KATNISS

Once Prim is back in the house, I pick up the pace to make sure I get to the stadium on time and I end up arriving there with just enough time to strap on my shin-guards and join the warmup with the rest of my team.

As the other team arrives, my teammate, Lila, French braids my hair back tight away from my face and swipes black paint under my eyes. We always do that before every game, even though it's silly.

I'm not a starter, so I sit on the bench and half-watch the game unfold and half let my mind wander to thoughts of Peeta. More specifically, the way his arms looked straining under the short sleeves of his bakery t-shirt; so muscled that it seemed that they could break through at any second. Even with flour dust dotted on his face and hair, he had still looked so good in complete control of the bakery, knowing exactly what he was doing. It's probably the most confident I've ever seen him, and it looked good on him. I make a promise to myself that I'll stop in there more often on the rare times that I'm free and he's working.

When I go in during the second quarter, I notice that the bleachers have started to fill up. I graze the crowd with my eyes, knowing that my searching for a familiar face is futile, but I do it anyway. I always have some stray hope that my dad will have forced Prim to bundle up and come with him to watch me, but no one ever shows. I see almost everybody else's family except for mine. Everyone has someone cheering for them, and I do my best to pretend that it's my name they're shouting.

During the beginning of the fourth quarter, the game is all tied up. I've assisted on a few goals but have the itch to score one, and know I have to get it done fast if I'm going to do it at all. The girls on the opposing team are tall and broad; two things that I'm not, but I'm much quicker than they are and can dart around and through them easily.

As the clock ticks down, my teammate, Ellen, passes the ball to me and I know what I have to do. I dart through the other team and skirt their flying feet trying to steal the ball from me, and run as fast as I can towards their goal. I hear people cheering in the back of my mind, but I'm so focused that everyone sounds like they're underwater, screaming for me to go, go, go!

Once I'm close enough, I kick the ball as hard as I can and fall on my back from the force I exerted. When I look up, the clock has reached zero and my team is jumping up and down cheering for me. The other team has their heads hung low, but with good-sportsmanship smiles on their faces as they shake some of my girls' hands.

"You did it, you did it!" Ellen cheers, rushing up to me and tackling me in a huge hug. "We won!"

My face breaks into a huge grin and I hear a familiar voice far away; familiar, yes, but one I never expected to hear.

I look up to the top of the bleachers and see no one else there but Peeta, jumping up and down like a madman and screaming my name. My face breaks out in a gleeful, surprised smile that I laugh disbelievingly through.

I ditch my teammates on the field and run up the steps as fast as I can to meet him. Once I get there, I crash into his arms and he lifts me off the ground and spins me around so fast that I get dizzy from both the motion and pure excitement. I don't care if my teammates are staring. I've never been so happy; someone finally came to support me. And to make it even better, it was Peeta. When he sets me down, we stare into each other's faces, both equally breathless.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

"You said you had a game," he says, running one hand through his hair. "My shift was over, so I thought I'd come see you. You're a rock star out there."

I look over my shoulder back down at the field and see my team gathering up their gear as they get ready to disperse. I know I should join them, but I don't want to leave Peeta just yet.

"Thanks," I say, and then take his wrist. "Do you want to come with me to go grab my stuff? And then maybe we could…I don't know, go for pizza or something?"

I don't have much money with me, but when I add it up in my head I'm pretty sure I can afford a couple slices at Harding's.

"That sounds great," he says, and we walk down the high cement steps of the stadium together to the field. I start to heave my duffel bag up from the ground, but he stops me. "How about I carry that," he suggests, and takes it. "It feels like there's a body in here."

"There might be," I say, with a sly smile on my face. When he meets my gaze with wide, joking blue eyes, I crack up laughing. "It's Cato," I giggle.

"It'd be a lot heavier if that was the case," he says, shifting the bag's weight. "Could be Marvel, though." I laugh again, and look over at him with shiny eyes. "What?" he asks.

"Nothing," I reply quickly, suddenly hyper-conscious of the way our pinkies brush when our hands swing in opposite directions as we walk.

"Something," he says, his voice lilting.

