It's a hot summer evening, the breeze making the white curtains in our bedroom window dance. I've gone to bed, trying to read a book, but I can't concentrate. Peeta went to visit some of the others who have returned to District 12, among them a boy who used to be in his class. Or a man who used to be in his class, I guess. It seems so long ago. When did I go to school? It must've been a lifetime ago. He's not back yet. I wonder when he'll be back? I'm not sure when I should start worrying.

I also wonder what they're talking about. Work? The past? People who have died? The future? The weather?

Me?

Us?

I blush just thinking about it. I don't really think that Peeta would talk about me, at least not say things I wouldn't want him to say to anyone else, but I'm not sure. This is one of his best friends, after all. The only one who still lives, the only one he has. Except me. I'm glad for him, that he has someone to talk to. But I'm not used to it, I'm used to being the only one. Because he is the only one I have.

Then I hear his steps outside, unlocking the door, taking off his shoes. I close my eyes and let out a sigh of relief, glad he's home. He walks up the stairs, opening the door to our bedroom. "Hi!" He smiles, he looks happy. At the sight of me his smile broadens, and I blush as his eyes scan my body. It's so hot, all I'm wearing is a tank top and my panties. I guess he's not used to all this skin. Neither am I. He walks over to me, kisses me on the lips lightly. "Nice outfit," he whispers in my ear. Then he smiles and walks into the bathroom, brushing his teeth.

When he comes back, all he's wearing are his boxer shorts. This time I'm the one who's catching my breath. I don't know if it's the heat, his careless smile, or simply the fact that we've both had a good day. He lies down next to me. "How's the book?"

I don't even remember what it's about, but I can't tell him that. "Okay." I put it down. "How was your visit at Dave's?"

"Good." He pauses. "It was good to see him. It's been a long time. But it's also hard to… Remember everyone who's not here anymore.

I nod slowly. Dave lost the majority of his family when District 12 was bombed. His younger sister is the only one who's still alive.

"I haven't really talked to him since before the reaping. Seems like a lifetime ago," he says, mirroring my earlier thoughts. "He says hi, by the way. He couldn't get over the fact that we are now living together."

I chuckle. "I can imagine. I'm guessing you've told him a thing or two about me – I mean, before?"

He grins. "Oh yeah. He was secretly in love with Madge, so we were both obsessing about someone completely out of our league." His smile dies, as does mine. Madge.

I wish she could be here. There are so many that are gone. We've lost so many.

I turn off the light. He lies behind me, spooning, even though it's hot. Breathing in my neck. One hand goes over my waist, the other underneath my head. My tank top has slipped up a bit, and his hand is touching the naked skin of my belly.

"You do know it's too hot to be sleeping this close together, right?" I whisper. His body behind me is so hot it's a wonder I'm not getting burns.

"I know," he whispers back, but he doesn't move away. Neither do I.

I try to sleep, I really do. I close my eyes, deliberately slow my breathing, listen to the wind, but all I can think about, is that hand on my belly and the heat of his body against my back. I can tell he's not sleeping, either, his hand keeps stroking my belly, partly scarred, partly smooth.

I am never going to get any sleep at this rate. Never.

Finally, I turn around, lying on my back, looking at him, his hand still on my naked belly. I smile. He smiles back. Then, quickly, without daring to talk or even think too much about it, I slip off my tank top. I can hear him gasping, and his face… He just looks stunned. I study his face carefully, but don't see any fear, just… Awe. As if involuntarily, his hand goes up, from my belly to my right breast. He touches it, ever so lightly, as if he can hardly believe it's true.

Perhaps he doesn't.

I don't dare to move, not to mention talk. All I can hear is his ragged breathing, mirrored by my own. "Is it… okay that I touch you?" he finally says, his voice hoarse.

I nearly chuckle, after all he's been feeling up my breast for quite a while, and he's only now asking for permission? But I hold it back, this is no time for laughter. "Yeah," I whisper.

Slowly, Katniss, slowly.

We just lie there, I don't know for how long, perhaps for hours. In the warm summer night, he touches every inch of my upper body, getting to know all my scars intimately, every patch of skin, every fold and imperfection. His hands are warm and loving. "You're so beautiful, Katniss," he whispers.

"You too," I whisper back.

Finally we both fall asleep.

It would appear as if things are finally starting to heat up? I have more chapters lined up, the next few ones will be a bit shorter. But the more you review, the faster I'll post them. Maybe. ;)