Peeta and I stay up on the roof of the school long past dark, and by the time we fold up the blanket and pack away the cups and plates, we've missed the district curfew. We travel on the same side streets that we'd walked earlier in the evening on the way to my house, silently agreeing to avoid conversation so we don't attract the attention of any Peacekeepers on patrol.

Not that it makes much difference – because Peeta's footsteps are so loud they can probably hear him all the way in District Eleven. I think about asking him to take his shoes off, but if anyone catches us they'll probably just assume we're sneaking home after a tryst by the slag heap, and let us off with a warning. It's close enough to the truth, I think, grateful that Peeta can't see the way my face flushes in the dark.

By some miracle we make it to my front door unnoticed. Peeta stands close to me, and brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. "I had a really good time tonight," he says, his fingers lingering on my cheek.

"Me too," I agree. "In my top three dates of all time."

Peeta laughs, then leans in and kisses me. His hands come to rest on my waist, and I grasp his elbows lightly to keep my balance. "You're funny," he murmurs, and the compliment sends a pleasant little shock through me. People have called me many things over the years, but funny was never one of them.

He pulls back after another peck on the lips. I'm surprised by how badly I want him to stay – for the night to stretch on and on before us. Because here in the shadows and quiet, I'm not thinking about any of the doubts that I know will rush back in when the sun rises again in the morning. I'm only thinking about how I feel with him at this moment.

"I'll let you get to bed," he says, keeping his voice low. "See you tomorrow?"

I shake my head. "I'm off tomorrow."

His face falls just slightly. "Right. I forgot. Well, Monday then." He squeezes my hand one last time and then steps away. "Goodnight, Katniss."

"Wait."

Peeta stops, watching me expectantly.

"I don't want you to walk all that way by yourself," I admit in a rush of breath. "It's late, and – you might get stopped."

Peeta's smile borders on a smirk. "I'll be fine," he says. "But I'm glad to know you're concerned about me."

"Seriously, Peeta," I say, more firmly this time. "You can…sleep on the couch or something."

The smile drops off his face as he realizes I'm not joking. His eyes dart nervously to the dark, silent house behind me. "Your mom wouldn't mind?"

Now it's my turn to get awkward. "She's not home."

A look I can't quite place flits across Peeta's face, but I know exactly what he's thinking – because even if I have no intention of acting on it, I'm thinking it too.

"I think I should head home," he says after a long pause. "I have to be up so early for work."

I nod quickly, embarrassed. "Yeah, of course."

Peeta steps closer and places his palm on my hip, squeezing it gently. "You know I want to stay. But…" He shrugs, a little sheepish. "I think you were right. It's not the right night." His kiss is firmer this time, but still fleeting, and after we exchange goodbyes I watch as he heads off into the darkness.

The house is still and quiet when I enter, Peeta's flowers still sitting untouched in their vase on the kitchen table. I sit down at the table and rest my chin in my hand, still reeling a little from Peeta's last kiss.

Even though the date is over, I feel just as jumpy as I had in the hours leading up to it. Like I'm still anticipating something. But I also feel warm inside, all throughout my body. I smile against my palm, embarrassed by my reaction, even though there's no one here to witness it.

I reach out and touch the flowers idly. They're soft against my fingertips. Gale had given me flowers in the past, on several occasions, and I'd always felt strange about it – especially when it was clear they were from the flower shop in town, and not picked from the fields around the Seam. I never wanted him to spend money on me like that, when I knew how little he had.

Pushing away the thought, I pluck one of the yellow flowers from the bouquet and tuck it behind my ear.

I glance at the clock on the kitchen counter. It's past midnight, and even though I don't have work in the morning, I should be heading to bed. But my veins are still buzzing – with adrenaline, with nerves, with something I can't quite define.

Slipping off my shoes, I move into my room and lay down on the bed, closing my eyes. I think back to just a few hours ago, when I was laying like this on the roof of the school, Peeta's warm weight pressing down into me. My hand creeps slowly down my thigh, brushing idly back and forth. It had felt so good – so impossibly good – to feel his skin against mine, bare in the cool night air. I wonder if it will feel as good the next time.

My eyes flutter open. The next time? Will there be a next time? Do I want there to be a next time? Does Peeta?

I remember Peeta's lips against mine, his fingers tracing over the curves of my breasts. His hips pressing into me…

Peeta obviously wants a next time.

My stomach tightens, not unpleasantly. I think I want a next time, too.

Someone says my name, and I wake with a start.

It's Prim, sitting on her knees on the bed beside me. Moonlight shines in through the gaps in the window curtains. I can't have been asleep for more than a few hours. "What?" I croak, disoriented.

Her expression is inscrutable in the dark. "Why do you have flowers?" she whispers.

Shit. I'd completely forgotten to dump Peeta's flowers when I got home. My hand moves to my temple – sure enough, the blossom I'd tucked behind my ear is still there, a little crushed from when I'd rolled onto it in my sleep.

