a/n: This was supposed to come out earlier this evening but I by accident fell asleep - sorry about that! A lot of you tried to guess who was coming out to talk to him! Only a couple of you were able to guess right, but this chapter's a long one to make up for the time waiting and such. Now some things to talk about.

––I'm going to be doing an outtakes series for Lovefool, so if there are any scenes you want to see in another person's pov let me know! I have some planned, and they originally were going to just be Katniss POV things, but I'll probably end up doing some Johanna POV as well. I have some planned out, as well as have talked to a couple people about others they want to see, but I'll take suggestions whenever you come up with some.
––This story got nominated in an "Energizer WIP Awards" blog! It's pretty cool and I'm a bit proud. I've added links on my profile to the site and all, so check that out if you want.
––Also, I got a guest review questioning some of my decisions with my characterization of Peeta. I would just discuss it with them, but seeing as how they felt a need to hide who they were with a criticism, I'll do it here. I guess I read Peeta different from you. I don't take the sunny blue eyed perfect merchant that Katniss reads of him, and being that the books are in her pov, we don't truly get to know 100% if our take on his character is true. This is how I read his character, and how I interpret it into a more modern-esque type of feeling to it all. If you don't like it, sorry about that. I'm not looking to write some silly "and then they kissed and found true love" high school au, which if you do, great, I probably read it. But that's not what I'm writing. If you look at the other things I've posted, that's not the type of writing I do. I'm writing a story about kids in high school, and sometimes high school sucks. Being upset and feeling unable to fit in at a party where you barely are friends with anyone doesn't make you have a "disorder," as whoever the guest reviewer referred to it all as. That's a very immature take on mental disorders, and I'd please ask you to educate yourself upon them besides just reading "Perks of Being a Wallflower," –– which, no, that also is not what this story is going to become, and is not even an inspiration for this story. The time of being a teenager can be lonely, embarrassing, and you go through a lot of change, for better or for worse. So that's what I'm writing.

Okay, sorry to get preachy, but seriously. If you have something to critique with my writing, that's fine! Bring it to my attention and make me a better writer. But can we not hide behind anonymity? I'm not going to bash you and set hounds on you. I'll discuss what you mean, and probably thank you for your efforts. So let's play that game from now on, shall we? I'd appreciate it a whole bunch.

Sorry for the long author's note. Let's get on with it.

oh, I wanna dance with somebody
I wanna feel the heat with somebody
yeah, I wanna dance with somebody
with somebody who loves me
I wanna dance with somebody | whitney houston

.10.

Johanna's voice comes to me. "Whaaaassup?" She says, in that annoying way that seems to be becoming a trend right now.

I don't want to talk to her now, or for the rest of tonight, or maybe even ever again, so I don't answer. She waits for a bit and I can feel her looking at me, but I don't look at her as I take the last sip of my beer. Well, might as well go inside and get some more and then avoid Johanna Mason again. I push myself off from leaning against the railing, but then Johanna's hand is on my chest and she pushes me back. I turn and look at her with a questioning challenge in my eyes. I'm about done with being intimidated by this girl and I just want to get out of her hair so maybe I can find a place to curl up and sleep until I leave in the morning.

She doesn't say anything but she's still holding me back so I hold up my cup. "I need more beer."

"You need an escape excuse," She says, and I don't refute it. She holds a new bottle in her hand, one with the "40" on the top of the label and pushes it into me. "Here, we can share. Now you don't have a reason to run away from me and we can talk."

I look around and notice that there's no one left on the porch. There's a couple people off in the lawn and surrounding treeline –– I can hear voices and whispers and who knows what else –– but for the most part, we're alone. I keep my groan inside my head, and take the bottle from her and intake a pretty big gulp. It definitely tastes better than the keg beer, but I think probably rum is my drink of choice out of all the shitty things we had available today. Another gulp, and then I hand it back to her. She takes her own sip and the two of us are quiet for a moment. I'm not looking at her and she's not looking at me.

"So," she finally says but stops, and there's silence between us again. "This night not turning out how you expected?"

I snort and shake my head. I look over to her and she hands the bottle back over to me. "I didn't have really any expectations," I tell her, and even I can hear how clipped my voice Is.

"I took it too far with the song," She tells me, and I look over at her with a cocked eyebrow. I swig the beer into my mouth again, and then give it back to her. She took it too far with the names, the constant bringing up of my cock, in many aspects. And I'm mad at her for it, but I didn't expect her to say anything about it. And I'm not expecting her to apologize, I know she won't. So I sigh and let myself deflate a bit as I shake my head.

"You wouldn't be Johanna Mason if you didn't take it too far," I tell her, and she smiles at me and nudges my shoulder with her own. It's the closest we'll get to an apology, but I know that her sharing her alcohol –– she hands it back to me –– is another way of her apologizing without saying the words. I find that I am less angry at her, and instead just at the usual level of irritation I have found myself these past couple of weeks with her.

