We relax on the couch, nibbling on the bread and watching static-y morning cartoons for a couple hours. I have no idea who's paying the electricity bill for this place but I have to say it's weird to watch fuzzy local channels on a plasma screen TV—obviously the person isn't paying for cable. But Katniss isn't crying and she seems to actually be in an okay mood.

But when I ask her if she wants to stay another day, she automatically shakes her head, her eyes igniting with fear. I guess there are just too many bad memories to stand to stay here long.

So I wrap the leftover cinnamon bread in some ancient tinfoil and start washing the pan I used for it as Katniss heads upstairs to get dressed—as much as it pains me. She looks so good in my shirt.

After the pan is clean, I tuck it back in the drawer where I found it and head up the stairs to change as well.

But I'm dreading it.

Now that we've done what we went on this trip to do, it's all downhill from here. We'll be home soon and back to our normal lives. And my normal life doesn't include Katniss.

I mosey down the hall and into the room right as Katniss is slipping on a pair of jeans. I frown at them; I'm going to miss the sight of her bare legs. But I can see that there are clouds the color of Katniss's eyes in the sky, blocking out the sun. So I pull on a pair of jeans as well and green t-shirt.

"Are there any places you'd like to go on the way home?"

Katniss's quiet voice startles me, and I turn around to find her watching me, her eyes round and glassy.

I shrug my shoulders. "I didn't have any plans, but—" I hesitate, trying to figure out how to say what I'm feeling without actually saying it.

"But what?" she asks, shifting her weight to her left hip.

"But I have nowhere to be," I finish. "So if you wanted, we could find something to do on the way home."

She doesn't smile—not with her mouth anyway, but I see the sadness leave her eyes and excitement light them up. At least, I hope that's what it is and not just a figment of my imagination—hoping to find something to show that she sees me like I see her.

"Okay," she says with a nod.

A smile takes over my face uncontrollably as relief and happiness ignites my veins. "You'll allow it?"

She finally smiles back. "I'll allow it."

We just get in the car and drive. Leisurely. No speeding. Just the car on an empty highway—freeways are for pussies. We don't have a destination. We just have a cooler full of food and beer, and a map so we don't get lost.

"Wanna play twenty questions again?" Katniss asks as she unbraids her hair; I'm mesmerized by the chocolate waves that tumble down her shoulders briefly before I force myself to look back to the empty road.

"Sounds good to me," I say.

"But let's make it a little more interesting." Her voice is playful—so different than the broken girl from last night. But I'm not about to question her happiness.

"How?" I ask.

"You try to ask questions the other person probably won't want to answer. Like dirty twenty questions. But if the other chooses not to answer, they get punished."

"Punished how?" If this is going to get kinky, I have to say I'd be a tad excited.

"We'll figure that out later," she says, shaking her head. "For now we'll just keep a tally."

"Um, okay." This could either go magnificently or just terribly horrific. But either way it will be fun, right? Right?

"I'll go first," she says. "What age did you lose your virginity?"

I officially hate this game. One question in and I'm already blushing. But I can't wimp out already. I clear my throat. "Nineteen."

I look over to see her eyes flare with surprise. Okay, yeah, so I was a little bit of a late bloomer. Girls scared the shit out of me—and with good reason. I just wanted to be in love my first time. Though, of course, the woman inevitably broke my heart. But I've more than made up for my slow start. Well, not more than. Just enough.

"The story of your first kiss?" I counter.

She furrows her eyebrows before answering, "I was thirteen. Marvel Whitticer. He accidently tackled me in flag football and I just pulled his face down to mine and kissed him. We knocked teeth and he tasted like a ring-pop."

I let out a pleased chuckle. "That's a good story."

She beams at me, the innocence of her age actually shinning through. "First blow job?" Okay, so much for innocence.

I groan. Jesus, this is embarrassing! Girls have so much more ammo than guys, it seems. "Nineteen," I say again. "Her name was Clove. She was the first girl I ever loved—and yeah, she's the one I lost my virginity to as well. She went down on me in the bed of her father's truck while we watched Fourth of July fireworks."

"Did you come in time with the fireworks?" she asks, her voice dripping with amusement.

I did. My mouth slowly curves into a smile. "I'm not answering that."

"You did." She's reading my mind again. She laughs—light and musical. "You totally did."

"My turn," I say, cutting her off. "First time you were fingered?"

She cringes. "Sixteen. It was terrible. He just wiggled it around like a worm and thought his job was done."

I bark out a laugh. This is good. I'm so used to thinking of my relationships as life or death. It's actually nice to minimize them into a simple game and remember them in a funny way, instead of reflecting on the hurt. But more often, I find myself forgetting about my past pain when I'm with Katniss. I can't tell yet if it's because she's a distraction, or if it's more than that. I don't know which one I want it to be.

