You all have no idea how much it meant to me to have so many of you review and state you still held an interest in this story! Thank you to everyone who takes the time out to review and encourage me.

Most importantly, I want to thank my Beta Court81981 for wading through page upon page of grammatical errors. She's quite gifted and she offers her help to many authors, so please take the time to read one of her incredible works. Because she deserves all the credit for making me seem like I know what I'm doing.

I also want to give a shout out to streetlightlove who has taken over my valuable free time with her fantastic Historical AU, 'If This Be Treason, Make the Most Of It'. You life ruiner!

Chapter Three

The unnerving silence had reverted back to the commotion from before, instilling at least a sliver of normalcy back into the situation. After the outburst, there had been a few casual exchanges about the weather and whether Primrose enjoyed assisting her mother in the affairs of a healer. It was all very clinical and shallow, and it was a small comfort to Peeta that for at least a moment, the topic of conversation wasn't about his presence. Experience had taught him that being invisible was an advantage when it came to survival, and he felt more relieved than ignored when most of the eyes in the room never sought out his. Although he didn't miss the way Gale's eyes would cut towards him, his expression held resentment that caused Peeta to shift in the rickety wooden chair. The back leg- shorter than the rest he assumed from use over the years- scratched at the worn slats forming the floor of the large room. The scratching echoed over the sounds of the den: silverware clattering on porcelain plates, high pitch squeals coming from Posy's mouth as Prim tickled at her sides, and a collection of conversations. However even with the added noise, Peeta could hear the way her breathing would increase when his fingers would slide against hers, at times by accident but more often than not the action done on purpose on his part. The simple warmth Katniss held at the side of her hand sent shivers up the side of his body, and he couldn't help but become greedy for the need, even with the looming possibility of having Gale discover his actions. He could feel her pull back slightly before the pad of his thumb gently traced the structure of bone, the skin callous and chapped, unlike most girls' hands he had the opportunity to hold.

After a time, Peeta could feel himself become brazen, allowing his fingers to curve over hers, hesitating at first before she ever so slightly opened her clenched fist, giving him an innocent access. His pulse began to race, his fingers wrapping at the tips of hers where the nails ended. The pads of his fingers brushed against the jagged ends; he assumed her calluses were from years of hard work, which only made her that more fascinating. Both stared forward, not giving away the movements that unfolded underneath the table. Peeta kept his back rigid, willing his breathing to keep steady. He began to slid his hand down into her palm when Vick's chair collided with the floor, the sound echoing through the room, Katniss pulled her hand back forcefully ,causing Peeta's to knock against the underside of the table before drawing it back into his lap alongside his other hand. He allowed himself to glance over to her to gauge her reaction. A slight blush formed at Katniss' cheek, the rosy color mingling with the rich olive complexion of her skin. He could feel himself begin to smile before his eyes found Gale's piercing glare, searching his face for any intentions, and it was then that Peeta can safely assume that Gale was all too aware of their once- joined hands.

Katniss soon pushes her chair out, as everyone departs from the table, clearing the dishes, and settling down for the last half of the evening before the inevitable biddings are stated. Peeta misses her presence as soon as she stands up, and he can't help but watch her retreating form. Gale stands up from his own place, clearly upset, before following Katniss to the other side of the room where she joins her mother and Hazelle with the stack of dishes that cover the counter beside the makeshift sink. Peeta is left at the table alone to watch the usual interactions of the people around him, the two older women swapping stories of the antics of their respective children during the prior week, Posy runs about with Vick close behind as he tries to tear his wooden car from her grasp, Prim deep in a speech of herbs and their healing capabilities as Rory watches her lips closely thinking of something other than the duties of a healer, and finally Gale keeping a close proximity to Katniss as she slaps him at the shoulder for saying something crude before she lowers her face a shy smile forming at her lips. Peeta can't keep himself from feeling like an intruder, an unwelcomed witness to their bond, and it's then that he feels an empty feeling at his chest, a swell of nausea swelling up towards the base of his throat. It's unnoticed when he takes his leave.

The humid air hits him as the door closes behind him, the sticky moisture wrapping itself around his body causing him to already begin to perspire. The fabric of his button-up shirt clings to the shape of his broad back and chest and he can't help the hiss that departs from his lips when the salty sweat seeps into the fresh cuts at his back. He can feel the sloppy stitching unravel and he moans at the thought of the inevitable bloodstain. It had been painful when one of the house mothers had pushed the needle through his skin closing up the deep gash that had opened at his back, a product from his fight minutes prior. He had gritted his teeth when she had spat at him about the possibility for him to receive a pain killer was non-existent, a quick jab about orphans spilled from her thin lips as his broken body sprawled over the edge of the cot.

