Sever

by DandelionSunset

From age 11, Katniss has had to endure poverty and abuse due to her stepfather, Snow. She doesn't know much about hope, love, or trust. However, when she accepts a job offer at a local bakery, she quickly befriends and starts to fall for sweet and gentle Peeta Mellark. Everything begins to change as he opens her eyes and heart to a whole new world of feelings and experiences.

30. Want

Chapter Thirty: Want

"Life happened. In all its banality, brutality, cruelty, unfairness. But also in its beauty, pleasures, and delights. Life happened."

— Thrity Umrigar

Gale and I lay with our backs facing each other and the blanket pulled up to our shoulders. I can tell by his shallow breathing that he's already asleep, but I can't seem to shut my mind off. I keep my eyes closed, though, and try to ignore the queasiness in my stomach, the ache in my ribs, and the pounding in my head. I took a painkiller earlier, which is helping alleviate the pain in my body, but it does nothing to prevent my heart from aching.

I avoid sleep out of fear of having a nightmare again, but being awake isn't much better. I'm thankful that Gale is facing the opposite direction and can't see me, because I can't stop thinking about Peeta and in doing so, I have to keep wiping away tears. I hold my breath to keep from making any sound, but once or twice a small whimper or a sniffle escapes me, and I have to cover it up by coughing or clearing my throat.

I can't help but wonder if Peeta's asleep at the moment, or if he's lying awake like I am, replaying all the horrible things that were said and done tonight and wishing things had gone differently. I'd take back everything in a heartbeat if he could take back what he's done… but he can't. I never thought he'd do something like this to me, and it still doesn't seem real.

Despite the fact that what he's doing is completely reckless, and though I've tried to rationalize my actions towards him a hundred different ways, I still can't help feeling overwhelmingly guilty about everything. The defeated, heartbroken look on his face keeps flashing through my mind, and the more I try to push the image away and not think about it, the more it becomes prevalent. I also find it unnerving how despite sleeping in Gale's bed many times in the past without a second thought, I feel very uncomfortable and inappropriate about doing it now.

I must have fallen asleep while lost in all these thoughts and worries, because the next thing I know, I wake up frantically screaming Peeta's name. I sit up in an instant, tears streaming down my face and my body shaking uncontrollably from absolute terror. I hear Gale's voice from beside me, but I'm too distraught to actually listen to anything he's saying.

This dream was just as vivid as the others, but much more horrifying.

Snow and Coin were in this one, and were forcing me to torture Peeta. They laughed gleefully as I cut him open. He screamed and pleaded as blood puddled at his feet, but if I stopped they'd threaten to hurt Prim in the same exact way. Eventually, Peeta gave in to the pain and accepted his suffering without question.

I knew he was slowly slipping away from me. I was killing him in the most horrific way possible, and he simply stared back at me with understanding and forgiveness as the life drained from him.

"I still love you," he whispered as his eyes began to finally close. And I didn't deserve it.

For all I had done to him, he should have hated me. I hated myself for it. In fact, I wanted to turn the knife on myself, but they wouldn't let me. If I did, they would have killed Prim and Peeta. Only if I was alive would Prim at least have a chance at surviving.

I try to catch my breath, but it only brings forth a new batch of tears. I know Gale must think I'm being ridiculous for crying so hysterically over a dream, but I can't bring myself to care. I feel guilty and dirty; as if

I need to wash Peeta's blood off of my hands. I should have stood up to them. I shouldn't have let them turn me into a monster.

It wasn't real, I remind myself, not real, not real, not real….

I'm taken by surprise when Gale wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into a hug. It's a bit awkward and unexpected, but I don't fight it. Instead, I continue to sob into his chest even harder than before, taking his comfort as a sign that he understands my distress.

"Hey, it's okay, Kat. It was just a bad dream," he whispers groggily and begins to slowly rock me back and forth.

"I… I'm sorry," I hiccup, "Peeta… he… I killed him. Snow and Coin… made me. God he's so stupid… why? Why did… he do this…" I babble incoherently. I know I'm not making an ounce of sense to him, but I can't seem to catch my breath to even think about what I'm trying to say.

"You're alright," he repeats. "It was only a dream."

"Not… not if he keeps this up! He's going to… get us all killed," I reply in between gulps of air. I bring a hand up to wipe the tears from my face, but fresh ones take their place just as quickly. "He's going to fuck up somehow! I know it. He doesn't…" I take in a deep breath and pull back from Gale as he drops his arm from my shoulders. "He doesn't have any idea… what he's getting himself into! I just have a bad feeling he's going to…" I bite my lip and shake my head to will away the horrific images of the dream. "He's going to die, and it's going to be all my fault!"

"Katniss—" Gale starts to counter, but I cut him off before he can.

"You were right!" I turn to him, my hands trembling and my heart beating rapidly. My voice is at least starting to even out again as my breathing comes back to normal. "I was being selfish by dating him. We're all going to die, and it's all my damn fault! I shouldn't have gotten him involved. I shouldn't have said anything. I just wish he'd forget all of this!" I sniffle and close my eyes before whispering, "I just wish he'd forget about me."

"Kat…" Gale sighs heavily, "I think you're wrong about me being right." I open my eyes, narrowing them at him in question. He shrugs and looks away. "The guy obviously cares about you if he's willing to put his neck out there like this, and I'm sure he's thought of the consequences. It doesn't sound to me like he came up with this plan overnight." He looks back at me with a frown and raises his eyebrows, "And you're not selfish, okay? I'm an asshole for even saying that and assuming the shit I did."

I'm speechless for a moment as I stare back at Gale, and though my breathing has come back to normal and I'm not making any sound, tears still pour from my eyes and down my cheeks. I can't help but wonder about what he just said, that Peeta's plan to take Coin down didn't come about overnight. It wasn't brought on by the event of Snow kicking me in the ribs and having to stay at his house… it couldn't have been. He had to have been planning everything prior to that, which means he's been lying to me for a while now.

"It doesn't matter," I manage to finally say. "We're not together anymore. I broke up with him."

"Because of what he did for you?" Gale asks with a raised eyebrow. I nod and he just shakes his head as if he disapproves.

"Don't judge me!" I tell him defensively.

"I'm not judging you," he replies with a yawn. "I just hope you're breaking up with him for the right reasons."

"And what sort of reasons would be right enough for you?" I ask indignantly with a roll of my eyes.

"Him treating you bad, taking advantage of you," Gale shrugs and lies back down before adding with a protective edge, "Has he?"

"No, he hasn't. He's been great up until now," I answer honestly. "But that's not the point. He promised he wouldn't tell anyone, and he did! He betrayed my trust and went behind my back—"

"Did you make him promise, though?"

I shrug a shoulder and remain silent. It's obvious that Gale has decided to take Peeta's side in this, just like Prim, and any way I answer I'll just come out looking like the bad guy.

"It doesn't matter. A promise is a promise," I retort briskly.

"No offense, Kat, but you're stubborn as a mule, and if this guy knows you half as well as I do, he probably counted on you telling him not to do anything."

"And that somehow makes it okay to lie to me?"

"No, but I can kind of understand his reasons for it."

"Whatever, Gale. Way to be my friend and take my side. I thought you, of all people, would understand," I snap, feeling beyond agitated as I hastily lie down with my back facing him. "Let's just go back to sleep."

"Again, I'm not taking his side, Katniss. But if what he's doing might result in Coin and Snow and their little buddies getting a fucking wakeup call, I'm all for it. Bread boy's way might be extreme, but it's sure as hell going to get something done."

"Yeah, it's going to get us all killed," I mutter as I pull the covers up to my shoulders.

The next morning, Gale and I wake with a sort of unspoken agreement not to discuss anything that had happened the previous night; not that we really have a chance to speak at all. He'd overslept and was in a frantic rush to get ready for work. I occupied myself with waking Prim, who's still just as angry with me as she was before. As soon as she opened her eyes and saw me, her face transformed into a deep scowl. It seems she's decided to give me the silent treatment, too, because she doesn't say a word to me.

The short distance from Gale's house to the trailer is tense and silent. I can tell that Prim is upset and worried about what to expect when we get home, and so am I. I know that there isn't any other alternative to it, though, and staying away any longer than we have will only cause Snow to become suspicious and paranoid. I'm sure just the couple days we've been away have him climbing the walls as it is. Besides, Mom needs to be fed and changed, too. I dread the thought of lifting her even slightly with my ribs the way they are, but I know no one else can or will.

I'm relieved to see that Snow's truck is gone, and it's a small comfort knowing we won't be greeted with hostility as soon as we walk in the front door. It's storming this morning, and we wouldn't be able to hide outside to escape his wrath.

Gale gives me a pitying look after he parks, and tells me to take care of myself in a meaningful tone. I say nothing in return because what more is there to say? I just shrug and nod with a frown on my face before opening the door and getting out. It's downpouring at the moment, so Prim and I run as fast as we can to the trailer without looking back. I did notice that the toilet bucket was still in the yard, though, which means it's possible that Snow left soon after we did. He might not even know we'd been gone for as long as we have.

Even though Prim and I ran as fast as we could, we're completely drenched by the time we get inside.

"At least the buckets will be full when all this is over," I remark casually as I wring my hair out, momentarily thankful that I won't have to carry any water from the well for a while. Prim purses her lips and nods, but still refuses to speak to me. I sigh and roll my eyes. "You can knock it off, Prim," I snap. "I did what I had to do."

"No you didn't!" she retorts heatedly, shaking her head. "You didn't have to break Peeta's heart like you did. You were so mean to him, Katniss, and he's done nothing but treat you good."

"For one thing, you have no idea why I broke up with him," I counter.

"Why then?" Prim raises her eyebrows in challenge and places her hands on her hips.

"Why should I even tell you?" I retort defensively. "You'll just take his side anyway since you think he's perfect."

"I don't think anyone's perfect," Prim answers, placing the plastic bag full of clothes and the bear that Peeta had bought her down on the floor and pulling out something dry to wear. She glances up at me in a disappointed way and shrugs, "I do think he's perfect for you, though, and I think you're an idiot for not realizing that. If you break up with him for good, you're going to regret it because he's a great guy and he really loves you."