"Anal?"

I choke on my own tongue. Literally. Sputtering and shocked, I glance at Katniss. Fuck the road right now. She's raising her eyebrows—waiting for my answer, unaffected. Jesus Christ. Just when I think I might have figured her out, she says the word "anal".

I shake my head. "Never." I take a loud gulp. "I, uh, I don't, uh, really plan to." Then curiosity strikes me. "You?" My voice squeaks.

She shakes her head too. "Same." I feel like an anvil has been lifted from my chest. For some reason, the idea of Katniss doing that with someone makes me want to kill something violently. And I almost never feel like violence—with a childhood like mine, you tend to run away from it.

"Have you ever been in a fight?" she asks, lobbing me a soft ball. But for me, it's anything but soft.

I nod curtly. My hands tighten on the steering wheel as the memory runs through my brain, shame and anger still present deep down. "Just once. Clove cheated on me with this total asshole. Fuck—that seems to be a pattern in my life." I run a hand through my hair and roll my shoulders, trying to calm down. "The next time I saw him, at some stupid party, I just couldn't hold back. I wailed on him; broke his nose and my hand. I felt so ashamed afterwards. I hate fighting." A lump is lodged in my throat and I stop, unable to say any more. Not that I want to anyway.

She nods her head. I think Katniss understands that some things just can't be spoken.

"When did you lose your virginity?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

"Pass."

I glance at her again, confusion filling me; my eyebrows furrow unconsciously. "Pass? On that question?"

"Yes." She crosses her arms over her chest, the official "this-subject-is-closed" gesture of Katniss Everdeen.

"Okay, one tally for you." Huh. I wonder why she would pass on that.

"Why didn't you ever tell someone about your mom?" she asks, her voice soft. But there's a hint of anger.

"Pass." There's no way I'm talking about that.

She sighs and sinks into her seat. When did this game suddenly turn depressing? Please, God, let's change it.

"Have you ever been skinny dipping?" I ask her.

"No," she replies.

I look to her, smiling all of a sudden, sad pall gone. And a destination for tonight officially picked.

I think New Hampshire has to be the most beautiful state we've driven through so far. The trees are lush and never-ending and each highway seems to be right through the forest or by some kind of body of water —it's astounding. It's less than six hours before we're pulling into the parking lot of a public beach for Great East Lake in New Hampshire. The clouds look menacing, but I'm not gonna focus on that right now. I hop out of my jeep and head for the cooler in the backseat.

"What are we doing here?" Katniss asks as she jumps out and walks with me as I lug the cooler closer to the water.

"We are going to lie on the beach and drink until the sun sets," I say.

"And then what?" she asks.

I set the cooler on the sand; it shakes with melted ice. I look up at her and smile as reassuringly as possible. "And then we are skinny dipping."

"Uh, no." She crosses her arms over her chest.

I head back to the car to grab some blankets, ignoring her stubbornness. She runs after me. "Why not? You have nothing to hide. I've already seen you naked." My dick twitches as the image of her writhing against my mouth pops into my head.

"Maybe I don't want to see you naked," she says, annoyance in her tone.

"Then close your eyes." I turn around to her before we reach the trunk. She's surprised by the sudden stop and accidently tumbles into me; I lift my arms out to steady her. But when she tries to pull away, I keep my grip on her waist and lock my eyes with her beautifully grey ones. "Do you trust me?"

She hesitates briefly. "Almost."

Good enough. "Everyone should go skinny dipping once in their life. It's a high. It's weird and fun and if you don't want me to look, I will cover my eyes until you are completely submerged in the water."

She releases an exaggerated sigh and rolls hers eyes. "Fine."

Trying to stifle my grin, I press my lips to her forehead. "It'll be fun," I tell her again. I let her go before I turn back around and open the trunk of the jeep. I grab a couple blankets from my "in case of emergency" bag and head back to the cooler. When the navy quilt is down on the sand, I reach for a beer and my make self comfortable—stretching out and relaxing under the cloudy sky.

Katniss grabs a beer, twists off the cap and takes a long swig—draining half of it. So much for a leisurely drink. I shrug my shoulders and do the same.

And that's how our afternoon goes. I make us sandwiches with the fixings from our cooler and Katniss takes a break in her drinking to eat it—moaning in delight and complimenting my sandwich skills—then resumes the drinking. She's apparently on a mission to be drunk before we go skinny dipping.

For some reason, the beach stays empty. I guess because it's cloudy. But fortunately, the clouds never turn into anything more—no rain or thunder. I set up our tent in the trees out of sight, glancing over to Katniss frequently, but she stays on the blanket and continues to sing and giggle to herself.

