly but doesn't wake. I let out the breath I was holding. My eyes move down to his arm. I consider lifting it off me but I don't want to wake him. He's sick and he needs all the rest he can get.

I silently ponder how we even ended up like this. All that I can remember is admitting that I didn't use to believe in fate. I still can't believe I said that. Whatever possessed me to say that, I'll probably never know. Maybe it was just left over emotions from crying that was doing the speaking for me. I'm not even sure I know what I meant when I said it. All I do know is that I shouldn't have said anything.

At this moment, my brain decides to betray me once again. All of the thoughts I had a few weeks back, when I was waiting outside on the sidewalk before Peeta showed up come rushing back to me. I squeeze my eyes shut. No, no, no! Not right now! I had so successfully managed to forget all of that. I don't need it coming back, especially not right now. But of course, it seems to be screaming at me now and I can't seem to make it stop.

This is ridiculous! I can't deal with this right now. Not while Peeta's here. I know I'm being paranoid, but it seems like if any of those thoughts enter my mind, he'll be able to hear them. The thought of that happening makes the blood drain from my face. It's already hard enough to even acknowledge that they're there, I don't need it happening while he still has his arm draped over my waist.

The more I think about it, the more crazy I seem. I don't like the fact that this boy can cause me to feel completely lost. It's like he's slowly picking away at everything that I've been working on since my father died. He shouldn't be able to do that. He can't do that. No one should have that power over me, making me vulnerable. I don't like it. I almost scoff at myself.

I just want my sanity back.

I clench my jaw as I angrily stand up, ignoring how the couch groans loudly. It angers me even more that I want to make sure the noise didn't wake Peeta. I look behind me, at Peeta's sleeping form to see he hasn't moved a bit. Relief is the first thing I feel but that is completely demolished by the sudden rush of anger I feel. I shouldn't care if it wakes him up!

Clenching my fists, I start heading for the kitchen. This time I don't bother trying to stay quiet, purposely knocking around empty bottles, stepping on paper bags. Good, I think, let it wake him! I start grinning like a mad woman as I practically kick a bottle across the room and listen with glee as it clatters loudly against the wall. I turn around, expecting to see him jumping awake in surprise. But I don't. He's still sleeping soundly, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead from his fever.

I almost feel guilty but then I remember I shouldn't. His emotions and health and anything else related to him doesn't concern me. I groan at how completely unconvincing that sounds even to me. I think I've finally lost it. I'm not sure whether I should be concerned or happy. That maybe if I have lost my mind, I won't have to worry about what goes on inside of it.

But in case I haven't, I make sure that each step I take into the kitchen is extra loud.

Even though I went through here earlier, I still can't help but be surprised at the mess in here. I truly don't understand how Haymitch is still living. Or how his liver hasn't shriveled up into a raisin. It's a wonder that he's still managing to walk around. With how much he drinks, and who knows how long he's been drinking, I won't be that shocked if he just collapses one day, probably into a pool of his own vomit. And that would be the end of it. As terribly horrible as that image is, it's probably accurate.

As I open the drawers, trying to find what I'm looking for, I try not to smell anything. I'm pretty sure that slice of pizza on the counter is wiggling. You need a hazard suit just to stand in the middle of the floor. I feel sorry for any girl he brings here. Then I almost burst out laughing at how ridiculous that is. Just one look at him and any girl would think he was a hobo.

Each time that I don't find what I want, I slam the drawer closed. Hopefully it wakes up Peeta. It's then that I realize the whole reason I was going to the kitchen was to get a cool rag to put on his forehead. I almost laugh at how I'm being completely hypocritical. Two opposing ideas and yet I'm doing both. But either way it doesn't matter. I don't care about Peeta. So it doesn't really matter that I do this. Right?

Finally, I find a rag in one of the drawers. I take it to the sink and, once the water is cold, hold it underneath. After I wring it out, making sure no water drips, I head back to the living room. Just in case the cabinets didn't close loud enough; I kick around some more bottles on the floor. As I round the corner, I hold my breath and peek around. I groan as I see Peeta's still sleeping. How could all of that noise not have woken him? He must really need his sleep.

