Please forgive me for this short chapter, but I wanted the POVs to converge here and for the fragments to stand on their own. Consider this an intermission. Enjoy!

Music: "I'm on Fire" by Bruce Springsteen.

Good Girl

Rumors had been flying around for a while. No one knows about Peeta Mellark and I kissing, but after seeing us in the fields talking so often, and after Gale's confrontation with him that one time, people had begun asking me questions.

Hanging out with English boys during rumspringa is one thing. It's a temporary allowance.

Choosing an English boy for life, for the future, is a whole different matter. Normally, I doubt people would suspect the friendship between an Amish girl and an outsider to be more serious than a simple rumspringa romp...if that Amish girl weren't me.

Me. The girl who never steps out of line. The girl who had decided not to venture into the modern world. The girl who suddenly changed her tune and began working side-by-side with her young and handsome English guest.

Even Gale's mother approached me, though I'm certain he does not know about it. He prefers to handle his own business. But the scene he and Peeta caused in the field was enough to raise concern, and Hazel Hawthorne is a blunt woman.

She asked me if her son had anything to worry about. I told her no. I'm not sure if she believed me.

I'm not sure if I believed me.

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Bad Boy

I still feel her braid snug between my fingers.

I still see that dirt smudge beneath her ear.

I still taste her.

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Good Girl

Gale has been doubling his efforts to get affectionate. It feels unnatural. I'm suffocating.

Out of doors, he rests his hand against the small of my back. I want to shake him off. It's nicer when we're just talking about domestic things, friendly things. He's never been the touchy type before. It's not us.

He's not doing this to satisfy me. He's doing this because of Peeta Mellark. He's being boastful and not acting according to our faith.

I don't approve of making such an exhibition of our relationship. Especially now, in public, where blue eyes can see.

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Bad Boy

I don't need this bullshit.

I don't need anyone but my brothers.

I don't care that I see her everyday with him.

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Good Girl

I think about marriage a lot more. I think about doing intimate things with Gale for the rest of my life, and I tuck myself further into a shaded corner of doubt.

It doesn't feel right, what I picture. I've always known it would happen, but now I can't imagine making love to him once, much less for decades. I cannot comprehend how people do it without love. How do they manage to pretend during such private times? How do they face that person, who doesn't even know the truth, the next morning?

Am I being a good Amish girl by marrying him? Or am I committing a worse sin by pledging myself despite the lingering uncertainty? Is it a sin to live a lie? Where does that leave my true feelings?

I am not uncertain when I remember Peeta Mellark's kiss.

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Bad Boy

Motherfucker.

My iPod speaker runs out of battery juice.

And then my iPod runs out of juice, too.

I shouldn't have put that song we danced to on loop. After eight hours of wheat and corn and wood and horse crap, there's only silence and sketching.

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Good Girl

As I slice potatoes and boil tea, I hear him in the bathroom. He's using our shower.

We're the only ones in the house. This doesn't happen often. This evening is an exception.

I remember the day I caught him washing up. I remember the angle of his body and wonder if that's how he's standing now. His pale, solid frame is...

The kettle shrieks. Steam rockets from the top. I jump and accidentally cut my finger with the paring knife. After shutting off the kettle, I examine the tiny wound. It stings but isn't deep.

I go back to thinking of him in the shower and what part of his body he might be cleaning...caressing.

I draw my cut finger into my mouth and suck.

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Bad Boy

I crane my neck backward into the hot stream. My cock twitches as if something invisible is tugging on it.

She's downstairs. No one else is in the house but us.

She walked in on me once. She doesn't know that I know.

I twist the knobs to change the temperature from scalding to frigid. I need to calm the hell down.

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Good Girl

Gale and I sit next to one another at church. Then we spend Sunday evening with our friends. Delly and Madge are full of rumspringa endorphins.

On my doorstep later, I kiss Gale goodnight, searching for passion and warmth and joy and beauty.

I'm disappointed.

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Bad Boy

She catches me by the wood pile. I've stopped making sculptures of the logs because it takes patience that I frankly don't have.

She hands me a pair of gloves so my palms won't blister any more. I could have used these fucking gloves six weeks ago.

She starts to walk away when I make an offhand comment about Gale's wandering fingers.

She halts with her back to me. "He's Amish. You're not."

Practical as ever. But I live for the moment. Sometimes, so does she.

