A/N: Okay, I know that I've said this every chapter, but YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME! I cannot express how freaking giddy I am that you guys are likin' the story. That, and I'm thrilled that you guys like the changes I've made to Peeta, because that was my main worry. So I'm glad everyone likes a sexy, protective Peeta but seriously, what's not to like? :D

In this chapter, we get to see a really, really adorable Peeta. You know that look guys get when they see something cool and shiny? Yeah, picture that look on Peeta's face. Adorable, isn't he? :D

And I've decided to return to my random disclaimers that I started when writing my Buffy fics. They're ridiculously stupid and will make you question my sanity, but it's fun for me to come up with crazy random things. So this chapter's disclaimer will have 4 random things, and then I'll add one each chapter.

Random Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Peeta and Katniss are just my puppet pals for a while; Smurfs make the best spies; I keep Jack Sparrow in my basement; Dumbledore or Gandalf?. . .biggest question in my life; I think seagulls are strange creatures . . . still think I own HG?

Chapter 4

I glance up at Peeta out of the corner of my eye as Effie presses the button in the elevator for the twelfth floor. What am I doing? I am doing the exact opposite of what I had planned, that's what. My plan to dissolve my friendship with Peeta is a sinking ship. Scratch that, the metaphorical ship has burst into flames.

It has to be because he gave me the bread.

I just can't seem to shut him out. What is it about Peeta that makes me so. . .open? That's it. There is something about Peeta that breaks through all of my carefully contrived and constructed emotional walls. Maybe it is his innate goodness. Maybe it is his genuine kindness. Maybe it is his eyes. There's something about those summer sky blues that puts me at ease.

When I'm with Peeta the world doesn't seem so bad. I think about the reaping, how I felt as though as long as I held his hand, I would get through it. Peeta is a rock, steady and unchanging—dependable. I remember when we had stepped off the train this morning in the Capitol, how I had taken his hand again without thinking, needing it to anchor me. And then again tonight during the parade, I had his hand in a vice-like grip because underneath the excitement the atmosphere inspired within me, deep down I had been terrified of the people who cheered for my impending doom.

But Peeta had been with me, and that had somehow made it bearable.

I frown. I'm beginning to depend on Peeta Mellark. This is not good. This is very, very bad. Dangerous. How do I know that this is not all a part of an elaborate scheme? Peeta is smart enough to come up with it and a talented enough liar to pull it off. Peeta's charm combined with his honey-coated words makes even the most ridiculous lies seem true.

Is this all a plot? Have the Games already begun for Peeta? If anyone can play head games it's him. . . no one could be more naturally adept.

An uncomfortable feeling stirs within me, like my body is physically rejecting the idea that Peeta would play me like this. It's not in his nature. This is the boy who gave me the bread. . .

But doesn't Peeta want to live? If he does that means that all the tributes, including me, have to die. I think of what he's said to me since the reaping. He wishes that I would trust him. He said that he won't hurt me.

And I idiotically believe him.

My thoughts are interrupted when the elevator doors open, and as Effie babbles I realize that she's been talking all the while I've been silently contemplating. I pick up on the tail end of her prattle, ". . .and that's when I told them, and this was very clever of me, that if you put pressure on coal it turns into pearls!"

I press my lips together tightly to keep from laughing. I'm pretty sure that Effie meant that coal could turn into diamonds, which I'm not even sure about because I've heard about a machine in District 1 that can turn graphite into diamonds. I wonder if anyone in the Capitol would even know the difference.

Peeta, amazingly, stays straight faced and miraculously manages to show a little hint of admiration as he congratulates Effie on her wit. Effie, of course, is thrilled and continues to talk as she escorts us to our rooms. She leaves us at the door, telling us that dinner will be served in an half an hour and that we can discover the delights of our personal rooms ourselves.

The moment she leaves I turn to Peeta. "Do you ever wonder what goes on in her head?" I ask.

"Let's not even go there," Peeta shakes his head, muttering something about pearls, and I can't help but laugh.