"Yeah? Well, love doesn't mean very much when he's going to get us killed because he can't keep his big mouth shut," I bitterly respond as I walk over to the kitchen counter and pour some water out of an old milk jug into a mug. I turn back to Prim, who is staring at me with narrowed, disapproving eyes and blurt a bit heatedly, "You want to know what he did? He called the FBI, even hired a private investigator, to try to get Coin arrested. Do you know what Snow will do if that happens, or if he finds out about any of it?"

Prim's eyes widen and her mouth drops open in disbelief. For a moment, she seems frightened at the thought of what might happen, but then she averts her eyes and shrugs as if rejecting any bad thoughts.

"He's only trying to help," she replies quietly. "The way it's looking, Snow's going to kill you soon anyway. He's only getting worse lately, and it's not going to get any better. At least if Coin gets arrested or whatever, Snow won't be able to use him against us anymore. We could leave here without worrying so much."

"I know he thinks he's trying to help, but he should have told me first. He shouldn't have lied to me. Maybe, by some chance, this will turn out for the greater good—if so, awesome! But there's a bigger chance that it won't. I'm not really worried if I get killed… I'm worried about you!"

"Well, I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about you! You're not the only one who's allowed to worry about someone," Prim counters indignantly. "Besides, what do you think will happen to me if he kills you? He'll kill me too, just so I don't tell anyone. Peeta's taking a huge chance, yeah, but it might work. And I know he'll be there for us if things get bad.

Without him, we don't really have any hope of ever getting out of here."

I know that what she's saying holds some truth, but at the same time all I can think of is that it can't quite be that easy. Something will go wrong. Snow or Coin will find out and I know at least one of us will die over this, if not all of us. Prim, Mom, Peeta… they'll kill everyone I love if they can; more than likely force me to watch or attempt to make me help when they do it, too. Just like in the dream. I'd refuse, of course; nothing they could threaten me with would ever compel me to torture someone else. Besides, I know that if it ever got to that point, they'd eventually kill all of us anyway. There's no chance they'd risk letting one of us go.

I grab the mug of water and start to walk towards the hall that leads to Mom. I'm sure she's majorly dehydrated from not drinking anything in a few days, and even if I hurt like hell, I'm not going to let her die at my hands.

"I have to take care of Mom right now," I say dismissively. "We'll talk about all this later."

"Fine," Prim answers. "There isn't much to talk about, though. I understand why you're mad, but I still think you shouldn't have broken up with him."

"And I still disagree with you," I mutter as I begin to make my way to Mom's room.

As soon as her bed comes into view, however, I notice she isn't there. I squint my eyes in confusion and feel panic rise up within me as I run into her room. I look around frantically, beside the bed and under it, in the corners, inside the closet… but she's nowhere to be found.

"Mom?" I holler out, my heart beating like a drum against my chest. "Mom!"

"What's going on?" Prim asks with wide, concerned eyes as she appears in the doorway. I don't answer because I can't seem to even formulate a response. At the moment, I can't even breathe. My mind is racing in a million different directions as to Mom's whereabouts, but my first and foremost fear is that she's dead, and that Snow's probably disposing of her body right now.

In an instant, bile pushes its way up my throat and tears flood my eyes. I make my way around Prim and, in a frenzied rush, check every room or space Mom could be in. However, I still don't find her anywhere. I scream out her name, but I'm only greeted with deafening silence.

Prim follows suit, checking every space in the trailer that she could possibly be, and yelling for her with just as much trepidation as I do.

I finally open the front door and try to focus through the heavy sheet of rain coming down, but I don't see her anywhere near the house. At least not from where I'm standing. It's a longshot and mostly hopeless, but I dart out into the rain to look for her. Even if it's extremely rare that it happens, she has wandered from the house a few times over the years. Never in the rain, though, and she never went far past the front porch. Still, there's a first time for everything.

I call out for her, but I'm drowned out by the rain and thunder. My drenched clothes cling to my body as I run around the trailer, frantically searching for her with quickly increasing desperation. When I'm back to my starting point, I stop and look around at the many abandoned, blown up cars that litter the premise, realizing she could be in one, or hiding between or underneath one of them. Without pausing to think about it, I run through the maze of Snow's discarded toys, searching around every corner, in every crevice, and yelling her name as loudly as I can.

I still don't find her.

I stop again and strain my eyes as I gaze around me in all directions, feeling any remaining thoughts or feelings of hope evaporate. I'm in excruciating pain from my ribs, and my lungs burn from the sudden overexertion and briskness of the air. Tears stream down my face, but they're indistinguishable from the rain that's coming down in torrents.

I'm about to give up and go back into the trailer… until I see her.

Up ahead, a good fifty feet in the field, next to the edge of the woods, I see my mother huddled, and what appears to be naked, lying on the ground.

"Mom!" I call out to her as I quickly close the gap between us.

When I reach her, I fall to the ground on my knees and lift her head from the ground. She's limp in my hands at first, which causes a quick pang of terror in my chest, but then she weakly opens her eyes. I pull her into a hug and sob into her hair as I hold her trembling body to my chest. "Don't ever leave the house!" I tell her strongly, feeling relieved that I'd found her and that she's not being disposed of by Snow after all. I know she can't really understand me, but I can't think of what else to say or do. All I know is that I don't want this to ever happen again.

Although things seem to have turned out okay this time, a ton of what ifs still haunt my mind. What if she had wandered farther? If she had made it into the woods, I may never have found her until it was too late. Winter's coming up, too. What if this was snow instead of rain? She seems to have been out here for a while, and she would surely have froze to death. This has more than a possibility of happening again too, since I'll be gone the whole day, evening, and night with school and the bakery. I would have never found her all the way out here in the dark of night.

Her bony fingers wrap around my arms as I pull back to look at her. I shake my head as she gives me an empty smile and says in a hoarse sing-song voice, "I found you!"

Despite the stabbing pain it causes me, I manage to get her to the trailer on my own. Prim quickly rushes to aid without question, retrieving clothes and an extra blanket as I lay her back into bed.

As I feed and hydrate my mother, I can't help but wonder why she was out there nude in the first place. Was she running away from Snow or was she really trying to find me and Prim? It's true that we've never stayed away from home for very long, and maybe on some subconscious level, she was worried about us. Or maybe I'm just being silly, sentimental, and overly optimistic, and she's simply out of her mind and wandered away without any rhyme or reason.

The answer lies with her, and she's not telling.

The next morning is Monday, and I wake with an overwhelming feeling of dread in my stomach. I'll have to interact and work with Peeta today, and I'm not quite sure what to expect.

My body radiates with pain everywhere since I didn't take a painkiller last night before bed. I decided I'd rather deal with the pain than deal with the nightmares. I still had a couple bad dreams, but not as vivid or as horrific as the ones I've had recently, and as soon as I woke up, they quickly vanished from my memory.

After the scare with my mom yesterday, I'm nervous about leaving her alone when I go to school. Thankfully Snow never came home last night, so I don't have to worry about him mistreating her. I assume he's out getting high with the money I'd given him from my paycheck, not that I'm ever completely sure what he does when he leaves here. We don't give each other friendly details of what we do when we're away from each other, after all. He seems to be gone more than he's at home here lately, and I'm not complaining one bit. I consider that money well spent.

When Prim and I are dressed and ready for school, we make our way to the bus stop. I purposefully take as long as I can, much to Prim's dismay, just to miss Peeta. I'd rather take the bus than have to face him this early in the morning. However, when we reach the end of the driveway, I see Peeta's car parked and waiting on us. I close my eyes and sigh heavily; I should have known he'd do this. Even if he's mad at me, he would never take it out on Prim, and he knows how much she loves the rides he gives us in the mornings.

Prim runs ahead of me and doesn't even hesitate before opening the door and sitting in the backseat. I, however, stand still and wave my hand for them to go on without me. Peeta frowns and shakes his head as he rolls down the passenger-side window.

"Katniss, I know you're mad at me still, but please get in the car?" I shake my head and look away from him, "I'm fine with the bus, thanks." "I can't believe you're being like this," he replies with a frustrated sigh.

"Yeah, well, I can't believe a lot of things about you," I answer loftily.

"Katniss, come on. Stop being stupid!" Prim calls out to me, and I can tell from her tone that she's aggravated by my refusal to accept Peeta's ride.

I say nothing in return and choose to continue staring at the ground. It's much easier than looking at him and feeling both guilty and resentful. And weak. Because I know if I stare too long into his eyes, I'll forget why I'm mad at him in the first place. It's already hard enough just listening to his wistful, earnest voice without wanting to hug him and tell him I forgive him for everything. But I don't, I can't forgive him and let him think this is all okay. It isn't. No matter what good intentions he might have.

"Fine. Whatever. Suit yourself. I'll see you at school," Peeta replies in an obviously hurt voice before driving off. As I watch the car disappear down the gravel road, my eyes fill with tears and I can't hold them back. I hate this situation. I hate everything about it.

I don't like making Peeta angry with me or breaking his heart, but I know if I let my guard down, he'll think I want to get back together with him. I'm not sure what I want, honestly. I do want to be with him, but under different circumstances; circumstances where being with him won't get everyone killed. Right now I don't even want to look at him, let alone kiss him. I can't help thinking about how everything was going so great between us. I know Prim was right about what she said yesterday, too. He is perfect for me… or was. I already know I'll never find another guy who will ever treat me as well, or who I'll feel as comfortable with as I do with him. I don't want to, either. After getting this close and trusting him, only for him to stab me in the back, I never want to open myself up to anyone else again.

Why did he have to mess everything up?

When I get to school, I take my time getting the books out of my locker, making sure to enter first hour right before the bell rings so Peeta can't sit next to me. However, when I enter the classroom, I see that our desk is empty. I immediately feel a pang of worry shoot through me. What if he and Prim were in an accident or something?

I ignore the giggles and ignorant questions about my bruised face from fellow classmates as I sit down in my regular seat, my mind reeling. I pluck up my courage and gaze around the room to see if Peeta is maybe sitting somewhere else.

