Hours had passed since the group had met up. It felt wonderful to have such a solid friendship where they could talk away for hours as if they'd been friends their whole lives. But it was getting late. "I have to go, you guys." Rue announces in her small, chipper voice. "My dad wants me home in time for dinner."

Peeta stands from the table, wiping his hands on his apron. "That's okay, Rue, I have to close the bakery now anyway. We close at six."

Gale stands as well, stretching his arms above his head; his shirt rolling over his stomach giving the smallest peak of smooth, olive skin; Peeta tries not to inspect it. "We should get going then. I'll drive you home, Rue."

"Thanks, Gale." Rue picks up her purple messenger bag, pulling the strap over her head and shoulder. Everyone stands up, walking towards the door as a group. Rue beams in a warm grin. "Bye, Peeta. Thanks for the cake and coffee! See you tomorrow."

"No problem." Peeta replies.

Everyone says their goodbyes, waving at each other as they exit the building. Peeta watches them from the shop to make sure they make it to their cars without any problems. Katniss unlocks her car with the fob, the gray car parked close to the bakery. Madge enters the passenger's side and the ignition soon starts. Gale has parked a little further. Peeta laughs when he sees Rue hopping into the passenger side of his jeep, having to jump to reach the tall ride. It is an adorable and amusing sight, especially when Gale puts in so little effort getting into the driver's side. Both cars start and they back out, driving back home in opposite directions. Peeta locks the doors of the bakery, flips a sign over from "Open" to "Sorry, we're closed."

He takes his time closing the shop, pulling strings to release the blinds down, turning the handle of the white blinds until they're closed at each of the windows. Grabbing a washcloth, he wipes the tables and counters down, cleaning off any crumbs to the ground. When the tables are clean, he flips the chairs onto them upside down and begins to sweep the black and white tile floor, followed by a mop. It takes a total of twenty minutes to clean the shop. His father usually packs the leftover pastries and breads in the morning to give to a local hospital. They don't like food to go to waste. Looking at the clock, Peeta notices he has forty minutes to get ready before Cato arrives. He decides to take a quick shower and change. He takes off his apron, hanging it on a hook in the kitchen, and heads upstairs into the house.

Upstairs, Peeta realizes his mother and father are not home. There's a note on the fridge in the kitchen to his right. He reads the note.

"Boys, we're going to an exhibit in town. We'll be back late. Remember to clean after yourselves and call us if you need anything. – Dad"

Well that was simple enough. His brother would probably be back soon from the library. Peeling off his shirt, Peeta walks down the hallway to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he tosses his shirt, pants, socks, and undergarments in a white laundry bin next to the door and heads to the shower, turning the knobs to release the water with a hiss. The warm water sooths him, his muscles relax under the warm water, closing his eyes and letting the shower rinse his body, letting his thoughts travel. He thinks of his friends visiting him at the bakery, thinks of Katniss' charmingly dorky laugh, how Madge twirls her hair around her fingertips when she's feeling shy, Rue's bubbly personality that makes you smile no matter how you feel, and Gale… Gale's slim, toned body and protruding collar bones; his smooth, olive skin; his mysterious gray eyes, his pouty lips that he'd love to see wrapped around his…

Cold water!

Peeta yelps from the freezing contact, moving away from the showerhead too quickly and slips, his pale legs flinging up towards the air, cheek smashing against the porcelain soap dispenser on his way down. "Owww!" he howls, rubbing his injured cheek. He lifts himself from the tub, turning off the shower and grabbing a towel from the rack. He wraps it around his waist and heads towards his bedroom, cursing the shower on his way, "Stupid soap dispenser!"

When he finally makes it to his bedroom he rummages through his dresser, looking for something suitable to wear. Not wanting to come across as trying to impress Cato, he decides to settle on a pair of jeans and a simple cotton white t-shirt. There's still ten minutes before Cato's expected arrival. Taking the opportunity, he heads back into the bathroom to fix his hair and inspect the damage to his cheek. The reflection in the mirror gives him a clear sight of his already forming bruise. He looks like he just got into a fight; the idea is slightly comical when he thinks about how unlikely of a situation that would be. Peeta was just too mellow of a person. Despite his troubles at his old school, he never fought another student. It just didn't seem right.

