Author's Note: As always, thank you to everyone who shows support for this story. It's so much fun to write! I also have another story - one that is completely different from this one - in the works. I apologize that I take a while between updates, but I have work, etc. going on so I usually only get to write on the weekends. So thank you for your patience!

As always, Ivory saves my butt when it comes to all things beta. She is just flawless.

Without further ado, 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 Seven: Little Miss

"Little Miss, hide your scars."

Morning after.

The idea alone is enough to make even the strongest groan in understanding. They happen to the best of us. Well, okay. I'm obviously not the person to speak with about "morning after" moments. I am vanilla in a world of hundreds of flavors. I don't even have many sprinkles atop me. Though, I once did get drunk enough once that I had a headache the entire next day, Gale laughed so hard when he saw me that morning. I truly thought my experience was the worst it got, but he told me that was a typical Sunday night. Sunday night. That was the morning I realized I was more of an amateur than I originally thought.

So needless to say, morning after experiences aren't something I've ever dealt with first hand. But from the stories Beetee and Gale have told me they aren't something I should be eager to learn about. Of course, their morning afters usually involved quietly – and quickly – finding their discarded clothes and high-tailing it out of there before their bedmate wakes up to realize they don't even remember their name. Again, apparently my situation isn't as worse as it gets. But it's as worse as it gets for me.

I am not a smooth person in the easiest of situations, give me something out of my comfort zone and I become more frantic than a fish out of water. But with Peeta I surprised myself. I usually run away from new experiences, but I didn't want that moment to end. When I felt his hand grab onto my waist it was as if I found a new energy. My kissing abilities were nonexistence and for a mere second I worried that he'd be able to tell. But if he could he didn't make it known. I'm not sure how long we stood there tangled up in that moment, but by the time he slowly pulled away my arms were wrapped around his neck.

He pulled away just far enough to look into my eyes and brush a piece of hair away. The smile he wore only helped my racing heart to speed up. I think I'll remember that lopsided smile until my dying day. And I know my lips mirrored his. What else could I do? I don't think I stopped smiling the rest of the night. Even as I fell into bed I knew I was smiling. Every nerve in my body was still zinging from the moment and the sweet kiss he placed on my lips prior to letting me walk inside my little home.

He kissed me good night. Peeta Mellark had kissed me twice. Those were the only coherent thoughts I could possibly have as I drifted off to sleep.

And then this morning came.

Have you ever had one of those mornings where you wake up with an automatic pit in your stomach that screams of all the things you'd change if you could? I blink several times, running my hands over my face. The sun shining through my sheer curtain tells me it's still early morning. Mr. Mellark lets us get started late on Fridays during the summer. He silently understands that the majority of those who work for him are young and summer seems to be the time our irresponsibility shows the most.

I turn over in bed and see the clock reads almost seven in the morning. Shoving the covers off, I do everything in my power to think of anything but last night. I grab a change of clothes and head into my bathroom.

While I'm undoing my braid I make the mistake of looking in the mirror: I instantly go back to the moment I'd felt Peeta's callused hand against the sensitive flesh of my neck. He'd pulled me closer and it hadn't taken much coaxing to get my body to fit perfectly against his. I'd never experienced such a heated exchange, but in that moment I was focused only on what I wanted. And what I wanted was Peeta.

I realize I'm smiling while I mindlessly run my fingers through the tangled locks. My hair falls past my shoulders and I bite my lip to suppress my smile. That is my next mistake: I remember the kiss in amazing detail. When my lips had found his the first time it was unsure. I felt him tense for a mere second before he started to respond, but I pulled away. His blue eyes search mine and I know he's looking for an answer I don't have. I remembered the thrill I got when his hand reached for my elbow to stop me from leaving.

My stomach erupted in butterflies, but I didn't have long to realize that before his lips are on mine again. This kiss was sure. This kiss told me everything I've suddenly felt this summer had been mutual. His hands grasped my waist and I couldn't remember a time I'd felt more secure. My hands were against his chest, and looking back I realize I was gripping the material of his t-shirt. Hoping it was real. Needing it to be real.

