Seize Me

Chapter 9

"I've got another confession to make.

So complicated let me try to explain.

Don't want this feeling to go away,

So it stays, it stays, it stays, it stays."

Escape the Fate-Gorgeous Nightmare

I'd really thought Peeta had been kidding about the segways. He hadn't, which I learn when the eight of us walk down to the back parking lot of the lodge to find a man waiting with nine segways. He's wearing a large straw hat and a wide smile as he waves us over enthusiastically.

"Welcome, welcome," he says in a deep, booming voice. He's shorter than his voice would have suggested, but he's all broad shoulders and bulging biceps. He's dressed casually in khaki shorts and a white polo, which matches the pale hue of his skin. He whips off his hat to reveal a head of bright red hair. "The name's Darius. Pleasure to meet you folk. Pick whichever one you want, they're all equally embarrassing."

Madge and Finnick let out a quick laugh at the man's joke while the rest of us titter politely, unamused. We all make our ways to a segway, and I'm relieved to see Peeta has chosen one at the far end of the group from me. I'd been worried he would misinterpret this morning as me caving to exposing our relationship, but I'm pleased to find he's keeping a respectful distance. But once in a while he'll sneak me a scorching look that makes my cheeks flame in a way I'm sure someone will eventually notice, however no one does.

We all stand around with our hands on the segway handles, our feet firmly on the ground as we look around nervously.

The guide laughs at the looks on our faces, shaking his head as if we're so naive.

"Don't worry," he says kindly, placing his hat back on his head. "I'll tell you how it works."

Darius quickly explains how to mount and dismount the segways, then patiently shows us how to move them in all different directions. He has us maneuver them around a set of cones to prove our proficiency, which Finnick and Rory promptly use as an opportunity to goof off. Darius has to reign them in finally when they almost have a head-on collision.

Once we've proven ourselves to be capable of handling the equipment, Darius takes us off into the Garden. The rock is even more beautiful up close, and the Cathedral, which is actually a larger cluster of different formations, looms above us. Prim appropriately coos when Darius points out the Kissing Camel formation and Madge and Gale take a sickeningly sweet picture under it mirroring the "camels." Then we zoom past the Cathedral's "spires" and the Three Graces, Darius chattering on excitedly as he leads us away from the Cathedral toward one of the more famous formations in the Garden of the Gods: the Balancing Rock.

There are already several people clustered around the rock, pretending to hold it up while other visitors clamor around to take pictures. I have to fight to keep from rolling my eyes at just how touristy everyone seems. It is a very beautiful and interesting rock—large and balancing on a small cluster of rocks at its base. Darius informs us it is currently quite safe to stand under and in no danger of breaking. However, scientists have begun to notice minute cracks that indicate it someday could fall off its pedestal, its balancing act over.

So, naturally, everyone wants to pretend they're holding it up. I turn to express to Prim just how silly the whole thing is only to find she's gone, racing toward the rock with Rory in tow. She's left behind a surprised Madge, who's now holding Prim's camera. Prim excitedly waves at Madge, asking her to take a picture of her and Rory holding up the rock. She impatiently teeters back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting for a space to clear around the rock. Once the majority of the tourists step away, Prim yanks Rory under the rock, telling him to bend down and pretend to hold it up with her.

"Uh," Rory stutters, looking up at the rock nervously as he maneuvers into position. "Are you sure this is safe?"

Prim laughs. "I don't know, Rory. But if it starts to fall, I'm counting on you to save me."

Rory gulps. "Right."

"Oh please," Johanna scoffs, not even bothering to fight her eye roll like I had. "Would you just hurry up and take the picture so the rest of us can have our turn?"

I nearly choke on a startled laugh. "No way," I say with a grunt. "I'm good. Actually, Darius," I say, turning toward the tour guide, "Mind if I look around for a while until everyone is done?"

Darius shrugs. "Not a lot to see over here; this is the last stop before we head back. But sure, go ahead. We'll take a break here and reconvene in fifteen minutes to head back."