I open the door to my room and take it all in. It's just as plush and exquisite as the train. "Oh, cool," Peeta says as he steps by me and goes over to the wall. He looks at what appears to be a small microphone in the wall. I come over to stand next to him, curious about what has him so excited.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Cheese buns."

I frown. "What did you say?"

"Cheese buns!" Peeta looks at me excitedly and then back at the wall where a little alcove is carved out.

And then two cheese buns appear on a tray.

Peeta picks up the cheese buns and holds them up to his face. "This is so weird," he says wide-eyed and I can't help but laugh. "But awesome." He turns to me. "Did you see it?" I can't help but think that he looks like a little kid in this moment. "They just. . .appeared."

His eyes dart back to the microphone. "I wonder. . ." he trails off before opening his mouth to order something else, but I stop him by clamping my hand over his mouth.

It's odd how my first thought is how his lips, warm and soft, feel under my fingers. Peeta is looking at me in a way that he never has before, and I see his blue eyes have darkened slightly. Thinking I've made him mad I say, "Sorry, but we should probably leave that alone. Dinner is in less than an hour."

I realize that my fingers are still over his lips and remove them quickly, a traitorous blush spreading across my face.

I turn away from him as I say, "Eat your bread."

Something hits me softly in the back of the head and I whirl around to catch it before it falls to the ground. "That was impressive," Peeta grins as I see that it was the second cheese bun he threw at me. "Share?" he suggests.

"Sure," I say before pinching off a large piece. Cheese buns are my favorite. I can't resist.

While I'm eating, Peeta wonders around my room. When I look up, I see that he has a remote in his hand. "Wonder what this does," he says before randomly pressing a button.

Immediately the large window that spans the entire wall zooms in to the people of the Capitol walking along the street. "Okay, that's kinda creepy," Peeta says before pressing another button.

Suddenly, my window is a forest. I can't stop myself from reaching out to touch it, and I feel disappointed when my fingers come into contact with the glass. It looks so real, like I could just walk into the woods. I don't know whether I like the forest window or not. While the familiar sight relaxes me, it reminds me of home and how I'll most likely never see my family again.

Peeta, as if somehow sensing my internal debate, says, "You can mess with it later." He clicks a button and the window returns to normal.

"Yeah," I mumble before finishing off the cheese bun.

Peeta takes a bite of his own cheese bun and pauses, seeming to ponder the taste. He's silent for a moment. "They're okay," he finally concedes.

I laugh. "I'm sure that the Capitol is glad to have your opinion."

"They should be."

Peeta takes another bite and wonders into my bathroom. "Oh, wow," he says, his voice echoing off the walls. "Katniss, come check this out!"

I roll my eyes, but his childish excitement puts a small smile on my face without my permission. I walk into the bathroom, momentarily stunned by its grandeur. Hard, smooth tiles adorn the floor and the walls. A large mirror hangs over an equally large countertop with two sinks, one on each end. A huge tub that could fit at least three comfortably sits against the left wall and in the far back of the room is what appears to be a shower.

Peeta, at this point, is standing in my shower, looking over the buttons that adorn the shower wall. There have to be at least a hundred. There's no door to the shower, just a six inch lip around the bottom to keep water from seeping out over the rest of the floor. I step into the shower and together we stare at the multitude of buttons. Peeta lifts a finger towards one and I say, "Don't you dare press that button."

He grins sheepishly at me. "That probably wouldn't be a good idea."

I shake my head.

Peeta looks back at the wall of buttons. "I wonder what button even turns it on."

"I haven't a clue," I tell him honestly. "Maybe the big red one?"

"Maybe."

Suddenly, there's a knock on my door. Peeta and I freeze. "Katniss!" Effie hollers. "Dinner in ten!"

I hear the sound of her high heels clicking away back down the hall and let out a breath. I laugh a little and look up at Peeta, "Can you imagine her reaction if she walked in on us and found us fooling around in the shower?"

Peeta turns beet red and begins to laugh hysterically.

"What?" I ask confused. Peeta continues to laugh. "What did I say?" I'm beginning to get angry with him.

Peeta gasps and tries to explain between bouts of chuckles. ". . . fooling around . . . in the shower . . . Effie . . . walking in on us . . ." He succumbs to another round of laughter.