Again, my smile has returned as I finally turn away from my mirror to turn on my shower. But my smile falters when I realize the moment is over. That the rest of our reality hasn't left. Regret is not what I feel, but anxiety. Anxious because this is all new to me. Anxious because I can't even imagine everyone's reaction – especially Gale's. Anxious because I feel as though I've somehow betrayed him. And I know I'm mostly anxious because I don't want whatever happened last night to end. Not yet anyway.

And that's a feeling I've never had before.

The pit rests in my stomach the entire I'm showering and getting ready. It doesn't leave as I brush my teeth. It remains in place as I re-braid my newly washed hair and get dressed. It doesn't even flinch when Prim calls me and I speak with her for awhile. By the time eight o'clock rolls around, I'm making coffee and deciding that this dreadful feeling is going to be my constant companion for a while. Reverting my thoughts doesn't seem to work because everything reminds me.

I reach for the sugar and I'm reminded of the small fact that Peeta hates sugar in his coffee. A trait I've known for a while, but something that now seems suddenly earth shattering. I reach up to grab an old coffee mug and remember the winter I first started helping at Mellark Ranch. I was doing the dishes in the kitchen after dinner when I, being my ever-graceful self, caused several dishes and glasses to go crashing to the floor. I had been so sick thinking Mrs. Mellark would be the one to find me cleaning up the mess. But Peeta had been the one to race through the kitchen entryway.

We spent the rest of the night sweeping and finding tiny pieces of ceramic and glass throughout the large kitchen. Peeta had made the whole thing that much less stressful. I think I remember even laughing a couple of times. At the time, I thought he was just being nice – like his father undoubtedly taught him. But now I see everything differently. The way he inspected my hands to make sure I wasn't hurt. The way he didn't leave until not only the mess was cleaned up, but also the dishes – that were still intact - were finished and put away.

I've been mindlessly stirring my coffee for several minutes when I hear a knock at the door. I jump, my eyes going toward the offending sound. My stomach knots harder as I walk toward the doorway. I turn the bolt lock. Even though I have a curtain over the window of my door, I can make out the familiar shape and I try to ignore the fact that I'm slightly disappointed.

"Good morning, Rocky." I say, moving out of Gale's way to let him in.

"Very funny." He mumbles, walking in and heading straight toward the coffee pot.

I shut the door and watch him. From where he is standing at my counter I can see the dark bruise that has formed from last night's impromptu boxing match. It doesn't look swollen, but the purple shading looks like it's going to be around for a while.

"What happened to you last night?"

I watch him make his coffee, adding more milk than coffee. He's about like me when it comes to his coffee preference, except my additive is sugar. He doesn't look at him until he's finished. He turns and leans against the counter. Gale makes my kitchen look even smaller than what it is. His massive frame takes up the majority of my counter space and he towers to nearly the top of my cabinets. It's almost comical how he looks like a giant in a dollhouse. Even more so because I know his house is almost exactly like mine.

"I just needed to get away." He shrugs, "I went home. Watched TV and fell asleep on the couch. Sorry if you tried to call, I turned my phone off."

I didn't. Another wash of guilt comes over me.

"It's understandable." I nod, taking a prolonged drink of my cooling coffee.

I'm not sure I want to ask my next question, or that he'll even answer. Gale and I are as thick as they come, but we both burn hot. We know it's better to let us fizzle out before the other approaches. And usually I know how long that'll take, but this is all different. I didn't even know this type of storm was raging. But I just have to know.

"Are you okay?" I ask. The question is simple, but the possible answers make my nerves twitch with anticipation.

"No worse than Mellark." He smirks. Gale knows that's not the answer I'm looking for. I know they're both a little worse for wear, but no permanent physical damage has been done. I give him a look that I know resembles the one my mother used to give when we'd get smart with her.

He knows it too, because he looks down at the floor, lifting his free hand to rub the back of his neck.

"It all needed to be said," Gale says. "But I suppose we could have picked a better venue."

We. He must understand, at least a little bit, of where Peeta is coming from.

I remember being a bystander in that instant. That night had been one of the few games I actually attended and only because Gale practically begged me to. They were going for the title and the game was nearly two hours away, but Annie had told me she'd take me. I had no excuse not to go and by the second half I was glad I had.

