Peeta stepped from his car on the first day of his fifteenth year at Panem High. He was the most tenured teacher, having been with the school since it first opened; a small start up charter school that had grown to mega status since then.

He grabbed a backpack from the back seat of his old Jeep Wrangler. He'd always carried one, even though most of the other teachers carried something more professional like a briefcase. But Peeta liked the way it connected him to his students.

"Excuse me," a voice sounded behind him as he turned the key in the lock. He turned to see startlingly silver eyes framed by thick, dark lashes that fluttered when she looked from him to the ground. "I think you dropped something."

Peeta followed her slender finger as it pointed down at his feet. He stared between the girl and the ground, dumbfounded by her blatant beauty.

"Do you want me to get it?" she asked, crouching to retrieve the folded ten dollar bill. He bent down at the same time, unable to look away and blindly clutching at loose gravel until he located it.

"Ah, no! No, thank you…?" he asked, leaving the end open, waiting for her to fill in her name. She stared. He stared. Silence hung between them.

"Katniss. My name is Katniss, " she answered, toying with the end of her dark, braided hair as they both stood slowly.

"Thank you, Katniss," he said, finally letting the breath from his lungs. "I'm not sure what I would have done without my lunch money." He cringed inwardly at the lame statement, but was pleasantly surprised to hear a musical laugh from her. She was a sight. Breathtaking with skin glowing from a summer tan and jeans that hugged simple, but elegant curves. The slight, peachy sheen of her lips reflected the morning sun and caught Peeta's eyes. His heart seemed to stop, but his mind wandered down the path of heated kisses and the taste of ripe, summer fruit.

She's probably in your class, the voice in his head was loud and clear before he could dwell further on her physical features, rudely snapping Peeta back to reality. Abruptly, he closed and locked his car door, breaking the spell he'd felt.

"It was nice to meet you, Katniss. I better get going before I'm late." Peeta nodded, dismissing her politely as he would any of his students.

"I didn't get your name," she called from behind him. Without pausing, he turned his head so that he could just make out her silhouette in his peripheral.

"Mr. Mellark."

A week later, Peeta stepped into the back of the auditorium for freshman orientation. They seemed to get younger and younger every year. Scouring the crowd, his eyes landed on a dark braid in the back row. He coughed lightly when he realized it was Katniss, the girl he'd met in the parking lot on the first day. He had thought she was young but she didn't look that young. He was disgusted with himself for thinking she was even a little attractive, let alone the goddess his mind had first believed. He'd even had to force away unbidden thoughts of her. What would someone have said if they'd seen the stupid way he smiled at her? What if they knew that his heart stuttered when he'd turned to meet her? That was, of course, impossible, but it didn't make him feel any better.

As if she felt his stare on her, she turned to look behind her, their eyes locking for the briefest of seconds before his eyes flitted to her rosy lips, baring the hint of an innocent smile, dangerous only to him. He didn't need any more mental images of an underage student stored away, so he focused back on the stage, suppressing a crude shiver of what it could mean to have feelings for her, not the least of which was a felony on his record. The last place he wanted to be featured was on the five o'clock news, or the directory of a prison ward.

Peeta didn't notice that her gaze lingered on him, roaming over his arms crossed stoically at his chest, his stance uninviting, expression indifferent. As soon as the assembly was over, he ducked out and headed to his room, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Peeta unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves of his dark green dress shirt as he shuffled down the ninth grade hall, a place he hardly ever came. But this year he had been partnered with a new teacher to work on the Halloween fundraiser the school put on every fall.

He rapped his knuckles on the metal door frame, fist stopping mid-air when he saw the dark braid seated in a desk next to another student. The two turned to look at him simultaneously. He had no idea what the girl next to Katniss looked like, because she smiled, and it both warmed his insides and made him want to vomit. Peeta checked the door plate on the outside wall to be sure he was in the right place. And to jog his memory of the person's name he was looking for.

"Ah, have either of you two girls seen Miss Everdeen?" he asked, looking anywhere but the teenager. That didn't even have a driver's license. And probably has a father my age.

