I know, I know. It's been a million years since my last update. I had the most massive writer's block known to man and I literally could not find a way to get past it for so long. BUT I FINALLY DID! With this story, anyway. I'm still working on I Don't Want to Forget. Thank you guys so much for your support, never giving up on me or this story. You guys rock!

So, if you don't recall, the last chapter ended with Katniss and Peeta finally having sex. So here is the aftermath. It's a short chapter, but expect more to come next week. I hope it lives up to the anticipation!

Again, sorry for the delay! Enjoy!


I don't want to put clothes on, but after the windows de-fog, it's only a matter of time before someone drives by and sees us in our birthday suits. But I refuse to stop touching her. Or kissing her. I slowly help Katniss into dry clothes and kiss the skin that isn't covered by fabric. My lips continue to discover places I haven't kissed yet and then I rectify that.

And it's not twenty minutes after we're clothed again that someone comes to our salvation. A middle-aged man with five o'clock shadow and an anything-but-sunny disposition offers to drive us to the nearest gas station so we can call AAA—and we gratefully accept his offer.

I hang up the payphone and turn to Katniss; she's leaning on the wall across from me, twirling her braid around her index finger. She's not wearing my favorite shorts anymore, but the way her jeans hug her deliciously thick thighs that I was between not long ago has me reciting the pledge of allegiance in my head to will away my hard-on.

"They said they'd pick us up here and then we'd get the jeep and tow it to the Mechanic's a couple miles away," I tell her; she nods in response. Then I remember something. "Uh, I'm gonna get something to eat and I'll be right back."

She lifts her hand in a wave and I head out of the payphone bank, into the convenient store. But I don't head for the food yet. I head for the corner aisle for the item we need the most: condoms. As much as I loved being inside her without one, I don't want to risk anything. I snatch my usual brand and hide in my palm as I walk to get us a couple of corndogs. I realize the irony of buying penis shaped food and condoms as the same time, but I ignore it and do it anyway. Because corndogs are fucking delicious.

Katniss is in the exact same spot I left here when I get back. With the condoms tucked safely in my back pocket, I pull her off the wall and hand her one of the corndogs.

"Yummy," she purrs before chomping into the deep-fried meat.

"Agreed." I do the same before I place my hand on her lower back and move us towards the exit to wait for the tow truck.

I have no idea what's running through Katniss's head right now if I'm honest with myself, but she isn't pushing me away and I take that as a good sign. And I don't know what's going to happen or what she wants; but I want her. No. I don't want her. I need her. She's gotten under my skin and opened up my heart that I thought was closed. I hope I can do that for her, too.

Thankfully it doesn't take too long before the candy apple red truck pulls into the gas station. I wave my arm in the air and the man parks in the spot in front of us. He's a man of pure muscle with a small head, but his smile is warm as he shakes my hand and tells us to hop into the truck with him.

Katniss slides in first and I quickly jump in after her, wedging her between the two of us. But she doesn't show any discomfort; she sits silently and still as we drive to pick up my jeep.

Then she weaves her fingers with mine, startling me and causing me to jump.


I want to peel off her clothes again. I want to worship every dip and curve of her body with my mouth; she's an altar and I want to bow down to her.

Katniss pulls off her shirt over her head and shoves it into her duffle before she grabs another. She brings the new one to her nose and sniffs it; then she shrugs her shoulders and pulls it on.

"I need to do some laundry," she comments and I nod my head in agreement. But I couldn't care less. She could never bathe again and I would still go down on her until her voice was hoarse from screaming my name.

I quickly turn my head back to the TV as she makes her way across the hotel room towards me and pretend I haven't been watching her for the last ten minutes as she undressed and rubbed lotion over every inch of her olive skin. But come on. Katniss is seven hundred times as interesting as reruns of Murder She Wrote. You can't really blame me.

Katniss slips under the surprisingly soft-for-a-hotel flannel sheets and tucks herself into my side, placing her head on my shoulder; my arm comes around her automatically—I couldn't have stopped it if I tried. Which basically sums up my entire relationship with the woman.

"Peeta?"

I close my eyes for just a second and relish in the way my name sounds in her voice. It sounds elegant and worthy. Quiet but strong and full of...something. I'm not sure. But it's powerful. She makes me sound like the man I want to be, I wish I was.

"Yeah?" I respond once I get my thoughts in check.

"I like…what happened…earlier…" she drags out the sentence, spiking and slowing my pulse in anticipation.

I turn my head to her, practically giving myself whiplash. "Me too," I tell her, the understatement of a lifetime. I loved it. It was singlehandedly the greatest moment of my life. But I have no idea where this thing is going.

And I guess I never will, because she doesn't continue. Her chest tightens then relaxes against my side with a deep breath and I watch as her eyes flutter closed. It isn't long before her breathing is even and her releases skip across my chest, causing goose-bumps to erupt over my skin.

But I'm wide awake.

I slept with Katniss this morning. Like, slept with her. As in sex with. When I swore to myself I would never fall in love again. And for me? I've always antiquated sex with love.

That thought stops my mind in its tracks. My heart lurches into my throat and my ears deafen.

But I shake my head and forgetting thinking about what sleeping Katniss means in the long run. I can't love again. Not fully, anyway. I'm positive. After a while things eventually get destroyed to the point where they can never be repaired again.

I focus on different, less world-altering topics instead. Like my Jeep. The mechanic at Capital Auto Repair talked car at me for almost twenty minutes, explaining what was wrong and caused the breakdown, but I literally digested none of it. I'm actually quite certain the whole conversation made me unlearn things I've understood in the past—that's how lost I was. But then he said it would only cost three hundred dollars to fix and I was as happy as a clam.

Katniss's soft snores bring me out of my head and I run my fingers along the strip of exposed skin between her shirt and her pajama shorts. The girl is undeniably beautiful—like a sunset. But just like a sunset, there is a mystery and a melancholy that comes with her. I feel like she's going to disappear right before my eyes and it will be so natural to me that it won't even make a difference. It'll be like she never existed at all. But I'll still be submerged into darkness.

I feel like I'm always about to say goodbye, but the words won't actually fall out of my mouth.

I shake my head and try to rid myself of the dread that's building in the pit of my stomach.

It doesn't work.


"Here's your car back, sir."

The same guy from yesterday hands me my keys back and I thank him. Katniss nods to the man before he leaves us, heading back into the blue and white worn-down shop. I squint into the sun, my sunglasses in the Jeep, before looking at Katniss. She never braided her hair this morning, so it hangs in elegant waves down her shoulders. She is so beautiful. Every time I see her, it repeatedly astounds me how perfect every inch of her is.

But it's wrong to think this about someone you can't be with.

I clear my throat and wave in the direction of my jeep. "Shall we?"

Katniss nods her head. "We shall."

We hop back in the Jeep, like we done so many times before, but it's different now. It isn't just a car that gets me from once place to another. Or the vehicle used for a favor my father promised. No. Not anymore. It means so much more. And I can tell Katniss feels it too. Circles of pink erupt on her cheeks and she begins to twirl a chunk of her hair around the index finger of her right hand.

I glance at her and she glances back at me. But neither of us say anything. I turn back to the windshield and start up the engine; I pull out of the lot and onto the road.

We drive for many miles, all the way to Tulsa, no words spoken.

Just a car full of words I'm too afraid to say.