"No, nothing!" I insist, and then walk up the ramp to exit the stadium. When we get to the top, the back door to the locker room is in sight and pushed open, with Ellie using her back to keep it that way.

"Katniss," she calls out, one hand cupped around her mouth. "Are you coming? I think we're gonna go get ice cream."

"No, I don't think so," I call back. "I'm gonna head out."

"Are you sure?" she continues. "Come on! You scored the winning goal."

I smile to myself, replaying what I had done. "I know, I know," I say. "But I'm just gonna go. I… have to go pick up my sister."

"Okay, okay, fine," Ellie concedes. "See you Monday."

As we continue walking out to the parking lot, Peeta nudges my shoulder. "Have to go pick up your sister?"

"Oh, leave me alone," I grumble.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," he teases.

"My team's great, but everyone is always talking at once. It's exhausting."

"Well, I'm honored that you're choosing to spend time with me instead."

"Even though you talk too much, too," I say, smirking.

"Well…" he trails off. "Okay, I got nothing. You got me there."

"I know," I say.

We get to his car and he throws my duffel bag in the back seat with a loud and heavy thump. When I get in, I notice once again that his car is the cleanest one I've ever been in, especially given that he's a high school boy. Gale's car was a train-wreck; full of food wrappers, shoes, old assignments and just plain dirt.

"Do you want me to take my cleats off?" I ask, eyeing the spotless, tan floor rugs.

"What?" he asks, buckling his seatbelt. I'm still standing outside the car, ducked so I can see his face when I talk to him. "Oh, no. Don't worry about it. It's a car, it doesn't matter."

"Are you sure?" I ask again.

"Katniss, just get in," he says, and then starts it up. I give in and plop down in the passenger's seat, buckling up for the short ride to the small grocery store a few blocks away.

"You really keep your car nice," I say, leaning back against the seat. "Do you have like, an obsession with it or something?"

He rolls his eyes and turns on the radio. Water Under the Bridge by Adele is playing, and my head starts subconsciously nodding along to the beat. "I don't have 'like, an obsession,'" he tells me, and I scoff at his imitation of my voice. "No one's ever in here but me. So it's not that hard to keep clean."

"What am I, chopped liver?" I ask, crossing my right leg over my left so my body is almost completely turned towards him.

"Okay, okay, yeah," he says, facing me at the stoplight. "But that's new. I mean beforeyou."

"Oh, before me," I say, and lean one elbow on the console. Thanks to our close proximity, I can smell the bakery on him; flour, cinnamon and dill.

We pull up to Harding's and walk in side-by-side. "You're gonna fall over in those cleats," he says to me as I struggle with the knobs on the undersides of my shoes against the pavement.

"I'm fine," I say, shooting him a look.

"They're not meant for cement…" he trails off.

"My fist is meant for your face," I say, and shake it at him.

"You're terrifying," he laughs, and my ankle bends and threatens to roll. Reacting instantly, he outstretches his arm and circles it around my waist to keep me steady until we get inside.

We stand at the deli counter and I order first; picking out two slices of cheese pizza. When the girl rings up my total, it comes up to $6.50. As I dig around in my wallet, my stomach sinks with the realization that I only have a 5-dollar bill. I crinkle it in my hand and get increasingly more fidgety as I pretend to dig around, even though I know full well that's all I'll come up with.

"I'm sorry," I say finally, glancing over at Peeta. "You can go ahead. I just…I'm actually not that hungry. I'm not going to get anything, I'm sorry."

He studies me for a single beat, and then steps forward. "I got us both," he tells the girl.

"Peeta, no," I insist.

"Yes, I got this," he says, and swipes his card. "Don't worry about it. It's just pizza."

I let out a long sigh from my nose, feeling embarrassed. I know he's not the type to judge, but what must he think of me for not being able to come up with more than $5 to pay for pizza?

I take my plate and lead the way to the seating area, then find a booth and slide in. We eat in silence for a few minutes, and then Peeta speaks up.

"If you feel weird about that, I'm sorry," he says, sounding a bit dejected, but respectful. "I wasn't trying to embarrass you."

"It wasn't you," I respond quickly. "Just the whole thing."

"You can pay me back if you want to. But I don't really want you to."