When I've finished that and join her again, she's officially drunk. Her grey eyes are dull and glassy, her mouth in a perpetual grin, her body lazily spread out on the blanket.

"The Peet-ster! You need to catch up!" she yells as I plop down next to her. She reaches into the cooler and tosses me another; I catch it easily. She looks so beautiful right now, more relaxed than I've ever seen her. She never did put her hair back it's usual braid and it's marvelous, so chocolate-y and perfect. Now that it's loose, I can see hints of auburn and black it in; my hand reaches out and runs through it before I can stop myself. Hopefully she's too drunk to think too much of it. Unlike me. My mind won't/can't/doesn't want to fathom why I feel like I'm dying whenever I'm not touching this girl I barely know.

But Katniss's smile just gets wider. She collapses on ground again, giggling uncontrollably. I shrug my shoulders and drain the bottle she just threw to me. She's right. I do need to catch up.

"Okay, it's time."

The sun has officially gone behind the mountains and the moon is bright in the sky. I look over at Katniss and stand up.

"Do we have to?" she asks again, stumbling to get to her feet.

"Yes, we do." I reach over my shoulders and pull my t-shirt off my head. I drop it on the blanket and work at my belt, unbuckling it and shimmying out of my jeans; I kick them and my shoes off. "I'm gonna close my eyes now and when I open them again, you better be naked."

"Okay, but I don't want to go in without you," she says. I can hear the sound of shuffling clothes.

"What does that mean exactly?"

"It means that I'm going to get naked and cover myself up, then you can take off your boxers. And you are going to have to hold my hand and drag me into the water—with your eyes closed!"

"Okay, okay." I hold my hands up in surrender, still keeping my eyes squeezed shut.

There's only the quiet ruffle of clothing and the crickets chirping.

"Okay, I'm ready," she says after a minute or two. "Off with the boxers."

With a deep breath, I push my underwear to the ground and quickly cup myself. If I don't get to look at her, she sure as hell doesn't get a sneak peek of me. Not that she'd really want to. I mean, us guys know are areas aren't the prettiest things to look at. Plus, I'm pretty sure the idea that Katniss might be checking me out is something that "little me" just couldn't handle without getting a tad excited—or extremely excited.

I reach out with my left hand, seeking hers. She clasps it after a second and I take a step towards the beach, pulling her with me.

Then, without warning, I break into a sprint. Katniss squeals when our feet hit the cold water and then again when I let her go to dive under completely. The water is a shock to my system, and any buzz I had is instantly gone. I wonder if Katniss feels the same. I jump out of the water and finally open my eyes, grinning and shivering.

Everything below Katniss' neck is hidden by the water, and her waves are slicked back, away from her face like a mermaid; she's smiling at me. She looks a couple shades lighter in the moonlight, her skin a mirror for the moon.

"So how is it?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. I already know it's amazing. Foreign, but great.

She rolls her eyes at me, but I can tell she's trying to hide a smile. "You were right," she whispers.

"I'm sorry, what did you say? I was what?"

She punches me in the arm. "You heard me, ass."

I laugh and she joins me. I want to swim around, or even look up at the stars, but I can't seem to do anything but look at her. Her face is lit up by the moon so I can see every startling, innocent, classic, bonerific feature.

"Thanks for making me do this, Peeta," she whispers, her silver eyes happy—so different than they were last night.

"Anytime," I reply. And I mean it.

Her face grows serious. "I always feel safe when you're around."

I open my mouth to say something, but I can't think of anything so I close it again.

She shakes her head, dismissing a thought and smiles. Then she turns around and paddles away from me, towards the shadows, taking her translucent, never-ending skin with her.

I'm awoken by a weird thump. My eyes fly open and take in my surroundings, instantly on alert. They quickly adjust to the darkness; I know I haven't been asleep for that long if it's still night. Another sound occurs to my left and I turn my head to discover what it is.

"Katniss?"

She's thrashing around in her sleeping bag, her limbs flailing crazy. Shit. Another nightmare.

I tear open my sleeping bag and crawl over to hers; quickly, I wrap my arms around her petite frame and pull her closer to where I was lying and begin to murmur into her ear, trying to wake her up. Her body deflates against mine, her twitches lessening, her eyelids fluttering open; I continue to cradle her, rocking her with care.

"I wish you could take them away, too," she whispers after a long time.

My eyebrows furrow in confusion, unsure of what she's talking about. But then I realize—that's what I've been whispering to her.

I exhale loudly, and pull her into my sleeping bag and zip us up together. It's cramped and she's basically lying on top of me, but I don't care. I kiss the top of her head and squeeze her to me.

I don't know if I can do this anymore. Watching her sadness is killing me.