Author's Note: Happy New Year! I hope you've all had such a wonderful holiday season! I apologize it's been a little over a month since my last update, but now that the holidays are over hopefully I can update a bit sooner. Times have just been crazy for me. I won't keep you long; just as always THANK YOU SO SO MUCH for your wonderful feedback, favorites, and alerts. You are all too kind.

And a special thank you to my amazing beta, Ivorykeys09. You, darling, are unbelievably awesome.
As always, you can find me the easiest over on my Tumblr (finnicks-pants). Enjoy!

Summary: There are also three types of people in Dawson, Texas: those who are trying to flee, those who embrace their small town fate, and the Mellarks. Mellark Ranch; largest cattle ranch South of Dallas, employer of ranch hand, Katniss Everdeen, and home of Ohio State Buckeye running back, Peeta Mellark. And Peeta Mellark is coming home today.

Lone Star State of Mine
Chapter Four: One Of Those Nights

"Someday you'll be looking back on your life, at the memories."

Panem.

Or, more officially, Panem et Circenses: because every southern small town just isn't complete without a honky-tonk bar with an extremely Latin name. I'm not even sure most of our residents know that it's Latin they're trying to pronounce. A classmate of mine, one of the seven brainiacs Dawson produced that year, did an informative speech on the place and the meaning during my senior year. Apparently the name was once used in a formal political setting by ancient civilizations; something to do with public approval and absolutely nothing to do with a southern landmark. And therefore Panem is really the only name that has stuck, even if the neon sign flashes a much longer representation.

To truly comprehend everyone's lack of questioning on such a bizarre name you would have to meet the honky-tonk's longtime owner: Effie Trinket.

Effie Trinket isn't a Dawson original, but she's been around long enough to be considered a resident. Not too much is truly known about her time before entering our small town. Everything is all hearsay, like most things in rural America. Rumor has it her parents got busted early on in her life for God only knows what and did hard time for it. Rumor also has it that her mother didn't want the fatherless child and so she was dropped off on a doorstep on her mother's way to the bright lights of Hollywood. But also, rumor has it that her father was actually the one to drop her off on said doorstep on his way to chasing the tail of some fine female. Whatever the story is, one thing is obviously known: she ended up living with her uncle by the time she was ten years old.

And whatever eccentric traits were passed down from her unknown parents has lasted in her blood this entire time. She's a sight in any city, but in Dawson she's her own show. Her bottled platinum hair is always curled to perfection and her makeup can usually be seen from the other side of town. Her outfits are styled to match down to the color of her nail polish. And her demeanor makes the rest of us females seem tame in comparison. Dramatic doesn't even begin to hit the nail on the well-manicured head. We're simple folk, through and through. Effie Trinket cringes at the mere idea of such an existence.

When she bought the rundown bar everyone thought it was a train wreck waiting to open. Even her own uncle tried to talk her out of it. He had always imagined that the bright-eyed blonde would take off out of Dawson for bigger things once she graduated from high school, but the diploma was handed her way and she remained. She enrolled at some local community college in a nearby town, telling everyone she ran into that her plans were to open up shop in the town she loved. Loved? I think most were just amused that Effie Trinket saw Dawson as more than a speed bump.

Story goes that the man who signed off on her bank loan all but laughed her back out into the streets, but she didn't care. She had her money and she had her destination. The place was all but condemned when she bought it, but now it's the pride and joy of Dawson. Everyone expected Effie to try to bring some sort of sophisticated martini joint to this one-horse town, but she embraced the very thing we all thought she'd try to run from. It wasn't expected, but somehow it's still been a rather charming coexistence between Dawson and Effie Trinket.

Most residents have frequented Effie's establishment their fair share of times and it's always worth coming back for the next. And although a conversation with her is anything but dull, it's always pleasant. Probably too pleasant for most, I know she always makes me feel like a shell of a human for not always looking on the sunny side of life. But it's entertainment and she means well. She always means well – and she'll make sure to tell you so too.

Of course, all that being said, the people of Dawson aren't all that picky about their establishments. As long as the beer is cold, there is a friendly face in the crowd, and the music is loud we'll usually be there. And that's why I'm not surprised that Peeta has to park his truck toward the back of the lot when we arrive at Panem a little after eight.

What I am surprised at is how relaxed I felt the entire time. I never once glanced out the window begging for the familiar building to come into view so that this encounter could be over. I never once was at a loss for words when he spoke to me. And I never once had to feign interest in something he was saying. Peeta Mellark and I have more in common than I would have thought and I'm not completely bothered by that.