Shaking the excess water from his hair, he massages a small amount of gel through the messy strands with his fingers. When he's finished, he looks back into the mirror, admiring his slightly rebellious reflection. Well, what he thought was rebellious anyway; Peeta just looked like the mama's favorite / boy next door with cute, messy hair. The doorbell rings, snapping him from his trance. Was Cato here already? He still had- he looks at the small digital clock on the counter- five minutes! He paces down the hallway and down the stairs, opening the door to reveal Cato observing the exterior of the building, his hands in his jean pockets. Peeta notices he's changed into a black tank top, and it looks really good on him. Really good.

"Whoa! Peeta, what happened to your face?" The taller blonde shrieks.

Peeta's cheeks and nose turn red in embarrassment. "It was an accident," he admits. He figures he doesn't have to go into the awkward details.

Cato narrows his eyes. "Was it Gale?" he growls, completely taking Peeta aback. Gale had a little bit of a temper, but he couldn't picture him ever being violent.

"What? No! It's a little embarrassing, but I kinda fell in the shower." He scratches the back on his neck, a nervous tick. Cato doesn't seem to believe him.

"Huh. Okay then. Are you ready to go?" Go? Go where? It takes Peeta a moment to remember why Cato was here in the first place. He nods his head, grabs his backpack by the door, and closes it behind him.

"My car is just right there." Cato points to a blue sports car close by. That's not shocking; of course he owns a sports car. They walk to the impressive vehicle and Cato opens the trunk, ushering for Peeta to put his backpack inside. Then they take their seats on the leather chairs, Peeta observing all the interesting gadgets inside. They take off to the freeway, speeding easily over a hundred miles per hour. It makes Peeta uncomfortable how fast Cato is going, but he doesn't say anything in fear of looking like a coward.

Cato gives him a serious, but slightest sympathetic look. "You know," he says "if you ever need to have some business handled, I can talk to a few people."

Peeta gives him a questioning look when he realizes what he'd meant. Cato just offered to have Gale beaten up. He raises is eyebrows, stunned by the proposal. "No! I mean, thanks, but really- I fell in the shower. It really was an accident!"

Sighing, Cato gives up with an "Alright, Peeta. Just let me know if you change your mind." Suddenly, Peeta is angry. What was this guy's problem anyway? He had no right to call him a liar. But then, why is he so sure that Gale was the one to bruise his cheek? No, it doesn't matter. It's none of his concern anyway.

The car slows down when they make their way off the highway and onto a residential street. The neighborhood is absolutely breathtaking, up in the hills, the houses large and beautiful. Cato's family must be financially set. The homes here looked like they easily ran a million dollars a residence. They drive to a gorgeous house near the top of the hill, a couple miles away from the other houses. The view is incredible. You could see the whole city and the ocean in the distance. Peeta is suddenly aware of his circumstances, a little embarrassed of his own place. Cato doesn't seem to care either way. He parks the car in the 4-car garage, a maroon classic the only other car currently stationed. They let themselves out of the vehicle, Cato getting Peeta's backpack from the trunk. He unlocks and opens the door in the garage, holding it for Peeta to come inside the house.

"My room is on the top floor on the left, but you're also welcome to the pool table room downstairs or whatever if you feel like. My stuff is upstairs though." Cato shrugs. The house is amazing inside, with spacious rooms, bright chandeliers, and elegant décor.

Unsure what to say, Peeta just nods his head and follows Cato upstairs. The bedroom alone is half the size of his entire upstairs living quarters. He notices several trophies on the wall, two black guitars on the opposite, and a large bookcase filled with books by the giant California king sized bed. The trophies and guitars weren't really a shock, but all of the books certainly were. He assumed that Cato was just another stupid jock until this very moment.

"Have you read any of those?" he points towards the bookshelf.