She laughs quietly to herself as we stand on the deck and drink. "You picked a hard nut to crack for falling in love with, Mellark," She quips as she takes another sip. I don't tell her how I didn't just go out and pick it, that I've tried a couple of times to not feel like this for her but it doesn't work. I think she knows all of this by now, it doesn't need to be said. "If you do get through though, you know... She's the closest thing I have to family in some aspects. I won't hesitate to kill you if you do her wrong."

I don't question the idea of Katniss being her family –– Johanna Mason is both a legend and a mystery since she showed up in town during her middle school days. There's rumors about her parents with just the general knowledge being they're not around, and her uncle in town was given custody of her when she was not even a teenager yet. And even then she was tough, giving my brother a black eye for example. I never actively thought of it before, but yeah, during our high school time Katniss has always been with Johanna during lunch, the one time when other grades could mingle. I've learnt also that Johanna shows her, well, affection for friends through non–organic ways, I guess you could say. So I wouldn't question that, the idea of Katniss being like family.

But I am slightly offended at what she's insinuating. "I wouldn't do her wrong, Johanna. I'd never –– I couldn't."

She chuckles. "I'm not saying I expect you to, but I still have to warn ya."

I nod and we stay silent for a bit, the alcohol passing back and forth between us. "Not that it matters anyway," I mutter, not wanting to talk about this but apparently my mouth has a mind of its own. I'm going to go ahead and blame the alcohol that I've been consuming the entire night, that I definitely should not consume anymore of. I take another sip as I see Johanna looking at me curiously. "She can't even look at me."

"God you're an idiot," She tells me as she takes the drink from my hands. Now it's my turn to look at her curiously. When she sees me looking she rolls her eyes. "Take it from one emotionally-stitled woman about another. She doesn't hate you. You know that she knows you exist, and you're pretty close to being in the realm of a friend, I guess, but she's really weird with labeling what people are."

"Wait, how do you know this? Did you talk to her? Has she talked to you about me?" The last thing I need is for Johanna to be a part of some chitchat where I'm the subject, I'm sure.

"Nu-uh, I don't give away those kind of details, or whether they even exist or not. But I'm telling you this just from outside looking in. Katniss doesn't let just anybody in. And you feel a bit iced by her, yeah, but it's been literally years since she's let someone new in."

I take a deep breath and nod. I guess I knew that of course, but it's just hard to translate in my mind. The people in my friend group in school, Delly and all of them, well I've been friends with most of them for years. But usually when I meet a new person it's a very friendly and open experience. Even with a couple of Seam kids that I've been partnered with in different classwork situations. I'm not saying that everyone was jumping out of their bones to be my friend or anything, but it was more just that they understood that interactions were to happen because we're in the same grade and I haven't been an asshole in the past. I'm happy of having that kind of reputation at least; that I'm not known as a Townie jerkass, or whatever they call the kids that bully those they see below them.

I sigh. "Alright, Johanna. Alright." She nods and we finish up her bottle with lazy talk that stays away from Katniss and –– thankfully, surprisingly –– my cock. I sigh and figure maybe I should stop my little hurt act and see what's going on in the party. I ask if she's going to join me going back inside but she gives me a wicked grin as she opens that big leather jacket of hers and flashes another bottle of some alcohol. I roll my eyes and her smile falls away fast. She takes out a pack of cigarettes that she offers one to me and I decline, walking back inside.

I'm on my way to drunk, more drunk than I've been before, and every now and then I can feel it in my stepping and flowing through my head. I grab myself another drink, sipping slowly, because my mind seems to be able to lighten up with the more alcohol in it now after Johanna's pep talk, and I find I want to chase after feeling good. I see Madge inside and I make sure to apologize to her for how rude I was before. But she smiles, definitely further into her drinking than I am, and to make it up, I have to dance with her in the most ridiculous way to what's playing. Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" blasts, and we make fools of ourselves. I drink more. I don't get lost again in feeling bad about myself within the lyrics (With somebody who loves me), which I'm grateful for really because just the thought of me moping around to this Whitney Houston song is a funny yet-if-it-was-reality-pathetic sight in my mind.

It's hot with everyone so close to each other and the amount of movement. I tell Madge I'm going to grab another drink and head outside for fresh air and she nods, turning around and seeing someone that she transfixes on. I don't stay around to see who it is and go about with my business. I feel kind of embarrassed with myself with the stupid dancing me and Madge were doing (if you could even call that dancing, I really hope people weren't watching), but I brush it off. I pour myself another drink and look around at the amount of people around. There's still a decent amount of people in the living room, but mostly everything else is cleared out. It's only a matter of time, and my heart flutters because I will have to see Katniss soon, regardless of if she's ignoring me or not, because of the cake.