The music can be heard from the parking lot as I jump from the cab of the truck. I instantly feel nerves start to overtake me, which is fairly normal when I enter a social situation, but in this moment they are stronger than ever. My mind starts to race at what people will say when I walk through the door with the ever-popular Peeta Mellark. What girls like Clove or Glimmer are going to speculate. What wisecrack Finnick is going to come up with. What kind of death glare Gale is going to give me.

Gale.

He'll probably fall off whatever barstool he might be sitting on. God, I hope he's standing. No, maybe standing isn't good either; that would give him less time to reach me. Lord knows the guy has fuse of an American made muscle car. It won't take him long to let me know just exactly what he thinks of this entire situation. This entire situation that he will no doubt read into as some sort of torrid love affair that has been happening behind his back for years. I love him dearly, but he has such a wild imagination sometimes. No, maybe I just hope that he's in the bathroom.

I am not normally one to care what others think, but when it comes to my best friend and the trust we share I'd go to any length to protect it. And I may not understand why Gale feels the way he does toward the blonde football protégé, but as his best friend and confidant I am agreeing to stand by him. Yet here I am heading toward the door with Peeta Mellark not even a foot from me. And I can pretend all I want that I don't feel this instinctive pull, like a magnet, just being within reach of him but I'd rather ignore the feeling altogether.

When Peeta opens the door for me, my senses are overloaded with the inherit smell and feel that is Panem. The bass of the music can be felt in my chest and the multiple perfumes and colognes mingle with the smell of stale beer. And yet those potent sensory devices are overridden by the mere whiff of Peeta's scent as I pass him walking into the establishment. I'm not sure if it's cologne or an aftershave of some sort, but it's now a smell that will forever be tattooed with me. A smell that makes my flesh tingle, my stomach turn to butterflies, and my fingers get this immediate need to pull him closer.

I stand just inside the door, surveying the familiar location; the dance floor is already packed, the bar is surrounded with people doing their best not to leave alone, and even the walls seemed to be lined with those that are in between dancing and a refill. For as small of a town as Dawson is it sure knows how to pull a crowd on a Saturday night. And they all seem to be familiar faces; some don't look twice at us though, while others can't seem to take their eyes off. My stomach turns at the eyes on me. For a girl that wants nothing more than to blend in, this sort of silent attention is torture.

"Ready to face the wolves?" His voice tickles my ear, as his breath is close enough to move the small hairs falling from braid. I must look like a deer in headlights and I'm not sure if he's read my mind or voicing his own thoughts, but then I feel his hand against the small of my back willing me forward. The heat I feel shoots up my spine and a rush goes through my cheeks. And I feel like he could steer me in any direction with his mere touch.

As we move through the crowd my eyes zone in on our destination and I see whom he's heading toward. My stomach starts to twist, if it wasn't already a complicated knot. Being at Panem is out of my comfort zone to begin with, walking in with the big neon sign that is Peeta Mellark makes it all the more unsettling for me.

Finnick is the first to spot us and I can see by his reaction that he's more than a bit surprised at the pairing in front of him. He unwraps his arm from his longtime girlfriend, Annie Cresta, and starts toward us and not in a silent fashion.

"Peeta Mellark!" He yells over the thumping music. "I was beginning to think you were too big time for us small town folk."

I glance over at Peeta to see him grinning and that's when I feel his hand drop from the small of my back to reach out and shake the older boy's hand in an excited fashion. I don't realize how quickly I've grown accustom to the touch of the youngest Mellark until I no longer feel it.

"Hey Finnick, it's been too long. How've you been?" Peeta smiles, letting Finnick wrap his arm around the shorter boy's neck and pulling him toward the large group in the corner.

I start to hear Finnick's smartass comment, but my attention is drawn toward the person glaring holes in me. My eyes meet Gale's; several other classmates surround him, keeping him just far enough from the part of the group Peeta is being drawn toward. Not because I truly want to, but because I know I look like a fool standing alone in front of everyone, I head toward Gale's side of the group while mentally preparing myself for whatever scolding I'm about to receive.

"Prim is looking a bit rough around the edges lately." Gale mumbles, not even bothering to look my direction as he takes of drink from his bottleneck. "Her teenage years must not agree with her."

"Bite me." I snap, my voice still muffled by the music and the crowd. He's digging and he knows it. And only Gale could get away with such a comment because I know he truly loves Prim. "I did go see my sister. Peeta just so happened to be leaving around the same time I was. Not that I have to report to you."