The game was tied with almost three minutes left. I knew very little about football, but with Annie's constant coaching I was beginning to understand it. And these last few plays were make or break moments for us. I was on the edge of my seat as they broke away from the huddle. It was third down and they needed eight yards to reach another first down. Annie was cheering next to me – the loudest I'd ever seen her. Finnick was calling the play. Gale was crouched low in his position. Peeta was running into place.

The ball was snapped.

Finnick faked a handoff to Marvel while Peeta took off hard down the field. Marvel went down hard, but Gale did his best to hold his man from breaking free and getting to Finnick. Finnick found what he was looking for - a clear shot to Peeta. He threw the ball with stunning accuracy. He was tackled soon after, but was able to see Peeta cross into their end zone.

The defending team's shoulders sunk as they watched the score change. Cato, Marvel, Finnick, the rest of the team, and our crowd were on their feet cheering. Everyone was up. Except for Gale. He lay on the ground curled up around his knee. Several players from both teams were waving over the athletic trainers. They knew he was hurt badly.

That was our junior year. Gale never suited up for another game.

I knew the transition from star football player to sideline assistant had been hard on him, but I never knew just how deep that scar ran. He became less social with those he once surrounded himself with, but I just assumed he was too busy with physical therapy and work to go out as often.

Looking back I saw all the angry signs, but chose to ignore them. I was never one to get into other people's business and whatever issue he had with his team was not mine to have. I was his friend. I was there for him. But I never asked why. I never asked anything. And I should have. I had failed him. I let him slip into the same routine as myself. I never once considered that maybe that wasn't what he wanted. That working for the Mellarks was not the dream situation that it had been for me.

"I'm sorry." I apologize, not for last night, but for everything I have ignored. For everything I should have said, but never did.

"Ah, it's nothing." Gale shrugs again. "It's not like my life is some awful nightmare. So what if I didn't get to go play college ball? It's not like I would have been much for college anyway. I hated school. That stuff doesn't come natural to me."

But football does. And I watch him give the speech I know he must have told himself daily after the accident. I'm not sure I believe it. I'm not sure he believes it. But there is nothing either of us can do.

"Why do you blame Peeta?" I ask while I'm still brave enough to do so.

"I blamed everyone on that field that night. I blamed everyone." Gale says. He doesn't look at me, but at the tile of my kitchen. "Peeta was just the one that got everything. His whole damn life was handed to him on a silver platter. Doesn't that piss you off a little bit?"

I never thought about it that way. Gale is right; there is no doubt about that. Peeta comes from the wealthiest family in Dawson. He has a full ride to a premier football college. He has good charm and even better physical features. Gale is not the jealous type, but even the saintliest of people would find it hard to stomach the thought of Peeta Mellark. I know that, but I also know the kindness he shows toward others, his willingness to help, his genuine work ethic, and his nightmare of a mother. That alone makes all Peeta has been given dim drastically.

She is Dawson's worst nightmare and all of her children have felt her not-so-secret wrath. Mr. Mellark can only do so much to tame the angry woman he has by his side. And her hateful behavior practically oozes from her whenever she is present. I want to remind Gale of that, but I remain silent. I sit there and just watch him.

"He was nothing more than a target last night." Gale admits, and I know it's hard for him to do so. "Him coming home is just a reminder of what I didn't get to do. Childish, right?"

A little. But I understand it. Gale bottles it all in. He always has because he's always had to. I know I'm the same, but I've never had any one person to blame for my situation. Well, besides the man who worked my father to death, but it's not like I see him on a daily basis. I suppose I could be angry with my mother and I used to be. But I get more reaction out of being angry at a blank wall.

I look at the clock on the wall; it's nearly nine. We'll need to be at the barns by ten. I finish the rest of my coffee and stand up to put the cup in the sink. Gale watches me, as if waiting for me to tell him he's alright. That what he did is justified. But I can't. And it's not just because of Peeta. It has nothing to do with Peeta. It has to do with Gale. He's angry. And his anger will destroy him. I don't want anything to destroy him.

"Is it out of your system?" I ask, reaching behind him to empty out the coffee pot.

He's not expecting this question and takes a minute to respond.

"I guess?" He says.