My heart stops when I see that he is.

His face is stony and void of emotion as he stares avidly down at his textbook, as if deeply engrossed in reading it, and it seems he's purposefully avoiding looking in my direction.

I see the girl he's sitting next to, a pretty blond haired girl named Marion, who I used to be friends with when I was younger, ask him a question with a flirtatious half-smile on her face. He gives her a short answer and shrugs before looking back down at his book. She catches my eye and raises an eyebrow before leaning closer to him and talking again. This time, he sits back in his chair and gives her his full attention as he speaks back to her. I wish I could hear what they're saying, but it's drowned out by the chatter of other classmates.

I suddenly feel physically sick, my head hurts, my hands tremble, and it's as if I'm going to throw up. I can't stand seeing him sit there, talking so animatedly to another girl, and acting as if I don't exist—as if I never existed to him. He doesn't even once look in my direction. It's as if he's trying to get back at me by making me jealous.

Well, it's not going to work.

I turn my head sharply, tears burning my eyes, and decide to play his game with equal fervor. I don't look in his direction for the remainder of class.

The rest of the day goes on in this way.

We don't say anything to each other and we don't sit next to each other, either. For lunch, I hide out in the library. In class, I don't even look in his direction.

I feel like I'm in a fog.

I don't want to think about him, don't want to feel or care as much as I do, but I can't help it. I can't concentrate on anything else. The whole world seems like background noise to my thoughts, and my thoughts are all about him.

In between classes, I find a bathroom stall to cry in, just to let some of the anguish and sorrow out in some way. I know it's weak of me to do, and it's a bit pointless, but it feels as if each tear is a worry or a bad thought being purged from my body. The comfort doesn't last long, though, because just as soon as the tears stop falling and are wiped away, I return to class, more horrible thoughts fill my head again, and I'm back to where I started.

At the end of last hour, he walks past my desk and asks flatly, "Still coming to work?"

"Still giving me a ride?" I counter without looking up at him.

"Yeah."

"Then yes. I guess I am."

"Good," he replies. "I'll meet you in the car."

When I finally do make my way to his car and sit in the front seat, it feels extremely uncomfortable. I don't know what to say and, evidently, neither does he. The tension between us is palpable. I stare fixedly out the window as he sighs heavily, starts the car, and begins to back up.

"Nice to see you decided to sit by me again," he remarks.

"Really?" I find myself asking icily. "Sure you wouldn't rather have Marion sitting by you instead?"

"I only sat by her in first hour because there weren't any other seats open."

"Besides the one by me?"

"I was giving you space. That's what you wanted, right? You made it extremely apparent this morning," Peeta answers with an agitated edge to his voice. "Besides, I only sat by another girl. At least I didn't sleep in a bed with her."

He looks over at me pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

"Was that supposed to be a jab about me sleeping at Gale's?" I ask with an annoyed snort and a roll of my eyes. "Give me a break."

"Yeah, because I have absolutely no right to get pissed about my girlfriend sleeping in another guy's bed," he retorts with a shaky, hollow laugh.

"I'm not your girlfriend anymore."

"I know," he answers shortly. I notice he won't look at me, and his hands are trembling slightly on the steering wheel. "You've made that pretty clear."

And again we fall into silence.

The silence between us continues from the whole ride from the high school to picking up Prim, and from there to the bakery. Prim and Peeta talk to each other, though, almost as if I'm not even there. He asks how her day was, and she replies that it was long. She then tells him in a sad voice that she wishes we weren't fighting with each other, and he gives a curt nod of his head. He doesn't say anything, or even agree with her though. I don't say anything either.

When we get to the bakery, I do my best to avoid Mr. Mellark. My face isn't swollen as badly now, but it's still bruised, and I don't want him to ask any questions about it. Luckily he's speaking with a customer in the dining area and I'm able to slip into the backroom, retrieve my uniform, and change in the bathroom without him seeing me.

I take the opportunity to look at my ribs in the mirror, and I'm relieved to see that, like my face, the swelling has gone down quite a bit, and there doesn't seem to be anything sticking out that shouldn't be. It's still too early to tell if I broke anything or if it's just badly bruised, though. By the time I exit, I see that Mr. Mellark is gone. I'm relieved, yet anxious because now I'm fully alone with Peeta.

Feeling nauseated and shaky, I make my way to the backroom again, and find him already standing at the counter, mixing something. As soon as he senses my presence, he glances up at me sadly and frowns.

"Hey," he mutters without any enthusiasm.

I don't say anything, just nod my greeting, and look at him questioningly, waiting for him to give me something to do.

"You can chop some fruit. We need apples and peaches. Just cut them the way I showed you before," he tells me in a formal manner as he looks down and continues to mix whatever's in the bowl. "You know where everything is."

I do as I'm told, and as I start chopping into the apples, he walks into the storefront without a word.

As soon as he's out of view, my lips start to quiver and my eyes begin to water. I quickly wipe at them and purse my lips, trying to keep a strong demeanor and continue on as if I don't care.

But I do care.

I care way too much, in fact.

I know Peeta is technically my boss, but I'm not used to him being so bossy. Nor am I used to him being so cold and dismissive with me. I'd rather him yell at me, tell me how horrible of a person I am, rather than acting as indifferent as he is and not saying anything at all.

About an hour and a half passes, and he still hasn't come to the backroom again at all. I can't help but wonder what he's doing out there, and if he's intentionally trying to avoid me. I wouldn't blame him, with things being as awkward and tense between us, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt.

It wasn't as bad when I was angry and he still wanted me, because it didn't seem so over between us. But now that he's equally as angry as I am, and as avoidant, it's hitting me that, yes, it's officially over between us. He's finally gotten sick and tired of me.

This is how it ends; with silence, pain, and apathetic acceptance.

I glance over at the countertop, where just a few days ago, he'd sat me on, kissed me sweetly, and fed me blackberry crème; where I'd gotten brave enough to touch him intimately for the first time.

Then I think about our wonderful first date; how he'd made me a small feast, how we'd watched my favorite movie, how we'd shared our childhood memories, how our bodies had moved together, and how I'd let him see, touch, and taste my breasts. I remember how fearful I was that he'd judge my many scars and think I was ugly, but he'd only kissed them one by one, as if to heal me, and told me it wasn't my fault. And for the first time in my life, I actually felt desirable. I felt… beautiful.

My mind then wanders to our lunchtime escapes, how we'd go to our secret, special place by the lake, how we'd eat lunch, and spend the remainder of our break kissing each other and letting our hands roam the contours of each other's bodies….

And it's strange how these amazing, delicious memories now leave a bad taste in my mouth, and make me feel absolutely awful.

It's over, I tell myself, those things will never happen again between us. You'll never feel that hopeful or alive ever again.

I wipe the wetness from my cheeks and eyes before taking a deep breath to regain my composure. This is silly. I have every right to be angry with him. He went behind my back, broke a promise, and put me and my family's life in danger. He betrayed me. So why is he treating me like this? Like I betrayed him? And why do I feel so guilty about it?

I suddenly feel very indignant. I stop cutting the peaches in front of me and make my way to the door with the intention of confronting him. Being silent, moody, and avoidant with each other isn't doing either of us any favors. We need to talk. We need to understand each other. Otherwise this working together thing will never succeed without continuing to be outright torturous.

When I start to open the door, however, I pause and leave it open just a crack to peek out. Peeta has a huge smile on his face and is laughing with a woman who looks to be around our age. She has short blond hair and piercing, light blue eyes. She's petite in stature, but curvaceous in the right places. I've never seen her before, though, and I'm certain she doesn't go to our school. I can't help thinking, very bitterly, that she looks exactly like the type of woman Peeta should be with. I have no trouble imagining them being together, loving each other, having adorable blond haired children….

She wraps her arms around Peeta's waist and gives him a small peck on the cheek, and he returns her hug without the slightest hesitation. He seems totally at ease with her, and it's as if he knows her already. Maybe he does. Maybe he was simply passing time with me, but really wanted to be with her all along. Or maybe he's already trying to move on to something better. I knew it was only a matter of time anyway. I don't know why I feel like my heart is shattering into a million pieces or why my stomach is in knots; I should have expected this. We're not dating anymore. I broke up with him.

This would have happened eventually.

I close the door and go back to chopping peaches with a little more fervor than before.

I purse my lips and keep my eyes down when he finally comes back, my face reddening as I try to keep tears from clouding my eyes. I will not let myself cry over this.

"Sorry I took so long," he says, coming over to the counter where I'm cutting fruit. He picks up two covered bowls of apples and brings them to the refrigerator. "Got busy up front for a little bit."

"Yeah, I saw just how busy you were," I reply sarcastically with a roll of my eyes. "I'm sure it was really hard on you."

I notice him stop suddenly from the corner of my eye, but he doesn't say anything. Curious, I look over to see him rub his eyes before letting out an exasperated sigh and asking, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"She's very beautiful, Peeta," I mutter with narrowed eyes. "You two seemed really chummy. Way to rebound quickly."

"What…?" he asks in genuine confusion, but I merely avert my eyes and chop into a peach. He seems almost disgusted when he asks, "You mean Madge?"

I look up with a bitter smile, "How would I know her name? You didn't introduce me. Then again, why would you?"

"She only stopped by for a few minutes, and I haven't seen her in a little over a year, Katniss! Pardon me if the first thought in my head wasn't to introduce her to you, especially since you seem to hate my guts right now," Peeta replies indignantly. He's silent for a moment before adding in a disbelieving tone, "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"I won't tell you that," I snap as I cut into a peach a little more powerfully than intended, "because I'm not. I'm just observing."

"Good. I'm glad you're totally not jealous," Peeta counters dubiously. "Because that would be weird since Madge is my cousin. She just moved back into town over the weekend. I'll make sure to introduce you two the next time she stops by, okay? Since it obviously means so much to you."

I immediately feel embarrassed. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Now that I think about it, there was definitely a resemblance between the two of them.

I'm such an idiot.

I say nothing, and only give a small nod. What else is there for me to say? I think I've already done enough damage with my words as it is.