Katniss said something to the girl and then stood, rounding the line of desks toward Peeta.

"Mr. Mellark," she greeted him shyly. "I haven't seen you since the first day of school."

"Yeah, I, uh, teach seniors, so there wasn't much of a chance you'd have me for English Lit." Peeta scrubbed the back of his neck and sighed, thinking maybe this Miss Everdeen was in the lounge. Yeah, that was probably where she was, he thought. And he needed to hightail it out of there fast before he creeped himself out. "Okay, well, uh if you see her before I do, tell her Mr. Mellark is looking for her."

"Wait." Before he could turn fully on his heel she caught his forearm with her hand and he froze, looking down where their skin touched. She released him quickly, her cheeks coloring the most endearing shade of pink.

"Why would you think I'd be in your class?" she asked skeptically, then understanding lit her face and she laughed. Even though he knew he shouldn't care, he couldn't help comparing her laugh to the melodic sounds of Mozart or Beethoven, something that soothes the soul. Her one-woman symphony coupled with her exotic features made it almost impossible for Peeta to

withstand.

"We haven't met properly, I guess," Katniss said, holding out her hand. Peeta stared dumbfoundedly at it, certain if he touched it she would become privy to every thought he'd had about her.

"I'm Miss Everdeen."

Peeta adjusted the sides of the premade booth and fastened them together with his cordless drill.

"Here," Katniss said from behind him, causing him to jump and almost drop the heavy tool on his foot. He whirled, coughing deeply when his breath caught at the sight of her - cheeks tinged pink from the crisp, fall morning, eyelashes long and dark, like a sheer curtain hiding the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Ever since he'd learned she was, in fact, not a student, he'd had a more difficult time keeping his thoughts at bay. She was still so much younger than him that it made a small part of him uncomfortable.

She held out a lidded cup from the local coffee shop, steam wafting in a curly-Q pattern from the small opening.

"Thank you," he said, his fingers brushing over the tops of hers as he took hold of the cup. He tried to tell himself it was a small cup and there was no way to avoid contact, but deep down he knew it wasn't. He suppressed a grin at the pleasant way the accidental touch made his heart feel.

"English breakfast tea, no sugar, just the way you like it," she offered. Something more than gratefulness bloomed in his chest when he realized she'd been paying attention to the times he'd made his morning tea before their fundraiser meetings. And here he was trying so hard not to pay attention to her.

It was futile. He couldn't ignore all the little things that were so uniquely Katniss, especially since they rarely saw each other during the school day. The ninth grade wing was across the campus from his seniors, so when they were together he couldn't help but take in every little detail. Like the cute way her nose scrunched when she thought something was strange, or the way she said hello when she answered a phone call, and her pinky stuck out in the air as though she were taking tea with the Queen.

Or like now, the little wisps of hair that framed her face underneath her red, crocheted beanie, setting off her silver eyes, a color Peeta thought must have been reserved just for her since he'd never seen it before. And those damn lips! The way she bit down on the lower one when she was deep in thought always seemed to draw his attention.

Peeta took a long, burning drink of the tea, hoping the scald racing down his throat would urge him back to his right mind. She was as good as fresh out of college. There was no way a girl like her would be interested in someone his age.

Peeta had never been wanting for a date when he was younger, and at almost forty, he could still have his pick of most women. He had a solid build from working out daily, a thick head of blond hair, and he'd been complimented many times on his bright blue eyes and handsome features. It wasn't that he didn't see himself as attractive, but he would have a shit-ton of competition where Katniss was concerned. She was gorgeous. There was no way she would stay with him when there surely were plenty of younger, good looking men turning their heads her way, and flings just weren't his thing.

Katniss was just being nice, anyway. A good friend. The problem was he'd never felt about a friend the way he wanted to feel about her. If he were just ten years younger, he'd give in and be set free to these feelings that were taking on a life of their own. If he could figure out how to nip them in the bud, he'd do it.