I nod, stepping off the segway to leave it with the cluster of everyone else's. I hop down the platform of rock the Balancing Rock rests on and wander downward, my feet sliding occasionally over particularly smooth sections of stone. I peek over the rocks toward the road that runs alongside this section, and there's a man with a small cluster of donkeys he's walking by, his pace slow and easy. I smile and shake my head at the sight, marveling at the simplicity of it.

It's like something out of a book, this environment out here. I've never been this far west before. Actually, I've never left Panem...really, not even District Twelve. I've stayed in my hometown my whole life, and I've never even visited anywhere else. All the stuff in books and on postcards had just seemed like a dream or a made-up world. I'd never really considered that a place like this really did exist. Now that I'm seeing it for myself, I still don't fully comprehend that it's real. I feel like I'll wake up at any moment and be back in my bed, this whole trip just a figment of my imagination.

"It's surreal, isn't it?" someone says, putting my thoughts into words.

I whip around to see Peeta standing over me. He's not looking at me, but looking around me at the Garden.

"Like a dream," I agree.

The sun is shining perfectly off him now, the golden hue of his hair in combination with the sun giving him the effect of having a halo. It's hard to make out his expression with his back to the sun casting shadows on his face. But his face turns down to mine, and I get the impression he's looking down at me and smiling.

"You should see Zion," he says, squatting down and plopping down to sit next to me while sprawling his legs out in front of him. He's wearing shorts today instead of his usual jeans, and I can make out the fine blond hairs of his legs, which are tan enough to suggest he's spent a fair bit of time scantily clothed outside in the sun. The idea sends shivers down my spine.

"Zion?" I ask a little dazedly.

"It's in Utah," he explains, leaning back to lay on his side with his elbow tucked under him with his face propped on his palm. "It looks like something out of those Narnia books by C.S. Lewis. Like you expect a centaur or talking lion to come strolling around the corner at any second."

I let out a barking laugh, surprising both of us. "I'd like to see that," I muse, falling to lay on my back beside him to take in the clear blue of the sky above us.

"I'll take you some time," Peeta mutters, and I turn to look at him. The blue of the sky has nothing on his eyes, which bore into mine intensely. I don't know how I missed it before, but he has incredibly long lashes. I imagine snow sticking to them in the winter, and I flush with a silly sort of giddiness that swells in my stomach. I inwardly groan and throw an arm over my eyes to protect myself from my own wandering thoughts.

"Katniss," Peeta says quietly after a long and awkward pause. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be presumptive; I was just saying it'd be nice for you to get to see it some time."

"No," I say with a sigh, pulling my arm away from my face. "It's okay, Peeta. It's just..." I sigh again harder this time, rolling my shoulders against the hard rock beneath us. "I'm not so good at the whole 'feelings' thing. Nothing seems to work straight in my head."

"Hey," Peeta says, leaning over me to look me in the eye. He's effectively blocked out the blue of the sky above me, but it doesn't even matter to me because it's been replaced by the endless blue of his eyes. "You don't have to apologize. I'm not asking for anything here. Just getting to spend time with you, any time at all, is more than I'd thought I'd get. So just—" He breaks off here, leaning down to brush his nose along mine in what I'm learning is a signal that he's going to kiss me. "Let's just take this one day at a time, okay?"

He doesn't give me a chance to respond, which is probably good because I can't be sure what I would have said anyway. His lips are on mine, slow and sweet. His hands are on me, one at my neck and one on my braid, twirling it between his fingers. Mine are in his hair, marveling at the silky smooth texture that slides like butter between my fingers. His gold curls seem to wrap perfectly around my digits as I stroke and caress his hair and scalp. He groans low in his throat and his body shifts so he's pressed up against me, and I nearly groan myself at the feel of his hard body pressed up beside mine.

"Jesus, Katniss," he moans between kisses. "Do you have any idea the effect you can have?"

I don't know how to answer that and my brain is too muddled from kisses to be able to form a coherent thought. A small, instinctual part of my mind is starting to panic, worrying the others will find us here. I spare a moment of my time searching for sounds in the distances as Peeta's lips move smoothly over mine, listening for approaching footsteps. But I'm brought back to Peeta by the quick bite he delivers to my bottom lip.