I scowl, crumpling the flower in my fist and dropping it on the bedside table. "What time is it?" I ask, rubbing my eyes blearily.

"A little past three," she says. Groaning, I pull the sheets up over my head. Prim is undeterred. "Are they from Gale?" she persists.

"No."

"Are they from Peeta?"

I hesitate. Now's as good a time as any to tell her, I suppose. "Yeah. They're from Peeta."

Instead of the squeal I'd expected, there's silence. Then something soft but heavy hits me – her pillow. "Katniss! Why didn't you tell me?" she hisses.

I peek out from under the sheets. "Tell you what? You just got home."

"That Peeta's your boyfriend."

I scoff, rolling onto my back. "He's not my boyfriend."

"He kissed you, and now he gave you flowers. And you've been acting weird for days. That's what I call a boyfriend."

"Well, you're wrong. We've only been on one date."

Prim's mouth falls open. "You went on a date?"

I bury my face in my pillow. "Prim, I'm so tired," I whine. "Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"Ugh." She makes a little noise of disgust, so similar to the one our mother sometimes makes that I'd laugh if I had the energy. "I can't believe you. You're telling me everything tomorrow."

Despite how much I really don't want to do that, I smile into my pillow. "Yeah, okay. Goodnight."

Prim's curled up on her side and fast asleep when I wake up the next morning, a little later than I usually do myself. I stretch my arms over my head, wiggling my body a little as the same nervous energy that consumed me last night spreads through my limbs.

I don't have to see Peeta today, thankfully, which takes some of the pressure off. I'll have some time to think things through. But it won't be long before Prim wakes up and demands a minute-by-minute account of my date with him.

I can hear some rustling around in the kitchen, which means Mother's already awake. Wrapping my arms around myself, I shuffle out of the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind me.

"Good morning," she greets me, looking back over her shoulder from where she's slicing bread at the kitchen counter.

"Morning," I reply. "How was the delivery?"

"Long, but everything went smoothly," she says pleasantly. "Mother and baby are resting peacefully. Well, they were. It's Mrs. Dallman's first so I'll be checking up on them this afternoon to make sure the baby's breastfeeding."

I nod a little. I know almost nothing about birthing, and even less about babies; at age four I wasn't exactly ready to help care for Prim. Since I've never planned on having one of my own, getting acquainted with babies hasn't been much of a priority over the years.

"You want some bread and jam?" Mother asks.

I nod again. "Yes, please."

She sets a plate with two slices and a near-empty jar of strawberry jam on the table, then joins me with her own plate. We eat quietly for a few minutes, and then she asks, "Where'd the flowers come from?"

I chew my bread for much longer than necessary. "Well, they're from Peeta Mellark," I mumble, immediately taking another bite.

"Peeta?" She sounds surprised. Gale must have been her first thought, too. "I didn't know that you two were spending time together."

"We weren't," I say quickly.

"But you are now," she presses.

I shrug. "Sort of."

"Well, I hope he's being a gentleman." Mother raises her eyebrows as she says it, and I look away, blushing at the implication.

"That's not even – I mean. Of course he is." I take another huge bite of bread and jam, hoping she'll leave me alone if my mouth is too stuffed to speak. She says nothing, but she doesn't leave the table, watching me as I chew on my breakfast.

Eventually the silence becomes too much. "What?" I demand.

"Don't use that tone with me." Her voice is tinged with warning, but she actually looks sort of…amused?

"You're staring at me," I grumble.

"I'm just trying to see if there's anything different about you," she says, and my face must turn the color of the strawberry jam on my plate.

"There's not," I say shortly, pushing back my chair to stand. Mother looks relieved, though I don't know if it's because she believes me or because I'm ending the conversation before it can go any further. "I've got the day off. You need anything from the Hob?"

"Oh – um, rubbing alcohol. If you can find any." I nod, avoiding her eyes as I go back into the bedroom to get dressed.

Prim wakes up as I'm pulling on my jacket, and eagerly accepts my invitation to accompany me to the Hob. She's only come there with me on rare occasions, but now that she's getting a little older, it might be useful to have another member of the family who knows their way around the market.

Of course, that's not her motivation for joining me – it's to pry for more details about my date with Peeta.

"That's so cute," she sighs happily as I describe the game Peeta and I had played when we finished eating our picnic. (I leave out the fact that the winner received a kiss, although I'm probably being silly – it's not as though Prim hasn't done her fair share of kissing at this point.) "Do you think you're falling in love with him?"

I laugh. "Don't you think it's a little early for that?"

"No," she says simply.

She sounds so confident that I'm not sure how to argue the point. As we approach the market, I change the subject anyway – there's no need for my fellow poachers, smugglers and peddlers to know more about my private life.