Peeta quickly pushes the fresh memories of the orphanage from the forefront of his mind as he carefully sits at the stoop of the front porch; his knees ache slightly from the shallow cuts at the back of his legs, the material of his slacks unrelenting. His fingers drum down the edge of the withered stone before he feels the end of a stray stick, bringing it up to his lap. The pale yellow light from the overhead lamp at the side of the Hawthorne's home does little to aide his vision against the thick dark blanket of night, but the full moon above yields enough visibility to see the patch of dirt beside him. The end of the stick buries into the soil easily as Peeta twists and swirls it about, recreating the shape of the moon above him. Many people told him over the years how childish it was to draw in the dirt but it never failed to calm him down and he marveled at how something so simple could give him clarity.

He was preoccupied in his task when the door opened with a loud creak, startling him before it bathed him in the light from inside of the dwelling. The sound flooded out over the threshold, filling him with the familiar pang of loneliness once again. His mind began to wander before the air shifted around him, the presence of someone else apparent. Peeta dropped the stick to the ground, twisting to look behind him, causing the muscles at his back and waist to scream out in pain. Peeta hoped he could hide the grimace from revealing on his features, but the look he saw on the woman's face gave away his condition.

Blonde strands reflected the shine of the moon around Mrs. Everdeen's face as she looked down at Peeta, standing over him with Prim at her side, the same expression of concern evident on the young girl's face. He could feel her eyes on him before he leaned to the side, his right arm bracing his weight and the brunt of his pain. Her eyes glowed in the dim light and Peeta had to stop himself from staring at her, a lump forming at the base of his throat that only constricted the more he tried to swallow in vain. He can't find the strength to break the connection, but the sudden closing of the door and the lack of light again causes his vision to blur slightly. He's reminded that they're not alone when Mrs. Everdeen's voice breaks the rhythmic melody of chirping and whistling wind in the humid summer night.

"Peeta, it was a pleasure to spend time with you." He gives a polite nod in agreement as he notices her eyes traveling to his back where he can now feel the sticky pool of blood from his cut soaking into the back of his shirt." Would you mind greatly if you escorted my daughters and me to our home. With it being so late and the light being scarce, I worry what could happen to three defenseless women."

Before he has time to respond, an indignant snort comes from Mrs. Everdeen's side with a quick response, "Hardly."

Peeta can hear Prim giggle softly while Mrs. Everdeen ignores her oldest child's retort, "I don't think I should leave without Hazelle knowing about my absence."

Mrs. Everdeen waves her hand in the air dismissively, "I already informed her, she saw no fault in it."

Peeta reached to the back of his neck, massaging at the knotted muscles there, "Well I-"

Mrs. Everdeen clicked her tongue, "Now Peeta, what kind of gentleman would you be if you made three women walk in the dark on their own?"

Peeta's lips formed a shy smile, "Not much of one I expect."

Mrs. Everdeen nodded dramatically before reaching down to Peeta's arm to grasp it gently, "That's right." He pushed himself off from the stoop the rest of way, his eyes finding Katniss' as she kept her place beside her mother. Mrs. Everdeen released his arm." Now let's get going."

Mrs. Everdeen walked in front of him, bringing Prim with her, who shot Peeta a quick glance over her shoulder as they began to reach the outskirts of where the lamp's light reached. He stood there watching in almost a dazed, the exhaustion of standing up far too quick mounted to the pain in his body. The painful ache at his temple threatened to throb once more when he heard her clear her throat beside him; he had forgotten she had still been standing there.

Katniss waved him forward with a flourish of her wrist. "You better listen to her or she'll continue to berate you. It's usually easier to just play along."

Peeta ran his hands through his hair, his palms slick with sweat from either the humidity or her proximity, he wasn't sure, "Your objection to me walking you home isn't lost on me."

She shrugged, causing her dark braid to fall down her back, which only increases his urge to read out and tickle the ends of the strands with his fingers. "It's not that, I just hate when she plays the coy manipulation to get others to do what she wants. She's harmless enough, but my mother and I disagree on a lot of things."

Peeta looked up into her eyes for the first time since they'd being alone, "I know what you mean."