"Ouch," I hiss automatically, even though it didn't hurt. Actually, it sent little pulses of heat straight down my body to a place between my legs that's already beginning to throb.

"Stop worrying," Peeta murmurs against my cheek, and he moves his lips to my neck. "They're all fascinated by that rock. We've got time."

"Hmm," I agree, my mind sinking back into that place of bliss it had been inhabiting recently.

He brings his lips back to mine, his pace a little more erratic to match our increased breathing. I can smell the woody scent of his cologne mixed with the tang of the outdoors that clings to his clothes. I note with a little sadness the absence of the spices and paints that I've grown used to smelling on him. But then he shifts, and I am hit by cinnamon and dill and a very faint odor of oil paints. I'm relaxed by the scent, not even realizing before now how uneasy its absence had made me. I inhale deeply as I move my lips from his, kissing across his cheek to the underside of his chin. He groans low in his throat as I find a spot that's particularly pleasing to him.

His skin is slightly salty from sweat under the mid-afternoon sun, mixed with a hint of sweetness I always attribute to the taste of a man's skin. I bite at the spot I've been kissing and he curses, seizing my face between his hands and attempting to pull me back to his lips. I fight him for a second, running my tongue along his delicious skin one last time before he manages to pull me away. And then his lips are back on mine, slower this time as he attempts to draw me to a stop.

"Okay," he murmurs against my lips, his breath still minty from his toothpaste this morning. "Now I think we do have to stop before they come looking for us."

I groan but agree, pushing up onto my elbows as he leans back and rises to sit upright. I follow the movement and lean over to rest my elbows on my legs with my face between my palms. I take deep breaths, trying to slow my rapid breathing that races along with my heart. It's slow progress, especially when I can still feel the heat of Peeta's body radiating against mine.

"How's my hair?" Peeta asks with a laugh.

I raise my head off of my palms to look up at him and have to fight a laugh. My fingers have thoroughly mussed his hair, leaving it standing up in every which way.

"Indiscreet," I say, fighting off an uncharacteristic giggle. I raise my hand and try to comb it back down with my fingers. It works to a degree, but it still looks far more mussed up than it had been when he'd come over here.

"I'll just run my hands through it a few times when I go back," he says, spinning to his knees and pushing off to stand. "That way they won't be suspicious. I'll go back first," he adds, brushing off the red dust on his shorts.

"Okay," I say slowly, staring up at him. He's got the sun behind him again, and it's hard to read his expression. He's been taking the secrecy thing a lot better than I'd thought he would, and it's making me suspicious. "Where did you tell them you were going?"

He shrugs. "To the bathroom."

I look around at the various trees and rocks around us and turn back to him, eyebrow raised. "Bathroom?"

He laughs and turns away, saying over his shoulder, "Man's bathroom."

"Ugh," I groan, flinching in disgust. Peeta shakes his head with a chortle and walks away.

I hear shouting in the distance of the others greeting Peeta, and I know I should wait a few minutes before heading back to avoid any suspicions about whether he and I were together. So I stay sitting on the rock, smoothing my hand over its rough, gritty surface. This place is so different than back home. Back home we're surrounded by trees and the dirt is black and there's a gray haze that seems to constantly hang in the air. This far west, though, the dirt is red like rust and the trees are more sparse and drier. I can see forests in the distance, but they lack the comforting embrace of the woods back home. I ache with homesickness for a moment, my fingers scrabbling at the rock beneath them as they remember the feel of a bow in them. My arms long for the tight feel of muscles tired from pulling the drawstring several dozen times in a short period of time.

"Katniss!" comes the sound of Prim's voice. "Are you ready to go?"

I groan and pull myself to my feet, brushing off the red dirt that's collected on the capris I'd thrown on this morning after my breakfast with Peeta. I turn in time to see Prim scrambling over the smooth portion of rock, its rough texture worn away by thousands of feet. Her eyes are bright with happiness, and her camera is clutched in her hand. Her cheeks are red with excitement, and I feel my spirits lift a little at the sight of her so happy. This is what I'd hoped to achieve with this trip—Prim having the time of her life.

"Yeah," I sigh, moving to meet my sister halfway. "Did you get your pictures?"