Visiting the Hob has become an entirely different experience since I started working at the bakery. In the past I'd hardly ever had more than a handful of coins to spend – it was a place to barter, not buy. But now that I'm hunting less and bringing in an actual paycheck, I find I can be a little more selective in what I bring home with me.

First we stop by Ripper's stall for a brief chat. Ripper mostly keeps the district stocked with liquor and cheap wine, but occasionally she'll have a bottle or two of rubbing alcohol on hand, and she knows my family's always good for it. She almost seems a little disappointed when I pull actual money from my sack to pay for it, instead of a dead rabbit.

Then I pay a visit to Greasy Sae, the older woman who can make a stew out of almost anything. Not necessarily a good stew – but an edible one? Certainly.

"Good catch today?" she greets me, slowly stirring the pot before her.

"No," I admit. "No catch, actually."

Sae purses her lips, glancing at Prim before eyeing me thoughtfully. "I noticed you haven't been around with that boy of yours lately."

She means Gale, of course, who would normally be the one accompanying me here on a late Sunday morning after a successful hunt in the woods.

"He's not my boy," I tell her pointedly. "But this is my sister, and I think she'd like a bowl of soup."

"Katniss has got herself another boy." A deep voice pipes up from behind me, sounding playful. I jerk around and find Darius, one of the more lenient Peacekeepers, watching me smugly. "Or wasn't that you I saw sneaking around the school last night with the Mellark boy?"

I gape at him wordlessly while Prim snickers beside me. "Whoever that is," Greasy Sae says dismissively, passing me a bowl of hot stew, the steam curling up into the cool afternoon air.

"Why didn't you tell me you liked blondes? I would've dyed my hair," Darius continues, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

"Shut up," I stammer, my face turning scarlet for the second time this morning. It crosses my mind that if I said that to any Peacekeeper but Darius, I'd be in the stocks within the hour, but I can't dwell on that now. I turn away quickly and drop the bowl of the soup on top of the worn bench Sae uses as a makeshift table. "Here, Prim. Eat."

Prim looks a little shell-shocked by my harsh words to Darius, so I slip onto a stool and tug her onto the one beside me. Eyes wide, she picks up her spoon and starts to slurp up the soup.

Darius settles onto the seat on my other side, bending his head down so he can speak quietly. "You're not in trouble," he says, keeping his voice low. My pulse slows down just a fraction. "But I can't say I'm not a little bit heartbroken," he says louder, resting a hand over his heart.

I roll my eyes, biting back the snippy reply that springs to mind. I don't think Darius would turn us in for trespassing – he's basically said as much – but what if someone else had seen us up on that roof last night?

"I don't know how he convinced this one," Darius continues, acknowledging me with a tilt of his head. "I've given her references and she still won't kiss me."

"You're too fat, old man," a new voice pipes up. I tense in recognition. "It'd be like kissing a whale."

Darius – who's short but wiry, no older than thirty, and required to maintain a high level of physical fitness as a Peacekeeper – laughs heartily at the joke.

"Hey Catnip," Gale says more quietly, meeting my eyes. He nods at Prim. "Hi, Prim."

"Hi," Prim chirps back, but I just nod, desperately hoping that he didn't hear any of the conversation leading up to Darius' lament. The last time we'd seen each other in the woods, he was still so hurt by what happened between us – and the fact that I've already been seen around with another boy won't do anything to help mend our tattered relationship.

"What have you got for me, young man?" Sae asks eagerly, breaking the tension.

"Plenty." Gale flashes her a grin, and I take it as my cue to leave. I stand, pulling Prim up to her feet beside me, but as we start to step away I feel Gale's lithe fingers brush against my forearm.

"Hey. You don't have to leave," he says softly.

I shrug, avoiding his eyes. "We were done anyway."

"Are you around tonight?" He swallows, running a hand through his hair. "I want to talk to you. If you want."

"Um, sure." A little spark of hope ignites in my chest. Does it mean he's ready to be friends again? "D'you want me to stop by, or something?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be good," he says, nodding. "Just…anytime."

"Okay." I glance at Prim, who's trying very hard to look like she's not paying attention to our conversation, though she's only standing a foot away. "Well, we better go."

"Sure. See you tonight."

OMG, you guys. I honestly didn't think it would take me this long to update. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting! My schedule just hasn't been very conducive to writing lately. And I did take a break to write a new oneshot, called "found the place to rest my head", an AU where Peeta is rescued from the Capitol unharmed (check it out & let me know what you think!)

I've also signed up to write a story for Fandom4LLS, so that means I'll probably be working more on that in the next month rather than this story. The good news is you'll be able to read that story this September, AND a bunch of other stories by amazing authors, AND help fight cancer by donating to the cause! Here's the site with more info: fandom4lls dot blog spot dot com

So anyway: here's the new chapter. I hope you like it. It's been almost a year since I first started this story, which is INSANE, so I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who's reading it and sticking with it despite my erratic updates. Mwah! :)