"Convenient." He pouts.

And I'm really not interested in him spoiling my night; he's the reason I'm here to begin with. He's the one who told me I should come. He's the one who always insists on bringing me into places he knows I'll be uncomfortable. Of course, it's not his fault that my gut tells me the most enjoyable part of my night will be ride to and from this Dawson landmark.

We stand in silence as if in some sort of showdown and I can't help but let my eyes move toward Peeta, who's surrounded by several of his old teammates. They are all speaking animatedly so I'm surprised to see his steel blue eyes meet mine when I look up from my callused hands. Against my wishes, my stomach yet again responds to his slightest of attentions with butterflies. He gives me a smirk and I understand it because I know what he feels. This isn't his favorite place to be either and in that moment we connect with that common thread. I can't help but smile, but I do my best to hide it when Gale looks in my direction.

He's not looking at me though; he's looking past me. I turn my head toward the doorway to see Madge Undersee walking in with a friend. A male friend. I quickly glance back toward Gale; his jaw is clenched and his eyes are dark. He wants to pretend he and Madge never happened, but that's how he deals with all harsh moments in his life. He completely ignores them. I suppose I have no room to judge, since I am not known to embrace my hurt either. We just let it build up. Gale's builds up into rage while mine takes the shape of walls.

Sometimes I'm not sure which is worse.

"Hey Hawthorne!" A female voice beside him tries to grab his attention from the petite blonde at the door. Samantha Wiress is leaning against the pub table, placing down her beer bottle and smiling her brilliant smile. She reaches up to rest her forearm on his shoulder, "I think it's time you push me around the dance floor."

She must have seen what I saw and, unlike me, she knows how to defuse a situation, while I tend to let it fester into a complete disaster. Gale's eyes linger for only a second longer before he grins down at the woman next to him. He pushes himself away from the pub table and offers her his hand. Gale may be a quiet, reserved individual, but if there's a place he can blow off steam its Panem. When we were in high school it was football, but that all changed his senior year.

We don't talk about that day much.

As they are heading toward the dance floor Gale takes a second to squeeze my shoulder before disappearing into the crowds. The gesture isn't lost on me and I appreciate his silent cease-fire. That's usually how it goes for us. Apologies are rare, but we never walk away angry. We've had one too many loved ones taken from us too suddenly for us to get caught up on the small stuff. I give a small smile and watch the two start moving with the fast-paced song. But it's not lost on me that I am once again left nearly alone in the crowded room.

"Hey Katniss!" A voice calls from just a few people away and I look up to see Finnick Odair waving me toward him.

Finnick and I have an amusing relationship, to say the least, but most have an amusing relationship with Finnick. He's not known for being serious about much. He's a couple years older than myself, Peeta, and Gale, but he's always been present in our lives. Well, present in Peeta and Gale's, and by associate mine. The only person that seems to get a sincere and even endearing reaction from Finnick is the meek brunette standing next to him.

Annie Cresta doesn't say much, but she's always been a kind person to me and it seems everyone else. It always amazes me just how different Finnick and Annie are, but yet they work. Truly work. No one doubts that one day he'll make an honest woman of her, but with Finnick's wild child behavior and Annie's less-than pushy demeanor it could be a decade from now.

I smirk and zigzag my way through the several people that stand between myself and Finnick. He's holding his arm out to greet me when I near him. He instantly pulls me to his side and looks down at me with that goofy grin. I am stiff against him and he loves how uncomfortable this contact makes me.

"I think I am wounded by the fact that you didn't even acknowledge my existence when you walked into our beloved Panem." His voice is laced with sarcasm and I can't help but roll my eyes.

"I'm sorry, I must have missed you." I say, shrugging as he drops his arm from around my shoulders. "You know, you tend to blend in."

"I understand, I mean I guess Peet's got that unconventional appeal to him. I get distracted on a regular basis, too."

My cheeks instantly flame and my eyes drop to the floor. I'm praying the floor will open up and swallow me when I feel Peeta stepping a bit closer to me as he laughs. I would normally want to step away on instinct, being embarrassed at being the butt of one of Finnick's common sexual jokes, but I remain standing. For some reason having Peeta next to me makes me feel a bit at ease. Like a kindred spirit standing next to another.

"Finn, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm just not interested." Peeta's voice breaks the silence that feels like it has lasted an eternity, but no one else seems to notice.