"Yes," she says with a cheesy grin. "Everyone held up the rock but you and Peeta. I swear, you two are no fun."

I shrug. "I'm sorry, Prim. Next stop, I promise."

Prim rolls her eyes as she reaches for my hand. She's pulling me along behind her, back toward the group, when she says, "This was our last stop, Brainless. We're heading back to the hotel after this."

The little bit of Johanna Mason that comes out of my sister's mouth is horrifying. "Primrose Everdeen, did you just call me 'Brainless'?"

Prim gives a little mischievous smile. "Mason's got a point sometimes, Katniss. You can be a real blockhead."

"I resent that," I say with a mutter, following after my little sister grudgingly. I'm seriously second-guessing my decision to expose her to Johanna for long periods of time. The influence is turning out to be an annoying one.

"I'm getting the Warrior Princess package," Johanna says, throwing the brochure at me. "What are you getting?"

I scan quickly through the list of packages listed on the brochure, reading through each option's description carefully. I flinch when I reach the Warrior Princess listing. It's mostly a waxing package and covers everything from head to toe. I glance up at Johanna in horror, eyes wide as I take in her smug expression.

"You're not serious," I gasp. "Johanna...that's going to hurt."

Johanna rolls her eyes at me. "Oh, shut it. I've had a Brazilian before, Katniss. I'm not a newbie to waxing, I know how much it hurts."

Madge rips the brochure out of my hands, and I watch her face contort into the same expression of surprise I'd just worn.

"No way," she says with a hiss. "You won't be able to sit for a week."

"Oh please," Johanna scoffs. "You two are so overdramatic. Like I told Brainless, I've done this before. Max two days before I'm back in business."

I scowl at Johanna. Ever since the concert in Denver when I'd supposedly turned down Peeta, she's taken a shine to calling me 'Brainless.' Sometimes I wish she'd call me the hated "Kitty" instead.

Madge groans. "'Back in business?' I really don't want to know."

"No," Johanna says with a smirk. "But I think you already know anyway."

We're at a spa in our newest hotel, spending the day getting pampered while the boys are at a soundcheck for their show tonight. Gale had grabbed the informational packet about the spa on our way through the lobby and had thrown it and his personal credit card at Madge once we'd gotten settled into our rooms. He'd insisted we go get whatever we like and demanded we not return until six tonight, after which we were expected to get dressed and be ready to meet them in the lobby for dinner by seven. No exceptions.

So we'd piled into the elevator and shot down to the spa, where we were apparently expected. They'd ushered us into changing rooms where we were told to strip down to nothing. We were each given a plush white robe and a large, red silk sack. The sacks were to be filled with our street clothes, which the ladies at the lobby would hold on to for us. Then the sweet brunette who'd been waiting on us had returned with a brochure describing the different packages and asked us each to select one while she gave our clothes to the check desk.

"You're crazy," Prim says with a roll of her eyes at Johanna. "We're here to relax. I'm getting the Escape package. Getting pampered sounds much better than getting tortured."

In the end it's Prim, Madge and I heading off in one direction for massages and facials while Johanna is escorted to the waxing department. We wave at her with teasing remarks while she waves back, her wave much smaller being that she's only using one very rude finger.

The massages are the most fantastic things I have ever had the pleasure of having done to me. I'd take this over sex any day. I almost teasingly ask for a wheelchair afterward, my body is so limp and relaxed. My face is a little tight from the facial, but my esthetician promises it will fade. Apparently my skin is a little overworn, and she lectures me on proper facial care. I promised to be better about my skincare, lying to shut her up. But I'm pretty sure she sees right through my lie since she only shakes her head with a smile and applies a soothing moisturizer before pressing me on to the pools.

Prim, Madge and I are soaking in one of the pools together in relative silence, each of us still glowing from the afternoon of pampering and relaxation. I've never been one to enjoy being poked at and prodded at for beauty reasons, the only time I'd allowed it before being when Prim does my hair. But after this afternoon I'm starting to rethink the idea.

"Okay," Prim says suddenly, the first one to break the silence. "Johanna isn't here to harass or tease you, so it's time to fess up. What's going on with Peeta?"