I feel my face heat up with what has to be the biggest, brightest, reddest blush in the history of blushes. I realize how my words were construed. 'Fooling around' was another way to say that we were having . . .

Peeta sees the horror on my face and it only causes him to laugh harder. Despite it all, I feel myself begin to laugh with him. By this point, Peeta has sunk down to the shower floor, leaning his back against the wall for support as his chest shakes with his laughter and pretty soon I've joined him.

I think more than anything we just need a reason to laugh, and I inadvertently, embarrassingly, provided us with an adequate reason. All the pressure we are under, the threat of the Games hovering over us, the near certainty of our impending demise yeah, we need a reason to laugh.

Finally, we get our laughter under control. I look over to Peeta. "I didn't mean it like that."

A chuckle escapes Peeta. "I know. But it's still funny."

I reach out and punch him in the shoulder. "You shouldn't be so perverted."

Peeta looks at me blankly. "I'm sixteen with two older brothers. I can't help it."

He did have a point.

"We should probably get out of the shower," I say after a moment.

"Before Effie comes in and finds us," Peeta doesn't hesitate to add with a smile. He hops to his feet and takes my hand, pulling me up with ease.

The feel of his hand enclosing mine sends a tingly sensation shooting up my arm that seems to pool into a warmth in my chest. I've never held hands with Peeta before without a real reason. Before, it was always about needing his hand in mine, as an anchor, a lifeline, a steadying presence. But at the moment I don't feel any of those pressures. It's just me and Peeta. It suddenly hits me that I like holding his hand. I want to.

Damn these foreign feelings. They are giving me a headache. Why does Peeta have to make everything complicated? I decide that perhaps, in order to squash these awkward, new, unnamed feelings, I need to shy away from any contact with Peeta.

It occurs to me that I've basically already tried to do this, and quite obviously, have failed miserably.

But I'm stubborn and I'm going try again anyway.

However, this time I'm determined not to hurt his feelings, and I gently remove my hand from his. He doesn't even seem to notice and I'm glad. He turns to me when we reach the door. "We should probably just head to dinner," he says. "It's been about ten minutes."

I nod, but don't say anything and follow him out into the main room. Waiting for us at the table are Haymitch, Effie, Portia, and Cinna. Two others in white uniforms stand silently by the food, and I guess that they're going to act as waiters.

Peeta and I take our seats and the food is immediately served. A soup is served first, followed by a salad. They have the most delicious cheese I've ever tasted and the sweetest blue grapes. For the most part, I focus on my meal, but I'm alert enough to see that Haymitch must have some sort of stylist because he's dressed and groomed and overall looks surprisingly sober and put together. He appears to be keeping his promise to us.

I'm glad that Cinna and Portia have joined us. They've already proven that they're invaluable due to mine and Peeta's fiery entrance in the opening ceremonies. I'm sure that any other ideas they have will be just as brilliant so I see no reason why they shouldn't be in on our strategies—whatever they are.

I take a sip of my wine, but immediately set it down when I begin to feel a fogginess in my head. I've only drunk half a glass, but apparently it's enough. I can't see how Haymitch deals with this feeling. I switch to a glass of water.

Once we're finished with the main meal, the red-haired girl, one of the two people who have been serving us, comes out with a large cake that she then deftly lights on fire. I watch it go up in flames in surprise and awe. The flames quickly flicker out, but nonetheless it was a neat display. However, a seed of doubt is planted in my mind. "What makes it burn? Is it alcohol?" I ask, looking up at the girl. "Cause if it is—oh! I know you!"

Now that I've said it, I know it's true. I simply can't remember a name or a time. A swirling pit of unease and guilt begins to coil in my stomach and I realize that it's not a good memory. Add to that the brief flicker of consternation that crosses her expression before she adamantly shakes her head in the negative only adds to the guilt. But I know that I know her from somewhere. The red hair, the porcelain skin, the striking features. . .

When I look back at the table, four adults are watching me like hawks.

Effie is the first to break the awkward silence. "You must be mistaken, Katniss," she says sharply. "The thought of you even knowing an Avox," she scoffs. "Preposterous."