Cato smirks. "Kinda stupid to have a bunch of books and not read them." Peeta nods in agreement, walking over to the mantelpiece, observing them. They're mostly autobiographies and war history. There are a couple of fiction pieces here and there, but it didn't look like a huge selection in comparison to the others. "You can borrow any if you want." Cato offers. Peeta smiles at him in thanks, steps back from the shelf, takes a seat on the opposite end of the bed from Cato, his backpack and study material already sitting on the black, blue, and gold patterned bedspread. He takes out the blue notebook from his backpack and opens his quantum mechanics book, skimming through the pages until he gets to the review section.

Cato contemplates his options. "Let's save some time and get through the review portion and if we get stuck, we can try to figure it out. Sound good?"

"Okay." Peeta answers. They take their time, going through the review questions and jotting down notes from the chapter, occasionally glancing up at one another. Peeta thumbs through different sections back and forth, eventually making himself comfortable by lying down on the bed on his stomach, while Cato reads the chapter from the very beginning sitting up; he doesn't really know anything about quantum mechanics. He'd actually borrowed the book from a friend who had taken the class last year, an excuse to be Peeta's "study buddy." Of course, he'd never tell Peeta this.

"Here's one I'm stuck on: How is an atom's size maintained?" Peeta suddenly asks.

Cato had just finished reading a section of the book with this information. "The electron isn't drawn to the nucleus."

"How do you get that?" Peeta asks confused, chewing on his pencil. Cato takes the opportunity to crawl over the bed to Peeta's side, laying down on his stomach next to him and turning the pages of his book to a section with the relevant information.

"So the atom doesn't collapse on itself because of these?" Peeta touches the diagram on the page.

Cato tries explaining what he'd just read, "Well, when electrons move, they emit light." He places his hand on top of Peeta's and guides his finger to a single electron, making the younger blonde blush. "But when they're in a stationary state, they don't spend any energy and the electron keeps rotating in the same orbit." With his hand still on Peeta's, he traces their hands in a circle, showing how the electrons ring around the nucleus. "See the how the electrons are following a certain orbit?" Their pulses raise just a bit faster, the tension starting to feel thick.

Cato lets go, grazing his fingertips up Peeta's hand. Or did he just imagine it? "Oh…" He looks at Cato, his biceps slightly flexed while he rests his weight on his arms, still lying in the bed next to Peeta. Cato's cell phone suddenly chimes, cutting the heated tension until he leans over Peeta to silence it. Whoever it was, they could wait. He drops the phone on the bed and pulls his torso back up; using one arm to balance on Peeta's lower back for support, making the boy slightly squirm. Peeta's hormones are starting to get the best of him, his body temperature begins to gradually rise, his cheeks and lips redden, and all he can think about is Cato kissing him. He imagines Cato would be strong, but careful not to hurt him. He cocks his head to his right, face inches from the taller adolescent's. The distance begins to steadily decrease, little by little when he thinks their lips will meet and… the doorbell rings.

What the hell just happened? Cato grunts in irritation, mumbling a "Be right back" as he lifts himself off the bed and out of the room. Peeta sits up from his spot, wondering if what he thinks almost happened was really what was about to happen. You know, before they were interrupted. He blushes in embarrassment and begins to pack his things back into his backpack.

Cato has made his way down the stairs to his front door, swinging it open to find Marvel standing there on his doorstep. He bursts out laughing, "Wow, you look like shit."

"Yeah? No kidding, asshole. It's broken." Marvel is talking about his broken nose, which is bandaged with a white tape. "And what the hell, man? I've been trying to call you!" he exclaims.

Cato rolls his eyes. "What's up, Marv?"

"Dude, we were supposed to meet up an hour ago. Glimmer is going to kill me if I don't make this party everything she expects it to be. You said you'd help me with this shit!" Marvel was stressed, of course. Who wouldn't be when their girlfriend expected the whole world to be encased in a shiny diamond box for her, or else?

Cato laughs at this; his best friend was beyond whipped. "Listen, Marv- I'm kinda in the middle of something."

"What could possibly be more important than preventing my girlfriend from killing me?" Marvel shrieks.

"Stop getting your panties in a bunch. I'll help you in a bit. I've got company right now."

"Who's your company?" Marvel demands. This was important, damn it!

Now he was getting impatient. "Sorry, Mother. Didn't realize we were on a schedule. The new kid is upstairs waiting for me-"

"What? Why the hell would you bring that faggot ass fucker to your place? Look at what he did to my face!" Marvel is wild up, angry, and heated. Was Cato crazy or just stupid?