"What can I do?" Katniss asked after setting her drink down and coming to stand next to Peeta. He absently focused on her lips when she spoke, the way they rounded into a perfect 'o' with the last word. He barely registered their arms brushing against each other he was so caught up in the way her mouth moved. A hand waved back and forth in front of his face.

"Hello-o?" Katniss asked in a sing-song way when he didn't answer. She smiled when their eyes met. Damn. He'd been caught and he hoped the heat in his cheeks wasn't as bright as it felt. Peeta decided then and there that Katniss would have to work on something across the gym from him or he'd backtrack on every decent thought he'd tried to have about her. He couldn't risk making more of an ass out himself than he just had.

"Uhhh," he started, racking his brain for something she could do. His eyes slipped across the way, landing on a project he knew she could handle without his help. "Those booths over there could use some signs. Here's the list of the different names," he said, handing her the information she'd need. "There are markers and poster boards over there." He pointed across the large room, thankful everything was plenty of distance away so he could finish his task without alerting her to his growing attraction.

"Okay," she said. Peeta took a deep, calming breath when she walked away and set back to work, only moments later to hear the swoosh of the heavy paper and clink of markers behind him. He turned and saw Katniss settle in next to him and begin to work on the signs. He watched her for a moment - braid swept over her shoulder, slender neck that disappeared into a soft sweater the color of a sunset, black leggings that hugged her hips and toned thighs. He weakly allowed his thoughts wander to what if, and his stomach clenched when the rational part of him echoed no way. She was sixteen years his junior and even if she did find him attractive, he was divorced with a teenage daughter, and Katniss was just beginning her life as an adult. They couldn't be at more opposite stages of life.

It was almost noon the Friday before Thanksgiving. Peeta covered a huge yawn with his hand - evidence it had been an early start to a long morning of parent/teacher meetings, and his back hurt from sitting in the same position the whole time. He was glad for the half day and ready to go home. He twisted to stretch his muscles and rubbed his bleary eyes, then began the task of putting away his student files and cleaning up his desk.

"I brought lunch," Katniss called, startling him from the doorway. The files slipped from his hands and he bent down to retrieve them. Before he could gather them, she was striding toward his desk purposefully, plastic bag in hand, with a smile that would light up the entire room at midnight. "Do you like grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup?" she asked.

"Ah, yeah. Yeah, but, don't you, um," he stammered, shuffling the papers in no certain order. He was unsure of how to ask what had been on his mind ever since the fall festival. "Don't you have someone else to eat lunch with?" She stopped short, the carefree look on her face falling, and Peeta could have kicked himself for causing it. That hadn't come out the way he'd meant it to. "I'm sorry," he apologized, loosening the tie that had suddenly become too tight. "I just meant, you know, you're young and beautiful, and you should be spending your free time with your... boyfriend." He said the last word softer than the rest, forcing his eyes to stay focused on her while he waited for the answer that would hopefully convince his heart to back the fuck off. He couldn't want her. Shouldn't want her.

Katniss cocked her head to the side, and a hint of the lovely smile he'd wiped from her face returned. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Shit. Peeta's mouth opened and closed like a gate that couldn't decide whether the cattle were coming or going. He was certain his face was as red as the soup she'd brought. He reached behind him to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit he tended toward. He shrugged, groping around his brain for something not idiotic to say, finally deciding to just move on. "Let's eat," he said too cheerily, berating himself for being so awkward around her.

Katniss didn't say anything more about it, but she glanced at him through her long eyelashes a few times, grinning shyly as she emptied the bag while Peeta pulled a chair to the side of his desk for her to sit in. He tried to ignore the way the blood in his veins picked up speed and his mouth went dry.

At first they were silent, a little tense even. But then Peeta began to ask her questions, easy ones like favorite color, hobby, tv show, and so on. Katniss answered them all, flipping them back to Peeta for his own favorites. They talked about everything, from past to present to future. An hour passed quickly, food long devoured before Peeta noticed their chairs had somehow drifted closer to each other. Whether it was him or her he wasn't sure, but his body warmed uncomfortably at her nearness, and the alarms in his head started going off.

He began picking up the wrappers and unused napkins, surprised when Katniss's hand ghosted over his before plucking one of them from under his palm, leaning into him slightly.