The rest of the night drags on with the same unbearable silence between us, and I realize just how difficult it's going to be, being around Peeta and not being his girlfriend anymore. Just today alone, I already got upset twice at the mere sight and thought of him being with someone else, and both were totally innocent interactions on his part. What am I going to do when he actually does move on and finds a new girlfriend? I'm not so naïve to expect he won't. Peeta's a great catch and it's only a matter of time before someone else hooks and reels him in.

And I'm sure when that happens, my job at the bakery will end. Not because he'll fire me, but because I won't be able to handle witnessing Peeta fall in love with someone else.

At closing time, Peeta has me do all the simple clean up procedures such as cleaning tables and countertops, loading the dishwasher, putting ingredients back in their rightful spot, and tossing expired baked goods; things that aren't strenuous and are less likely to cause my ribs any discomfort. I offer to help with some of the other things like sweeping and mopping and taking out the trash, but he hears nothing of it. It's a sort of strange relief to know that despite how aggravated he is with me, he still cares enough to not purposefully cause me any pain.

When he drives us home, I sit next to him instead of the backseat, and he seems to take this as a peace offering of sorts. He gives me a small, wistful smile as he starts the car, but he doesn't say anything. I don't know whether to smile or frown back at him, or whether I forgive him or not, so I just bite my lip and turn to look out the window. Prim asks if we're back together and he answers, 'unfortunately, no,' and it makes me a little hopeful to know he hasn't written us off entirely yet.

It causes me to think, though.

If I'm happy that he hasn't written us off, it means I haven't entirely written us off either.

And when he drops us off midway down the driveway, I realize I may have made a mistake by breaking up with him so hastily.

He should have never done what he had, but he can't take it back. I don't know how I can take back what I'd said and done, either. I know that, despite everything, he had good intentions and was only trying to help me, and I hurt him by reacting in the worst possible way. I felt like he betrayed me, and maybe he did and that still hurts, but I also broke his heart and pretty much indicated he meant nothing to me all along. It isn't true, but it makes no difference. I also know that even if we got back together after all this, things will never be the same. We will always have a little black cloud hovering between us over this.

I don't know if things can be fixed. I don't know how to fix us.

I don't know if I want to.

Tuesday is a little better, even if it's still agonizing.

My ribs seem to hurt a bit less than they have and the swelling has gone down even more. When I take the painkiller, I can barely even feel them ache.

I'd had bad dreams all night about Peeta and some faceless blond woman having adorable children, of him being happy and proud as he taught them how to decorate a cake. And all I could do was watch from a distance, unable to utter a word as I witnessed longingly what I'd given up.

But am I giving that up? Is that what I want? Or do I just want it because he wants it, and I don't want it to be with someone else?

All I know is that I can't stop thinking about it.

Peeta picks us up in the morning, and I don't hesitate to sit in the front seat. "Good morning beautiful," he says quietly after I close the door.

My heartbeat quickens at being put on the spot by his unexpected sweetness; after the way he was acting yesterday, I never thought I'd be a recipient of it again. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before I remember I'm supposed to be angry with him, and I glance away with a sigh. I knew this would happen. I'm becoming weak to his charm. I say nothing in return, but spend the car ride staring out the window in pensive silence.

I'm confused and conflicted about everything.

After we drop Prim off at the elementary school, and we're parked outside the high school, Peeta turns to me and hesitates before saying anything, but I can tell something is weighing heavily on his mind. I raise my eyebrows for him to say whatever he needs to say. He scratches his head and closes his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I shouldn't have been so harsh yesterday. I was just feeling aggravated. I…" he trails off and shrugs as he pulls the keys out of the ignition. "I don't want us to become enemies. I don't want to lose you from my life. I know you don't want to date me anymore, but can we at least be friends? Please?"

I stare at him for a moment, my mind full of questions and arguments, before slowly nodding my agreement. "Yeah," I speak for the first time this morning. "I'd like that."

"Will you please sit by me in class?" he asks, searching my face earnestly. He gives a small smile and adds, "You're the only girl I want to sit by."

I nod again, but I don't say anything.

And even though we sit by each other throughout the day, things still feel awkward between us. I'm not sure how to act or what to say, so I don't say anything. He attempts conversation, small talk mostly, and I nod, shrug, or shake my head without a word.

I don't want to lose him, and I don't want things to become toxic between us, but I don't fully forgive him yet either. I have to keep reminding myself not to be so weak when it comes to him, because he might ultimately bring the death of someone I love by what he's done. I can't let him think it's okay, because it's not. Things can't just go back to the way they were before.

I'll be civil, but I won't be stupid.

I hide out in the library at lunch, and though it isn't as frequent as it was yesterday, I still find myself in a bathroom stall crying a couple times throughout the day.

At work, things are a lot less uncomfortable than they were the day before. Then again, we stay pretty busy throughout the evening and don't really have time to talk or reflect on anything. I run the cash register, and have to keep explaining to customers how I got the bruise on my face when they voice their concern. I tell them that I was on a four-wheeler and drove into a branch, before I abruptly change the subject.

Later that night, Peeta works on decorating some commissioned cakes, and leaves me to do some of the easier baking and decorating, such as cupcakes and cookies. He also has me answer to customers when the bell rings upfront, since it's hard for him to break his concentration when he's working on a piece.

It's about eight o'clock when I greet a customer that looks wildly out of place standing in a bakery. He's a middle-aged man with unkempt curly dark hair, a scruffy unshaven face, and tired gray eyes. As I approach, he grabs a muffin from the counter and takes a huge bite out if it without hesitation. I'm taken aback by his abrasiveness, but I still step forward and clear my throat.

"May I help you?"

He nods his head and cocks an eyebrow before asking in a deep, serious tone, "There a Peeta Mellark here?" He takes another huge bite of the muffin and, before he even finishes eating all of it, grabs another.

"Maybe," I reply suspiciously, eyeing him with a frown. Something doesn't feel right about this. What would this man want with Peeta? Although I know I should just go get him, curiosity takes over. "He's kind of busy at the moment. Why do you need to talk to him?"

"It's confidential business," he mutters dubiously. "Tell him that Haymitch Abernathy's here. He'll know what it means."

I narrow my eyes as realization dawns on me. My heart beats faster and my hands start to shake as adrenaline kicks in. "Are you the private investigator?" I ask accusingly.

He sighs as if he's getting annoyed by my questions and raises his eyebrows.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be very private, now would it?" he states monotonously as he finishes off his second muffin and goes for a doughnut.

"You have no idea what you're messing with," I tell him defiantly as I cross my arms.

"Oh, I think I do," he counters before giving me a sarcastic grin, "But it's absolutely darling of you to warn me."

"You do have to pay for that, you know," I haughtily inform, feeling thoroughly annoyed with his condescending attitude as he takes a gigantic bite out of a doughnut and chews loudly.

"Nope. It's part of the deal. All the baked goods a guy could want. Heard your rum cake is to die for."

"Yeah, nice choice of words," I retort. "I hope you know you're going to get us all killed."

He stares at me blankly for a moment as he chews; I avert my eyes and try to calm myself down before I say or do something I might regret later. Right now, all I want to do is take the tray of doughnuts he's so happily devouring and throw them at his head. That probably wouldn't be very good for business, though.

"I'm sensing some hostility from you, sweetheart," he finally says, a false look of concern on his face. He places a hand over his heart and frowns dramatically. "And frankly, I'm a little stung."

"Don't call me sweetheart," I snap. "Anyway, if I were you, I'd walk away right now. This town is nothing but corruption and I assure you you're really going to regret taking on this case."

"Corruption? Sounds scary. Working twenty-three years as a P.I., I've never had to deal with that sort of thing ever," he answers sarcastically. He runs a hand through his hair and gives me a patronizing look, "I know how to do my job, sweetheart."

I snort and shake my head.

"Thanks for confirming your profession with me; a person you just met and have no idea whether or not to trust yet," I point out in an overly saccharine tone. "My confidence in your abilities is through the roof, let me tell you."

He takes a bite out of the doughnut again before looking down at it in contemplation. He then glances up at me with a questioning look on his face. "These doughnuts are delicious, is that Bavarian cream in the middle?"

"I'm serious," I mutter through gritted teeth and pursed lips.

"You gonna pay me to walk away?" he asks casually with an arched eyebrow.

"No," I sneer.

"Then go get Peeta Mellark," he tells me impatiently. "Time is money, honey, and you're not worth it right now."

Luckily, Peeta steps up behind me at that moment and I don't get to say what I really want to, which definitely wouldn't have been good for business.

"Is there a problem?" he asks.

"Yeah," the man who refers to himself as Haymitch answers. "Your coworker needs to learn some social skills when it comes to interacting with customers. She's very rude."

"You're not a customer!" I shoot back, my hands shaking with adrenaline. I turn abruptly to Peeta, who only looks at me with wide, alarmed eyes, "He's your poor excuse for a private investigator. I can't believe you're still going through with this!"

"Katniss, can we talk about this later?" Peeta asks me quietly, looking nervous as he rubs his neck.

"What's there to talk about?" I say with a disgusted shake of my head. "You're either hiring this asshole, or you're not."

He bites his lip and glances away with knitted eyebrows, and from the look on his face I know he's already made his decision. And it's not the one I wanted him to make. I throw my hands up and with a final 'whatever,' as I hastily make my way to the backroom. I lean against the countertop and close my eyes, breathing heavily as I try to calm myself down. At the moment, I just want to walk out of here and never look back.

It's disheartening to know that, despite how much Peeta's aware that it hurts that he betrayed me and no matter how much I disapprove, he's still going through with everything as if my opinion doesn't matter. He hasn't listened to a word I've said.

Or he has, but he simply doesn't care.

Peeta doesn't return for about an hour, and when he does, it's apparent that we're back to where we started. He tries to explain to me why he's doing what he's doing, that he's trying to protect me and help, but I don't want to hear a word of it. I refuse to speak to him. He takes the hint and eventually stops talking to me as well, and we spend the rest of the night in silence once again.

Even when he drops us off that night, I still haven't uttered a word to him.

On Wednesday morning, Peeta picks us up as always, but I still don't speak to him.