I set my half-eaten slice of pizza down. "It's not about that. It's about me, and…" I scrunch up my eyebrows. "It doesn't matter. I just…thank you. I should be saying thank you."

"You don't have to," he tells me. "It was kind of rude of me to just take over like that."

"No, it wasn't," I say. "You were helping. I just can't believe I didn't have it. I thought I had it in there, I just should've checked."

"I really don't mind," he says. "I liked doing it. You deserve it. I mean, you scored a big goal today. Least I can do is buy you pizza."

A smile sneaks onto my lips. "Okay, yeah, if you look at it like that."

He smiles now, too.

PEETA

Two weeks after Katniss's soccer game, I can hear my phone ringing in the kitchen as I'm getting out of the shower. My stomach jumps with both nerves and excitement, and I ruffle the towel over my hair and dry off as quickly as I can, then end up leaving the bathroom with only my other towel wrapped around my waist.

"Peet, your phone's ringing," Dad says, and my wet feet slip and slide on the kitchen tile as I hurry over to it. "Slow down!" he says, smiling.

I grin in his direction as I answer the call. "Hey," I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Hey, Peeta," Katniss says, and my face heats up just hearing her voice.

"Is that a girl?" my dad mouths, and I try to wave him away, but he raises his eyebrows and mouths it again. "A girl…!"

"Go away," I say.

"What?" she says.

"No, no, not you," I say. "My dad. He's being weird." I roll my eyes at my dad and then retreat into my room, where I sit down on my bed in my towel. For some reason, I feel weird being completely naked with her on the phone, so I wait to change.

This is the first time that we've talked on the phone. We didn't get a lot of time to talk in school today because the girls and boys are split for the unit in gym right now, and her friends begged her to sit at their table. So after we all were walking back to our lockers from lunch, she caught up with me, grabbed my arm, and told me to put my number in her phone so she could call me tonight and catch up.

"I can't believe we didn't have each other's numbers before this," she says now, and I can't help but picture her. It's kind of silly that we're talking on the phone since we live so close to each other, but it's just easier this way. This way, our parents don't ask any questions. "We talk like, every day."

"I know," I say.

"Can you hear me okay?" she asks. "My phone's kind of a piece of shit." There's a short pause. "Go away, Prim," I hear her hiss. "I don't care! Whatever, tell him. I'm on the phone. Yes. Now can you please go? And shut the door. Bye." She grumbles something under her breath. "Sorry. My sister."

I chuckle. "It's okay."

"Sometimes she's so cute and sweet, and other times I want to smother her with a pillow."

"God, should I be worried?" I joke.

"Very much so," she says, a laugh in her voice. "So what did you do today? How was gym? You guys are doing like, wrestling or something, right?"

"Yeah," I say. "I wrestled at my old school. So it's pretty easy."

"Ooh," she says, and I smirk. "I bet you look great in that leotard."

"It's not a…" I smack my palm to my forehead. "God."

"Come on, admit it," she says. "It's totally a leotard."

"For your information, it's called a singlet," I say. "And I actually do look really, really great in it."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. But we don't have to wear one for class, that would be totally embarrassing. Cato would never let me live that down."

She laughs. "He'd give you shit for it even as he wore one himself."

"He's such a fucking idiot," I say, hating the fact that I'm now picturing Cato in a singlet instead of Katniss on her bed.

"Did you beat him?" she asks. "Were you guys really paired up, did you beat the shit out of him?"

I scoff. "No, we're different weight classes. I'm not gonna get a chance to fight him."

"In school, at least," she says slyly.

"Katniss, I'm not ever gonna fight him…" I say.

"Well, then I will," she responds. "If it comes to that, I totally would."

"I know," I say. "And that's the scary part."

"What?" she smiles. "You've said it yourself before. I'm scrappy." Her voice sounds more energized, like she's punching the air. I wouldn't put it past her. "I could take him."

"You are definitely scrappy," I say. "But I don't think you'd stand a chance."

"You don't give me enough credit," she says. "I'm fast. He's big. I could take him down."

"Okay, whatever you say," I concede.

She giggles. "Hey, I'm gonna see you at the fall concert tomorrow night, right?"