I silently curse myself. Here I am, not caring if I wake him up even though he's sick and obviously needs his rest. There must be something seriously wrong with me. Avoiding the trash once again, I slowly walk over to him. But of course, as soon as I'm just in front of him, I trip on a bottle. I gasp, my hands shooting out to catch myself. The noise wakes Peeta, his eyes widening as I quickly fall towards him.

"Woah!" he says, his hands catching my waist before I land completely on top of him.

My hands rest on the back of the couch, on opposite sides of his head, our faces only inches apart. I'm frozen as I stare at him in shock. His blue eyes bore into mine, his eyebrows raised in question. He probably thinks I was trying to molest him in his sleep. Oh god.

"I tripped." I choke out.

He nods slowly as he watches me. "You okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yep."

"Good." He says, slightly breathless.

He bites his lip nervously as I become very aware of his hands on my waist. This is not good but I can't seem to move. I can't seem to look anywhere else but Peeta's eyes. With the soft glow from the lamp, it makes the blue look like its glowing. They look even brighter than Prim's, something I thought was impossible.

Peeta swallows nervously, but his eyes stay trained on me. His hands as they rest on my waist seem to send waves of heat through my body. Heat. His fever. My eyes dart to the rag in my hand before quickly looking back to Peeta. He still has a sheen of sweat on his forehead. And I'm sure the fact that I almost fell on top of him didn't help any.

"I got you a cool rag." I whisper, for some reason thinking that if I talked any louder that it would feel like screaming.

"Thank you." he says.

Neither of us makes any move to fix our position, though. My heart never seems to have slowed down from my fall. It beats rapidly in my chest, over and over again. I'm surprised he can't hear it. Both of our breathing seems to be labored and I suddenly become curious. I move one of my hands to his chest, right above his heart.

The black fabric of his tee shirt is soft under my fingers. I can hear his breath catching but I don't dare look at his face. Instead I focus on the rapid beat of his heart. I think it's going even faster than mine. Poor guy. I must have scared him to death. I slowly look at his face. His eyes watch me so intently that I feel my own breath catch.

"Sorry if I scared you." I say.

"You did at first but I'm fine now."

I raise an eyebrow at him. His heart is telling my differently. He chuckles nervously. "I'm fine. Really."

"Your heart is going crazy." I say as I narrow my eyes at him.

"Yeah. I guess it is." he says simply.

Finally, I move to sit next to him, so he won't have to keep holding me up. I don't move far, our legs are touching. Brushing his curls away, I lift the rag to place it on his forehead. He shivers slightly.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask, but then quickly regret it as I remember how I woke up. I seriously hope he doesn't have any memory of me falling asleep on his chest.

"Yeah. I haven't slept that good in a long time." He says with a smile that causes me to blush scarlet. He doesn't remember, right?

His brow furrows as he watches me. "Are you hot?"

My eyes widen. "What?"

"Oh! I didn't mean it like that. I mean your cheeks are red. You look hot... Because of the temperature." he says quickly.

"Oh. No, I'm not hot." I say awkwardly. I think there's something wrong with me. Maybe I've gone bipolar.

"Thanks for taking care of me." he says earnestly. I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning. If only you knew...

I just nod my head in answer, my fingers fiddling with the blanket. It's now that I realize how ridiculous I was acting just a few minutes ago. But it wasn't entirely my fault. He would just stop acting like…like him, than I wouldn't have to go through all of this. My mind wouldn't be constantly trying to betray me with thoughts that really should not be thought. I hate that he's the reason for them and that no matter how much I try, now all that seems to be on my mind is him. I almost startle with how true that statement is.

As much as I wish it weren't, it's true. Ever since he ran away from the fight on Friday, Peeta has been plaguing my mind. Even when I managed to distract myself, it was never completely gone. It still lingered in the back of my mind. Haunting me. I can't think like that. I have to stop. My priorities are working and taking care of Prim. Anything else is a waste of time. It doesn't pay the bills. It's not worth it. I try not to think about the fact that, as much as I have repeated this to myself, a constant mantra, it always seems to fail.