I'm shocked by this sudden statement, and I sit up a little in the pool's built-in seats, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I mumble, toying with the strap of the simple bikini the spa had provided. "There's nothing going on."

"Oh, please," Prim scoffs. "You two were both missing for almost twenty minutes the other day out in the Garden. I'm not stupid, you know."

My sister, forever too observant for her own good.

"That doesn't mean anything, you know," I say, aware of how suddenly interested Madge is in our conversation. "I went to go take a look around while you all acted like idiots around that stupid rock. He was off going to the bathroom."

"But Katniss," Madge says with a smirk, "how would you know that's where he went? He made the announcement about where he was going after you left and he came back before you. We never talked about it again after you joined up."

Shit.

"Look," Prim snaps with a raised eyebrow, "I just don't think it's fair to him, what you're doing. Does he even know about what Mom did, or are you just letting Peeta think there's something wrong with him?"

I roll my eyes at my sister. "Everyone know about Mom, Prim. It's not a big secret back home."

"What are you talking about?" Madge asks, confused. "What did your mom do?"

I turn to her, surprised by her reaction. "You don't know?"

"No," Madge says slowly, tilting her head to the side as she watches me. "Should I?"

"Mom was sick after Dad died," Prim explains softly. "She was depressed and didn't work for a long time. Katniss had to take care of us until Mom came around."

"She let herself sink into it that deep," I say venomously. "She shouldn't have abandoned you—us—like that."

"She was sad, Katniss." Prim's voice is rising in anger as she talks; this argument between us is an old one. "She'd just lost the love of her life."

"Which is why," I growl, "I won't do it."

"Do what?" Madge asks quietly, her eyes wide as she watches us.

"Fall in love," Prim answers for me. "Katniss thinks if she runs away from everything she won't end up like Mom."

"Well that's silly," Madge says with a snort, leaning her head back against the pool's curve and closing her eyes. "You're not your Mom."

"That's exactly what I've been saying," Prim snaps. "But she won't listen to me."

The doors to the pool area bang open to reveal Johanna, saving Prim and Madge from my retort. Johanna's beaming and glowing, obviously having received massages herself. But the robe ends at her knees and I can see her legs are red from the waxing and her walking is a little jilted.

"Ah," Prim says with a smirk. "You survived."

Johanna rolls her eyes. "If you princesses are done, we need to head to the styling department."

"Styling?" Madge asks, raising herself to sit on the edge of the small pool. "Why there?"

"The boys called down," Johanna explains. "They said to get ourselves done up here and they'll pick us up in the lobby."

"What time?" Prim asks, scrambling out of the water. She takes the towel from a gentleman who's stepped up to the edge of the pool, holding several large and fluffy towels in his arms.

"Still seven," Johanna answers, taking one of the towels and throwing it at Madge, who's swung her legs around to the floor and is pulling herself up to stand. "But we have to be at styling by six."

I glance at the clock and groan, seeing it's already 5:47. I feel robbed of my relaxation, new knots of tension forming after Prim's third-degree interrogation. The fact Johanna's here to whisk us off to another location is annoying. Can't I just stay here in this pool and prune up for a few hours?

Johanna seems to read my mind. "Now Everdeen," she snaps, throwing a towel at the ground near my head. "Gale says he'll drag you out himself if you give us trouble."

I sigh and pull myself from the pool, wiping myself dry with the towel. I move to wrap it around my body as a cover-up when I'm done, but the towel guy is back with fresh robes. We pull them on quickly and I take a moment to enjoy the feel of the warm, freshly laundered terricloth. It's soothing, and I feel secure in its cocoon for the time being.

Until Johanna's claws are at my back, pushing me toward the door.

"Come on, Brainless," Johanna snarls jokingly in my ear. "Let's go give Lover Boy another reason to write a song."

The make-up artist is very sweet and completely amazing. She keeps the makeup minimal, insisting what a waste it would be to put makeup over a fresh facial. Instead she applies a tingling, cupcake flavored lip-balm and a few strokes of mascara. She opts for brown-toned mascara instead of my usual black and I'm surprised by what a difference it makes. It blends nicely with my skin tone but makes the grey of my eyes stand out, something I'd never seen before with black. She doesn't do anything else, which is a relief for me.