"Good." I don't look at him as I answer, "Because the next time you get into a senseless fight if they don't completely kick your ass, I will."

He smiles for the first time that morning and I feel myself doing the same. We stand in silence for a while as I clean the few dishes we've dirtied. Every once and awhile I feel his elbow push me slightly or a hand reach up and pull at my braid. He's back. At least for now. And I try not to remember the fact that I'm leaving out a rather important portion of this conversation.

Saturdays on Mellark Ranch are known for two things: free time and food. Mr. Mellark has made it a point to keep us feeling as though we are appreciated – which I'm not sure any of us doubted to begin with. And that includes Saturdays off, except for the daily chores that need to be finished, and large meals for breakfast and dinner. Of course, you are not required to attend, but I'm not sure any of us have missed unless we've been sick. And even then we'll usually camouflage it the best we can and show up anyway.

Gale picks me up that morning and it's all back to normal between us. We work well together and we spend most of our evenings together. And normally that is enough for me, except now I find my thoughts drifting toward Peeta. I've looked for him on several occasions; going out later than normal to close up the barn or making one last check of the eastern fences. Never once have I found him. It's only been two days, but I feel like it has been an eternity. A fact that I'm not proud of.

I still mention nothing to Gale. He hasn't asked, not that he would know there is anything to ask about, and as the hours tick away I am beginning to think there is nothing to tell him. The thought makes me sadder than I wish it did.

When we pull up to the main house, Beetee and Wiress are walking up the main steps. Wiress waves us good morning while Beetee tips his hat; we both wave and head in their direction. I am both nervous and excited to go inside. Peeta will undoubtedly be there. And this will be the first time I've seen him since he wanted me home Thursday night. Since everything changed. And I hope it hadn't just changed for me.

"Good morning!" Mr. Mellark greets us soon after we walk in, "Head on into the dining room, I think Deb has gotten everything set up."

Deb. Deborah Mellark. Mrs. Mellark. The idea that even her husband has anything other than rude names as a nickname for her is beyond me.

I follow Gale into the large area where many have started to fall in line to get their share of food. The smells make my stomach turn in a pleasant way. The table near the wall is lined with numerous options and it's hard to believe Mrs. Mellark had anything to do with this. For all her personality flaws, the woman can do amazing things in the kitchen.

Gale hands me the tongs so I can put pieces of French toast on my plate and right as I'm about to pick up a slice I am stopped cold. I first see his familiar hands that are holding onto a place of breakfast pastries. My heart begins to race. My eyes slowly scan up his strong arms and then I reach his face. My breath catches. He has that same lopsided smile that I know will be forever imprinted in my mind. And it doesn't go unnoticed to me that his t-shirt and arms are covered in flour.

He did all of this?

Apparently Peeta Mellark isn't as readable as I previously thought.

"Good morning." He speaks softly and a sudden wash of warmth comes over me.

"Good morning." I say, my smile lighting up my face.

Our eyes are locked on one another and every doubt I've felt over the last couple of days seems to disappear as I stand there in his dining room. The world around me seems to fade away and I've forced to notice how he has one obnoxious curl that will not leave his forehead. Or how his bright blue eyes seem darker slightly. Or how I think he's managed to get blueberry preserves on his grey t-shirt and all I wish to do is reach out and wipe it away.

"Hey Peeta, we need more syrup." Jackie's voice breaks into our moment like a sledge hammer. "Do you have some heated up already or would like me to get it?"

Peeta seems to have a hard time tearing his eyes away from me and I know this because I feel the same struggle. I look towards Jackie at the kitchen entryway and I've never wanted to throw a piece of toast so bad at someone.

"I'll be right there, Jackie." Peeta calls, glancing back at me once again. "I'll see you later – I have something I want to ask you."

And with one sentence he has put me back on the pins and needles I've been trying to remove myself from since that night. My nerves are on fire and I know every moment until I see him again will most likely run as slow as molasses in the dead of winter.

The rest of breakfast goes like many others before it, except for Peeta and myself sneaking glances at one another from our places at the long table. He is sitting next to Reese on the other side of the table and a few chairs down while I am wedged between Gale and Wiress. I try to stay involved in the conversations about me, but every once and awhile I look toward Peeta and find him doing the same. We give small smiles, but never hold each other's gaze.