"What's an Avox?" I ask naively.

"Someone who committed a crime," Haymitch explains, looking at me seriously—warningly. "They cut her tongue so she can't speak. She's probably a traitor of some sort. It's unlikely you know her."

Traitors.

It all clicks in my head then. I remember her.

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order," Effie explains pointedly. "Of course, you don't really know her."

But I do, I think.

However, that's not what I say. "No, I guess not," I say, scrambling for some plausible explanation. "I just—" I stammer stupidly, the wine not helping my efforts at all.

Suddenly, Peeta snaps his fingers. "Delly Cartwright," he says. "She's a dead ringer for Delly. I knew she looked familiar."

I try not to give his lie away. Delly Cartwright doesn't look a thing like the red-haired Avox, but that's not the point. The point is that Peeta is giving me a way out, covering for me.

"Yeah," I agree. "It must be the eyes."

"Hair too," Peeta pipes up.

"Oh, well, if that's what it is," Cinna says, the atmosphere at the table immediately relaxing. "To answer your question, yes, it was spirits that caused it to burn, but the flame burned up all the alcohol. I ordered it especially in honor of your own fiery debut."

We eat the cake, and then move into the sitting room to watch the replay of the opening ceremonies. When Peeta and I emerge from the tunnel of the Remake Center, there's a chorus of 'ahhs' in admiration. I can hardly believe that it is me I am seeing on the screen. I look truly dazzling. Like myself and yet nothing like myself. Peeta looks just as dazzling, but I realize that even though individually we look beautiful, if you take a step back and simply look at us together, we're stunning.

"Who's idea was it for you to hold hands?" Haymitch asks, looking at us.

"It was Cinna's," I answer, looking to my stylist, who merely shrugs.

"I figured that it would be wise to keep it up, the hand-holding," he explains. "They held hands at the reaping and then again when they arrived here off the train."

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion," Haymitch nods approvingly.

Rebellion? I look back at the television and the tributes. They're acting like the other doesn't even exist. They stand stiffly, as far apart from each other as possible. I see what Haymitch is saying. Peeta and I have stuck together, a united image. This separates from the rest. This is a good thing, an advantage. We're becoming even more memorable.

When the commentators begin to speak, everyone listens to what they have to say.

"Well, I must say, District 12 made an entrance that will not soon be forgotten!" the male commentator says excitedly. He has green hair and disturbingly purple eyes. "Hats off to their stylists!"

"I'll tell you what I'm really wanting to know," the female commentator says slyly. Her too red lips are smirking mischievously. "I'm wondering what's going on between the tributes Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen! They certainly seem friendly!"

"I'm sure the rest of Panem is dying to know as well." The man's purple eyes are filled with excitement. "Cause I must say, that Peeta Mellark is quite the looker!"

Peeta's face screws up in a grimace. "That's disturbing."

"And Katniss is a cute little thing!" his co-host adds. "We'll just have to wait and see! Maybe they'll give us a clue as to where their relationship stands—"

Haymitch suddenly turns off the television and focuses his gaze on us. I'm, however, still hung up on the commentator's words. "Cute?" I repeat. I look up at Peeta. "I am not a cute little thing," I growl, daring him to deny it.

Peeta wisely doesn't tell me otherwise, though I think I see his lips twitch as if he's fighting not to smile.

"Alright." Haymitch's voice causes both me and Peeta to bring our attention to him. "What's going on with you two? Seriously. No lies."

"We're friends," Peeta answers casually.

Portia raises her eyebrows, looking between us. "Just friends?"

I glare at her. "Just friends," I repeat.

Haymitch looks at us for a long time before seeming to come to a decision. "Okay then, if you two are 'just friends', here's how we're going to have to play it," he begins. "You two need to stick together. When training starts tomorrow, go through everything together. Never leave each other's side. And while you're training drop a few hints every now and then that you two might be something more."

"What?" I ask, immensely uncomfortable with what he's suggesting. "Like lovers?"

"Well you don't have to go that far," Haymitch says slowly, "but it would actually be better if you did."