He tries to initiate conversation with me, but I simply ignore him. What does it matter? It's obvious he doesn't care about what I have to say anyway.

Prim insists on pointing out how ridiculous I'm being, nevermind the fact that she gave me the silent treatment just a few days ago. However, I don't point out her hypocrisy because then I'd be breaking my vow of silence.

Peeta drives us to the bakery to eat something before school, prolonging the discomfort I have about being around him. It's a torturous thing, to be around someone you care so much for, and actually truly want to be with, but they betray your trust, and disregard your feelings and opinions without so much as an apology. Really, the only reason I'm being halfway civil to him today, after the instance with the private investigator last night, is because I need my job.

Also, I'm sick and tired of arguing.

We're only going in circles, it seems, and I know we'll never see eye to eye on this. I just really miss the way things were before.

I miss kissing him. I miss the way his hands fit perfectly within mine. I miss his warm embrace and the sweet words he'd whisper into my ear. I miss the pleasant chills he'd give me. I miss the way he'd touch me and look at me as if I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

And I miss not missing him.

The swelling in my face and ribs has gone down almost completely, but the bruises still remain. I don't hurt half as badly as I did even a few days ago, though. In fact, I'd almost completely forgotten about the condition of my face, being so lost in my thoughts, that I'm taken by surprise when Mr. Mellark gives me a curious look and asks what happened. I tell him the limb story. He nods, but doesn't look like he buys it at all. Luckily, we have to leave then and I don't have to elaborate.

When we get to first hour, I decide to sit next to Peeta, but only because I don't feel like contending with anyone asking nosy questions about my face or why I'm not sitting with him. However, I avoid him until the end of the day, when we're in the car.

"Katniss," he sighs as I sit down in the front seat. "Please talk to me?" I shake my head, biting my lip as I stare down at my lap. "Please?"

I release a long breath and finally look at him.

"What do you want me to say, Peeta?" I ask dejectedly.

"Anything is better than nothing," he replies.

"Fine." I shrug as I lean back in the seat, cross my arms, and stare up at the roof. "I can't believe you actually went through with hiring an investigator, especially one as rude as he was. You totally disregarded what I thought and how I felt, you betrayed me, and now you think I'm just supposed to forgive you and say everything is okay. It's not, Peeta. This situation is far too serious, and it's way bigger than you and me. Besides the possibility of losing our lives, it's splitting us apart, and I hate it."

"I understand why you're mad, Katniss, I do. I know you're scared and you feel betrayed by what I did," Peeta answers softly, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it gently. I debate shrugging him away, but I don't because it feels too good. My body has been tense and aching, and just the slightest pressure from the palm of his hand resting on my shoulder feels like absolute bliss. "I just… I wish I could make you understand why this needs to happen. You don't deserve the horrible shit you endure, and these people shouldn't get away with it. You can be anything, Katniss. Don't settle for nothing. Don't let anyone make you feel like you don't deserve happiness. I promise you, I'll stay with you through all of this and help you in any way I can. Just… please trust me. Things will get better."

"I wish I could believe you," I whisper in reply.

When we arrive at the bakery, Prim disappears upstairs to watch television—which Peeta had brought in while she was sick so she wouldn't feel as bored and lonely while we were working—and he busies himself with bringing in some huge sacks of flour from a truck.

I stand at the counter in the backroom, carelessly kneading some dough as I watch him in action.

He hefts two fifty pound bags up on his shoulders as if they're as light as air, and stacks them in a far corner. He wipes the sweat from his brow before lifting two more sacks, and doesn't seem to notice my eyes on him at all.

I can't help being mesmerized at how strong he really is. I had wondered before where he'd gotten his muscles, and it seems my question has been answered. No matter how agitated I feel towards him, and regardless of how conflicted it makes me, I can't deny that I find him extremely sexy at the moment. In fact, under different circumstances, if we weren't at odds right now, I'd have a hard time not walking over to him, placing my hands under his shirt, and pulling him into a passionate kiss.

"Miss Katniss?"

I jump as if I've been caught doing something I shouldn't, and turn to Mr. Mellark like a deer caught in headlights

"Yeah?"

"Can I speak to you?" he asks in a confidential tone. "In private?"

I look over at Peeta, who has stopped what he's doing and seems concerned as he gazes over at us, and then back at Mr. Mellark as I nod. I don't have a good feeling about this at all. My stomach is in knots, and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears.

He leads me to a small office, and gestures for me to sit in one of the foldout chairs against the wall. I silently do what I'm told, my uneasiness increasing by the second. He sits adjacent to me, looking concerned as he seems to search for the right words to say what he needs to.

"There's no easy way to ask this," he starts, rubbing his forehead nervously. He lets out a deep breath and continues, "Can you tell me again how you got that bruise on your face?"

I shrug and stare at the floor, feeling frustrated at having to explain myself again. I already told him what happened this morning, it's not my fault if he didn't believe me.

"I told you, I was on a four-wheeler and a limb hit me in the face," I mutter a bit defensively. He nods and closes his eyes as if my explanation pains him in some way.

"But we both know that isn't true, don't we?"

"Yes it is," I counter shakily. Panic is rising within me and I feel like I'm being backed into a corner.

"I saw the bruises on Primrose's neck and arm," he continues with a wistful shake of his head. I say nothing. I just keep my mouth pursed and my eyes fixed on the floor. I don't know how to explain her bruises in a believable way. With a contemplative look on his face, he continues almost as if he's thinking out loud rather than speaking to me, "I just… I can't understand how. The Iris I know, or knew, would never stand for someone hurting her children like this…."

I still don't speak, because anything I say will only make things worse. I can't afford for Mr. Mellark to get involved in all of this. Peeta is bad enough as it is. In fact, my gut instinct is telling me that Peeta is the one who brought all this to his dad's attention. He wanted to feel validated in what he did.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need to speak to your mother about this," he says, and at these words, I feel whatever composure I have evaporate from my body. "Do you know when a good time would be for me to stop by and see her, or she could come by here if that's more convenient—"

I stand up quickly, my trembling hands balled into fists, and before I can even stop myself, I blurt, "I think you should focus on your own son, and what goes on under your own roof!" He looks at me with wide, surprised eyes, and it only fuels me to continue. "Your wife has been abusing Peeta for years, sticking him with needles and, hell, even trying to kill him with her SUV! Thankfully he only lost a leg!"

"Peeta told you this?" he asks in a deadly calm voice, knitting his eyebrows together as if in deep thought.

I nod quickly and continue, "Just the other day, she came in and started smacking him around. She's really cruel to him when she thinks no one else is watching."

"I… wasn't aware of any of this," he replies in a voice that's nearly a whisper. I suddenly feel horrible as I look at him. He looks crushed, angry, confused… I know I just opened a can of worms with the Mellarks that can't be closed again. "He never said anything to me…."

"He didn't want you to lose the bakery," I answer quietly, already feeling regretful and embarrassed at my outburst.

"Well, he should know better than that!" he states strongly, and it seems my words have hit him right in the gut. "This bakery is nothing. Nothing. When it comes to him! Priscilla and I have always had our problems, but I never imagined she'd take it out on the boys."

Before Mr. Mellark leaves for the night, he thanks me for telling him, but I know he's haunted by the sudden revelation of it all. He glances sadly at Peeta and says he'll see him at home later.

Peeta just nods dismissively in return, completely oblivious and distracted by his decorating. And I feel sick.

I basically just threw him under the bus, and I don't doubt that he'll hate me when he finds out. I shouldn't have said anything. From the way Mr. Mellark had reacted, he's not going to sit idly by and not do anything about it, either.

Peeta asks what his dad wanted to talk to me about, and I just shrug and say he asked about my face. He seems genuinely surprised by this and asks what I said, and I reply that I told him what I told everyone else: a limb hit me. The fact that Peeta seems taken aback at his dad's questioning causes me to feel even guiltier. He obviously didn't know anything about it, which means he probably never said anything to him.

He frowns and asks nothing else as he gently pulls me into an embrace. I don't fight it, either. In fact, I circle my arms around his waist and rest my ear against his chest.

For a moment, I simply close my eyes and take in the warmth I've been missing and the rhythm of his heartbeat. I feel like crying when I realize I'll have to pull away from him eventually, and after tonight, I will probably never feel his arms around me ever again. He rests his cheek on the top of my head and whispers, "Everything will be okay. I promise."

I want to tell him that he can't make a promise like that, because things are definitely not going to be okay, but I remain silent. I've just betrayed him the same way he did me, if not worse. I fear Mr. Mellark, and by extension, Peeta, might lose the bakery because of this. Mrs. Mellark seems like she would react by causing as much devastation as she can for being confronted with such accusations.

If this is the last happy moment he has for a while, I don't want to ruin it. I've already ruined enough.

I feel empty and lost when he finally pulls away and goes back to decorating the wedding cake he's been working on. We don't speak much to each other for the rest of the night. Peeta stays busy, concentrating on cake commissions; as for me, I have no idea what to say. I have too many things clouding my mind that it's impossible to focus on anything that's going on around me.

When he drops us off for the night, I feel anxious and nauseous. He has no idea what he's about to walk into. I have no doubt he'll hate me tomorrow, so I lean over quickly and kiss him on the cheek one last time.

"Thanks…" he whispers in surprise, his blue eyes lighting up with hope.

I nod slowly, my heart in my throat as it races a mile a minute, "You know I want what's best for you, too?" He places a hand to my cheek and smiles wistfully.

"You're what's best for me, Katniss."

It only makes me feel even guiltier.

I say nothing in return as I open the car door and catch up with Prim, who bombards me with questions for the rest of the night—none of which I come close to having any answers to.

The next morning, my fears are realized when Peeta doesn't pick us up for school.

When we get on the bus, Prim starts crying because she thinks something bad happened to him. She doesn't know anything about what I'd told Mr. Mellark the night before, because she still doesn't have any idea about Peeta's mom, or anything about his situation. I try to console her, but it's hard when I'm just as worried about him myself. I checked my phone this morning, and he hadn't even sent a text telling me anything. I send him a short text of 'you ok?' and keep checking periodically to see if he's messaged back, but he hasn't.