Katniss raised a brow, "Really?"

Peeta nodded, letting out his own snort, "Yes. I may be a bastard, but I did have a mother, once."

Katniss began to shake her head, and Peeta could swear she appeared frazzled, "I didn't mean-"

He couldn't resist but feel at least a bit pleased at seeing her stammer, "It's alright."

A cool breeze traveled through the space between, which caused Katniss to shiver underneath its weight and Peeta had to will himself not to reach out to her. The silence between them charged, as Peeta contemplated assuring her that her statement hadn't offended him in the least when Mrs. Everdeen's voice travels from the darkness, beckoning them forward. Katniss is the first to step off, barely brushing the bare skin of Peeta's arm, exciting the nerves there, as he watches her jump off of the stoop.

Katniss stops at the end, turning back towards him, "Well come on then. What are you waiting for? Another invitation?"

Peeta shook his head clearing it momentarily before carefully stepping down the stairs, the open gash in his back sending barbs of pain up and down his spine. A faint wave of nausea formed at the pit of his stomach, the muscles there tightening, and his cheeks flushed at the thought of her seeing him do something as vile as vomit.

When he had made it past the stairs, Katniss turned on her heel ,expecting him to follow into the dark surroundings. He could hear the conversation going on between her mother and sister ahead of them, but Katniss kept quiet, the only sound she gave off was her light tread and even then Peeta had to strain to hear any movement from her. She fascinated him; most girls prattled on about vain things such as boys and hair ribbons, even the ones in the orphanage spent most of their time preening in front of the mirror, but Katniss had been unkempt when he had encountered her behind her family's home earlier in the day. He couldn't get the picture out of his mind of how the light fabric clung to her skin, the perspiration there fixing the top to her chest. Peeta allowed his mind to wander, fixating on the curve of her collar bone, dark strands of hair brushing against her narrow shoulders, that he yearned to touch, an overpowering need to tangle his fingers into the tresses was nearly impossible to resist.

The force of running into something stopped him, abruptly brining reality back into view. It took him a few seconds to concentrate before his sight settled on the area between her shoulder blades. He assumed he must have ran into her when she had stopped all of a sudden, and his mind was elsewhere imagining the sensations of her touches. When she turns around to face him, Peeta is positive that his face is flushed along with another part of his body giving his thoughts away. He merely stares down at her as she narrows her eyes, stepping back from him to allow enough space between their bodies.

"I was checking to see if you were still behind me before you ran into me," Peeta watched the way her lips moved underneath the glow of light while occasionally her tongue would dart out to wet the chapped skin. "Are you alright?"

Peeta shook his head, "Uh, why wouldn't I be?"

Katniss moved her head to the side, the lines between her brows deepening. "I don't know, but you're starting to creep me out a little."

Peeta stood there, dumbfounded and partly ashamed of the thoughts that had confused him just moments ago as she turned back around waving him forward. He fought against hanging his head as he followed her down the worn dirt path that had been no doubt man-made among the makeshift homes of the Seam. There were sections where the light couldn't reach, and Peeta found himself again looking forward to the times when her form would become bathed in the yellow hue, the crown of her dark hair glowing.

He watched as Katniss took a sharp right onto a creaking porch, a warm light bathing the steps and darkness just below, coming from the already opened door. She jogged into the entrance leaving him to watch the space she had been occupying , until he saw her lean against the door frame.

"Are you coming?"

Peeta breathed in deeply running his hands over his sweaty face before answering, "Uh, yes."

"So what are waiting for another-"

Peeta threw his hands up into the air, "Yeah, I know another invitation."

Katniss watched him corner the stairs and walk up slowly to the where she still leaned onto the doorway. "You already used that one remember."

A slight smile played at her lips as she turned to watch him enter; he surprised her more than she would have liked, which only made her that much more curious about him. Which in turn made her furious with herself for becoming fascinated with someone whom she had no business thinking about. Gale had made his feelings about this one boy perfectly clear, and if Katniss were the loyal friend she claimed to be, she would keep Peeta at arm's length. But she couldn't disagree that there was something about the way that he held her hand that sent a warm sensation up her arm to travel down the rest of her body.

Peeta could hear her pull the door closed as she stepped into the house fully, the wooden boards sounding loudly beneath her petite weight. He felt the warmth of her body before her arm grazed his, much like it had outside the Hawthornes', and he marveled in feel of her beside him, if only for a few seconds.