I step outside and take a breath of fresh air as I roll my sleeves back down. The night air feels nice on me. My buzz is strong and I work on replaying the pep talks Johanna and Madge gave me so that I don't end up Lonely Peeta Brooding Alone Outside again. I think I'm alone outside, but when I look at the end of the porch opposite of the house, I see Johanna sitting down with her upper back against the railing, a lit cigarette in one hand and a bottle of her newest poison in the other. She stares at the door.

I approach her cautiously and sit down as silently as I can next to her –– which is to say, loudly. I'm not exactly the silent type of person. She doesn't react, and it sets me a bit on edge. The quiet, focused kind of Johanna is not one I'm used to dealing with in the time I've come to know her, and I almost miss her taking a jab at the white icing earlier and wish she made some comment like that now along with her barking laugh. But she stares, she takes a drag of her cigarette, and she takes a pull of her drink. I want to ask her what's wrong but I don't at the same time. I'm actually scared myself at the idea that something can affect Johanna Mason this much. It's weird to see that she is able to be so serious, and her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration at something inside. I look quickly and scan the people, but I don't see anything that jumps out to me.

After a bit, she holds up her bottle and offers it to me. I don't know what it is but I have a feeling it's a bit too much for me and would take me down a road that I've seen many fall down in but have never been in myself. I shake my head and she shrugs, still not looking at me, still concentrating, and takes a harsh gulp of it with an audible exhale sounding afterwards. She's silent for a while longer, and then fishes out another cigarette. I wonder if she's been going one after another since I left here. The difference between her demeanor then and now is making me tense and I don't know how to make it better but I want to.

She talks eventually. "Look at them."

I'm confused with what she means, but when I look at her she just rolls her eyes and points her chin forward, towards the door that shows a clear vision of the living room. My eyes find Katniss immediately, and she's looking around and seems pretty uncomfortable. A couple people are talking to her, but it seems more like they're talking near her because she nods disinterestedly and looks around. I imagine myself sweeping in and taking her away from those people that are obviously boring her, but my mind blanks off at that moment. What would I even do after? As if I could be not equally boring as them? I don't let my imagination go off on that thought, I don't need to deal with fantasizing right next to Johanna ever, but especially not with her in this state.

"Who am I looking at?" I ask her, but I think I figure it out right when I ask. Behind where Katniss is, out of her eyesight but amongst all the people, are Madge and Gale. They're talking, standing a bit close to each other to hear over the music (Garbage is playing –– the band, not just some crappy music) and they both are swaying to the music slightly just so that they aren't staying frozen in the crowd. I turn and raise my eyebrow at Johanna, and she points her chin again at them as she takes another drink. Madge's hand seems to hover, as if she wants to place it on his but she doesn't make a move. Looking between the two of them, it's pretty clear that something exists between the two of them, or the want of something, but they're holding back.

I look at Johanna, confused. "What...?" I ask, trailing off.

Johanna nods and takes a drag of her cigarette. "He's liked her for a while now, and although she doesn't talk about it to me, tries to refrain from showing it near me, she likes him too."

"But aren't you two––"

"We're not dating," She says.

"Exclusively fucking," I add, using her terms.

She nods. "Exclusively fucking."

"But?" I try and prompt. It feels weird, having a conversation like this with Johanna, where I'm not the subject and it's her. And then I feel incredibly guilty and selfish for that thought, as if everything between us just has to come down to me and the girl I'm in love with and what she's dealing with doesn't matter.

She shrugs. "He likes her, but he isn't going to make a move. He hasn't yet and he won't if he has an excuse and an easy way out of frustration," She tells me. I figure her and their "arrangement" is the "easy way out of frustration," and I don't ask for further details.

"You're okay with that?" I know I'm uncharted territories. I wonder how many people have had a conversation with Johanna Mason that was about her, about her feelings. I can only hope I'm able to not piss her off.

"I'm not in love with him," she assures me. There's no added hostility that says she's trying to prove it to herself as well so I believe her. "I don't even like him that way. It's like how I told you. We're friends, we fuck."

"How did that arrangement start?" The concept of starting up a casual sexual relationship is almost borderline confusing to me, and I can't even picture myself having the ability to start such a thing.

Another drink. "Some conquest of his didn't play out right the same night that one didn't work out for me. We both fell back on each other, figuring how it'd be easy because we didn't have to use up any more of our time we already wasted on trying to seduce another person. The next morning we kind of just laughed about it, but decided that we'd become each other's fallback in case we didn't get what we wanted. Pretty soon we realized how much easier it is to just have someone picked out and not having to play a person and amp up the charm –– don't snicker at the idea of me having charm, Mellark –– and just decided to do what we're doing now. Exclusively fucking, for about half a year now."