This worry turns to dread and panic when I get to first hour and he's nowhere to be seen.

I somehow make it through class without completely breaking down, but it takes all my strength to keep it together. My whole body is shaking and tears keep filling my eyes, which I have to continuously wipe away. I'm thankful that my desk is in the very back, and no one can see my distress. I can't concentrate on anything, I just keep thinking about Peeta and what's happened to him.

And how much he hates me right now. I don't blame him. I hate myself, too.

After class, I hide out in a bathroom stall and cry until I can't breathe. I don't go to my next two classes, either, because I know I wouldn't be able to make it without completely falling apart in front of everyone. I check my phone and see that he still hasn't sent a message back. I ask him again, 'is everything alright? Please text back?' and wait. And wait some more.

And still… no reply.

I sink a little deeper into despair.

Despite going into this relationship with the idea that it wouldn't last long, that he'd grow bored with me, and quickly realize his mistake, I never thought it'd end like this. I never would have imagined breaking Peeta's heart, or him doing the same to mine. When I told him it was never supposed to be this serious between us, I meant it; I never intended or expected it to grow into what it has.

I never thought I could feel so happy or alive.

I never believed I could be loved by a man, experience pleasure, or have a future worth fighting for. I never dreamed I could want more than what I needed.

Now that I've lost everything, I realize how much I actually want it.

Peeta finally texts back by the end of the day, but it's a simple 'ride bus home, no work tonight' – no explanation, no elaboration on what's going on. I try to call him, but he doesn't answer. Still, I'm a little relieved that he's well enough to text, at least. But I feel like my world is shattering, realizing how angry he must be with me. And the fact that whatever happened was enough to close the bakery for a day makes me feel sick. This is all my fault. Mr. Mellark and Peeta have been nothing but generous and kind, and have only tried to help me, and all I've done was take it for granted and bring trouble into their lives.

After school, I ride the bus home.

I tell Prim that Peeta had texted me, and that he seemed to be all right. This appeases her a bit, but not by much; especially with the bakery being closed. She might be young, but she's aware that something bad had to have happened to him.

I try to call Peeta again, but I still get no answer. I try texting, but I get no reply. As before, his silence cuts deeper than anything he could ever say to me.

I do my best to keep a strong face on for Prim, but eventually my resolve breaks and I finally cry in front of her. She hugs me and says that "it's about time."

When I go to feed my mother, it takes me a good five minutes or more to rouse her. At first, terror runs through me at the thought that she might be in a coma—which I'm honestly surprised she hasn't slipped into by now—but she eventually opens her eyes, and relief washes over me. However, I'm aware that it's only a temporary relief. I know that one day, probably soon, I'm going to come home and try to feed her, and she won't wake. And if she doesn't wake, I can't feed or hydrate her, and she'll die a slow death.

I have no idea what I'll do when that happens, or how Snow will react. It dawns on me then that maybe Peeta was right.

I can't keep doing this on my own, and even if his plan winds up having a bad outcome, I can't see anything good coming out of the current situation.

It's a toss-up either way.

I wake on Friday morning feeling extremely tired.

I'd barely gotten any sleep the night prior, having been crying and thinking way too much.

To add to the bad luck I've been having lately, it's raining outside when we have to walk to the end of the driveway to catch the bus. Though I find a piece of plastic for us to huddle under, it does little good as the wind merely blows the rain onto us from the side. We're entirely soaked by the time we reach the bus stop, but I could care less about it when I see who's waiting on us.

Peeta.

My mouth goes dry and my heart starts to pound; I don't know if I'm happy or scared to see him. After yesterday, I have no idea what to expect out of him at all. Just the fact that he showed up is a huge relief, though, because it means he still cares on some level.

We take our usual seats in his car, thankful to be out of the rain. Prim immediately leans over the seat and hugs him, and though I notice he has dark circles beneath his eyes and he seems a bit stressed, a smile comes to his face as he reaches an arm back and gives her a half-hug in return.

"Thank you for picking us up this morning," Prim says as she sits back and buckles her seatbelt. Her voice takes on a more hardened tone as she continues, "We missed you yesterday. We were really worried, Peeta. You should have at least called Katniss and let us know how you were."

"She's right, you know," I add quietly. I feel his gaze on me, but I don't look up from my lap as I fidget nervously with the hem of my shirt. "We missed you. I was really worried."

He takes me by surprise and brings his hand to mine, stilling my anxious movements, and twining our fingers together. My skin is ice cold from the wind and rain, and I realize I'm shivering all over, but the warmth of his hand in mine sends a sudden jolt of heat throughout my whole body, and causes me to tremble in an entirely different way.

I finally glance over at him to find him studying me rather intensely. He licks his lips and shrugs, "It was a… really busy day. I'm sorry I made you worry, but at least you know how I feel every single time I drop you both off."

"I answer your texts, though," I mutter, squeezing his fingers between mine.

"Yeah, in the morning," he counters. "After I've already stayed awake half the night wondering if you're okay. And here lately you don't answer them at all."

His words sting a little because they're totally true. Since we've been arguing, I hadn't replied to any of his texts, and even when we were on good terms, I was still bad about answering. I never realized how aggravating it is to be so worried about someone and have to wait on tenterhooks to find out if they're all right or not.

I bring his hand up to my mouth and kiss his knuckles. I just hold him there for a moment, my eyes closed as I take in the feeling of his skin against my lips.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"So… are you two back together yet?" Prim enquires with a sigh from the backseat, startling both of us. "Seriously. Just kiss and make up already. You're perfect for each other."

Neither of us answers Prim, but our hands remain locked together as we begin our drive into town.

And it's strange how, as angry and fearful as I've been about everything this week, I now feel overwhelmingly calm and as if everything is going to be okay.

We stop by the bakery to dry off a little and get something to eat.

Peeta gives Prim one of his work shirts to wear while he dries her clothes in the dryer, and he hands me a bag full of the new clothes I'd left at his house. I hesitate before taking them out of his hand, but he points out that I can't go to school drenched and I might get sick besides, so I ultimately decide to take his advice.

I change into the new underwear and sports bra he'd bought me, and I'm amazed that they fit perfectly. As for my outfit, I decide to wear the purple dandelion shirt and a pair of black jogging pants. They're not too tight and not too loose.

They're just right. I feel comfortable and, most of all, overwhelmed to be wearing brand new clothes—especially ones that were bought specifically for me.

After we drop Prim off at school, Peeta asks if we can go somewhere to talk about things. I nod without a word, feeling my stomach flip as I wonder what 'things' he feels we need to discuss.

We say nothing until we're parked in our secret place by the lake.

"I'm sure you have an idea of what happened yesterday, and why I didn't call you," Peeta says as he turns the car off. I chew on my bottom lip and nod, guilt twisting my stomach into knots. "Dad asked me about everything you'd told him when I got home the other night. I'm not going to lie and say I was happy about it. At first, I thought that you did it to get back at me—"

"I didn't!" I cut him off emphatically, my eyes wide. "I promise I didn't! I didn't even mean to tell your dad. It just… happened, and I didn't know how to tell you—"

"I know you didn't," Peeta reassures me, a small forgiving half-smile on his face. "Like I said, I thought that at first, but after a while, I realized I knew better that you would never be that vindictive, no matter how angry you were. And Dad told me that you were pretty riled up about defending me when it came to my mom, so I figured you did it because you cared. At least, I hope so?"

I lock eyes with him and firmly reply, "Peeta, of course I care about you. In fact, I care about you very much. I just… I fuck up sometimes, and I have a hard time admitting things… like being wrong. But I'm admitting it now. I messed up. I jumped to conclusions, acted on impulse, and I regret it. Most of all, I'm really sorry I hurt you, and I'm surprised you don't hate me."

I feel a lump in my throat and tears stinging my eyes, so I quickly look away from him and focus on watching the rain pour down the windshield.

"I could never hate you," he replies adamantly. "Ever. I mean, I will admit that sometimes you frustrate the hell out of me, but never so intensely that I could ever stop loving you."

"Ditto on that," I whisper in return, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips and butterflies suddenly swarming in my stomach. It seems almost foreign to smile again after a week of frowning, but just sitting with Peeta in this place again makes me feel hopeful that things will be okay.

Peeta's silent for a moment before asking timidly, "Ditto on what?"

"What you just said," I shrug as casually as I can, knowing exactly what Peeta must be wondering. Do I love him? I don't know. All I really know is that I love the feeling I get when he's around, and I hate the thought of a life without him in it.

He's silent again, and I take the opportunity to change the subject.

"So what happened?" I ask curiously, turning to see him staring thoughtfully out his window at the rain hitting the lake. "With your dad and all."

"Honestly? All hell broke loose," he answers with a far off look, as if envisioning everything that had happened. "When I admitted everything to Dad, he confronted Mom about it. She denied everything, of course, but Dad didn't believe her. Proja tried to fight me because he thought I was making things up. Eventually the whole thing ended with me packing my things and sleeping in the bakery overnight with Dad.

The next day—yesterday—he got a hold of the landlord who owns the apartment I was supposed to start renting in November, and asked if I could move in earlier than planned if I paid a little more. The landlord was fine with it. Dad cosigned the lease, I paid a few months in advance, and I'm going to be moving into my very own place this weekend. So as stressful as it all was, it worked out for the best," he shrugs. "So really, I guess I should be thanking you."

"I really don't deserve any thanks," I reply with a small shake of my head. "But I'm glad everything worked out well for you. I was really worried…." I gulp and my heart quickens as he tucks a stray hair behind my ear, then lightly traces the curve of my cheekbone with his thumb. I try to keep my voice even and controlled when I ask, "How are your parents taking everything? Are they splitting up for good?"

"Looks that way. Dad was angrier than I'd ever seen him in my entire life," Peeta says with wide eyes. "He's planning on moving into the upstairs of the bakery, told Mom she could have the house. She said she'd sell the drafty thing and move to a beach house in California. Surprisingly, she didn't seem very upset with the idea of a divorce. They've both been unhappy with each other since before I can even remember, and I think they knew it was the right time to end things. In my opinion, it should have happened a lot sooner."