I'm surprised and annoyed when a spa staff member steps in and announces our outfits have been delivered. Apparently everything has been planned out for us for the evening. Prim gleefully races to the man who's wheeling in a cart carrying four garment bags, ripping down the one with her name on it. Inside is a soft pink dress of satin with a sweetheart neck and a knee-length hemline. She holds the dress up to herself and twirls, making the skirts swirl around her.

"Oh," Madge says, clapping her hands once in praise. "Prim, that's beautiful."

"Thanks," Prim says with a blush, pulling the dress away to examine it again. "I hadn't seen it before in the suitcases."

"No," says Johanna, unzipping her bag to reveal a maroon dress that also bears a knee-length hemline but with a plunging neckline. "I've never seen mine before, either."

"Gale said the restaurant they're taking us to tonight is pretty upscale," Madge mentions offhandedly. "Maybe they had Cinna pick up something new?"

This idea puts a bitter taste in my mouth. I'm still uncomfortable with the idea of Gale and the band paying for all of this stuff. They're a pretty big success, but if the competition with Operate Alive doesn't go well they're going to need this money. It seems silly to be wasting it on dresses and dinners for us when there will be more pressing matters if the band fails to hit it big.

"Hey," Madge says softly, reaching over to squeeze my arm. "Don't look like that until you see your dress. Gale told Cinna a lot about you, I'm sure Cinna picked out something great."

"It's not that," I mutter, reaching for a glass of water in order to avoid having to meet Madge's eyes.

"I know what it's about," Madge says with a little sass in her voice. "But just look at the dress first, will you?"

Prim comes racing over eagerly with my garment bag but slaps my hands away when I reach for the zipper.

"You just had your nails done," she lectures. "Let me do it."

"They're nearly dry," I protest, looking down at my nails. The nail technician had insisted my nails were so nibbled down that the only option was acrylics. I'd been impressed by the end result, though; the tips are a modest length and the color a simple and muted french tip.

"I'm not risking it," Prim says with a smile, sliding down the zipper. "You're going to look so beautiful, and I don't want your nails ruining the effect.

I have a retort planned but I never get it out. My breath is stolen by the dress that sits in front of me. It's a simple green, the shade of spring grass, and it hits just below the knee. There's only one sleeve and it goes all the way to the wrist, the other arm left bare. The skirts are full and I know they'll swish around my knees just like Prim's. The back is open down to the waist, revealing an alluring amount of skin. It's incredibly simple but carries a sense of elegance that I'm comfortable with. I've never been one to be interested in getting dressed up, but this dress excites me. I'm even more excited when Prim pulls a pair of nude colored, modest-heeled shoes from the bottom of the garment bag.

Madge's smile is teasing when she says, "I told you so." She grabs the garment bag handed to her by the assistant and pulls from it a blue dress with wide, capped sleeves and a softly pleated skirt. She looks up at me with a smile, eyes shining with excitement. "Cinna is amazing."

"Come on," Johanna says, "Let's hurry up and get these on. I'm hungering for some men."

"Johanna," Madge sighs. "They're waiting for us, do we need to go back up?"

"Are you kidding me?" Johanna snaps. "I'm not going anywhere without my ID. I won't be able to drink without it!"

"Oh darn," Prim says quietly. "Because a sober Johanna would be so awful."

"Damn straight it would, Duck," Johanna says, abbreviating my nickname for Prim in a way she knows Prim hates. "No fun at all."

"You better be telling the truth when you say you know exactly where it is," Madge growls, slamming her keycard into the lock of our hotel room door. "I've seen how you keep your things."

Johanna rolls her eyes, pushing past Madge once the door is unlocked. "I remember the exact pair of jeans I left it in. It will only take a—"

Johanna cuts off immediately, surprising us all. She just stands there in the doorway, her willowy frame blocking our view of the room.

"What is it?" asks Prim, raising up on her toes to try and peek around Johanna.

"Call the guys," Johanna hisses, her tone venomous. "Now."