He watched as she walked across the room towards where her mother and sister conversed, their discussion quiet and steady as they rummaged through what appeared to Peeta as an array of herbs and plants that covered the far wall.

He scanned the room, taking in the layout that was similar to that of the Hawthornes' with a singular large room used as a den and dining area alike and an upstairs loft that was most likely used as a large bedroom. The only difference was that the Everdeens lacked the steady, wooden stairs that connection the first and second floor that he had seen at Gale's home. Meager furniture filled the first floor, along with an array of photographs and knickknacks, which sat upon the mantle above the large stone fireplace. One of the photographs caught his attention, he concluded that it was of a man whose eyes mirrored that of the same grey he had all of a sudden become accustomed to. It was not farfetched to assume that this man had been Katniss' father and the apparent absence could only mean two things, that he had abandoned his family; or that he had passed away and in any case both were possibilities he wasn't particularly fond of discussing with her.

His attention is still on the photograph, when he's gently pulled backwards and made to sit on a wooden stool that seems far too small for his size. He settles his feet onto the rungs, his knees pushed well up to his waist, and he can't help but feel foolish. There's an intimidation that floods inside him as all three women circle the stool; Prim's hands cover a small container of something that he can't quite recognize as a mint smell burns his nostrils.

Mrs. Everdeen pulls at the sleeve of his shirt, gaining his attention. "Let's see about those cuts dear." She walks over to wooden table where the herbs reside, searching for something amongst the mess as she calls over her shoulder," Katniss, help the boy out of that shirt. We need to inspect the source of that bleeding."

Peeta can already feel his cheek burn as he risks a glance to his left where she stands; she too has become flushed, and he tries to search her face for any indication why. The optimistic part of him wants to believe that he has an effect on her, and the excitement that rises up through him is intoxicating. But the realistic side of him assumes she's merely inexperienced and naive when it comes to the opposite sex.

He watches her hands come to the buttons at his chest, her fingers hesitant and he can feel the slight quiver of her hands when they reach the button closest to his bare skin. Her eyes are downcast, and he wonders if she can feel his heart race as he places his hand on hers before pushing it away gently.

Peeta's lips form a slight smirk that pulls at the ends. "I can do it, Katniss. I have been dressing myself for nearly a year now."

She narrows her eyes, her hand traveling to her hip. "Oh, so we have jokes now?"

Peeta lowers his head as he undoes the buttons at the front of his shirt. "Sometimes."

Prim still stands quietly at the side, watching the exchange, and she clears her throat to gain his attention. "This is something my mother and I made to help with abrasions and bruising," Peeta nods in acknowledgement as he undoes the last button before sliding the soiled shirt off of his broad shoulders. "It should help with any discomfort you've been feeling."

Peeta is aware not to pull the shirt off too quickly; his body is already in much pain. "Alright."

The shirt is halfway down his back before he feels it pull slightly, the fabric stuck to his newly opened stitches where the blood has already dried. A deep groan escapes his lips as the pain intensifies, sending another wave of nausea through his body. He's contemplating his ability to hold down his vomit in front of Katniss when he feels warm fingers trailing down his spine to where the fabric clings to his skin. Her touch is barely there, only a whisper, but he can feel his body betray him as his skin reacts to her touch, pimpling up in the wake of her fingers. Her braid brushes up against his bare chest as she leans over him to inspect the area. She smells of soap and cedar, and he has to stop himself from inhaling her scent.

It's not long until she's able to pull the fabric free, standing up and he can already feel her absence as she widens the space between them. He can hear his shirt fall to the floor where she discards it, and he feels insecure sitting amongst women he's barely met, half naked.

Mrs. Everdeen takes her place beside Prim, pushing Katniss to the outskirts and he's thankful for her intrusion, knowing it was only a matter of time before he wasn't able to push his urges down any longer, and with it, signs of his arousal. Prim makes short work of cleaning his shallow cuts with the cloth a damp cloth and applying the salve she had concocted. Mrs. Everdeen watches him closely as she examines every mark on his battered body before allowing Prim to work, her hands touching and inspecting for infection.

He can hear her voice become soft when she touches his cheek gingerly, studying the bruises there, "Oh my, I don't think I've ever seen someone so young with so many scars on their body."

Peeta dropped his shoulders involuntarily, his shame washing over him. "I guess."