I'll just have to try harder.

Feeling an elbow nudge my side softly, I look up to see Peeta watching me in concern. He smiles gently, and I can feel my body tense. Crap. He seriously needs to stop doing that. My eyes dart back to the blanket. I take a deep breath as I try to regain my composer. This whole day has taken its toll on me and it seems like with each passing second I go more and more crazy. It's just a matter of time before I truly lose it. If I haven't already.

I don't like it. I don't like that just one boy can make my walls crumble without even trying. As much as I know this isn't Peeta's fault, it's easier to blame him than to think that I have so easily let him in. No, that was my fault. If my father's death has taught me anything it's that love or anytime emotion is dangerous. It can kill anyone affected without stopping their heart or closing their lungs. Love doesn't care that it rips people away like it's the most natural thing in the world. It could care less. So I can't. I can't keep trusting Peeta so openly, because nice people seem to have a way of worming their way into my heart and staying there. And that's something I can't afford to let happen. I try to ignore the voice in the back of my head that tells me I'm too late.

Peeta grabs one of my hands, stilling its movement. He tugs it lightly as he tries to gain my attention. I try to ignore it, keeping my eyes down as if he isn't there. I know it's stupid. He's obviously there and I'll have to talk to him sooner or later but I can't. Not right now. So I ignore it for as long as I can. It ends up lasting another two seconds before I look at him. It's sickening how quickly my plan is crumbling.

"Are you alright?" he asks me quietly.

His question takes me aback slightly. "Am I alright? You're the one who's sick."

"I know… but you look a little distracted. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay." He says as he grips my hand a little tighter.

Oh, great. Now he's worried about me. That's the last thing I need. "I'm fine." I snap.

His brow furrows slightly and I try to ignore the flash of hurt on his face. "Okay. I'm sorry that you have to be up here, watching over me. I'm sure it wasn't your idea. It was probably Annie who sent you. I'm sorry."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Her and Finnick, actually. That's not what I'm mad about though." I say before I even think about the words that just came out of my mouth.

"What are you mad about?" He asks.

Oh, just about how everything you do has this uncontrollable effect on me that I can't seem to get rid of no matter how much I try. Ya, know…the usual, I think sarcastically.

"Nothing." I say instead.

We're both silent. I make no attempt to start a conversation and Peeta doesn't seem too enthusiastic about talking now either. I'm both grateful and slightly concerned. It's rare when Peeta doesn't speak. That's usually when his family is brought up. The fact that they haven't been mentioned since we woke up and he's already gone silent is slightly unnerving. It takes every ounce of my will not to look at him and ask him if he's alight. What good would that do?

My eyes scan the room. Its dark, the only light being from the lamp on the end table. I should probably go back down stairs and check on Prim. I don't even know what time it is. Besides, I doubt I'm doing any good helping Peeta. If Annie and Finnick were concerned for his health they should have sent Prim. She would be much more help than I. What Peeta needs is cold medicine which I doubt Haymitch owns. At least Prim would know the basics.

I shift uncomfortably on the couch. "I need to go check on Prim." I say quietly, my eyes focused on the floor.

"Prim's here?" He asks.

"Yeah. I'll be back later to check on you."

"No, don't." he says quickly, "I'll be fine."

I open my mouth to protest but quickly shut it. It's better if I don't have to come back up here anyway. "Okay. You should probably try to get some more sleep." I say as I stand up.

"Maybe." He says with a shrug.

I nod and quickly make my way towards the stairs as I try not to look too eager to leave. In reality, I'm practically running down the stairs as I take them two at a time. Anyone who could see me would probably think I was trying to escape a raging fire that's about to consume the whole building. Maybe there should be a fire. That would make things a whole lot easier. My hand grips the railing so tightly, my knuckles turn white. The hair that fell lose from my braid while I was sleeping flies in front of my face with each jump that I make. I think it's official that my sanity has run away and locked itself in a closet.