There's a lot of movies out there, books too I'm sure (ones I'll probably never read), about two friends that fall into casual friends with benefits kind of scenarios like this and feelings always come about. The fact that it's been almost six months, I'm pretty sure that somehow feelings became a problem. "So you're not in love with him, you don't feel that way at all towards him?" She nods. "And you haven't at all the entire time you've been –– with him?" She nods again. "Well what about him?"

She stubs out her cigarette while she takes another drink as I do with my own. "No. We don't cuddle, and he doesn't try to hold me. There's no lingering glances. He's even talked to Kat about how it's a relief to not have to deal with romantics on either side with our relationship. I made her tell me, of course." She laughs as she takes another sip of her drink. "I don't know, I'm drunk. I've known that he liked her for a long time and it doesn't bother me. My drunken mouth is just rambling. I guess it's just a bit empty feeling sometimes."

It's something she definitely wouldn't admit sober, so I cautiously try to push the thought. "Empty? You want him to like you in that way?" I feel like I'm twelve with the way I worded the question, but the word "love" isn't doing any good in this conversation –– or any with Johanna.

"No!" She tells me right off. "No, I don't want that at all. I just..." She trails off and shakes her head. "Ugh. It's hard to describe. And I usually don't even feel it, you know? Just when I drink a bit too much of this vodka drink right here," She kicks the bottle she has on her with her foot. "It's not even that I want Gale to feel that way I just..." She takes a big inhale and lets it out. She's obviously uncomfortable talking about feelings, and I wonder how many times she does it. "It's not always fun not being anyone's first choice, y'know?"

"What do you mean?"

She shakes her head and drinks more, almost done with it. "With my mom and dad, now with my uncle. My uncle is great, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't a choice of his. Just kind of thrown to him after my mom died, being listed in her will as my caretaker. I got my friends, and my sex life is great. But sometimes it just feels like there's something missing. And I don't want it with Gale, and I don't want him to want it with me. But I see him wanting it with Madge, and I feel that. I feel that more than I've ever been able to feel any type of feeling like that towards anyone."

I'm silent for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out the best way to deal with this. My girl talks with Delly seem to be coming in handy, because it taught me definitely a way to be able to analyze people, or I guess more like analyze high schoolers overall. "We're still in high school, Johanna. You'll be out soon enough. Somewhere down the line you'll find someone that'll hook you, and you actually will enjoy it."

She shrugs, and I work on my own drink. "It's expected probably. A guy like Gale being dragged around by three girls. He kissed one, fucks another, he's bound to lust after the third."

My mind zeroes in on what she first said. "He what?"

She looks over at me, realizing what she said, and then just waves it off. "It was a while ago. Like I said, you never asked if Katniss had a first kiss. Gale had a crush on her and kissed her. Man, talk about awkward first kisses. Well don't worry Bread Boy, nothing happened after that and if he expected to like her more after it, it just affirmed in his mind the idea that friends is a better term when it comes to Katniss Everdeen."

I nod, and try to just put away the information without harping for every detail like I want to. "So you think it's just lust for Madge? For what he doesn't have?"

"Not just lust, no. I think he genuinely feels an attraction for her, but there's something stopping him from doing anything about it and it's not me."

I'm dumbfounded at what it could be. Gale Hawthorne seems to be the epitome of confidence among the female population, and I know I've heard groups of girls whispering about him while giggling. "What is it then?"

She looks at me pointedly. "An old train track," She says, and my eyes widen. He feels stopped by the Townie and Seam divide? I look away from Johanna, the accusation in her eyes too much for me. Because I find myself in quite a similar situation. The classism against the Seam is something I don't agree with, but I've used it in my mind a bunch of times as a sorry excuse for not trying to talk to Katniss, I know. I'm surprised, seeing as how even through the divide Madge is friends with them. Is that not enough? It makes me nervous, wondering how deep within these kids that grew up in the Seam that prejudice against them and against us in return runs. What if I could actually get through to Katniss, have her be able to not tense up in a non-school related event with me, would that even be enough? Or will this divide in the town stop anything else from being able to become? I guess I never took it into account because I don't feel it myself; I don't have a disgust towards the Seam or anyone that lives here. I try to focus instead back onto Johanna and the conversation, not get sidetracked into my own dealings. I have plenty of time for that, and I'm pretty sure the "Johanna actually has feelings" time is going to end soon enough.

She shakes her head one more time and finishes her drink. "Like I said, I don't even care about it usually. Vodka makes me a wimpy sap."

"It's not wimpy to have emotions, Johanna," I let her know.

She looks at me seriously for a moment like she's going to agree, but then she smiles. "You'd know a thing or two about that wouldn't you, Lover Boy?"