Katniss kept her place behind her mother, but never wavered in watching him intently. She had to hide the emotion from her face when his battered body came into full view; she knew more than anyone that pity was usually an unwanted emotion that did nothing but belittle the victim. She could still see the pity in the eyes of the town's people, especially the merchants, who came to give their condolences after her father died. Their superiority was evident, and even at twelve, she resented them for it. So it wasn't something she wanted someone else to become afflicted with, especially not a boy who seemed genuinely kind, if not a bit facetious, like the boy hunched over in front of her.

Her mother kept asking asinine questions that only continued to infuriate Katniss while Prim did her best applying the home remedy. They had yet to tend to the gash at his back, and by the way his face had lost color, she assumed he was in a great deal of pain. Her mother soon after made her way back over to the table to fetch another salve that she discovered would help to deaden the pain. Katniss refrained from accusing her of intentionally making him wait, until she could look him over fully but she knew it would be pointless to argue with her mother, who had spent most of her life healing and dabbling whereas Katniss was lucky enough not to vomit at the sight of blood.

It was true she was a hunter, but to field dress a dead animal was entirely different from repairing a broken body while the victim spat and sputtered in pain. Because for Katniss, it is more of the emotion tied to the pain than the actual sight of blood.

The frenzied knock coming from the door startled everyone in the room. Prim had to stop herself from dropping the tin of salve onto Peeta, and it broke Katniss from her reverie, echoing through the first floor. Mrs. Everdeen ,always the professional, set down the pain reliever she had intended to use for Peeta, and walked over to the door, opening it to allow the humid air to fill the house. Katniss took this time to walk over to him until their bodies were barely touching, and he could hear her without anyone hearing, especially her mother. Peeta sensed her closeness, his face lifting up towards hers until they were inches apart.

"My mother seems to think that just because she's the district's healer, it gives her the right to intrude in people's business."

Peeta was taken aback by the slight concern and tenderness she held in her eyes, since until then she had been guarded when he had looked at her. He's then reminded by her soft touches underneath the table earlier on in the evening and how even the simplest caress had made him content.

The approaching footsteps of Mrs. Everdeen cause Katniss to lean back, once again allowing space between them.

She turns towards Prim, who is applying salve onto one of Peeta's many abraisions. "Prim, that was Mr. Thurgood. His wife's gone into labor, and seeing how difficult her last three labors have been, I'll need your help."

Prim nodded before setting down the salve on the stool that had been moved beside Peeta. "Alright, but what about Peeta? I haven't finished treating him."

Mrs. Everdeen collected her things quickly as Mr. Thurgood waited by the opened door. "I'm sure Katniss can finish up for you."

Katniss turns around to face her mother. "I can? Do you not remember the last time you forced me to help?"

Mrs. Everdeen nods slowly as she inspects her instruments before wrapping them in a clean cloth and then the small carpet bag. "Yes, I do."

"And what happened?"

Her mother furrowed her brow, feigning confusion, "I don't exactly remember the details."

Katniss threw her hands up. "I vomited, Mother, literally vomited into the poor man's body."

Her waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Oh Katniss, that man had been badly burned; his injuries were much more extensive. All you need to do is clean and re-stitch his wound…that's all."

Katniss narrowed her eyes. "Well thank you, Mother, for making it sound so effortless."

Her mother turned back around towards her, a smile on her lips. "It is dear." She walked past Katniss while beckoning Prim forward." Come, Primrose, we have a great deal of work to do tonight."

Katniss watched the door close behind her mother and sister. With their absence, the awkward mood in the room heightened. She turned back to Peeta, who remained on the stool, the top half of his body bare and covered in the salve. She couldn't stop her eyes from roaming his broad shoulders and down to his chest, which was firm and much more defined than what she was used to seeing from the boys in the district, especially those from the Seam, who were lean from meager meals and genetics. Her eyes traveled lower until the waistband of his slacks impeded her view.

The slight cough from his throat caused his chest to vibrate, which startled and both excited her. "What?"

Peeta gave her a warm smile, mirth playing at his mouth. "Did you really vomit on a dying man?"

Katniss scrunched up the bridge of her nose. "I may have."

"Do you think it's safe to bet that you won't vomit on me?"

Katniss shrugged. "Only if you don't irritate me further. If not I may just vomit on you for pure principle."

Peeta let out a slow chuckle. "She makes jokes."

Katniss shrugged, walking over to his side where Prim had laid out all of the supplies before leaving. "Not usually," she said, peering up at him through her dark lashes," perhaps you just have that effect on me?"