There is a pause in our conversation long enough for me to catch the one Peeta is involved in.

"You coming with me over to Greenville today?" Reese asks his youngest brother.

"I can't." Peeta shakes his head. "I'm picking up Jo from the airport this afternoon. I'm leaving right after breakfast."

"Oh sure, anything to get out of dishes duty." Jackie grins, taking another bite of her pancakes.

"You just make the dishes sparkle so well, how could I deny you of your gift?" Peeta smirks.

Jackie picks up a piece of her biscuit and tosses it toward him. And I'm irrationally jealous of their easy exchange. Peeta laughs, popping the piece into his mouth before picking up a grape and mimicking her action. I'm mesmerized how easygoing he looks in that moment. How his smile is relaxed and childlike. His smile matches that of Reese's. And I now understand where his playful nature comes from.

The moment is ended too quickly when Mrs. Mellark clears her throat, even as Mr. Mellark smiles at the joy on their faces. Nothing is said, but the food war ends and they instead continue their conversation with less enthusiasm.

"I forgot about that." Reese says, still giving a slight glare in his mother's direction. Always the protective older brother. "How long are they staying?"

"Until the end of summer. We're going to ride back to school together." Peeta says.

And before I can hear the rest of their conversation I am pulled back into a debate Gale is having with Wiress. The conversation is comical, but I find myself wishing I was hearing more from Peeta. I am also wondering who this Joe is. He must play on the same team as Peeta.

For the second time that morning I'm irrational jealous of someone.

My afternoon, like I'd predicted, goes in slow motion. I try to keep myself busy, so that means a visit with Prim. I spend some of the afternoon listening to her go on and on about this friend or that friend. Sometimes she would talk about Rory, and sometimes ask me if Gale had said anything. But I reminded her that they are boys. And boys aren't the ones to share like we do.

She makes me lunch, which is nowhere near as large as breakfast. We have ham sandwiches and some stale potato chips. As she looks through the cabinets I can't help but feel I am not giving them enough of my paycheck to survive on. There are essentials and plenty of canned food, but after the breakfast I had this morning I can't help but feel guilty. Prim assures me that her part-time job at the local grocery story is giving her enough for anything she needs. Plus the bills are all paid on time and she still has money in her pocket.

She is too young to go through this. She is too young to know the due dates of bills. She is too young to have a mother who spends her days in the same old recliner in silence and her nights in her room crying uncontrollably until she falls asleep. I had begged her to move in with me when I moved onto Mellark Ranch. We were used to sharing a room already. And she wouldn't have to face that every day.

But Prim has a kinder heart than I do. Prim doesn't see our mother as a burden. She still sees her as our mother. She still makes her meals for her and combs her hair. She is the daughter I gave up on being years ago.

And I am so proud of her for that. I just hope that one day it won't be her downfall and keep her in this one horse town. She deserves so much more, and I tell her that daily.

The rest of our visit is spent playing Scrabble. I personally loathe the game and cannot make words bigger than 'cat', 'save', or other three to four letter words. Prim completely destroys me, but that's yet another reason I know she'll go far. She's absolutely brilliant.

After I say my good night around six and I can't get back to Mellark Ranch fast enough. I hadn't seen Peeta prior to him slipping out to go pick up his friend at the airport and therefore that question remained unasked. My mind was ablaze with what the question could possibly be. A question? What could he possibly have to question? What are we? Are we anything? Could we be something? Did that kiss mean anything? Was it just an emotional night?

Okay. Maybe there was a lot to be questioned.

And that was why this day had been near torture. But as I checked myself appearance in the mirror, I was beginning to get that familiar excited tingle that always came about when I knew Peeta was in my near future.

I came alone up to the main house and saw I was one of the first ones there. I didn't see any of the other workers' vehicles besides Wiress'. She must have come early to help for dinner. I momentarily think I should wait in my truck until someone else arrives, but that would look strange. I've been in this house a million times. What was so different now?

Everything.