I saunter up behind her, my shirt brushing the fabric of her dress. At this point, I'm done. So done. I gather up everything I've learned about desire and lust and do my best to crush her. I let it all out, no holds barred, because that's who I am. "The truth is," I murmur. "I want you, and you want me."

She tenses but listens, so I take advantage. "I'm burning for you, and you're burning for me, and that's not going to change. If I'm honest with myself, I've wanted you since I first saw you standing in front of your house. My mouth wanted you. My fingers wanted you. When you came to my cabin the first night, I wanted to tear your clothes off. I wanted to spread you and cover you and claim you. I still do."

She gasps as I swipe her braid over her shoulder. "Do you know what it feels like to make love?" I run my ringed index finger down her profile. "Do you know what it feels like to come so hard your entire body lifts off the mattress? It's lovely, Katniss."

My heart pumps against her body as I continue. "I want to kneel. I want to roll your stockings down and disappear beneath your skirt. When I'm there, I'll part your thighs, and I'll trace the glistening slit between your folds with the pad of my tongue. I'll lap up every moist drop of you. And then I'll find that delicate pebble at the center of you and graze it, tease it until it's swollen and ready. And then I'll draw that pebble fully into the wet heat of my mouth.

"I'll listen to you sobbing sweetly above me, and I'll increase the pressure, more and more, and I won't let you go until I've heard you cry my name a dozen times. And while you're still trembling, I'll wrap your legs around me, so tight around me, and I'll move inside you slowly. Until we're both a broken, panting mess. And then..." I bring my lips to her ear and whisper the rest.

From this angle, I see her gray eyes vanish into the back of her head. She breaks away and marches back to her house, fingers rubbing her temples because I've given her a headache.

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Good Girl

In bed, I think of what he said.

Beneath the quilt, I think of everything he said.

In the dark, I close my eyes and see everything he said.

As my fingers drift down my stomach, I arch my back and moan.

I realize how grateful I am that I don't share a room with my sister.

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Bad Boy

I'm going crazy.

I'm losing a fistful of sleep.

I'm riding the bike further at night, but she's not with me.

I'm taking it out on the wheat bales, but Mr. Everdeen tells me to take a break.

I'm pumping myself till my fingers can't bend, but I still don't feel the precious release.

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Good Girl

It becomes clear that Gale's feelings for me are deeper than I ever knew.

I try hard to reciprocate and fail.

This isn't fair to him. It just isn't.

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Bad Boy

I miss her righteous little statements.

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Good Girl

I miss his jokes.

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Bad Boy

Mr. Everdeen likes me.

He tells me about farm life and the day he met my father. He tells me I'm so much like Dad and looks at me with confidence.

I understand now why my father remembered him for so many years.

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Good Girl

At dinner, I yearn to ask my father what he and Peeta Mellark talk about.

I shovel food into my mouth.

I don't care if I choke.

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Bad Boy

Living this close to her is a curse. My theory is proven when I take a walk in the middle of the night and pass her kitchen window. And see her.

She's wearing a white nightgown that outlines her curves and exposes her arms. Blue light from the darkness bathes the delicate architecture of her back. She's usually so covered up. I've never seen this much skin. I'm breathless.

I watch her pour a glass of water and bring it to the window. I watch her lean against the frame and stare up at the sky. At the stars that burn endlessly but never connect.

I watch her throat dance as she drinks.

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Good Girl

Beyond the window, I notice movement outside. A figure shifts in the woods before the view goes still again. Perhaps it was an animal.

I peer outside, but it's difficult to make out certain shadows. Yet I feel the weight of being watched. I feel the weight of longing. I search for him and then shake myself. He's not out there at this time of night.

The stars buzz above the trees, so relentless, so immobile. I take a deep drink of the water. I pucker my mouth and let it linger on the glass. I lick a drop off the rim.

I feel foolish for pretending he can see me.

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Bad Boy

It's almost time to go home.

I think of Rye and Sam and Finnick.

I want the hell off this farm.

I should be bouncing off the walls.

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Good Girl

Harvest and housework and prayer keep me company.

For some reason, Prim is being nice to me. It makes my father smile.

Everything is the way it should be, as it always was, as I've always wanted it.

I should be happy.

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Bad Boy

It's not the same.

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Good Girl

It's not the same.

I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.