I let out a chuckle about myself. "Yeah, yeah. But seriously, it's okay to have feelings, and to let others see it."

She stiffens at my implications. "Yeah, maybe," she mutters and looks off for a bit. But then she tries to get her grin back on again. "Ah, whatever. I'll just fuck my frustrations out on that boy and be good as new." She tries to shrug off the whole conversation, and I let her. I'm not going to go and dole out advice in this kind of situation, because it's obvious that's not what she wants or needs. I don't even know what I'd say if she did want some. She just needed to rant out complicated things she feels, and I'm really happy that she turned to me to do so, even if it was just because I caught her at the time she was feeling them.

I roll my eyes. "Johanna I'm totally fine if you need to talk feelings with me but please don't tell me bedroom secrets of yours."

And like that, it's a switch. The Johanna with feelings is buried deep under again and her armour is up in the shape of a grin. "You sure? I can give you some tips y'know. Some ways to make Katniss sing if you can ever grow a pair and get her to feel 'em." I shake my head and finish my drink as she stands up. "Come on, let's go inside. I'm done with this whole feelings thing, and want all of these people out of the house so we can have cake."

I stand up, taking a bit of time since I was sitting and the cold is getting into leg. Well, the alcohol probably had a say in it too. I'm a bit wobbly, my mind is fuzzy slightly from both the alcohol and the conversation. "And how are we going to do that?"

She smiles at me and just tells me to follow her. She grabs Katniss on her way to getting towards Madge and Gale. I look over to Katniss and she looks disinterested still, but a slight smile threatens to come upon her. It's different from her usual ones that she fights against, easier, almost. I'm sure that it's the alcohol that fights off what seems to be a necessity of hers to scowl, and this time when she catches my eye she doesn't tense up. I smile, and she smiles back.

"It's cake time, birthday girl," Johanna says, tapping Katniss' crown. Everyone nods and Johanna nods as well. "You know what to do, guys," She says but then her eyes land on me. "Oh, well you don't exactly. Alright, Peeta, go with the birthday girl. She'll let you know what to do." I don't miss the glint in her eyes, and I know she's messing around with me on this. But I can't seem to care because I feel light. And when I turn to Katniss, she just nods and looks at me with no signs of running off. I'm sure my lack of being scared and her lack of being defensive is from the alcohol in our high school bodies, but I don't care. She smiled back at me, and I'm feeling better than I was just a while ago at the same party. And most people are going to leave...somehow.

Katniss starts to walk away from the others and I quick catch up to her. "So how are we going to make everyone leave?" I ask her.

She turns to me and smirks but doesn't answer as we continue walking through the crowd. I look around and we seem to be situated a bit into a corner by the table that has the snacks. Or had. They're all gone, but people are still hanging around the area and talking and/or dancing. I look around and I see that Madge, Gale, and Johanna have all gone around to areas near the other corners of the room.

Huh.

I look back at Katniss and she looks around at the people near us and then back at me. "Just try and play along alright?" She asks me.

"Alright."

She comes closer to me. "Trust me," She mutters and my heart races as she grabs my hand and tugs me to step closer to her as she steps closer to a clump of people near us.

"I do," I manage to get out. And I do, oh god I do.

She flashes a quick smile at me and nods as she lets go of my hand. I miss the contact, but it seems to fill with the feeling that her skin seems to cause upon mine. She still is standing close to me, and I try to keep my breathing normal. This girl will be the death of me. She winks (winks, for chrissakes) and then pauses, letting me know that the show begins. "Peeta, I think we have to go now," She tells me as she overplays her swaying, as if she's drunk. She doesn't try to talk quietly, in fact, she's talking quite loud.

I'm a bit lost but her voice saying trust me, trust me, flows through my mind like blood. I'm sure she wants to get out some explanation why, so I have to prompt that. She keeps swaying though, and before I can think of not doing it, I bring my hands up to her shoulders and steady her. I want to forget this stupid game we have to do right now to get these people out and ask her: Do you feel that? Is there electricity where I touch you, just like it seems to happen to me? I anticipate and dread the answer to the question, and I don't ask it. I get back to my task. "The night's still young, birthday girl."

"Yeah but," She stops and looks around. No one's really looking at us and she gets closer, and I bend down just slightly so that we're the same height. Her lips are near my ear and I have to force myself not to close my eyes or have them roll back as her warm breath hits me. She seems like she's going to whisper but her voice is loud –– loud enough for the people nearby to hear us. "The cops are here."