"You've got a little something…" she trailed off, focusing on a spot near the corner of his lip, where she gently wiped the napkin. He watched her intently, and when she finally locked eyes with him he had to clear his throat loudly to bring himself back to the ground.

"I better get going. And I'm sure you've got better things to do than hang out with an old man," he laughed off his remark. Even though he still felt young, he was much older than Katniss.

"I like hanging out with you," she said. It crushed him a little, that she didn't deflect his comment about their age difference. What did you expect? "Maybe we could hang out more… you know, outside of school."

Before he could answer, Katniss bent over to scribble down some numbers on a stray piece of paper. When she was done she held it up for him to take, dropping her hand on his bicep. She was so close he could count the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose that he'd failed to notice until now. He would only have to lean in…

"Here's my number if you ever want some company," she said, thankfully snapping him out of the ludicrous daydream.

"Uh, yeah, thanks." His voice cracked like a pubescent teen. He took the paper and a small step back before the lightheadedness swayed him right into her lips.

After Katniss said goodbye and Peeta thanked her for the food, he stared at her scratchy penmanship. What was he doing even entertaining keeping her number? All it would do was taunt him every second of the day. It's not like I asked for it, he argued with himself. She'd wanted him to have it. The war in his head went on and on until he couldn't take it anymore, and in a fit of frustration he crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the trash.

Thanksgiving came and went, and Peeta and Katniss had become closer than he thought he should allow. He'd been the first to text her, a week after digging her number out of the trashcan not five minutes after he'd thrown it in there. We could be friends, he'd thought. Part of him knew he wasn't being honest with himself, but he also figured if anything happened, it would only be his heart at risk.

"Peeta, you're next," Principal Paylor said, and his thoughts retreated momentarily. "Let's see who your Secret Santa is." She held out a gift with his name on it. Right away he could tell it was a book. One rip down the spine sent the recycled red paper to his feet and his eyes bore into the cover. A collective 'awww' sounded around him, along with a 'can I borrow that?', and a 'hey will you bake whatever that is on the cover and bring it to the next staff meeting?'.

Peeta laughed courteously at the comments, but inside he felt like a ball of nerves. He knew exactly who his Secret Santa was. He had mentioned this recipe book to Katniss during one of the fundraiser meetings they'd had over two months ago. He just hadn't had time to purchase it.

His fingers traced the cover before opening the book, and his eyes widened at the signature inside. It had been signed by the author, his favorite TV chef, with the inscription, Merry Christmas, Peeta.

"So?" Mrs. Paylor asked. "Who do you think your Secret Santa is?" They were all supposed to guess who the giver might be based on the gift, but how could Peeta say her name out loud? Surely the feelings he'd been trying to conceal about her from himself and others would be evident. He would essentially be outing himself if he even looked at her, and the friendship growing between them would be ruined. She would certainly be disgusted, and he couldn't risk that.

The gift was amazing and thoughtful, but almost too personal compared to the lame cat mugs and apple ornaments everyone else had opened. "Effie?" Peeta answered. If he hadn't known it was Katniss, he would never have guessed Effie Trinket. Ms. Trinket was the Home Economics teacher, and only ever gave away household items she thought no one should live without, like paper towel dispensers or coupons for free lessons in etiquette. Effie was just conveniently standing on the opposite side of the room as Katniss, so Peeta didn't have to look in her direction. He didn't have to see the utter disappointment on Katniss's face, or the quiet way she slipped out of the room unnoticed.

The first day of Spring semester was long. Peeta's students were unfocused and tired, mirroring his own demeanor. He hadn't seen Katniss since the Christmas party before the break, and as much as he wanted to deny it had affected his holiday, he knew it had been a big factor. He'd tried to find Katniss afterwards to explain, but she seemingly vanished into thin air. That was the first thing he'd wanted to rectify the Monday back at school, but he knew he had to wait. A quick stop at her room before the morning bell wouldn't have been enough time to amend what he'd done.