My eyes widen as the date dawns on me. I had totally forgotten; it had come up so fast. I have a shift tomorrow at the bakery, but I'm sure the concert won't be until after. "Of course," I say. "What time?"

"Seven," she says. "Treble choir sings first, then us."

"Awesome," I say. "Yeah, I'll definitely be there. I told you I would."

"I know," she says. "I just like to make sure. I'm really excited for you to come."

"You are?" I ask.

"For sure," she replies. "Just like with my game. My family doesn't get the chance to come to my stuff a lot, so…I don't know. It's nice to have someone."

"Well, I'll come anywhere you want me," I tell her.

There's a short pause, and I take the moment to close my eyes and conjure up the image of her. I've never been inside her house, let alone her bedroom, so I have to draw one up from my imagination. I picture a blue bed in the middle of the room with a tall white headboard, and right now, her lying on it with her head at the opposite side it would normally be with her legs crossed over one another by the pillows. Her hair would be long and wavy, falling over the side towards the floor, loose and not tucked away in a ponytail or braid. She's probably in pajamas, which are probably not matching. She doesn't care about that kind of stuff. I picture black soccer sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt of some sort, faded and worn-in with comfort. She might even be wearing fuzzy socks. I smile as I imagine her clearer and clearer, and have the strong urge that I was sitting right next to her, touching her.

"You still there?" I hear.

I jolt back to earth, and look down at my towel to see that I've created quite the situation for myself. Of course she doesn't know, but it sure feels like she does. "Um, y-yeah…" I stammer. "I'm here."

"Oh, okay," she continues. She must have been talking, and I was too distracted to notice. "Like I was saying. It's not a fancy ordeal by any means, just like, wear normal clothes. It's just a school concert. Of course, I'll be in a heinous blue dress that doesn't fit me right just like everyone else in my choir. The treble choir actually gets these nice black dresses that I really wish we had, but nope. We get the nasty blue ones."

As she talks, I do my best to think of anything that might make me a little less hard, but nothing does me any good. Now, the thought of her in the dress and out of the dress clouds my mind, and I wish I could just make everything disappear with a whiteboard eraser. Why am I this way? Why did my brain have to do this? I'm struggling to keep up with the conversation, but she doesn't notice anymore. She's onto a completely new tangent that I'm only half-listening to.

Somehow, she ends back up on the concert. "So, yeah," she sighs. "I feel pretty ready with my solo. I think it'll sound good. At least I hope." She chuckles. "If it sounds like shit, feel free to throw tomatoes."

I scoff, rejoining the conversation. "I'll bring some, just in case."

"Nice of you," she says, laughing again. "You've been quiet, especially for you, Mr. Chatterbox. What's wrong?"

"Me?" I ask stupidly, and glance downward. My towel is still a tent. "Nothing. Really."

"Something on your mind?" she pushes.

"Nothing," I repeat. "Just listening to you."

"Oh," she says, sounding satisfied. "Well, that's nice. I guess I'm just not used to it."

"You're not?"

"No way," she says. "Gale would never let me talk. Always be interrupting and shit, cutting me off, telling me he doesn't care. Then we'd either talk about his stuff or he'd try and get my clothes off. You know, one of the two."

I'm a pig. A pig, a pig, a pig. Because once she says 'get my clothes off,' my boner gets more difficult than ever to ignore. I close my eyes in disgust and shame and know I'm going to have to get off the phone soon, because I can't go on like this. I can't keep talking to her with a boner as hard as a rock under just my towel. I just can't do it. I still feel like she knows; she seems so close to me, so it just feels like she knows everything that I'm doing. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force the image from my mind, but it stays anyway. Katniss, in just her bra and underwear, lying in the same position on her bed. Except without the phone, and I'm there too.

Jesus Christ.

We've both stopped talking for a minute, and then I feign a yawn.

"Are you tired?" she asks. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you up, jeez. It's a school night. I'll let you go to bed."

"Okay," I say, feeling jumpy. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely," she says. "Lunch. Be there."

"I will," I say.

