To my surprise, Gale didn't call off the date. I quickly got over my annoyance at him and mentally asked myself why love has made me a jittery, fragile, but hotheaded person. Because our date wasn't for another few hours, Gale left me, but not before saying "Wear something nice." A ripple of my subsiding anger resurfaced then. "You too," I snapped.

Someone has obviously heard that conversation.

Johanna intercepts me on my way to my room. "What?" I ask, none too nicely.

"I may not always like you, brainless, but, you gotta look great on your date," she says.

"I don't care about how I look, okay?" I say and elbow past her, but she catches my arm and latches onto it with a vice-like grip. "Come on," she says. "Prove to me you don't give a damn about Peeta anymore."

I laugh without humor. "How is this gonna prove anything? And why should I prove anything to you?"

She shrugs. "I was just bluffing. I don't care. But you're in desperate need of my fashion services. It's officially a crime not to take my advice."

"But it isn't until 8 pm. We have around five hours to kill."

"If we leave now, we could use two to three hours to buy your outfit. Another two hours for hair and makeup."

"But-"

"Don't worry. It's on me."

"No, really, I'm fine. Thanks, though."

"I insist."

I give up. That's why three hours later, I'm dressed in something I couldn't hope to breathe properly in. The dress stops just above my knees, and it goes shorter when I sit. It's a sleeveless number, shiny black except for a dash of silver lining the collar. I tried to contradict Johanna at the store, but she waved off my protestations. When I told her I'd just wear my old leather boots, she almost threw a fit. "Absolutely not!" she had huffed. So now, high-heeled boots, also shiny black, are hugging my legs very tightly. Walking long distances is out of the question. I hope Gale brings a car.

Presently, Johanna is wielding a wicked-looking eyeliner pen. "Look up," she says and attacks the skin directly beneath my eyes as soon as I do. When she finishes, she admires her handiwork. "Now you look edgy," she comments. I exhale, thinking that she's done. "Maybe just a little more red lipstick," she adds, and I endure another round of erasing and redrawing my face that seems to include anything but more red lipstick. After a while, Johanna says, "Look at yourself."

My cheeks aren't that heavily powdered. My eyes are dark and smoldering. My lips are red and full. The makeup complements the dress. "Hair time," says Johanna cheerfully. I think I fall asleep somewhere in that time, because when I open my eyes, my hair is perfectly straight, not a strand out of place. Johanna has swept up a portion of my hair into an intricate braid down my back. The rest hangs freely from my head, silky and smooth. I can't help myself. "Wow," I say. "This is amazing."

Johanna shrugs and offers me a shy smile. "Well, some of us have to have things to do rather than killing people, you know?"

"Don't tell me you want to be a stylist."

"I didn't say that. It's just a hobby. Something to keep my hands busy with."

"You ought to do this more often. Start a salon in 7 or something."

She smirks. "Never thought about that, really."

My eyes dart up to the wall clock. It's half-past seven. I get up and wobble to the door. "I gotta go to my room first, to get my stuff." I squeeze Johanna's hand in gratitude. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Have a great time."

I do have a great time. The only hindrance I encounter is my problem with Snow, but as soon as I manage to forget that, even for this one night, everything comes together smoothly.

I pull my jacket closer around me-yes, I put one on to feel a little less naked- as the yacht skims on the river, disturbing the cool air into a pleasant wind. We have just finished dinner, and Gale and I are standing close together on one side of the boat, watching the beautiful Capitol lights all around us.

The whole thing is actually sort of nice. The food was excellent, and Gale, as always, is great company. He's funny. He's smart. He's even a little more upbeat than usual. His eyes shine when he looks at me-maybe they're just reflecting the shiny silver material on my dress. But my only concern is: there's nothing weirder than going on a first date with a person you've known for almost half your life. If there's something I still don't know about Gale, I'm a platypus. Other than that, the evening is perfect.

We talk. There are no dull moments, nor gaps in the conversation. Our exchanges are light and free. We leave nothing out. We discuss almost everything: my hunting mishaps, his experiences in 2, old friends, corny jokes, even our romances. It's a little awkward, but we get over the general awkwardness immediately. I tell him the real story between me and Peeta. He fills me in on his numerous flings with numerous pretty women. I laugh at that part of the conversation, and I'm still laughing when somehow, Gale's arms are around me and his lips are almost in direct contact with mine.

The boat jumps a little and throws me off balance, and the rest, you can figure out.

Unlike that last episode with Peeta, I don't react violently to Gale's touch. I feel myself hesitate at first, but something dormant inside me seems to reawaken and transforms into a primal instinct. I only move. I only feel. I lose track of anything else but my very heightened senses. When I pull away slightly, just to breathe, I realize my hands are in Gale's dark hair and his are on my waist. He gives me a small smile and I return it willingly. I lean in, and we pick up where we left off.

It's not easy to admit this, but I would've stayed like this all night. I suddenly feel like I'm living off a drug that consumes me to no end. This is when and where I truly begin to let my past go. It's too strong, too urgent, too fast for a first kiss in a long time, but I welcome it with open arms. I could hate myself in the morning, but not now, when I'm too carried away in this current of sensations.

But we don't go farther than kissing. There's a line about that, and we're not ready to cross it.

I'm too lost in the moment that I don't see anything wrong when a strong force yanks Gale away from me. His assailant is a big man with a bald head and a familiar face.

"You," I breathe.

Gale throws me a questioning look."You know him?" he chokes out.

"He's a mugger."

The massive man frowns, not loosening his grip on Gale's neck. "The mugger's brother, actually. But I've been told that we look alike."

"Let him go!" I shout.

"Okay," says the man shortly and throws Gale to the floor, where he falls on his knees. Two more men storm the boat. Gale is a big guy, but next to these goons he looks tiny. The newcomers each take one of Gale's arms and force him to stand again. The mugger's brother clenches his hand into a fist and punches Gale in the stomach.

I scream something like "No!" but all that comes out is a choked sound.

Gale doubles over. He struggles, but the men must have grips like steel. Another blow makes Gale grunt. "Katniss, run!"

But I'm frozen in place.

"You heard him, fire girl," says the man who's been hitting Gale. "Run."

"What do you want?" I demand as soon as I find my voice.

"I think you're smart enough to figure it out." The man punches Gale again before adding,"Run now." Another solid strike. "Or you can watch."

"How did you get here?"

"Get here?" The man says. "I own this boat."

"What?!" The last thing I hear is the men's sinister laughter. Then I feel a vicious strike to my head and everything goes black.

When I come to, I'm lying on a dark, deserted street in the middle of nowhere. My head pounding, I get up on my feet. There's a tall, abandoned building in front of me. The only light comes from a window on the ground floor. I think I see a silhoutte of a man in there. Or two. Then my vision fades again. The next time I wake, the throbbing in my head has subsided, but I'm still as disheveled as a bat on drugs. My eyesight is blurry. But I think I make my way to the main street. I hail a cab to the president's mansion.

I catch a glimpse of myself from an angle on the window of the cab. My eyeliner is smeared under my eyes, and my hair is a rat's nest. No wonder the cab driver is giving me those looks. The hit to my head must have been crazy, because I'm wobbling to the elevator in the mansion when I remember.

Gale is gone.

A/N: Did you like it? Please leave a review. Thanks for putting up with this story. Have a great day, you guys. :)