When it was close to Katniss's conference period, Peeta called in one of the aides to watch his class. He grabbed the bakery box he'd brought in with him that morning, full of goodies from the recipes he'd tried out of the book she gave him. His favorite were the cheese buns, but there were also a few homemade pretzels dotted with huge flakes of salt, and a sweet bread, loaded with nuts and braided in a way that reminded him of Katniss's hair.

Just as he rounded the corner of her hall, the bell rang and students poured out of the classrooms. He stood by the door until Katniss was alone, took a deep breath hoping to suck in a little courage, and stepped into her room. Her back was to him, erasing her lesson from the whiteboard. Her hair was down, instead of braided, and with every reach of her arm her shirt rose just enough that Peeta caught a glimpse of olive skin. He wouldn't let his eyes roam further - not past the khaki skirt that stopped an inch above her knees, or to the leather pumps that kept her calves looking shapley when she was standing still. There was no point in torturing himself.

He cleared his throat loud enough that she turned to see who it was, and every feeling he'd been trying to tell himself had been a lie was revealed to be wholly truthful. "H-hey," he said nervously.

Katniss put the eraser down and turned to face him fully. Peeta noticed her eyes didn't quite meet his, settling somewhere near his left earlobe.

"I, uh, I brought you something," he said, raising the box in front of him.

"Oh. Um, thank you," she responded, reaching out for it even though they weren't close enough to make the exchange. It propelled them toward each other, and soon the box was in Katniss's hands. They stood there quietly, trying not to make awkward eye contact. Peeta blew out a breath before speaking.

"Listen, Katniss, I want to apologize for what I said before the break."

"What do you mean?" Her words were curious, but her eyes remained aloof.

Peeta cocked his head, confused. He was certain she had avoided him after the party. And even more certain she was avoiding him over the break when his how are you and Merry Christmas text messages were met with one and two-word replies, completely different than their interactions from the fall.

"About the gift? I- I knew it was from you, and I guessed wrong on purpose. Are you sure you weren't upset? Because it seemed like you were."

Katniss set the box down on the nearest desk and took a deep breath. "I was."

"I'm sorry, Katniss," Peeta said. He wanted to hug her or at least rub her arm in consolation, but he couldn't. He was afraid of the feelings he would unleash if he touched her. "It was just so much better than what everyone else was getting, I didn't want anyone to feel bad." Or for you and everyone to see I have inappropriate feelings for you, he thought.

"I get it. It's not a big deal," Katniss conceded, though it didn't seem like 'not a big deal' to Peeta. "It's not like I needed credit for the gift or anything, it's just-" Katniss stopped, a decision clearly being waged inside her head. "I was trying to tell you… that... I- I like you, Peeta." She stole a nervous glance at him, and Peeta realized what she was trying to tell him.

All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room, and the moisture must have gone with it because Peeta noticed how dry his mouth was. How could this young, attractive, smart woman like him? He was forty and had strands of gray mingling with the blond hairs at his temples. He had laugh lines and a teenager, and an ex-wife.

"And I thought maybe…" she shrugged, "you liked me, too," She had no idea how right she was, but this couldn't be more than just a fling for her. Surely she had life to live, friends to party with, doting men to date. The last thought made his stomach flip uncomfortably, but he knew that was the reality. Even if they ended up in a romantic relationship, there was no way it would last. It hadn't lasted with his ex and they'd had much more in common. Katniss wasn't his ex by any stretch of the imagination, but Peeta just didn't see a way it wouldn't end in his heart being broken, and he'd been through that pain once already. He wasn't ready to face it again, and there were just too many years between them. Too much experience versus too little.

"Katniss, I'm… I'm flattered." Hope flashed briefly in her eyes, dashed by the conjunction that followed. "But... I don't think it's a good idea." It was actually a terrible idea. A terrible idea he wanted to run head long into and not look back from. A terrible idea that would allow him to touch her, kiss her, hold her. But for how long?

"I, uh, I get it. I'm not your type." She smiled tightly, looking down at the floor.

His heart clenched at her words. "No! That's not it-" he blurted, not knowing where to go from there.