"You should be careful who you confess that around. I don't have that many admirers around here, my least fan being Gale."

"You shouldn't take it personally."

Peeta winced as she ran the cool cloth over the gash. "How else am I to take it?"

Katniss leaned her head to the side as she washed his fair olive skin clean. "Gale's just protective over those he cares about. It happens when you have to take care of your entire family before you're fourteen. Besides it can't be easy on him to have you around. Since there are times you look more like Kale Hawthorne than he does."

Peeta inhaled deeply. "Really?"

"Yes."

"You think it would have bothered Hazelle more, than Gale. I'm still shocked she sought me out and brought me here."

"I think she's just had more time to work through what happened. And If I know Hazelle as well as I'd like to think, I'm positive she doesn't blame you for any of it. We don't get to choose our parents."

Peeta lowered his eyes to his hands; that sat at his lap. "No we don't. Do we?"

Katniss kept silent as she ran her fingers around the deep gash before reaching for the small shears to cut the thin thread out from around the area. "I've seen better medical treatment towards animals."

Peeta shrugged, in between the rushes of pain coming from his back. "Most believe orphans are only a step above."

Katniss pulled the threading free, dropping it to the stool beside her, then she reached for a clean cloth, wrapping it around her pointer finger before dipping it into the pain reliever. "You shouldn't care what others think."

Peeta arched his back away from her when she made contact with the source of his pain, "Speaking of, I'm sorry you had to witness any of that tonight."

Katniss shrugged as she threaded the needle. "I've grown accustomed to Gale's outbursts and rants; he gives at least three a week."

"Even so, it didn't make it any less embarrassing."

Katniss watched him move underneath her fingertips before she pushed the needle through his skin, and the popping sound made her groan. "Eh, I hate that sound."

Peeta glanced over his shoulder. "You're not going to vomit on me are you?"

Katniss narrowed her eyes as she kept her hand still. "Do you enjoy teasing me?"

A slight smile played at his lips. "Seeing that you have a sharp object pressing into my back, my answer is no."

Katniss stuck her tongue out at him, which caused a low chuckle to escape from his full lips. Lifting her free hand she pressed it into his hair. Peeta's eyes fell closed, marveling in the feel of her fingers tangling into his hair as she turned his head back around.

"You're distracting me, and I do want to finish this before I actually do become sick."

She made quick but correct work of his stitches, closing the gap and then applying a layer of medication before pressing a clean square of cloth to cover the injury. She was thankful for the numbing agent because it had been awful enough to have to tend to the deep gash, but having to see the pain manifest would have been worse. Katniss was also glad that he had his back to her, not able to stop the blush that formed at her cheeks when her fingers slid over the skin of his back. She had felt sensations run up and down her body that puzzled her;she wasn't a stranger to seeing half naked people, seeing her mother had been a healer longer than Katniss had been alive, but having his body bare before her was something entirely different.

Peeta still kept his place in front of her, his back now hunched over ,which only made the lines of his scars more defined. Katniss bent over, reaching for his discarded shirt before standing up and walking around to face him. His head was still lowered, and she couldn't tell if he had fallen asleep or not, until he slowly raised his face up to meet her eyes.

Katniss laid his shirt in his lap. "I'm done. Those should hold, but just to be sure you should come back later and have my mother or Prim check it out."

He nodded slowly."Alright."

Katniss noticed the troubled look on his face. "What is it?"

His eyes locked with hers, and she could see the unshed tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. "I'm not what everybody thinks I am, you know."

It was as if everything slowed down, and she could see herself reacting outside her body, but when the heat of his lips met with hers, time caught up with her. The feel of his mouth was surprisingly soft, and she had to suppress the moan that threatened to spill from her. He hadn't yet moved, the panic rising up through her , a product of her impulsive action. Her mind raced, through what her next move could possibly be. And she was left with sorting out her reasons for kissing him when she felt him react, and that familiar warmth began to pool in her stomach. Katniss was aware of how out of character this was for her, but this boy seemed to have an adverse effect on her and Katniss hadn't yet decided if that was detrimental or not.

A/N: I'm wanting on the next chapter to be Beta'd, and as soon as I can I will post it. I'm also in the process of updating 'Touched'. Please take the time out to read it, it hasn't received that much attention and I would love for more people to check it out. I'm also working on a one-shot that I've been thinking about lately.

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