It's almost comical how it all acts out. The people right next to us who weren't paying attention just before are suddenly on high alert and repeat the word "Cops!" It flows through the area near us with people saying the word over and over. I look over and see that Johanna, Gale, and Madge have all done the same thing. Most people are now frantic and quickly placing their cups down. I see people that didn't drink try to calm down others that have definitely had too much, and tell them that they'll drive them home. Other people just run out the front door or the back to the road or the woods respectively, to get to their homes or wherever they decided they'd crash that evening. Not everyone apparently had a sleepover invite, and in the middle of our created chaos, I feel myself smile.

The others come towards us, as well as a couple other people that I guess are decidedly "cool" and therefore know this process of making people leave and know it's a hoax. I wonder what it'd be like if there were actual cops –– how confusing it'd be if it was unknown between this group (and me, I remind myself because I'm standing among them, and me) if someone was trying to really warn the others that there was a cop. There are lazy smiles all around as we watch everyone else scatter. Two people run out of the bathroom fixing their shirts and I try not to let my eyes widen. I'm not a fool, I know these things happen at parties. Hormones and alcohol don't mix too well in teenager bodies. Still, another two, the guy's shirt is completely gone and he drags the girl as she looks around for something, come out from some door down the hallway. Johanna mutters about them, something about how she said to stay out of the fucking rooms down the hall you shitheads, but she doesn't try to stop them or anything. They have a mission to get out. No one is even paying attention to the group of us not moving.

Within a couple moments, we're the only ones left. It'd be quiet but the music is still playing, the theme song to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air on. Johanna starts laughing and we join in a bit. "Alright, alright. It's cake time for the birthday girl!" She announces and we all make our way to the kitchen.

"Cake time" also apparently means "Shot time," because when I get in there Johanna is already lining up several shot glasses. She picks up a bottle that wasn't out before and starts filling up all the glasses.

Katniss looks and groans. "Straight vodka, really Jo? You know I hate that."

"We all have to do things we don't like, Kitty-Kat," Johanna tells her as she pinches Katniss' cheek.

Katniss swats away her hand and Johanna laughs as she continues pouring the shots. "It's my birthday though. Shouldn't I get to do what I want?"

"It's your birthday but it's my house, my liquor, and my rules. And you have a shot with all of us and a shot on your own after we serenade you with a round of 'Happy Birthday.'" Everyone cheered and Katniss huffed and gave in –– but with a small smile threatening to overcome her.

Johanna turns to me. "Did you bring any candles, Cake Boy?"

Shit. "I––"

She laughs at me and goes to take the cake out of the box. "It's fine, I'm sure I have some somewhere in here." She rummages through some of the cabinets in the kitchen while she calls to Thom to turn off the music. Taking out the lighter in her pocket, she sets to putting the candles in the cake and after their lit, we all pick up a shotglass and cheers to Katniss. The drink burns down my throat and I try to keep the grimace off, but thankfully the lights are turned off and in just the candlelight I can make a face that vocalizes my dislike for the taste of the alcohol without anyone seeing to make fun of. We're all on one edge of the table and Katniss is at the other.

It may be the alcohol, I don't think it is, but Katniss Everdeen looks more beautiful than I think I've ever seen before. The candles give her an underlighting, something that we studied just a couple weeks ago in art class. Underlighting gives a sinister look to most things, and overall just accentuates non-pleasing aspects of someone, but I'm not sure if Katniss Everdeen has ever looked more beautiful or could ever again. Well, that must be alcohol talking because I remember how she looked for our graduation of middle school. We were on the cusp of becoming high schoolers and therefore of course, we thought that made us super important. Boys had to wear button ups and ties while girls had to wear dresses. Her dress was an older style, white which contrasted amazingly against her skin. We had to wear those heavy graduation gowns, but in the choir room where we were slipping them on I saw her in her dress. I was incredibly thankful for the overlarge graduation gown they had us all in, because I knew without looking down that I was hard, and my stiff dress pants and the friction they were causing as I tried unsuccessfully to move in my seat to a better position without being noticed were of no help. I sat and had to listen to speeches about how we were going onto the next chapter in our life, about all the success that was waiting for us to find it, and all I could think about was Katniss Everdeen and that dress. She was beautiful. She is beautiful.

And now here I was, giving my voice into the rowdy rendition of "Happy Birthday."

She smiles embarrassedly, and I decide that it is in fact the most beautiful moment I've ever seen her. She's lost the tense holding back and seriousness that I've always seen in her due to the alcohol, as well as being completely surrounded by people she likes and calls friends. My stomach lurches at the thought of me being included in this. Am I? I don't know if I could be, if I'm truly part of the "close friends of Katniss Everdeen that makes her smile without holding back," but the possibility is enough for now. Everyone holds their breath as she looks around and makes a wish. I feel my heart pounding when her eyes sweep and lock on mine and –– do they hesitate on me for a bit? I'm not sure, because she continues a sweep and close her eyes and bends near the candles to blow them out. My eyes widen in the seconds before she blows the candles out fully, and then the lights are out. Everyone cheers and I hear someone stumble their way towards the lights and flick them back on.