"Bye, Peeta," she says. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Katniss," I say, and then hang up my phone and slide it across my bed until it lands as far away from me as possible. I get up, lock my door, flick the lights off, then return to my bed. As I lay there, I shed my towel and reach for the lotion I keep in my nightstand, and get off to the thought of her bare, willowy body under my own. Once I come and am a gross, sticky mess, I'm spent and ashamed.

I lay there with my chest heaving for a few long moments, staring up at the ceiling. To avoid falling asleep naked and stained, I lift my body staunchly from the bed and wrap my same towel around me to head back into the bathroom so I can clean myself up.

Once I'm back in bed, clothed and clean, I run my hands down my face and let out a long sigh. I can't believe how bad I have it for this girl. I never knew that I could feel this way about someone.

The next day as we're all getting out of gym, I'm heading towards the lunchroom and can see the back of Katniss's head as she walks in the same direction. I start to call out to her, I even get out the first syllable of her name, but then I get shoved forward and have to take a few stutter steps to regain my balance.

"What the fuck?" I turn around in confusion and see Cato, Marvel and their gang of idiots all cracking up behind me.

"You have zero chance in hell with her," Cato says, shoulder-checking me as he walks past. I cross my arms and inadvertently become smaller. "I have no fucking clue why you keep trying."

I want nothing more than to counter back at him, but no words come. I just want to be able to say something, to stick up for myself, but something inside me just won't.

"Pussy boy," Marvel says, chuckling as he catches up with Cato.

As they walk past Katniss, she flips around and sends her long braid flying. She meets my eyes as I set my stuff down at the table where we usually sit, and then leaves the hot lunch line and comes over to me.

"What did they just do?" she asks.

I shrug it off. "Nothing."

She narrows her eyes and raises her lip involuntarily. "I'm going to go fuck him up."

She turns on her heel to go after Cato, but I grab her by the elbow. "Katniss, no," I say. "Don't."

"Why not?" she snaps, and I notice a flush has flooded her face. "It'll teach him to stop messing with you."

"No, it won't. It'll just make things worse," I say. "Just…sit down. I'll go get your lunch for you. Give me your ID."

"No," she says, her eyes giving off a guarded expression.

"It's okay, I don't mind," I say, extending my hand and wiggling my fingers out so she'll put her ID in my hand. "I already know what you want. It's pizza day."

"I can do it," she says, but then doesn't make a move to get up.

"What's wrong?" I ask, and am proud of myself for it. Even a week ago I wouldn't have pried so much with a question like that, but now that we're getting to be better friends I feel comfortable enough. "Let me help you."

"I don't need you to," she says.

I scoff. "This whole thing about you thinking I'm helping you out of pity is not true, I hope you know."

"It's not that," she says, blinking quickly like tears are imminent. I hope they're not. I won't be able to live with myself if I've made her cry.

"I'm sorry, I don't know…" I begin, but she cuts me off.

"I'm on free and reduced lunch," she says. "And if you go get my lunch for me, they'll see that the picture doesn't match the ID, and they'll think I'm giving my account out for other people to use, and I'll get it taken away. Okay? And I really don't want that to happen. So that's why you can't go get my lunch for me."

My shoulders deflate as I give in and sit down. "I didn't…"

"I know," she says. "I didn't want you to. But now you do."

"Why didn't you want me to know?" I ask, looking up at her as she stands and I sit.

She throws her weight to one hip and looks down at her ID card. "I don't go around telling people." She pauses for quite a long time. "You know, that I'm poor."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," I say, and realize how patronizing it sounds as it comes out.

She shoots me a fiery glare. "I'm not," she says firmly, teeth almost gritted. "I just don't want people feeling sorry for me. I'm fine, and Prim's fine, and my family's fine. It's just hard to afford-"

"You don't need to explain anything else to me," I tell her. "Just go get your pizza. I'll be here."

When she comes back, she's chewing the inside of her cheek and I feel compelled to apologize again. "I didn't mean to pry," I say.

"Peeta, you're fine," she says. "I don't care if you pry." We're silent for a minute. "I really don't," she continues. "I just haven't like, been very open with that with…anyone. Not any of my friends. So talking about it is kind of weird."

"I get it," I say. "But hey, it's not like I have anyone to tell."

