"I was in college and dating this redhead. She had a younger sister that swam in high school, and heir team was good like real good. They ended up going to state."

Finnick's calm voice does nothing to soothe the ringing in my ears. I want to tell him to stop talking, but at the same time I need him to finish the story. It could go two ways... one good, and the other horrible.

Annie was a swimmer in high school too, and we occasional swim laps together at the rec center. From her endless babbling about Finnick, I've learned that he was also a swimmer. Sounded pretty good too. That would explain his rock hard abs and solid muscles.

He continues, "So we went to cheer her on in the finals. She was a good little swimmer, seeded seventh in the final heat of butterfly."

There it is.

I can breathe a little bit when I hear this. That's where Finnick knows me from. That's it.

"The girl who won was an absolute beast," he gushes like he's seen Michael Phelps in real life. "She crushed it and the other girls by like two whole seconds. I've never seen anything like it, not even at the boy's finals. Her stroke was beautiful. It's all my girlfriend and I talked about on the drive back.

"When we asked her sister about her, she said that girl was a junior in high school. I couldn't believe it! She swam like an Olympian! The sister also told us that she was being scouted by colleges already. Her sister idolized this girl and knew everything about her. Her name was Katniss Everdeen."

I give Finnick a knowing grin. Okay, if that was the only secret let out tonight, I could live with it. Annie's seen me swim. She knows I was good. "That's me," I manage to mutter.

Finnick chuckles at my less than enthusiastic response. His eyes are lit up and sparkling. "Oh, I know. I looked you up."

My eyes snap tp meet his, and the grin melts off my face at what I see. Those twinkling eyes turn sad, and I know that this conversation is inevitable. "What did you find?" I ask, playing stupid, and swallow hard.

"Katniss," he says in way that drips pity. I hate pity.

"They don't know," I tell him quickly. I scan the room with my eyes to locate our friends. "No one here knows."

Finnick nods. "I understand. I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you."

"I remember hearing about what happened. The girl and her sister told me first, and I saw a lot of articles and posts about it from my swimming community."

My mouth feels dry, so I down a few big gulps of vodka. "It was hard."

"I bet it was. I couldn't even imagine what it must have been like." His voice is laced with the right amounts of concern and admiration that someone has when they hear stories about survivors.

I'm not a survivor. There were no survivors.

I give Finnick a sad smile. The alcohol and self-pity have hit an all time high within me. Sober, I would have cut the conversation off. Drunk, I make it continue. "I was scouted as early as my sophomore year. I had even talked about the world trials a few times. I don't know... It sounds silly, but I felt like I belonged in the water. After their death, I still swam, but it was different. I blamed myself."

Finnick reaches across the table and takes one of my hands in his. "It's not your fault."

The flood gates open, and I can't do a damn thing to stop it. Before I can even wipe the waterfall of tears away, Finnick is by my side and holding me to his chest. He rubs one of my arms and makes shushing noises. "Am I the first person you've talked to about this?" He asks when I show no signs of stopping or calming down.

No, I've talked to people in my hometown about it. My coaches, college recruiters, a therapist, and more. Talking about it never made me feel any better.

"This is the first time in almost four years," I manage to get out. It's true. Because of my GPA, I was able to get a full ride without the help of a sports scholarship. I didn't need to swim. Although, my university asked me about it frequently, as recent as the summer before my senior year. What made them think that I would still be any good?

Finnick pulls back after a few moments and looks at me. "Thank you for telling me. I didn't mean to make you upset."

I wave him off. "Life's just been..."

"Sucking lately?" He finishes for me and laughts dryly.

"I think I need to call it a night," I say while wiping my nose on the nearest napkin and clearing my throat. A few people in the bar are giving me strange looks. Its as if the episode I've had has attracted the attention of others.

"Let me take you home."

"No!" I exclaim. "I don't want to ruin your night." It's not even midnight yet, and he has someone to enjoy it with.

Finnick laughs, and I'm sure that I look like a hot mess. "I'll ask Peeta."

Before I can stop him, he's gone. Glancing around the room, I find Peeta still by the pool table. Except he's not playing. He's leaning against the table with a blonde Barbie touching his shoulder and standing too close. Finnick doesn't seem to mind and butts right into their conversation. Peeta's eyes find me immediately, and he gives Finnick a wordless nod.

I finally manage to flip the switch in my brain. The same switch that makes me go vapid, the same switch that I've flipped many, many times. I pull all of my feelings and emotions back into myself and leave nothing for Peeta to see... except for the tear streaks, red eyes, and sloppy mascara.

"Everything okay?" He asks with probing eyes. It's almost as if he thinks I've spilled my guilty guts to Finnick.

"Our secret is safe if that's what you're asking," I reply with venom in my voice.

He narrows his eyes at me. "I'm taking you home."

I scoff and stand. My legs are more wobbly than they were two drinks ago. The heels aren't helping. When Peeta gets a look at my skimpy outfit, I hear him suck in a sharp breath. I can't help but grin.

I climb into the passenger seat of his truck and inhale the familiar scent of Peeta. I've missed it. I've missed him. As we wait for it to warm up a bit, I lean my head against the window and stare out at our quaint town. Not a single word is spoken on the drive home.

I'm so out of it that I don't notice we're sitting in the driveway until Peeta says, "You're starting to freak me out."

"What?" I ask groggily, still staring out the window.