"I'm hoping to get a little booze in you and you lighten up." Finnick smirks, "You've always been so damn uptight for me anyway."

"Not enough in Texas." Peeta laughs.

"Whatever, I just like to boost your ego." Finnick turns slightly to wrap his arm around Annie's waist and give her a quick peck on the cheek. "I need you on call in case this one ever realizes she's slumming with me."

I smile. It's endearing, but not sickly so. In fact, I find moments like these nice to see from Finnick every once and awhile since most of the time comes off as a total arrogant piece of work. Annie, always the quiet one, just laughs and pushes back against his chest.

"Come on, Beautiful. We're going dancing." Finnick starts to pull her away toward the dance floor and I'm beginning to think this is some sort of conspiracy the universe has against me.

I'm almost afraid to look at Peeta; I really don't want him to ask me to dance. I am a terrible dancer and I don't need an occasion to showcase that. When I do finally look his way I see he's avoiding my gaze as well. I'm not sure if I'm upset or relieved by this. The silence between us is deafening and I find myself searching for something, anything, to start conversation again. Unlike the silence we'd occasionally fall into on the ride over here this one is loaded. Loaded with expectations of the other's next move.

"I have to admit," Peeta finally speaks and I find myself sighing in relief, "I am a terrible dancer. But if I buy you a drink, does that make up for it?"

He's grinning over at me and my knees feel weak. I can't help but smile as I speak, "It's a start."

He tilts his head to toward the direction and the bar. I take the signal to lead the way and we start toward the bar. I am acutely aware of the looks some familiar faces are giving us, but I'm more aware of how Peeta's arm occasionally brushes up against mine when he steps closer to avoid colliding with someone else. It's harmless, I'm sure, but the small connection is practically a flame to my skin.

We just reach a clearing at the bar when a perky blonde appears next to Peeta, grinning. "I'll be if it isn't Peeta Mellark, back in little ole Dawson!" Her voice practically squeals over the loud music, "Becca said she'd heard you'd be coming home for the summer, but I just can't believe it."

"Glimmer." Peeta says with a tight smile, leaning against the bar and not even bothering to look over at her.

"Hey Clove! Look who it is!" Glimmer turns away for a second to wave a petite raven-haired girl toward us.

Rebbecca Clove and Sarah "Glimmer" Alexander: the two most annoying, lapdog-like girls in Dawson. In fact, I'm sure if a Pomeranian and a Chihuahua took human form they would look just like Rebbecca Clove and Glimmer Alexander. Glimmer's nickname says it all. Apparently her mother thought entering her beautiful baby girl in every pageant imaginable was required and her competitive years led her not only to her obvious nickname, but also the prize-winning personally she thinks she possesses.

And what Glimmer lacks in humility, Rebbecca Clove – or Clove, as most recognize her as – makes up for in bitterness. How the two are best friends is truly beyond most comprehension. The only thing they have in common is their mean spirited nature and what stronger tie is there? The two have been basically tied to the hip since they were pulling pigtails in kindergarten. And they've been destroying teen spirit ever sense.

"Remind me why we came here tonight?" Peeta leans close to me to whisper and I laugh, feeling oddly pleased.

"You dragged me here." I smirk, enjoying how his dimple appears and his blue eyes dance with amusement.

"Ah yes, but what other excuse did I have to get you alone even if it's just for a car ride?"

He's flirting. Peeta Mellark is flirting with me. Peeta Mellark is flirting with me, Katniss Everdeen. And he couldn't look more attractive doing it. I want to say something, I want to be as smooth as he is, but everyone who even slightly knows me knows that's not possible. He continues to smile at me and I know even in the dim light he can see my blush.

"Peeta Mellark, how the hell are you?" Clove's voice pulls his attention from me and I've never wanted to punch someone more. She's a petite girl, but her attitude stacks up with that of the tallest man. She crosses her arms over her chest and pops her hip out in that standard attitude stance. Her eyes roam over Peeta before practically discarding me like an old sandwich with a mere glance. I am obviously not worth her time and she has not shame in letting me know that.

"Can't complain, Clove." Peeta says with a shrug. "Where's Marvel and Cato?"

"Ancient history, baby." Glimmer makes her reappearance into the forced conversation by leaning close to Peeta, Clove laughing at her obvious drunk behavior.

Peeta takes a step back, closing in on me and I can't help but feel slightly protective over something that isn't even mine. Has never been mine. Will never be mine. I truly need to get a damn grip. I look away from the trio and see if the bartender has decided to make his grand appearance to help break up this interaction. No such luck.