"No way!" I argue. "I'm not doing it!"

"Listen, sweetheart, you and the kid have got the Capitol all riled up," Haymitch says bluntly. "Those looks you were giving each other at the reaping, the hand holding, you've got them excited. You're getting thrown into the arena where everyone is supposed to be against each other, but you two are sticking together. You're friends. It's new and new is exciting. New is interesting. They've got their eyes on you and we need to keep their attention."

"Hinting at something more in your relationship will keep them on their toes," Haymitch continues. "If you two play this right, you can build the suspense so when—"

Haymitch suddenly stops himself and glances at Peeta only briefly before looking back at both of us. "You've got an angle here, sweetheart, an angle that sets you apart from the rest. If you want to live you'd be a fool not to play it."

"Katniss," Cinna says my name softly, calmly. "Love, even the love between friends, can be a very powerful force."

Love. If I played along with this, I would be hinting that I was in love with Peeta. Romantically.

Disturbingly, the idea doesn't repulse me as much as I think it should.

"Alright, that's enough for tonight," Haymitch announces, waving us away. "Go to bed and let the grown-ups talk."

Silently, Peeta and I stand and walk down the hallway to our rooms. However, Peeta leans his shoulder in the frame of my door, casually blocking my way. He glances down the hallway to a set of stairs. "Want to go up on the roof?" he asks me. "Nice night, but it's a little windy."

I easily translate this as in, 'I want to talk and up on the roof they won't hear us.' You do have the sense that we're under surveillance here.

A brief internal battle ensues. I'm pretty sure that I know what he wants to talk about and I'm equally positive that I don't want to talk about it. But I don't really want to go to bed yet. And, admittedly, despite my renewed resolution to distance myself from Peeta, I don't want to be alone.

"Sure," I hear myself say, and Peeta gives a quick smile.

I follow him down the hall and then we scale a quick flight of stairs before we step into a dome-like room on the roof. Peeta opens the door to the outside and I pass through, immediately hit by the chill in the air, but it feels nice. I walk further out onto the roof all the way up to the railing at the edge and take in the sight of the Capitol at night.

It's breathtaking.

It's like thousands of multi-colored fireflies flittering around. Cars can be heard roving through the streets, the voices of the chattering Capitol citizens are just a buzz way up here on the roof. I hear a tinkling, like a bell. It's all so alive. Back in District 12 everyone would be in bed.

I glance down at the ground, so far away, and frown as I consider something. "How do they keep people from jumping?"

Peeta's eyebrows furrow, before he slowly begins to reach his hand out over the railing. I'm about to ask him what he's doing, but suddenly his hand gets zapped and he snatches it back. "Guess you can't."

"Force field," I mutter. "Of course."

Peeta looks around. "Hey, there's a garden," he says. "Let's go check it out."

The garden is beautiful. Flowers of all kinds and colors surround us, and wind chimes that hang from the many potted trees explain the tinkling sound. The wind seems stronger over here and combined with the sound of the chimes, I know that this is the best place to talk and not be overheard.

"What do you want Peeta?" I whisper, keeping my voice low just in case.

"I just wanted to tell you that this whole 'something more' doesn't have to be that big of a deal," Peeta tells me quietly. "It's not like we're going to get caught sneaking into a closet."

"A closet?" I repeat through clenched teeth. "Seriously?"

"Two older brothers," Peeta reminds me.

"It's not a big deal, Katniss," he continues. "Haymitch wants subtle. I'm good at subtle."

I scoff. "I'm not."

Peeta grins, agreeing with me. "No, but just follow my lead with this, alright? You'll do fine."

"Any ideas?" I ask. It's better that I know what to expect so I can try and react accordingly.

Peeta suddenly looks a little nervous and maybe even embarrassed. "Well . . ." he trails off and I swear that I see a slight flush in his cheeks.