The room is a complete disaster zone. Everything has been strewn all around the room. The coffeemaker is in pieces on the ground, the flat-screen on its face with glass strewn everywhere. The couch has been slashed in several places and the innards are littered across the floor. The faucets in the bathroom and kitchen area are running, soaking the floors.

"Oh my god," Madge gasps, slapping her hand to her mouth in shock.

"Don't just stand there, you little fool," Johanna snaps at Madge. "Call Gale or something."

Madge digs into her purse and pulls out her phone, tapping the face a few times before bringing it to her face. She steps into the hallway to make the call and I can't make out her words, but her tone one of urgent panic.

We step back in further to the room to check out the rest of the damage. Prim runs to the kitchen and turns off the faucet to the sink while Johanna hastily makes her way to the bathroom to do the same. Nothing has been left untouched. Every electronic has been smashed, and everything soft has been slashed repeatedly. It looks like a raving lunatic came through our suite with a knife.

Which, I worry, could be exactly what happened.

"Someone wrote 'cunts' on the bathroom mirror with lipstick," Johanna says with a grimace. "I'm going to leave it in case the cops want to see it."

"Will they call the cops?" Prim asks, eyes wide.

"The hotel sure as shit will," Johanna says with a mirthless laugh as she walks toward the bedroom. "They'll need a report for insurance."

"The guys are on their way up," Madge says, stepping back into the room. "Security too."

"Oh you have got to be shitting me!" Johanna screams from the bedroom. "Fuck!"

We all immediately go racing into the bedroom to find Johanna standing in a room of slashed clothing. Her clothing. All of our bags have been rummaged through, but the only luggage that seems to have suffered has been Johanna's. It looks like every piece of clothing she had in the bag has been torn to shreds and sprinkled throughout the room. Even her actual luggage has been destroyed, slashed and torn to chunks of useless canvas and plastic. And over the bed, Johanna's luggage had been under someone's written a message with red lipstick.

Go home, bitch. No one wants you here. No one ever will.

"You've got to be shitting me," Johanna repeats, her face white with shock. "Who in the fuck?"

We all stand there and stare at the wall, dumbfounded. And we stand there in silence for several minutes until the sound of the boys calling our names breaks our trance. Rory, Peeta, Gale and Finnick all step delicately into the suite, maneuvering around the remnants of all the room's previous adornments. They're all dressed in casual formal attire for dinner, button-up shirts and slacks. Gale's even brought a large bouquet of flowers with him, which he sets on the kitchen counter as he makes his way by.

"Holy shit!" he curses, kicking aside a broken microwave on his way toward the bedroom. "Who did this?"

"That's what we'd like to know," Madge says, nodding her head toward the message on the wall. "Look at the darling little message they left for us."

"Us?" scoffs Johanna. "I think it's pretty clear based on the array of destroyed clothing who the message was intended for."

"How did someone get in?" Rory asks, eyes wide as he takes in the destruction. "These rooms are supposed to be monitored. No one's supposed to know we're here."

"Hey," shouts Finnick, turning on the hotel security personnel who've just followed the guys into the room. "How in the hell did this happen?"

"We're not sure," one of the men says, face pale as me meets Finnick's livid expression. "We're trying to figure it out."

Peeta's at my side suddenly, his hand discreetly reaching for mine behind our backs where they're hidden from the group. He squeezes my hand firmly but sweetly in his, running the pad of his thumb quickly across the back of my hand before releasing it.

"You okay?" he asks, voice low and hushed.

"I'm fine," I whisper back. "None of us were here when it happened. We came in to this."

"Thank god," he breathes. "You look beautiful, by the way. Did they take anything?" He asks this last bit louder, intending to address the full group.

"Not that we know of," Madge says slowly, looking around. "But it's hard to say for sure."

"Sir." A new security guard steps into the room, trailed by Haymitch. He's addressing Finnick, whose stare is icy with anger. "We think we've developed a sequence of events. A blonde woman came to the desk, said she was Madge Undersee. She asked the employee at the desk for a new key, which was granted to her. Our front desk receptionist then remembers seeing her leave about twenty minutes later. Our camera footage can confirm this."