Light streams into the staircase as I reach the bottom. For a second I wonder if the storm has passed and if the sun has finally came out but I quickly realize that it's just from the better lighting that's in the gym. That figures because why would something as trivial as the weather go right on a day like today? If I hadn't known any better, I'd say that fate was out to get me. It's probably payback for me ever doubting it in the first place. Just another thing that proves insanity. Oh well. Not everyone can get what they want.

The sound of feet shuffling can be heard as from my left, in the boxing ring. Finnick and Thresh dance around each other as they dodge punches and kicks, Finnick constantly shouting for Thresh to correct his moves. His golden hair falls into his eyes as he moves but he makes no move to push it away as he takes a jab in Thresh's direction. My eyes leave the ring and land on the two bodies huddled together on the floor in the middle of the room. The bright blonde ponytail is an obvious giveaway as to who it is.

I walk over to Annie and Prim, peering over them to see what they are doing. A messy deck of cards sits next to Annie, the edges warn and discolored. Their hands each hold their own cards that they are each staring at with intensity. Silently, trying not to break them from their strange concentration, I move around them to sit in front, my legs crossed. I tug on my braid absently as I watch. Annie is the first to speak. "Got any threes?" She says seriously as my eyebrows shoot up.

Prim smirks. "Nope. Go fish."

"Dang it! That's the fourth time I've had to go fish!" Annie exclaims as she angrily grabs a card from the messy deck.

My eyes dart in-between them, back and forth. "That's what you guys are playing?" I ask in disbelief. "You both looked so serious I could have thought you playing for money."

Their head snap in my direction, as if noticing me for the first time. I guess I'm not that surprised.

"Well don't say it like it's the easiest games in the world." Annie says. "Prim's hard to play against. I've already lost three games." She grumbles.

"I guess it's a good thing we're not playing from money then, huh?" Prim asks with a chuckle.

"Yeah, otherwise I'd be broke."

Prim laughs as she examines her cards again. "Got any sevens?"

Annie sighs. "Yeah, here." She grumbles as she hands Prim her card who greedily snatches it up and tucks it into her own pile.

"So what took you so long?" Annie asks as she faces me. "You were up there for over two hours."

"Oh." I say in surprise. I hadn't realized so much time had passed.

"Yeah… 'Oh'." Annie says teasingly. "Did you have fun?"

My cheeks flare up and my eyes dart to the floor. "It was… it was interesting." That's clearly an understatement. Especially considering the fact that I spent the first half up there comforting a crying Peeta, then joining him as I cried myself, which happened to be the first time in over a year, and then I fell asleep and woke up with my head on his chest then spent the rest of the time auguring with myself as I lost my mind. Interesting doesn't even begin to describe what happened up there.

Annie and Prim both stare at me, unconvinced. I shrug, my way of telling them that I'm not going to talk about it. They glance at each other, a knowing look slowly spreading across their faces that makes me squirm in my spot. I really should not be so surprised that Annie and Prim seems to have bonded so quickly of so surprised that they seem to already have the same devious way of thinking. All I can do is hope that their way of thinking doesn't play against me.

"Really? How interesting was it?" Annie asks slowly.

"The normal kind." I say with a glare, my voice warning.

"You know…I wouldn't ever really classify falling asleep, cuddled in someone's arms as 'the normal kind' of interesting." Prim says causally as she fiddles with her cards. My eyes widen, my cheeks heating up. No, no, no. Please let them be joking!

"I don't know, Prim." Annie says, her green eyes sparkling. "Maybe that's normal for Katniss and Peeta."

Prim giggles. "You have a good point. So tell us, Katniss…how long have you guys been dating?"

My mouth drops open. "What?"

Annie leans over conspiratorially. "It's okay. You can tell us." She says.

"We're not dating. Not even close." I say quickly. "I'd barely even call him a friend." I glare at them. This isn't even funny.

"I'm still surprised that you can so clearly lie to yourself." Finnick says as he suddenly appears behind me.