"I assume you both remember Katniss Everdeen?" Peeta says, a blunt ploy to bring their attention to me. Of course they remember me. I haven't left Dawson and neither have they. We remember each other every Saturday night, Sunday morning, and any other social events we may attend at the same time.

Clove looks over at me once again - this time for longer than a dismissive second - and Glimmer looks like some sort of predator as she sizes me up, twisting a blonde strand through her fingers.

"Hard to recognize her with Gale not attached to her hip–"

"Or her to his." Clove finishes Glimmer's sentence and the split second look of slight disappointment on Peeta's face doesn't go unnoticed by me.

"I guess the same can be said for you two." I finally speak, getting more fed up by the moment. "Kind of like Lloyd and Harry."

They don't get the reference and continue to just stare at me, but that all fades to the background in my mind when I see Peeta's bright grin out of the corner of my eye. He gets the Dumb and Dumber reference. More importantly, he thinks it's funny. Not many would consider me humorous, but when I have my moments I'm grateful someone is around to get it. And right now I'm extremely glad it's Peeta.

I can tell Glimmer is about to say something when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I quickly reach into my jeans and pull out the device, seeing Prim's name above a picture from last summer. She knows where I am – or where I was, in her mind. She probably assumes I've already found an excuse to leave. I look up at Peeta, who's watched me pull out my phone, and show him the screen. He gives me a begging look that I assume is telling me to hurry back before I turn and start towards the door, needing to find some place quieter to answer.

As I'm leaving I notice Clove and Glimmer's respective, assumed, exes standing at the corner of the bar. Marvel is looking in the direction I just came from, while Cato has decided following my whereabouts is more interesting. He's obviously a complete creep. I remember the stories Gale used to tell about how he treated the girls – mostly Clove – he dated. Marvel didn't seem like a total jewel, but at least he is just a mindless drone. He and Glimmer have a lot in common.

Finally I push through the last of the crowd and put my phone to my ear, "Hey Prim."

"Where are you? Are you still at Panem?"

"Yeah, where else would I be?" I ask, stepping to the corner of the building so I can hear her better.

"Don't play dumb with me, Katniss. I know you hate that place. I'm surprised you've lasted this long."

I can hear the humor in her voice and I'm only slightly annoyed that my younger sister seems to be more knowledge of me than I am. Of course, that's another trait she gets from our father.

"Did you call for something or just to give me useless trivia about myself?" I shove my free hand in my back pocket.

"You hate lima beans, but everyone hates lima beans. Okay, here's a good one; you have always liked –"

"Prim!" I cut her off, "The point?"

"Are you coming over for lunch tomorrow? Momma says she'll cook. And she's even talking like she'll go to church too."

I'll believe it when I see it, but I say nothing. I know Prim still carries a small flame of hope that one day our mother will someday wake up out of the fog she's lived in for so long now. It infuriates me, but it also devastates me when I hear that familiar tinge of hope in Prim's voice when she talks about future plans.

"I'll be there around eleven." I sigh, looking out into the dark parking lot.

"Or you can just come home with us after church." Prim's voice is still hopeful and it makes me want to yank my mother right out of her dazed reality.

"Sure, I'll call you tomorrow. Okay?" I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to give my sister fake hope, but I refuse to diminish what little she has. This town is too small for another destroyed story. And I cringe at the idea of being another statistic.

"See you tomorrow!" She hangs up and I smile at the pure joy I hear in her voice.

I look down at my phone as the call ends and the screen goes dark. I envy her for the perpetual optimism she has. She deserves so much more than this town or our family can ever offer her. I just hope one day we don't become some sort of roadblock for her bright future.

My phone goes back into my pocket as I start to turn back toward the building. My nerves are already getting the best of me at going back instead to meet Peeta. My boots crunch against the rocks, but stop suddenly when I see two strong shadows rounding the corner to greet me.

Marvel and Cato.

Or Sawyer Daniels and Joshua Cato. Both were part of the group that practically ran our rural school and are the only two that truly haven't left the halls of Dawson High School behind. They both played football with Gale and at one time made up the small group of friends that Gale had, besides myself. You normally didn't see Gale, Peeta, Marvel, and Cato when they weren't together – Finnick usually not far behind either. They always stood out as being the jackasses, but they made for a good laugh. At least, that's the excuse gave me on numerous occasions.