"Your employee," Haymitch growls, turning on the tall, thin and haggard-looking hotel manager who's just appeared, "just handed a room key to a stranger claiming to be someone? Without id ID? To a secure room?"

"The employee has been terminated," the manager says with a low and raspy tone, clearly out of breath. "We've dealt with the problem."

"Not hardly," Haymitch snaps, waving his hand around the room. "What are you going to do for these for girls and, more importantly, for the guys whose security we pay you most handsomely for? The security you failed to provide."

"We've arranged new rooms," the manager says in a clipped, offended tone. "On a new floor completely. Adjoining rooms still, as you've requested."

"We'll have to cancel the reservations," Rory says in a dejected tone. "It'll take all night to get this stuff cleaned up."

"No," Haymitch says sternly, "you won't. I'll see to it that everything is cleaned up as needed and all of your things are safely moved upstairs. I'll talk to Cinna and get Miss Mason's luggage and belongings replaced."

"Are you sure?" Peeta asks slowly, moving away from me to talk to Haymitch. "This is a mess. And the police will be here soon."

"I'll let them know how to reach the girls tomorrow if they have questions," Haymitch says gruffly. "You guys go enjoy your dinner. We have a long haul ahead of us so it's better if you enjoy tonight. We'll get everything taken care of."

"Thanks, Haymitch," Gale says, reaching for Madge and throwing an arm around her shoulder. "You ready?"

"Yeah..." she says slowly, looking to Johanna, whose face is still a little pale with shock.

"Hey," says Finnick, snaking an arm around Johanna's waist, "don't worry about this. We'll get to new rooms and it will be like it never happened. Especially," he says with a shoulder nudge, "if we get drunk as shit."

Johanna face lifts in response to the combination of Finnick's teasing and his grip on her. "You've got it, boss. Thanks, Haymitch," she adds grudgingly, nodding her head in Haymitch's direction. He doesn't respond except for a matching nod.

"Come on," Rory says, taking Prim by the hand. "Let's go."

I stare at Prim, raising an eyebrow at her. She blushes appropriately but gives me a defiant look. 'What?'

I roll my eyes at her but allow her a brief smile.

"Excited?" Peeta asks, putting a hand at the small of my back to lead me toward the door.

"Careful," I say lowly in a threatening voice. He's a little too close for comfort with everyone around.

"Relax," Peeta says softly, boldly reaching down to give my ass a quick grab. "No one's paying any attention."

But as he says it Prim glances over her shoulder to search for me. When her eyes find me and she sees how close Peeta is to me, she gives me a knowing smile and a raise of an eyebrow. I have to resist rolling my eyes again at her. My sister, too perceptive for her own good.

"Fuck you," I mutter to Peeta, ramming my shoulder into him to push him away from him.

"Please," he growls.

I turn to him, shocked. His face is a mixture of his own surprise at his statement and the passion that's looming beneath the surface.

"How dare you?" I gasp, a little nervous laugh in my voice.

Peeta's face is deep red as he says, "Just trying to lighten the mood, Kitty." And then he's racing ahead, leaving me behind as he catches up with Gale, nudging him conspiratorially on the arm as they laugh over something Gale's just said.

And I have to resist pulling of one of my heels and throwing it at the back of Peeta's head, ignoring the delicious clenching in my abdomen that Peeta's words have set in motion.

Boys.

.x.x.x.

Hello my wonderful readers! I apologize for the day late update. It was strictly my fault. My readers on tumblr got a heads up about the late posting, so I apologize to those of you who were left wondering yesterday. Tumblr followers know the details ;)

Thanks to my amazing beta, Court, who practically overnighted the betaing to me so I could get this posted at a reasonable date. You guys, she didn't get this until, like, Thursday. So we owe her a big round of applause as well for helping to get this posted as fast as I did.

Thanks to everyone who's been such a loyal reviewer. You guys will get yours once this story is done, I promise :)

If you're not already, follow me on tumblr. I'm simplyabbeycat. I post excerpts of coming chapters and I have a few drabbles and such that will go up there. Things are winding down a bit around home, so I'm taking requests for drabbles/stories now as well. I've gotten a few and I hope to have them posted in the next few weeks.

Thanks again, everyone!