"You told him?" I ask Prim and Annie in disbelief but before they can respond, Finnick speaks up again. "No. I just heard everything. You really weren't trying to keep your voices down. And if what I heard was true then, like I said, I'm still shocked that you're lying to yourself." He says as he crosses his arms.

I stand so I can face him. "Lying about what?" I spit at him. "What I said was true. We're not dating and we never will be." I say as my eyes narrow at him. He has no right making assumptions about me when he barely knows me.

"That's not what I was referring to." He says. "No matter what you say or what you try to convince yourself, he's your friend and you care about him." I flinch at that. "See, I can tell. It's obvious."

"You have no idea what's obvious. You have no right to assume how I feel." I say angrily.

"What would need to be said to convince you?" He says, just as angry. "For being as observant as you are, you can be extremely blind."

"I can see clear enough to know that I am not and will never be anything more than an acquaintance to him. That's it!"

"See! That's exactly it! You can't even admit that you're his friend."

"That's because I'm not!" I shout.

"Really? Because last time I checked acquaintances don't comfort each other, or fall asleep in each other's arms. Nor do they have near mental breakdowns when they're worried about the other." He says, accusatory.

"That never happened." I say, my voice low.

"You obviously didn't see how you were acting yesterday then. You were a complete mess, whether you admit it or not." He says with a glare. "Last time I checked, that's not something acquaintances do. Heck, I don't even think that happens to friends!"

"Well apparently it does." I snap.

"No. It doesn't. You're lying to yourself and you know it."

"Stop acting like you know me!" I shout. "I've been here for two weeks and your acting like you know me inside out!"

"No offence kitty cat, but you're not the hardest person to read." Finnick says with a slight smirk.

I glare at him. "You can't understand, okay? I do not care about him! I cannot care about him! It doesn't matter what you say to convince me because it's not going to happen. I just can't, okay? I can't." The last part comes out in a whisper, my voice cracking. I can feel the tears pricking in my eyes so advert my gaze so he won't see. I fell a small hand grab my elbow, gently pulling me away from Finnick. Looking down, I see Prim watching me closely, her blue eyes filled with concern.

I let her guide me over to weight bench as she gently pushes me to sit down. Angrily, I wipe at my eyes, hoping that she won't see the tears. I won't look at her and she knows that. With a sigh, she kneels in front of me, waiting for me to say something. When I don't she finally speaks, her voice low. "Katniss, I know you're scared but you don't have to be."

My brow furrows but I don't respond. "You know, I used to sneak downstairs after mom and dad tucked us in to bed whenever I got thirsty. I would have woken you but I figured there was no need." She says, her hands folded on her lap, a faint smile gracing her lips. My brow furrows further as I try to figure out why she's telling me this. I don't have to wait long for her to explain. "Each night, I waited just at the bottom of the staircase, peeking around the corner. And every time I could see mom and dad on the couch. His arm around her as her head rested on his shoulder." She continues in a faraway voice. "They would giggle and talk and mom would always get the dreamy look in her eyes whenever dad would kiss her temple." She chuckles lightly.

"Prim, why are you telling me this?" I ask in a quiet voice, because I don't think I'll be able to handle it any more if she continues. I don't want to be reminded of the past and of what will never happen again. I'll never see that look in my mom's eyes again, or listens to my dad's laughter in the evening as we sit by the fire. I can't handle that. Not now.

But Prim doesn't listen, she just continues talking as if she didn't hear me. "I remember thinking that I had never seen either of them so happy than when they were together. It was almost like the fairytale romances that dad would read to us before bed. The couple that was so in love that it seemed impossible." She pauses as her voice catches, takes a deep breath. "I know that you don't believe in love, that it's just a waste and that no good can come from it but a broken heart. And that can be true. Mom has one now." She says quietly, her eyes on her folded hands. "But I can tell you this. I don't doubt for one second that mom regrets falling in love with dad. She may be sad all the time and she may never recover, but she had the best ten years of her life with dad. It doesn't really take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled and laughed all the time. She was happy."

A tear falls from her eye as she speaks but she doesn't bother to wipe it away. My throat tightens as Prim speaks. My chest clenches painfully. "Prim-" I start pleadingly, hoping she'll stop but she cuts me off.