Walking into the main door I see Mrs. Mellark and Wiress standing in the dinner room setting the table. The smell of chili fills the air and my mouth waters. Mr. Mellark's chili is some of the best around and matched with Mrs. Mellark's – or Peeta's? – cornbread this was going to be a fantastic night.

I'm about to head into the dining room to lend a hand when I hear laughter in the kitchen. Mr. Mellark's booming voice can be heard throughout the house along with several others. One I recognize is being attached to my heartstrings. I turn my direction and head in toward the kitchen.

"So let me get this straight," A female I don't recognize says between laughter.
"You guys literally have a rooster that goes off at dawn?"

"'Goes off?' Come on, Jo." Peeta laughs, "He's not an alarm clock. We don't have to set him. Where did you think that stereotype came from anyway?"

"Well it is a stereotype." Johanna argues, her hands resting on the marble island.

Mr. Mellark and Peeta are both are grinning from ear to ear and shaking their heads. My eyes can't leave the dark haired girl standing in the middle of the kitchen. She's beautiful and rather tough looking. Hard, almost. Like her life hasn't always been the easiest. I know that look. I wear that look.

"Katniss!" Peeta notices me first and I like how his smile grows even wider.

He walks over to me while Mr. Mellark and the girl watch. They both look like they know more than I do, but all of that is forgotten when Peeta walks up next to me, placing a strong hand on the small of my back to lead me toward the conversation. The small touch gives me chills that I hope he doesn't notice and leaves me wanting more.

"Katniss, this is Jo –"

"Short for Johanna." Jo grins, cutting Peeta off. "Johanna Mason from Los Angeles, nice to meet you."

"And she's rather shy, if you couldn't tell." Peeta jokes, looking at me.

Johanna sticks her hand out for me to shake and I do.

"Katniss Everdeen."

"Oh I know who you are." Johanna smirks, dropping my hand and glancing toward Peeta. "Glad to put a face to the infamous name."

My eyebrows crease slightly and I can't help but notice that Peeta has turned a bit red while he moves himself away from the conversation. Mr. Mellark is still grinning widely, like always. Peeta excuses himself quickly to go help finish getting ready for dinner and Johanna's laughter fills the kitchen. Mr. Mellark soon joins her.

Apparently I don't understand California humor.

By the time dinner is being cleaned up I feel as though I've ate my weight in Mr. Mellark's chili and from the looks on everyone's faces so do they. Everyone has started going off in their own direction: some outside to toss a football, some in the entertainment room to watch television, and it doesn't go unnoticed to me that Gale hangs around the table longer talking with Johanna.

Mrs. Mellark has, once again, silently dismissed herself and therefore the kitchen's state is left to those who have not yet found what they wish to do after stuffing themselves like turkeys. Those two individuals would be Peeta and me. The man I once tried to avoid is the one person I want to be the nearest to. So I begin by carrying the emptied dishes into the kitchen while Peeta is putting away the leftovers.

"Guess we drew the short straws." Peeta smiles at me when I sit some bowls down on the counter.

"Guess so." I say, watching him for a minute.

"Or maybe you knew I'd be helping clean up tonight so you decided you'd take one for the team." He's smirking and I like this playful side to him.

"Something like that." I laugh, leaning my side against the counter.

The silence between us is loaded and I want to ask him what it was he was thinking of asking me, but my courage isn't that high yet. Neither of us wants to be the first to look away. Peeta slowly turns his body to mirror mine. My heart starts to pound against my chest.

"Do you remember – well, I said earlier I had to ask you something." He sounds nervous and he looks away from me for a moment.

Do I remember? It's all I've thought about since the sentence left his lips.

I nod, afraid any words that come out of my mouth won't be coherent. He looks at me for what seems like forever and I begin to fidget with the dishtowel I've been holding.

"I think – well, would you like –" He pauses and I think my breath pauses along with him. "Katniss, do you want to go out with me sometime?"

I think I've forgotten how to function. Every piece of me is doing double time and my breath won't seem to even out. It's such a simple question and yet I feel as though it's going to change everything. It is going to change everything. It pales all the other possible questions I had in my mind.

"Yeah, I'd like that." I say slowly, praying my words come out right. "A lot."

Peeta grins, "Then it's a date."

It's a date. I'm going on a date with Peeta Mellark.