At first I think about just ignoring them and going around - they are no doubt just trying to get a rise out of me after seeing me with Peeta and their two girlfriends. Or…ex-girlfriends? Whatever. It's easier to keep track of a firefly than their statuses. But then I decide it's best to say something, why not poke the beast?

"I think you passed the bar," I say, pointing back towards the doorway, "It's back that way."

"We saw that," Cato counters, crossing his arms over his chest. "Looks like your boyfriend was holding up quite an audience there."

I don't have a boyfriend. I want to say it and everyone knows that's the case – or at least they should - but I am not about to take whatever bait they are throwing my way. Instead I just shake my head and start to walk around them, but Marvel steps in front of me. He's so much taller than me that I have to tilt my head to look up at him. I immediately step back and try to remain calm. These two are harmless. Sure, they talk an awful lot, but when you live out here there isn't much else to do.

"No need to hurry back, he seemed to be doing just fine without you." Marvel smirks.

"Almost like you aren't even missed." Cato laughs and Marvel joins him.

I roll my eyes and take a deep breath, "You'd know what that's like, wouldn't you?"

I don't want to wait for an answer and once again I try to walk past them. This time Cato's strong arm reaches out to grab around my waist and I instantly push him back, my hands landing firm on his arm. His grip grows tighter and I can hear Marvel's amused laughter from beside him. My heart is racing out of my chest.

"Where are you going?" Cato's voice is full of venom and it makes my stomach turn. "We're not finished here."

His other arm starts to come around me and I know if he does that there's no way I'll be able to fight back. Cato is strong. Brute force alone would be enough, but the fact that I can't even seem to see straight doesn't help my situation.

"Hey!"

A booming voice surprises us all and my eyes dart toward the corner of the building once more to see my last hope standing there. Cato's arm instantly drops from around my waist and he steps back. That's when I realize just what kind of a hold he had on me and it takes all I have to keep my balance. Before I know it, Peeta is shoving Cato and the two are facing off, Marvel and I both a bit stunned.

"What the hell, man?" Cato argues, "We were just talking with her."

"Well I think you're done talking." Peeta's voice is low and I don't think I've ever seen such aggression from him. I wasn't even sure he had it in him.

Cato steps forward, taking Peeta's words as some sort of challenge. I should be focused on the situation at hand, but my mind travels to just how strong Peeta is. I thought Cato was strong, but apparently college football has really worked out well for the other blonde because he's nearly the size of the brutal Cato.

"She's not your property, she can do what she wants." Cato's jaw is clenched and Peeta's mirrors his.

"And I'm sure being manhandled by a meathead like you is on the top of that list." Peeta comments, "Now I'm not going to tell you again, move on."

"Or what?"

"Come near her again and I'll personally give you a reason to go to the emergency room." Peeta doesn't flinch and his voice remains calm, but his arms flexed slightly, showing the anger he feels.

The silence is deadly. At first I think Cato is going to throw a punch, he isn't nearly as level-headed as Peeta, but then he steps back and glances over at Marvel. The Marvel who was once so cocky about stopping me in my tracks now looks like a deer in headlights. Silently he tilts his head back toward the doors front entrance and steps past Peeta. Marvel silently follows.

We both stand there silently for a long moment, watching the two disappear from slight. When Peeta looks back at me I suddenly feel a wash of anger, the shock of the entire situation starting to wear off. I didn't need him to be my knight in shining armor. I would have held my own. I've spent most of my life telling Gale he didn't need to always protect me; I certainly don't need another male with a savoir complex in my life.

"Are you okay?" He asks, the soothing familiar voice I've become accustom to back.

"I'm fine." My voice is harsher than I expected, but I stand by it. "I would have been just fine. I don't need you to save me. I'm not some kind of damsel in distress."

"No, but Cato is an ass who's been drinking," Peeta argues and I can tell I've annoyed him with my attitude. "And he doesn't take no for an answer very often."

"I can handle myself." I argue, knowing it's foolish as it comes out of my mouth. I know Peeta's right, but I'm not about to admit that.

"Fine, then lets just say I met my Superhero quota for the evening." His joke is a dark one, but I know it's his way of throwing in the white flag. He's not about to fight over a topic he won't win – at least not out loud.

And yet again I'm in another stand off. This one isn't threatening, but more a battle of wills. I know I don't want to be the first one to admit to anything and I can tell by the look on Peeta's face that he's not interested in arguing in circles, but neither of us want to walk away either. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at the gravel before letting out a deep sigh.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

And to that I don't argue.