"Katniss, don't be scared to love. It's worth it. I know you don't think you can love and I'll admit, we've both seen some pretty discouraging things when it comes to that, but don't let it stop you. Please. You have such a good heart and I would hate to see it go to waste because you're scared to do anything."

I shake my head. "You're wrong, Prim." I say quietly.

"I'm not. It's worth it, Katniss. I'm telling you that it's worth opening your heart up. Let yourself feel something. Be happy. For once. For yourself." Her eyes bore into mine, pleading for me to understand. She takes my hands into hers and gives them a squeeze. "You're so strong, Katniss. I've always admired you for that. I wish I was as strong as you." She says honestly and my throat tightens again. "So please, please do this. For dad and mom. For yourself. Please."

"Prim, I don't-"

"Just try. I'm not saying you have to fall in love right away or that you should be throwing yourself at anyone but give it a chance." She says. "And you know, you may not believe me when I say this but… the look that I used to see in mom's eyes whenever she saw dad…it's the same one I've seen in your eyes when you see Peeta."

My eyes widen as I blush. "That's not true." I mumble.

"It is. I knew you wouldn't believe me but it is true. And you know what?" she asks.

"What?" I ask wearily.

"Peeta gets the same look." She says with a smile, her blue eyes sparking.

Then I remember something that Annie said earlier. "I doubt that, Prim. You and Annie already told me earlier that his heart is already taken." I grumble.

Prim laughs. "You're so hopeless, Katniss."

The following week continues without much change. Peeta has continued to stay with Haymitch, since apparently, according to Haymitch; he's not going back until the witch demands his return. Once Peeta got over his cold, he and Finnick started a new workout routine for a new competition that's coming up. Apparently it consists of five rounds that work as an elimination process. The routine is rather rigorous, with much of Peeta's time in the boxing ring or lifting weights as Finnick constantly hovers over him.

Ever since the incident last week, when I feel asleep with him, we've barely had any time to talk rather than the awkward greetings. I personally don't mind. I would rather us not talk than have to actually talk about how weird I was acting. If I can't push that off, then I would be a happy camper. Prim keeps reminding me to keep an open opinion and if I hadn't respected her so much, I probably would have just told her to leave it alone. But I do, so I try as best as I can with mine and Peeta's schedule. I'm not expecting to fall in love, I don't want too, but I can try to be friends. I at least owe Prim that.

During my time of constantly thinking of when I'll finally be able to talk to Peeta, I have had to deal with Johanna Mason. She finally started to show up to work on a regular basis and I had really hoped that she would disappear again. It won't be long before either one of us takes out the other. Honestly, the sooner the better. A scowl never fails to form on my face whenever she's around. And I make sure to direct it exactly at her. I could care less if she realized how much I hate her because she hates me right back.

My hands clench around the broom handle as Johanna passes me with a smirk, her brown eyes mischievous as they watch me. "What?" I spit at her.

"Oh nothing. I was just watching how you've been sweeping the same spot for the last ten minutes."

"So? I wanted to make sure it was clean." I reply with a glare.

"Yes, I'm sure. And that's why you were staring at Peeta the whole time." She says with a smirk, her eyes traveling over to where Peeta is lifting weights.

I scowl. "Don't you have toilets to clean?"

"I'll get to it eventually. I don't have as great a view from there, though. Who would want to miss the gun show?" She says mockingly, her eyes darting back to Peeta.

"Apparently you don't." I say sharply.

She smirks, turning her back to me as she saunters over to Peeta. He smiles slightly, putting his weights away as he listens to Johanna speaking. My grip on the handle tightens again. She places a hand on his shoulder before leaning in to whisper in him ear, causing him to blush profusely. As she walks away she winks at me before disappearing in the lockeroom, leaving Peeta uncomfortably standing by the weight bench, his eyes trained on the floor. I'm surprised Finnick isn't next to him until I turn around to see him flirting with Annie at the desk.