I nod slowly and narrow my eyes at the raindrops trailing down the window in a thick sheet. Peeta says all of this as if it's a good thing, but I can't help the righteous anger boiling in the pit of my stomach.

"It doesn't seem right that your mom gets to move off and live a happy life with all the horrible things she's done to you," I state indignantly. "She shouldn't be able to get away with it, and she sure as hell shouldn't get anything out of it!"

"Yeah, but I can't prove anything she's done," he replies quietly, almost distractedly, and trails his hand as lightly as a feather down my cheek and neck before resting it on my shoulder. I close my eyes as he begins to lightly massage it, and I lean contentedly back in my seat. "Anyway, it'll be the best justice I could ever dream of to have her out of my life completely, in a whole different state, and never have to see her again."

"I imagine so," I remark, feeling lightheaded, and it has nothing to do with the painkiller I took this morning. I can't help wondering how freeing it would be to know you'll never be hurt again, to never again see the face of the person who has, for so many years, brought nothing but pain into your life. "Congrats on the new place, by the way. Maybe you can show it to me sometime."

"Of course I will," Peeta answers quickly. "You know…" He trails off and his hand stills on my shoulder. I open my eyes to see him biting his lip, a look of hesitation on his face. I questioningly raise my eyebrows at him and he shrugs, seemingly bashful about saying what's on his mind, and I feel slightly disappointed when he retrieves his hand from my shoulder and runs it through his hair. He finally releases a slow breath, as if working up his courage, and blurts quietly, "It has an extra room."

"Oh," I reply, and I can't really think of anything else to say.

"My offer still stands, you know," he continues with a bit more confidence, placing his hand on top of mine and giving it a small squeeze. "You could move in with me. You, Prim, and your mom. The entire apartment complex is gated, and the garage is covered and gated, too. You can't even enter the place without identifying yourself and being buzzed in by someone in the building. There are security cameras all over the place; in the halls and around the premise. Oh, and it's just a mile into the next town over, meaning the police here have no jurisdiction over there. You'll be protected, I promise you, Katniss. No one will hurt you or your family…."

I close my eyes and chew nervously on my lip as I contemplate what he's asking me. Every fiber in my being wants to say no, it's too risky, Snow will find and kill us, but I think of the way we're living now. I remind myself that I'm in constant fear of being killed anyway, that my mother is on the brink of death and it'll be a miracle if she makes it through the winter, and how Prim has been showing signs of rebelliousness and resentfulness lately that I know will only get worse, and Snow will have no problem beating it out of her. Either way we run the risk of being killed. However, staying where we are, it's not simply a possibility, but a matter of time.

At least if I die because of this, or if someone I love gets killed, I'll know that I actively tried to save us. That I tried to do the right thing.

"Okay," I whisper, in disbelief of what I'm agreeing to. My body is trembling like crazy, and I try to ignore the overwhelming feeling of dread that's trying to overshadow the hope. I open my eyes and ask him in a shaky, yet serious voice, "Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything."

"That you won't leave me alone to pick up the pieces if things fall apart," I say warily, giving his hand a squeeze and threading our fingers together. "That this is serious for you."

"Like I said before, it's always been serious for me," he answers. "I promise you, whatever happens, I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together."

"Peeta?" I pause for a moment, daring myself to admit out loud what I've realized since we'd broken up.

"Yeah?"

"It's serious for me, too," I reply meaningfully, remembering the harsh words I'd said when I'd broken up with him. "I didn't mean a lot of the things I said to you before. I was angry, I felt betrayed, and I was lashing out at you."

"I know," he says. "I never meant to make you feel betrayed. I'm doing this because you and Prim deserve so much better, and those assholes need to pay for what they're doing. It needs to end. You deserve justice. You deserve happiness."

"I know," I agree quietly. "And you're right, about what you said. I'm scared as hell. I'm worried how this will turn out. I expect the worst, because nothing good ever happens to me…" I pause and open my eyes again to look over at Peeta, adding strongly, "Not until I met you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Peeta. Being away from you, fighting like we have been… it hurts worse than anything Snow could ever do to me. I won't lie and say that I'm completely comfortable and optimistic about what you're doing, but I've come to understand why you feel it needs to be done. I just… I hope it works out for the best and no one gets hurt in the process."

"It will work out for the best," he answers confidently. "I'll make sure of it. I'm not going at this situation without thinking of the consequences. Haymitch might be a bit abrasive—"

"A bit?" I snort and roll my eyes.

"Okay, a lot. But he knows what he's doing. He has a long track record of getting things done. This sort of situation isn't new to him."

"I'll take your word for it. I still think he's a huge asshole, though," I mutter grudgingly. "And I really think you should reconsider the free baked goods thing, because the way he was going at them, you'll be put out of business within a week."

Peeta chuckles lightly as he brings my hand up to his lips and places a gentle, lingering kiss upon it. Closing his eyes, he lays my palm flat against his cheek, covers my hand with his, and takes a deep breath before whispering, "I wish I could make you feel how much I love you."

"You already do," I whisper back. "All the time."

I don't know what comes over me, but I feel daring and brave. I feel empowered and hopeful. I gaze at the peaceful, adoring look on Peeta's handsome face and I can't believe how lucky I am to have him in my life. I can't help but wonder if I'd never went to his house to sell blackberries this summer, would we even be here now? It's strange to think that I would have never felt his lips on mine, or heard his whisper in my ear. I would have never felt the gentle caress of his hands or the warmth of his arms around me.

I never would have known what I was missing, either, because I never knew I wanted any of this until it happened. And now I can't imagine a life without it; I can't imagine a life without him.

Without overthinking it, I bring my knees up under me and move closer to Peeta, thankful that his car has a full front seat. He opens his eyes to look at me curiously, but instead of answering him with words, I answer him with a kiss.

I place both of my hands on the sides of his face, brushing his skin lightly with my fingertips, and he hesitantly rests his palms on my lower back to bring me closer.

Kissing him again feels like a dream.

As soon as my lips touch his, I feel alive again, I feel a spark ignite inside me as it had before, but there's something different about it now. It feels more… real. More intimate. There's also a new sort of hunger. Not the sort of hunger that settles in your stomach, but the sort that settles in your heart and makes you realize how starved for human contact you really are.

We don't even pull away from each other when I decide to get closer and straddle his thighs. He runs his hands up and down the length of my back before he lifts the hem of my shirt and places his palms flat against the bare skin of my torso. I delicately move my fingertips across his jawline and down his neck, feeling him tense up slightly from my touch as our mouths move slowly together, reacquainting and savoring the taste and texture of each other with growing fervor.

Peeta pulls back for a moment, whispering with concern, "Does this hurt you at all? Your ribs—"

I place a finger to his lips, my mouth only an inch away from his and the tips of our noses touching.

"The swelling's down, and I think they're only bruised. At least they don't hurt half as bad as they did a week ago. With the painkiller, I barely even feel them anymore," I whisper assuredly in return. "Even if they did still hurt, I'd endure it. I missed this."

"I missed you," he murmurs.

"I missed us," I reply.

I move my lips softly along the surface of his, not as a kiss, but just to feel them, to appreciate their warmth and talent. He soon captures my top lip between his and runs the tip of his tongue along the edge; I bring my arms around his neck as I envelop his plump bottom lip with my mouth, and our kisses quickly grow more ardent as our tongues passionately find the confines of each other's mouths.

There's an intense throbbing between my legs again, along with the pooling warmth that comes with it, and it fuels me in wanting to be even closer to him. I want to feel more. As embarrassed as it makes me, I want to feel what I felt the night I had the dream.

Without breaking our kiss, I move his palm from my stomach to my breast, keeping my hand over him, sighing against his mouth as he gives it a squeeze and runs his thumb over the middle.

He pulls away again and whispers near my ear, "It's incredibly sexy seeing you in the shirt I bought you. It'd be even sexier to watch you take it off."

I lean back, smiling as I arch an eyebrow and murmur, "Only if you take yours off too this time."

Without breaking eye contact, he immediately and quickly removes his shirt and tosses it to the side. I laugh and roll my eyes before moving forward to give him a quick kiss and leaning back again to remove my own.

Peeta's eyes immediately fix upon the bruise along the side of my ribcage. He gently runs his fingertips over it, frowning and shaking his head as he says, "It looks way better than before, but I still hate seeing this. This is why they need to pay." I feel self-conscious, but I say nothing. I simply look to the side with a heavy sigh and contemplate putting my shirt back on. He leans forward and kisses my collarbone, however, and assures me, "You're still sexy as hell, though." He brings his hand to my breast, kneading it with his palm as he asks with bright curious eyes, "Hey, is this the bra I bought you, too?"

I nod as I reach out and run my palms down his chest and abs, my hands hesitating right above the zipper of his pants. His breathing is noticeably quicker as he says in a breathy, seductive tone, "As sexy as the bra is on you, I'd really love to see what it's holding."

"You're awfully cocky this morning," I remark with amusement, giving in to his request without hesitation. I remove my bra and glance up through my eyelashes to see him staring at me in somewhat of a daze.

"You have no idea, Katniss, no idea," he chuckles as he leans forward to plant an open-mouthed kiss on my nipple and begins to flick his tongue against it. I arch into him with a soft moan, my eyes fluttering shut.

"Oh, I have some idea." He jumps and sucks in a ragged breath when I daringly run my palm over the bulge in the front of his pants. I laugh and bring my hand back up to his shoulder.

Peeta groans in reply and places his hands on my hips, squeezing them as he pulls my body closer to his. Our bare upper bodies meet for the very first time as I wrap my arms around his neck and we begin to kiss again. There's an urgency between us this time; as slow and tender as our kiss was before, this one contrasts it in its frenzied wantonness.

I gasp in surprise against his lips when he pulls my lower body to his, and at the same time, also thrusts up against me.