She laughs, leaning forward and grabbing my upper arm as she does so. "You're right, you fucking loser."

"Shut up," I say, and laugh along with her.

When lunch is over, we're about to head our separate ways; with me to art and Katniss to AP bio, when she grabs my arm.

"Don't forget," she says urgently, with a glint in her gray eyes. "7pm tonight. But be a little early so you can get a good seat. I want to see you. Sit close."

"I'll sit close," I assure her. "I'll be there."

She gives me a breathy smile as she turns to leave. "See you tonight," she says.

I hold onto her words all day.

I change my clothes at least three times before settling on something to wear to the concert. I end up with a pair of jeans that I bought a couple weekends ago, a black t-shirt and red jacket with black leather sleeves. I hope it's not too much, but I think it looks pretty okay so I stick with it. After my shift at the bakery, I had stopped at the flower shop and picked up a bouquet of orchids to give to Katniss after her performance that I already know will be outstanding, so I pick them up off my dresser and take them downstairs with me.

I trot down the stairs at 6:30 and run into my mom and dad in the kitchen. "Where are you going, looking all spiffy?" Dad asks. "And with flowers, I see."

My mouth goes dry. I was hoping that I wouldn't run into either one of them on my way out. "Oh, um, the school," I say. "There's a concert tonight."

"Never seen those clothes before," Mom chides. "When'd you get the time and money to go get yourself fancy new stuff? When do I get to buy myself fancy new stuff? And who are the flowers for?"

"They're, um…" I say, my voice growing quieter.

"Leave him alone, Maria," Dad says, shooting her a look. "He can look nice. He's going to see his girl in her concert."

"Dad," I say, my eyes wide as I stare down at the floor. "She's not…"

Mom scoffs. "You have 'a girl'?"

"No," I say quickly. "She's not… we're not…"

"She called him the other night," Dad adds, not helping. "And the flowers…"

"We're just friends," I say.

He chuckles under his breath. "I'm just giving you a hard time, Peet," he says. "She should come over for dinner sometime. It'd be nice to meet a new friend of yours."

"Yeah…" I say, knowing full well that I'd never force Katniss to meet these two.

"Is your homework done?" Mom asks.

"Yeah."

"Chores?"

"Yeah."

She crosses her arms and her mouth settles in an unpleasant frown, its usual position. "When is this thing supposed to get over with, anyway? It's already late as it is."

"I don't know, like 9."

"Late," she says.

"Just go, Peeta," Dad cuts in, shooing me towards the door. "Go have fun. Go see this girl in whatever concert. Have a nice time."

"Be quiet when you come in, boy," Mom calls out. "I swear to god if you wake me up…"

"Go," Dad says, one last time, and then shuts the door behind me. A weight is lifted off of my chest when I make it to my car. I raise up the garage door and practically fly out of there.

I shove my free hand deep into the pocket of my jacket as I head into school, my head ducked low. I know I won't know anyone, so I keep my eyes down as I make my way into the auditorium, past mingling families and school organizations that are trying to raise money via donations. I maneuver my way through groups of people and get to the front row, where I find a seat right in the middle. It's perfect. I know that there's no way she can miss me sitting right here.

When the lights dim and the concert starts, my stomach is jumping with excitement. I can't wait to hear Katniss sing, see her in the blue dress that I know will look great on her, or for the moment where our eyes meet. I can't wait for any of it.

Just like she said, the treble choir goes first. They're nothing special, but not bad to listen to. When the meister singers come on, I join in heartily with the round of applause. My cheeks hurt from how big my smile is when Katniss steps on stage, in line with the rest of the people in her row. Their director says a few words into the mic, and then introduces their first song, which is called O Magnum Mysterium. It's beautiful and haunting, and I keep my eyes on Katniss the entire time. She's so into the music; showing a totally different dedication than I saw in her with soccer, and I'm mesmerized by it.

There's a series of notes in the middle that go higher than the rest, and Katniss takes those all on her own. I get chills up and down my entire body, and when I glance down I see that my arm hair is standing straight on end. The next song is something about September, and in the middle of it, we lock eyes. A smirk steals her lips and her eyes flash as she stays focused on me.