Katniss takes her other shot that Johanna forced on her. I don't know if it's actually because it's her birthday, or if Johanna just said so because Katniss was complaining. The cake is cut and served, and for a good chunk of time people are coming up to me to compliment me on the cake and thank me for bringing it. Everyone has forks and plates, but we're all standing up and milling around. I'm smiling and nodding at everyone that talks to me, glad that they seem to enjoy it. My eyes flicker to Katniss as she seems to being looking through the crowd and looking at me, and she tries to hide her blush behind her fork as she chews through the cake. Her cake. Her cake that I made.

She starts walking over to me and I make sure to not take another bite and hope that I don't have any crumbs on my face. "This cake is really good Peeta," She tells me and briefly squeezes my forearm before quick taking her hand away and going back to eating her piece.

I nod and take a small bite of my own. "I'm glad. You–– I'm glad." I try to not look at her for a bit so that I can hide the fact that I almost said, you deserve the best, or something on the same level of cheesiness and cliche. There's a crumb on her cheek near her mouth, like I was hoping I didn't have, and I automatically start to reach out to get it. She freezes and I pause, but then I resume, telling her, "You have a crumb," under my breath. She laughs after I get it off and tries to hide her embarrassment. "Now we're even," I tell her.

She looks at me confused. "Even?"

I just want to slap myself and my inability to shut my mouth. I'm pretty sure she probably doesn't remember when I had flour on my face and she brushed it off for me. She doesn't reply it in her mind, how her hand felt on my skin. I try to leave out all of those details. "Yeah, when I had flour on my cheek? You got it off, and I took care of that cake crumble. Even."

She looks troubled though at it as she nods uncertainly, and I wonder if I could ever get good at this whole "small talk" thing with this girl. I'm ready for her to run off from me again, but she doesn't. She stays right nearby and I take it as a step forward. I bring up the rest of the evening –– did you enjoy your party? Everyone here that you wanted to see? Are you doing anything else for your birthday? I want to ask her about what Johanna told me earlier, ask her if Gale was really her first kiss? Did it mean anything to her? Is Johanna lying, or does she not know something? But it's not my place to ask so I bite down the questions and try not to be irrationally jealous about the guy who grew up alongside this girl.

It seems like all at once everyone realizes how tired we all are. Our stomachs are filled with cake making us sluggish on top of everything else people consumed throughout the night and everyone seems to grow quieter. The decision of a clean up tomorrow is made easily and we all go downstairs to the basement where Johanna has designated for us to sleep. There's a mattress on the ground along with several sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets all over. A couch is in the corner.

"Birthday girl gets the mattress. Everyone can fight over the couch. You don't sleep anywhere else, and my door is locked for a reason."

Everyone choruses a goodnight out to her and people just start to walk like zombies and fall wherever they do and stop moving. Someone makes it to the couch, and Katniss settles onto the mattress. There's only one sleeping bag left, and of course it's the one right next to Katniss' mattress. I'm red in the face as I go to lay down. I didn't plan this, and god I hope she doesn't think I did because that could only add to the idea of me in creepy status about it all. But when I look over at her once I'm laying down she's facing me and she gives me a quick smile, her eyes sleepy. My heart is hammering because the idea of having Katniss Everdeen be the last thing I see when I go to bed, the first thing I see when I wake up almost seems too much. I close my eyes and try to swallow hard and will myself not to get hard but I know it's no use. I've been able to go most of the party without having to deal with it badly, of course it's going to spring up now. When she's so close.

"We're not even, you know," I hear her voice whisper out and I open my eyes to see her ready to fall asleep face gone and replaced by a half-attempted scowl.

I'm confused and I voice it. "What?"

"We're not even. We're not. You made that cake for me––"

"That was for your birthday, Katniss. That doesn't count for anything like this." We're both whispering and as we become slightly louder she scooches her body on the mattress closer to me. Jesus.

"Okay, fine but that still doesn't mean anything because we're still not even."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Katniss."

"You're going to make me say it aren't you?" Her whisper is vile and I hate it. I want this conversation to go away and not exist. I don't know what she's talking about but she continues to talk to shine light on it for me. "The bread at my father's memorial, Peeta."

No, I definitely don't want to talk about this, the one time besides now that we've had any real interaction. I try not to think about it, but she had to bring it up.

"I don't know if you even remember," She whispers.