A big gust of wind hits us and I shiver. "Like this," Peeta says suddenly before shrugging off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. He steps toward me, invading my personal space, and I can't help but look right into his eyes. He doesn't look at me, focusing on securing a button of his jacket around my neck so the jacket stays in place. Peeta's eyes meet mine, and he tucks a strand of hair that has escaped my braid behind my ear. "Like that." His fingers linger behind my ear before slowly gliding down my neck. I feel a warmth flood me that has nothing to do with the heat from his jacket, and it causes me to remain motionless, my gaze never faltering from his. I don't know how long we stay like this, but Peeta suddenly blinks and steps away from me.

"See?" he says, his voice sounding a little deeper than normal. "Subtle."

"Yeah," I agree, my own voice sounding odd. "Subtle."

"So," Peeta says slowly, his voice sounding normal again, though he still keeps his voice down. "What's with the Delly Cartwright lookalike?"

I'm grateful for the subject change, even if I don't particularly think the new topic is much better than the previous. Peeta is looking at me expectantly, and I know that I owe him an explanation for my outburst at the dinner table. After all, he'd covered for me.

"We were hiding in the woods, waiting for game," I whisper.

"You and your father?"

I shake my head. "No, me and Gale." Something flashes in Peeta's eyes, but I can't read the emotion. I ignore it and continue. "Suddenly, the entire forest got quiet, all except a single bird that continued to sing, almost like a warning. Moments later, the girl bursts through the trees. It was easy to see that she was running for her life. And then the hovercraft just appeared out of nowhere. A net fell on her and they pulled her up. They shot a spear through the boy that was with her. She screamed something. I think it was his name." I look up at Peeta. "They hauled them both into the hovercraft and then they disappeared."

I look at the ground as Peeta remains silent. I wonder what Peeta would have done had he been in my position then. Would he have kept hidden like me? Would he have sat back and watched? I don't believe he would have. I think he would have tried to help her. He's a better person than I am.

"I wonder if she'll look forward to seeing me die." The words escape my mouth before I can stop them.

Peeta curls a finger under my chin, gently tilting my face up so that our eyes meet. "Don't say that, Katniss," he demands softly. "She probably didn't see you, and if she did, it was probably for so brief a second she doesn't remember you."

I shake my head. "No, she does." I look into Peeta's eyes, trying to make him understand. "You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope."

Peeta says nothing, but I know that he understands now. I'm speaking from experience.

It's about a minute before either of us speaks. "We better head inside," Peeta finally says. "It's late."

He takes my hand, linking his fingers with mine, and I don't fight him. We walk back to our rooms and stop at my door. My hand drops from his and I feel a sense of loss at the lack of contact. This feeling only adds to the mounting confusion that are my feelings toward Peeta Mellark. I know that we're friends, but I've never reacted like this to anyone. The blushing. The fluttery feeling in my stomach. The unusual warmth in my chest. I'm not used to depending on someone in any way and yet Peeta is quickly becoming the first person I think of when I want comfort and since when do I want or need comfort? I'm not acting or feeling like myself at all and it's throwing me for a loop.

"Goodnight," I say.

Peeta gives me a soft smile, and I can't help but think that I've never seen him smile at anyone else like this. I find that it pleases me that he has a smile he only shares with me. It makes me feel that warmth in my chest again.

"Goodnight Katniss."

I smile before slipping into my room. When the door is shut behind me, I lean against it for a moment. Everything in my world is upside down and I'm scrambling to try and right myself. Foreign feelings are invading my system, and I don't know how to deal with them. I feel like they're building toward something and that thought scares me.

But I accept that my attempt to end whatever relationship I have with Peeta is doomed to fail. I simply can't shut him out, and I realize that I don't want to. It may be stupid, selfish, and come back to bite me, but Peeta is all that I have now, and I plan to relish it as long as I can.

Muahaha! Progress, people, progress! Way to go Katniss. Peeta is too irresistable. I did tell you so. Repeatedly.

So, how did you guys like the chapter? More romantic moments, and a very cute Peeta scene with the exploration of Katniss's room and fooling around in the shower. That makes me laugh every time. :D

And, for all of you who just love a protective, very sexy Peeta, I've got a scene just for you next chapter! So stick around for Tuesday's update! :D

Review? Pretty please? I might give you a little spoiler if you want one! Yes, I'm resorting to bribery. :D

Lots of love,

AC