"Not that one, moron. I meant the other new kid." Sometimes his best friend just did not think. He could be a real idiot sometimes.

"Oh." Marvel thinks this over for a moment. "Wait, why is he here?"

"Don't worry about it." Oh, that's why. Cato and Marvel had been best friend's their whole lives. Of course Marvel knew his secret. He gives him the upmost goofy grin he can manage.

"Ohhh, I see." he sniggers.

"You really are an idiot, Marv." Cato shakes his head.

"Well, as long as it isn't that other guy." He has an incredibly devious smirk. "Speaking of which, I thought it might please you to let you know that I found out where he's living and where he works."

The Pines is an apartment complex downtown that's known to inhabit all sorts of trouble. Drugs are the biggest concern, and there is the occasional gang problem. The east wing had been rebuilt about six years ago when a tenant had failed to care for the meth they were cooking, it blew up nine different apartment rooms. But this is home for Myka, and it was still better than the foster care facility.

"Y-you live here?" Finnick asks, obviously stunned by the location. He'd never been around this part of town. The ground was covered in grime, the walls of the buildings filled with graffiti, random broken windows, and hungry stray cats paced around their territories. No, Finnick would never have any reason to be near this part of town.

"Yeah… You can drop me off here." Myka points to a curb near the complex. Finnick parks the car, watching a group of suspicious men in white t-shirts standing by the entrance. Myka starts to get out of the car when Finnick grabs his arm.

"You want me to come in with you?" he asks with a look of concern. Myka smiles at him, knowing why he was so anxious.

"I'll be fine. They won't give you trouble unless you give them reason to. Go home, Fin. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the ride." His voice is so calm, but Finnick is still apprehensive about letting him leave. He finally lets go of Myka's wrist, but all he can think about is taking Myka away with him, far from this place.

He sighs with an "Okay. See you tomorrow," and watches as his new friend walks to the apartments, letting himself inside the main entrance. The group of men doesn't seem interested in either of them, engrossed in their conversations and exchanges of hands. From the distance, you couldn't tell what they were trading, but anyone with half a brain could see they were dealing.

Myka walks inside the broken down complex towards the stairs, the elevators stopped working a long time ago. A small, black cat with identical yellow-green eyes waits for him on the second flight of stairs. He opens his backpack, pulls out a small bag of shredded chicken to feed to the cat. "Hello my little petit chat." He scratches the back of the cat's ears, leaving the bag of food for it by the corner, earning an audible purr. There were a lot of strays around the complex, but this particular one followed Myka around every day. It rubs its face and side against his leg before sauntering to the bag of food, comfortably eating. He smiles before continuing up the steps to the third floor. There are voices yelling at each other, sounds of dishes being broken against the walls, though the noise comes from all of the rooms. This was typical behavior for the tenants living here.

The apartment is empty; his foster parents were probably out scoring. It's a nice change from having them screaming or passed out on the couch in the living room. He heads to the bedroom, closing it behind him before grabbing a jar and strips of rolling paper from the ground. The jar of green is not as full as it was this morning; someone had found and helped themselves to his stash. He pinches the grass-like substance, carefully placing it on a strip of rolling paper before reeling it into a perfect blunt, licking the end of the paper to make it stick. He twists the ends and lights one end, inhaling the matter deep into his lungs. He's calmer now. This would be his only time alone and content before what's-their-names came back home. Taking deep inhalations of the soothing substance helps relax him, holding the smoke in his lungs before slowly exhaling through his nostrils, eyes closed in thought.

It's nearly seven-thirty, work starts in two and a half hours. He'd requested a half shift due to his first day of school. It takes twenty minutes to walk to the bar from this place, so he decides to take a two hour nap before starting his shift for the night.

The day may have started off shaky, but Finnick had really proved to be something else. He was still suspicious of the tall, charismatic playboy. Myka never really had any friends, with the exception of Ryan, another orphan like himself from the foster care center. Since Ryan had been taken away two years back, he hadn't really trusted anyone since. Maybe Finnick could be the exception some day.