"You've never been so quiet before. We've been parked for almost five minutes."

"Oh," I say loudly and lift my head up to see our front door a few feet away. I take his words as him wanting to get out of the car. "I'm sorry."

I'm reaching for the handle when he asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I can't look at him. "No," I sigh and let my shoulders sag.

"You talked to Finnick about it."

His words fuel something in me and causes me to turn to face him. "Well, he didn't just break my heart."

Peeta's hard face falls and reveals the man I've fallen in love with. He's not rough and tough, he's emotional and understanding. His tone is soft when he says "Katniss..."

"Save it," I spit back at him and exit the truck.

"You can still talk to me. We're still friends," Peeta calls out to me as he follows me up to the door.

"Right," I say sarcastically as I dig for my keys in my purse during the walk.

"Katniss," he says, placing a hand on my arm. He spins me to look at him. I haven't been this close to Peeta in two days, and he's more intoxicating than the vodka in my system. "Talk to me," he pleads. I shiver at the sound of his voice and cold night air, so he adds, "Inside."

I nod and lead Peeta into the house. Rye is somewhere, and I don't want him to overhear what I'm about to say, so I lead Peeta to my bedroom. I shut the door behind us and realize what I'm about to do.

Something about Peeta has always made me what to spill my guts to him. I want to confess all of my sins and secrets. I want to be his everything. I want to give him everything.

So it hurt when he gave me nothing.

I stand with my back to him and try to breathe. It feels like I am still outside, breathing in the cold air. It hurts my throat and lungs, and I can't seem to get enough of it. When I am finally able to turn around, I find Peeta standing a few feet away from me. His eyes never leave me, and his face looks like he's watching a baby animal die right before him.

"Please, sit," I instruct and motion to my bed. I'm suddenly grateful that I made it before heading out. Peeta sits first and positions his body to look at me. I sit about a foot away from him and mirror his posture. "I don't even know where to begin..." I trail off.

"From the beginning," he says with a voice full of warmth. Peeta has always given me a strength that I didn't know I had. Three simple words from him open me up in way that I am not used to. From a very young age, I closed myself off. I thought I had to be strong, and the only person that could break me was Prim. It's unnerving to have someone that can do it again.

"I was a swimmer," I tell him, deciding to follow his advice and start from the beginning. "I've swam as long as I can remember. My first memory of it was my father teaching me at our local pool. He was trying to teach me the different strokes, and I chipped my tooth on the metal siding." I smile as I remember the memory fondly. He was teaching me breaststroke without goggles, and I've despised it ever since.

Peeta stays quiet, so I continue. "I got really good at it. It got to the point where my parents couldn't get me out of the pool. I joined groups and swam in competitive competitions. I was so good that colleges were offering to let me practice with them as a sophomore, and I did it. I was a scrawny fifteen year old with man shoulders and wide hips, but I kept up with them.

"I made it to state every year in all of my events: medley relay, butterfly, backstroke, and the final relay. I didn't win until I was a junior. After prelims, I was seeded first, and all eyes were on me. I... I loved it! Colleges and even Olympic scouts came to watch me, and I didn't disappoint.

"I broke records that day. I won first place in my individual events, and I was on top of the world... or at least the state of Florida. But the only thing I could think about was how angry I was at my mother. She had to work late that night and couldn't take it off. My dad and Prim were there though, and they were cheering and taking pictures the whole time."

I've been picking at my comforter so when I look up at him, I notice that I have tears in my eyes. "They were my whole world. Everything I ever needed. They drove three hours to watch me swim for a less than five minutes."

The tears fall, and Peeta moves to wipe them. For once, I let him. I don't have the energy to fight with him. "They didn't die in a car accident," I whisper.

Peeta's head cocks to one side like it does when he is confused. "What happened?" He asks softly.

"It was raining. Hurricane season," I scoff as the tears continue to fall. "The pulled over at a rest stop, and a man broke into their car. He injected them with a drug that knocked them out long enough for him to get them out of the car and to his home. The police found their car still on the next morning. For an entire week, we didn't know where they were. He tortured them. Their bodies were so badly damaged that the medical examiner had to use dental records... once the police found their heads."

I hear Peeta suck in a ragged breath when I say this. I'm not looking at him. I can't look at him.

I was a freak after the news broke the story. At first, everyone was sympathetic when my family went missing. But when they found out about their brutal murder, everyone clammed up. They didn't know what to say to me and my mother, especially at the closed casket double funeral.

I didn't exactly have a lot of friends before the incident, but it made it even harder to talk to people. No one wanted to be friends with the freak. No one wanted to date her except for the creepy boys who were into that kind of thing. I tried to be normal. I knew that my father and Prim would have wanted us to move on.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't resist when Peeta places his hand under my chin and guides me to look at him. He places both hands on the sides of my head and says, "I am so sorry, Katniss. No one should have to go through that, but that is in now way, shape, or form your fault."

I attack him. I spring forward and wrap my arms around his neck. My face borrows in his neck as we fall back onto my bed. He lets it happen and wraps his strong arms around my body. I feel safe. I feel warm.

I don't know how long we stay like this, but when I am all cried out, I relax my grip on him. Embarrassed by my outburst, I pull back and begin to apologize.

Peeta shushes me. "Don't apologize," he says while wiping the tears and hair out of my face. "Never apologize for opening up to me."

Then, he does something completely unexpected. He kisses me.