I run my hands through his hair, matching his rhythm and pressure, our kisses growing in intensity as our bodies move together wildly and without volition. I feel something building within me, a growing pressure in the pit of my stomach, much like the feeling I'd had when I'd touched myself in the bathtub before I was interrupted. I move even quicker against him, seeking some sort of answer to the feeling inside of me, moving my lips from his mouth to his neck, trailing kisses down to his shoulder. He moans loudly and then he suddenly stops.

"What's wrong?" I whisper hoarsely near his ear.

"Nothing's wrong," he answers with a shrug, his voice wavering slightly. "I just… don't want a repeat of what happened on our date…."

I lean back and look at him. His face is red, his lips are swollen, and his eyes are lustful, and I'm certain mine mirror his. I don't want this to end, not yet, and I'm sure he doesn't either.

I bite my lip, finding that my curiosity overshadows my embarrassment when I ask, "Can I... see it?"

"See what?" Peeta asks slowly. He searches my face intently to see if I meant what he thinks.

I do.

"You," I touch the front of his pants. "What happens…."

Peeta's eyes widen in surprise and his mouth drops open. He looks speechless and uncertain. I raise my eyebrows for an answer, feeling my stomach doing flips, and I'm about to tell him to forget I asked when he replies with a gulp and a nod, "Okay."

I've never seen a penis before, at least not one that wasn't in a school textbook, and to say I'm anxious would be an understatement. I bring my trembling hands to the button on his pants and undo it before slowly unzipping the rest. I suck in a deep breath and try to relax, but it's impossible as the realization of what I'm doing hits me. I glance up at Peeta to see that his eyes are closed tightly and he doesn't really seem to be breathing at all. I can tell that he's just as nervous as I am, and it reassures me a little.

I push his pants down to his sides, closing my eyes as I gather my bravery and pull his boxers down too. He takes in a deep breath and I finally open my eyes. I look down at it, bite my lip, and as hard as I try to repress it, a snort escapes me. I cover my mouth and look away as my chest starts to heave with laughter.

"Uh, Katniss?" Peeta asks with a slight defensiveness to his voice. "That's the total opposite reaction a guy wants to receive from his girlfriend at a time like this."

I turn back to him and try to answer, but I just break down into another fit of giggles. He sighs and frowns, "I don't know what's so funny anyway. I'm above average."

"It's… not that," I answer, shaking my head. Honestly, I have no idea if what he's saying is true. I have nothing to compare it to. From the brief glimpse I'd had of it, it seemed to be quite adequate, though. "It… just… it looks…" I cover my mouth again and look up at the roof. When I feel the laughter die down, I continue, "It looks like a giant worm! Like a giant worm wearing a hard hat."

Peeta's mouth drops open and he seems speechless for a moment. He then knits his eyebrows together and looks down at it before shrugging and nodding in agreement, "Yeah, I guess I can see that. The hard hat part makes sense, really."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. I've just never seen—" He cuts me off with a kiss before I can finish.

Making sure not to look down, I wrap my hand around him, moving up along it a bit, noticing how the thin, delicate skin moves along with my palm, but the thickness beneath it stays put. I'm surprised at how it can be so soft and hard at the same time. I do this a few times, gently and slowly, and it seems to be the right thing to do since Peeta moans deeply in encouragement and thrusts his hips upward to meet my movements.

"Does that feel good to you?" I whisper curiously.

He nods quickly and replies in a raspy voice, "God, yes."

"So I'm doing this right?"

"There's really no wrong way for you to do it, believe me," he answers with a small chuckle. However, he places his hand over mine and begins to guide me. He quickens my pace before letting go again, and I take the hint to keep increasing my speed and pressure. He drops his head back onto the seat, his eyes closed, and his hips bucking against me.

Pleasured groans and sighs escape him as he occasionally gives me single words of encouragement. Suddenly, he grabs the sides of my face and pulls me into a hard kiss. His body tenses up as he groans into my mouth and something wet lands on my hand.

His whole body then goes completely limp as he pulls away from me, completely breathless. "Wow," he whispers.

I look down and see that he's not hard anymore, but there's white liquid everywhere. It dawns on me that this was why he had to change his pants on our date.

Peeta must have seen what I was looking at because he mutters a quick, "Yeah, sorry about that."

He reaches into the backseat to retrieve one of his work shirts, and dries my hand and anywhere else he sees that needs cleaned up. When he's done, he tosses the shirt aside and leans forward to kiss my breast. As he runs his hands up my legs and to my thighs, he kisses his way up my chest, to my neck, and whispers in my ear, "Katniss?"

"Hmmm?" I answer, feeling lightheaded as his hands move closer to my center, and I have a feeling I know what he's about to ask me.

"Can I touch you?" he asks, kissing my earlobe. "Please?"

My heart beats rapidly, my hands shake, and my voice seems to be temporarily missing, but somehow I manage a small nod. The throbbing between my legs is nearly unbearable in its ache to be touched, and somehow I just know his hands will feel amazing.

I close my eyes tightly, biting my lip as he slips the elastic waistline of my jogging pants down to my thighs. When I feel his hand move between my legs and begin to rub me, it takes all my willpower not to buck wildly against him; I can't do anything to stop the sighs, whimpers, and moans that escape me. It feels amazing. Better than amazing. I never want it to stop.

I need to do something, so I plant little open mouthed kisses along his chest, neck, jaw, and finally I settle on his mouth. I can't really concentrate on kissing very well, however, because all I can think of is the pure bliss that Peeta's giving me below.

"Is this the underwear I bought you, too?" he asks suddenly, pulling back to look at me curiously.

"Yeah," I answer timidly with a shrug, feeling a little disappointed when his hand stops. "Everything I had on this morning was wet."

"Are you sure this isn't the underwear you were wearing this morning?" he asks with a sudden mischievous smile.

"Yeah, I'm positive. Why?"

"Because they're really wet," Peeta replies with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows, moving his fingers over the fabric with more pressure and quickness. He hits the sensitive spot at the very top, and my mouth drops open, both from the powerful jolt that runs through my body at the contact and from the mortification of his statement.

"Well, I can't help it!" I reply in a scandalized tone.

He laughs, "I don't want you to, either. It means I'm obviously doing something right. Very right, from the feel of things."

I'm about to reply when he brings his lips to mine and kisses me deeply. Before I know what's happening, he turns and lays me down on the bench seat of his car. I look up at him in question, but he only answers me by lifting my hips and pulling my underwear and pants down to my ankles, and then off of my body completely.

"Peeta…" I whisper, closing my legs together self-consciously. It's dawning on me that I'm sitting completely naked in front of him, and I'm not sure how far he thinks this is going to go. "I'm sorry. I can't… we can't…."

"Can't what?" he asks me in concern, lifting my chin and meeting my eyes with his. "Katniss, if you're not ready for me to touch you like this—"

"Sex," I blurt, my face burning. "It's… I'm not ready for that. Not yet."

"I wasn't expecting you to be," he reassures with a lighthearted smile before kissing my forehead. He places his hand gently upon my inner thigh and massages it. "I would never expect our first time to be in the front seat of a car. I'd like it to be slightly more romantic and meaningful than that." He laughs and raises his eyebrows at me, and I can't help but give a small smile back. "Until we're both ready for that, there are plenty of alternatives we can do."

"Like what?"

"For starters, simply touching you is pretty amazing," he says, stilling his hand hesitantly. "Are you okay with this? Because if you're not—"

"I am," I answer quickly. "As long as it's only touching."

He nods and kisses me as his hand continues to slowly inch upward. I hesitantly open my legs a little bit to make it easier for him, feeling awkward to let him see me but also curious as to what his direct touch will feel like.

I lay back as I feel his strong, yet gentle fingers part me and glide along my opening. My eyes flutter shut, and I open my legs further as little ticklish waves of pleasure sweep through me at his touch. He finds the little nub at the top and runs his index finger over it repeatedly, causing me to cry out at the sudden and intense shock of sensitivity.

I feel the pressure building in my stomach again.

"You are breathtakingly beautiful, Katniss Everdeen," Peeta whispers strongly.

I can't even bring myself to reply because my mouth can't seem to form any words. He draws his fingers together and rubs the sensitive spot with quick little circles, faster and faster, and all I can do is sigh and moan my approval as my hips thrust upward to meet the rhythm of his hand. My back arches, my heart is racing, and my breath is coming in short bursts.

The feeling in my abdomen is building and intensifying and I know that whatever is going to happen is going to happen soon.

And then it does.

I cry out as it feels like a bomb of pleasure is exploding in the very center of my being, travelling like a lightning bolt to every nerve ending in my body. It's the same feeling I got from the dream, except this time it's ten times better because Peeta made it happen.

I lay there for a moment, my eyes still closed as I catch my breath and try to gain my composure again. Peeta lies down beside me and kisses my cheek as he trails his hand up to my chest.

I get lost in the sound of raindrops hitting the roof of the car and the feeling of Peeta's warm, strong hand gently caressing my breast. He leaves open mouthed kisses along my collarbone, slowing more sensuously as he continues up along the curve of my neck.

I smile lazily as he whispers huskily into my ear, "I'm dreaming, right? There's no way this is real, that you're lying naked beside me," he gives a quiet chuckle and kisses my earlobe. "And to think there was a time when you wouldn't even let me see your hands…."

The vibration of his voice being so near to my skin sends ticklish waves throughout my body and causes goose bumps to prickle my skin. My nipples also stand on end, which Peeta notices with another small laugh as he begins to trace his fingertips over one of them.

"I think you're right. This is a dream," I reply breathlessly. "Real life can't be this good."

"Yes it can be," he whispers strongly. "From here on out, it will be." His hand stills and I look up to see him gazing down at me with dreamy, awe-filled eyes. And for a moment, we just stare at each other, drinking the other in with hope, longing, and lustful curiosity; our eyes asking so many questions, but our mouths saying nothing as we continue to smile knowingly at each other; we'll find the answers together.

He leans down and captures my lips with his, and I run my fingers through the damp curls at the base of his neck as I bring him closer to me. I make a sound that's somewhere between a sigh and a moan as our kiss deepens, my body trembling and tensing as his fingertips ghost from my breast, down my torso, to my thighs, before finally working their way between my legs again.

As pleasure claims my body again, I know we won't be stepping a foot inside school today.