Of course I do. "Of course I do," I say quietly. What I don't say is the details. What I don't say is: you had tears in your eyes but already you were trying to be strong for the rest of your family that was left. You held tightly onto Primrose's hands and refused to even entertain the fact of letting go. She cried openly, her emotions on display for everyone, and it made you just hold her tighter to you. You looked tired and Prim looked tired and everything about the two of you gave off the feeling as if you're just beaten down. Your mother was several paces away from you and looking away, but I saw her face. Or it seemed like the lack of one. Shock and grief seemed to steal away her ability to have any of it show upon her, and she stood and talked to some family that came up to give their condolences. Only me and my father came to the memorial from my family, and there weren't many from our side of the town. We stood out like stubborn dandelions in the meadow of Seam and when I approached you by myself, with only a loaf of bread in my hands you tensed up. I noticed how you already were skinny, both you and Prim and all of you, and how the grief and one less person bringing in money wasn't helping. How there was talk in town that you're mother hasn't been in work since the fire and how there's talk of people not thinking she'll come back. And I made a loaf of bread that morning, that morning that me and my father opened and then gave the shop over to the others so we could pay our respects and I could give you what I made. My palms were sweating and I felt like I had cotton in my mouth. I gave you the bread and you told me you didn't need my charity. And I tried to insist it wasn't but you wouldn't listen, until your sister slowly reached out for the bread. You instantly quieted down and you didn't speak again, as you turned her away and took the bread.

I don't say any of that. All I say is, "Of course I do." None of those details. Details that I try to block out and am somehow able to yet am still unable to block out Katniss' face in the hallway when someone congratulated me on my heroics with my cane. She looked so mad that I survived honestly, and that's a look, try as hard as I could, I didn't seem to ever be able to shake off. But this, the bread incident, I've been able to ignore and forget even what happened. But she brings it up of course.

She seems relieved that I don't delve into details. I'm relieved that she doesn't as well. She's talking fast, and I wonder if it's the confidence of alcohol that's making her talk to me about this finally. "Well, that bread really helped us, Peeta. I felt really bad for how I treated you and wanted to apologize, but at the same time I still felt like it was charity and all my ego wanted to do was throw it out. But Prim inhaled the smell so hard and I couldn't take it away from her. It was the first night in a long time that we had such good food in our stomach. And I know it didn't seem like a lot, probably, or whatever, but Peeta it meant a lot. And I was an ass to you. So I was so embarrassed about the idea of eating my words and saying thank you that I didn't. And I don't have a way to make us even. So no, we're not even."

We're quiet, and there's drunk snores all around us. No one else is even awake to hear us I'm sure. "I'm not keeping a tally, Katniss. You don't have to either. You don't owe me."

"But I was so mean––"

I laugh a bit and she pauses, her hand actually in midair. "You sometimes can be. I try not to take it personal when I can avoid it. Apology accepted and your debts are gone." My smile is completely crooked, I can feel it, as if laying down on my side makes all of the alcohol truly hit me.

"I wanted to hate you," She admits lowly.

It hurts at first, hearing that. But I kind of expected it. Between half of the times that she has to fight how far her scowl went when she looked at me showed enough. I wonder if it was just because of this one instance, or if me not being from the Seam is a part of it too. If she cares about that sort of thing. "Do you hate me?" I ask in a quiet voice, and even I can notice how nervous I sound.

"No." Her voice is still a whisper but she's firm in it and I hold back a sigh of relief.

"Good. Then we're good."

"But––"

"No buts," I tell her, and I take her hand that's still in the air and bring it back down to the mattress. We let go but our hands don't move too far, my hand still atop the mattress. She huffs but then after a bit she offers me a small smile and mouths, "okay."

"Goodnight Katniss," I tell her, and try to stop the feeling shooting up my spine. I feel warm, knowing this'll be the last thing I say aloud tonight. I'm saying goodnight to her. And she––

"Goodnight Peeta," She returns and yawns, and her eyes close. I keep mine open a bit longer because I just want to be able to look at her, at her face and how peaceful she seems. It's a bit until I get my eyes closed, and right when I'm about to fall asleep, I feel something on my arm. I crack open my eyes to look, and I see her hand lifted slightly, her fingers trailing lightly across my skin and I'm so damn happy that I rolled my sleeves up again so I could feel it directly on my skin. I look over at her but it seems like she's sleeping. I'm laying lower than her elevated self, my arm perched on her level, but in my mind I can see just the two of us in a bed, one bed, and laying together entwining our legs. Her hand continues it's dance and I get frustrated with myself and the tightening feeling I get in my pants. Of course. Stop it, I say in my mind, but I don't say it aloud in the very improbable possibility that Katniss is awake, fully conscious of what she's doing, what she's doing to me on many levels.

Get a hold of yourself Mellark, I tell myself and shake my head as I close my eyes and just try to think back to old bedtime stories that I used to be read to with. I look at her just one more time, look down at her hand now running curcles on my forearm, and then close my eyes. I'm fine because I know when I open them, she'll be the first thing I see.