"I don't understand?" Katniss questioned, her eyes finally meeting his.

Peeta sighed deep and pinched the bridge of his nose, then swiped a hand over his face before running it through his hair, hitting every nervous tick he'd ever cultivated. "I never said I didn't like you, or that you weren't my type. The truth is, Katniss - I'm so attracted to you." Katniss's lips twitched into a sliver of a smile. "But." There was that word again. The word that made her face look like that and made him want to take everything back. "I'm so much older than you."

Katniss scoffed, and it was the first time Peeta had seen her flustered. "You think you're - that we're - that I'm too... young for you?" Her voice rose an octave when she said the word 'young', and her smoky eyes challenged his like a thunderstorm clashing with clear blue skies.

"It's not as easy as labeling it that you're too young or I'm too old, Katniss. It's about our life stages. That I've been married and I have a kid. That I'm closer to retirement than you are to your thirties-"

"That's not true! I'm almost 25. Are you retiring when you're 45?"

Peeta didn't answer, knowing full well he had exaggerated that point, but he kept relaying all the reasons why he thought they weren't a good idea. "The point is that you have a whole life ahead of you, with a husband and children and-"

"Who says I even want those things? If you would give me half a chance instead of writing me off as some irresponsible child you couldn't possibly have a successful relationship with, you'd find out those things, Peeta."

The words were like a slap to the face. Was he dismissing something great just because he was afraid of having another failed relationship? He knew Katniss was the kind of girl he could fall for. Hell, he already was if he was being honest. The only thing holding him back was the dam he'd built around his heart to keep his feelings from leaking out. He slumped his shoulders in defeat, not knowing what to do. The battle was wearing him out. "Katniss, I-"

Before he could say another word, Katniss stood on her toes and mashed her lips into his. It took a moment for him to recover, but when he did, he let himself give in to the feel of her mouth on his. Her warm, soft lips that tasted of strawberry lip balm. The breathy sigh she released when he finally relaxed against her. Her silky tongue that parted his lips and coaxed his into action. His hands found their way to the nape of her neck and he tilted her head, the angle allowing him to dive into the kiss wholeheartedly like he'd wanted to for months.

Katniss's hands clutched at his shirt, scratching lightly at his chest while releasing soft murmurs into his mouth. Peeta couldn't remember a time when he felt so alive. When his blood pumped vigorously through his veins and electricity shot through every fiber of his being. He didn't remember it feeling this way with his ex, even. In the last two years of their marriage he could barely get an erection, and the sex had been mediocre at best. He'd attributed it to aging, but now, with Katniss, things seemed to be in working order.

As much as he didn't want to, Peeta broke the kiss, resting his forehead to hers. He kept his eyes closed, not ready to wake up if this should prove to be a dream. Her fingers moved to toy with the hairs at the back of his neck, and his eyes finally fluttered open.

"You were wrong," she told him with playful smile, her gray eyes sparkling like freshly polished silver, daring him to admit it. Peeta laughed softly, contemplating for just a moment before deciding that maybe she was right.

"Say it," she whispered, almost pleadingly. His eyes darted down to watch her teeth drag across her bottom lip timidly, a thought quickly forming that he wanted to follow them with his tongue, stop fighting with himself over wanting her. So he did. He kissed her the way he'd thought to, longed for, dreamt of. Soft and slow, deep and decisive, long and languid. His hands cupped her face as he kissed her over and over, wanting to live in the moment forever, and his heart beat felt like fireworks on the Fourth of July, bursting with light while the rest of him 'ooo'd' and 'aaah'd' at the display.

The sound of the bell pulled him back to reality. The reality that there was still a huge age gap between them. One kiss couldn't change that no matter how magical it seemed. But the vulnerability he saw in her eyes tugged at him, and there was only one answer he wanted to give her in that moment.

"I was wrong."

I am toying with a part 2, but I'm going to mark it complete until I decide yay or nay. Would love to hear what you think! I know age gap isn't for some people. Does it make you uncomfortable? Would you rather have K or P be the older one in the relationship? LMK! Pbg