I shake my head as I walk over to the supply closet, gently placing the broom inside. My eyes dart to the clock on the wall to see that my shift is over. Brushing my hands off on my pants, I turn around and head over to the front desk. Annie sees me coming and tosses me my jacket.

"See ya tomorrow!" She calls as I head towards the door, turning around so I can face the whole room.

"Bye, see you later. You too, Finnick." I say.

"Ya whatever." He says with a smirk.

My eyes dart over to Peeta to see him watching, a small smile on his lips. I give a slight wave at him before ducking out the door without waiting for his response. I'm already halfway down the alley before I hear his voice calling out to me. My brow furrows as I come to a complete stop, slowly turning around to face him. His hair is ruffled as he jogs over, his white tee shirt sweaty from his work out. He stops a few feet in front of me, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. I wait for him to speak first.

"I'm sorry we haven't gotten to talk much. I've just been really busy with training but I wanted to thank you. For helping me last week." He says quietly, his voice honest.

"You don't have to thank me." I say.

"I know, but I was grateful and I wanted you to know. I'm sorry about everything that happened and I know you don't feel like you did anything but it really helped. I haven't really had that many people to talk to about that and I-" He's rambling now so I decide to cut him off.

"You're welcome." I say.

He smiles at me. "You should probably hurry home. It might rain soon." He says.

I look up at the sky to see it covered in gray. The air is muggy, the humidity high. I can already feel myself begin to sweat. "Yeah, I probably should." I say with a scowl. Does it ever not rain here?

Peeta opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it, his cheeks tinting slightly. His blue eyes dart to the ground as he shoves his hands in his pockets. "Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow." He says.

"Okay." I say, watching as he turns around and starts walking back towards the gym.

I take a deep breath, silently cursing myself to call out to him. To say what I want to say. To see his smile again. "Peeta!" I yell as I begin jogging over to him.

He turns around in surprise, his eyes trained on me. "Thank you. For helping me too." I say quietly, my cheeks heating. I am grateful to him. He helped me better than I thought anyone could have. He has a calming presence that I'm not used to. I think that helped a lot.

He smiles at me and my breath actually catches. That's all I can do not to roll my eyes at myself. It's now that I realize how close we are standing. If I barely reached out, I could touch him. He's a good head or so taller than I am, which causes me to have to look up at him. Suddenly, I want to reach out to him, to feel that same calmness wash over me again. His eyes are soft, something hidden behind them that I can't place. So I take Prim's advice, and I do what I want. Slowly, almost tentatively, I step closer, my arms winding around his waist. Friends hug.

Once his shock fades, his arms wrap around me, pulling me closer to him. It's a quick hug, nothing that will freak me out too much but I can't ignore the feeling of warmth that rushed through me. I pull back and give him a small smile to which he just beams at me. "I'll see you later, Peeta." I tell him.

"See you later." He says.

I leave him standing there as I quickly turn around and head home.

The first sign of trouble comes from the small black car parked in front of the house. The same one that I saw that gang completely destroyed. It looks better now, but not much. My brow furrows as I try to figure out why it's parked in front of our house, of all the houses on this street. I take extra caution as I walk up the steps to the front door. Slowly, I grab the cold handle of the door and pull it open. The entryway is empty but I can hear voice. My mother's, Prim's and someone else's. It's far to chipper for my liking and I don't recognize. I'm suddenly angry that my mother let in a stranger.

Tossing my coat aside, I head into the living room, preparing to throw whoever it is out. I stop short when I see the bright pink suit, the perfectly blonde styled hair. My mother sits on the chair in the corner, Prim leaning against the side. The strange lady sits on the couch, her legs crossed and an all the large smile stretched across her face. Prim automatically looks relieved at the site of me while my mother's eyes drop to the floor.

"Who are you?" I ask the lady.

"Katniss." My mother warns. "Sit."

I ignore her, my eyes narrowed at the lady as I wait for her to explain her visit.

She stands, quickly crossing over to me as she extends her hand. "My name is Effie Trinket. I work at the Chicago Community Home." She says cheerily as the blood drains from my face. "I'm here to speak with Primrose."