My heart is beating so hard that I swear everyone should be able to hear it over the accompaniment. During an instrumental break in the song, she mouths 'hi' to me, and I mouth it back, and then she breaks our eye contact to look back at her director.

When the last song on the roster comes up, Katniss steps down from her riser and picks the mic off of the stand at the front of the stage. She looks at her director, who introduces the song as a newer one that they're trying out, something to break the mold of the classical ones they usually do. It's called This Town by Niall Horan, and we in the audience would probably recognize it.

The choir sings the first verse together, but when it breaks for the chorus, Katniss sings it alone.

'Cause if the whole world was watching I'd still dance with you

Drive highways and byways to be there with you

Over and over the only truth

Everything comes back to you

Her voice floats over everyone sitting before her, and I swear she's the only person in the room once she starts to sing. Her eyes stay open; wide and passionate, and the song escapes her with ease. It doesn't seem like she's trying in the slightest bit to make this beautiful music come out of her body. She just simply sounds like magic.

When the song is finished, I feel like I've been snapped out of a trance. She gives a small bow, then rejoins the group for the ending applause. When everyone disperses, I make it my mission to find her before anyone else does and jet down the arts hallway to see her coming out of the back auditorium hallway with her pretty blue choir dress still on.

"Peeta," she breathes, and then runs towards me. When our bodies collide, I lift hers from the ground and hug her as tightly as I can. "Suffocating," she squelches out, and we both laugh when I set her down.

"I never knew you could sing like that," I say, and then hand her the flowers. "Here, these are for you."

"Peeta," she gasps, sounding surprised. "Oh, my god. You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," I say.

"They're so, so pretty," she says, burying her nose and smelling them. "And they smell amazing. Wow. Thank you so much. I…" Her voice fades away. "Thank you."

She gives me another hug, and lets her body melt against mine. I squeeze her tight and breathe in the smell of her hair; vanilla and flowers, only strengthened by the orchids.

"My dad is here with Prim," she tells me once we break apart. "I want you to meet him. If you want to. It's not like, a big deal. But I know he'd want to meet you, and he's going to ask where the flowers came from…" She giggles. "And yeah. So will you come with me? To see my dad?"

"Sure," I say, and practically collapse when she takes my hand in hers and leads me down the arts hallway. With her hand clasped in my own, suddenly everything seems different. This building doesn't seem like the school that I suffer through every day, it seems lighter, happier, freer. Her hand is small and soft in my grip, and I hope mine feels okay in hers. I hope I'm not clammy or dry-skinned or anything like that. I hope it feels just right. Because hers feels just right to me.

When we get to the end of the hallway, her face lights up with recognition when she sees her dad and sister, but then falls almost instantly. I follow her eyes, and see what the source of her frown is. Beside her dad and Prim is a small, blonde woman who I can only assume is her mother.

"I, um…" she stammers, and drops my hand. I'm left feeling empty without hers to hold onto. "I should go."

"Am I still coming with you?" I ask.

She looks up at me, her gray eyes wide and desperate. "Um, no," she says. "I'm sorry. I just, my…" Her voice fades. "I just have to go now. I'll talk to you tomorrow at school." She turns and walks away from me, looking almost as if she's floating because of the skirt of her dress flowing behind her. She throws one last glance back at me over her shoulder, and says, "Thanks again, you know," She smiles. "For the flowers."

Katniss gets lost in the crowd as she heads toward her family and I end up losing track of her. Suddenly, I'm alone in a big crowd without a reason to stay, so I head back the other way down the arts hall and leave through the back door.

When I get home, the house is quiet and I retire to my room. I have an early shift at the bakery tomorrow morning, so I lay down and try to fall asleep quickly. But of course, it doesn't work.

I sigh angrily and open up my eyes again. She hardly ever talks about her mom, but it still caught me off guard that her presence would cause Katniss to shun me from her family. I can't really put my finger on a good reason why she would do that, but if I've learned anything up until this point, it's that answers are not always easy when it comes to her.

I roll over and rest my head on my arm, just staring into the darkness. I wish I had been able to spend more time with her, to tell her just how much I loved hearing her sing. Because I did. I really, really did.