"You've got to be kidding me!" Peeta shouted at the windshield as his car slowed to a sputtering halt. Thankfully, he'd been able to maneuver it off onto the shoulder of the highway so as not to be a sitting duck out in the middle of the road. Not that it really mattered; he hadn't seen another car in over an hour and didn't expect to either. He cursed under his breath at his luck, or lack thereof.

His exit had just come into view—only half a mile away—when the steering wheel began to feel stiff as he was changing lanes. The inopportune timing just made everything a hundred times worse. He was already running late for dinner and the earlier meeting he'd had with his father's accountant had left him feeling guilty as fuck. Fate was laughing in his face, but maybe it served him right…maybe it was a sign.

The check engine light had flickered on well over a month ago, but he didn't think much of it at the time. The old clunker still started each morning, and so each week he told himself that he'd take it into the shop. One week turned to two, which somehow turned into four, which apparently had been one too many. It was days like these he wondered what ever possessed him to keep the damned thing; it belonged in a scrap yard, or with someone who could properly take care of it.

His head bounced off the steering wheel with a gentle thud as he closed his eyes and smacked at the dashboard, as though hitting it would fix the problem. In one last desperate attempt, he turned the key over but nothing happened—not even a pathetic clank or pop from the exhaust.

It was no use. He was stranded.

He was only about twenty minutes out of town, so he reached for his cell phone that was charging in the cup holder, but he paused after unlocking the screen and frowned. It dawned on him that there wasn't anyone he could call to drive out and get him. Releasing a frustrated sigh, he scrounged around the glove box until he located his old Triple-A membership card that was sandwiched between a wad of unused napkins and the owner's manual, which was still sealed away in pristine condition in the original plastic bag it came in when the car was passed on to him years ago.

Huh, he thought as he dialed the number. If only he'd taken the time to crack open the manual once in a blue moon, then maybe he wouldn't be in this mess.

The lady on the other end of the line was pleasant enough, but when she mentioned the name of the towing company that would be dispatched out to him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd heard of the name before.

To pass the time, he gathered up the rest of his belongings and anything of remote value and grabbed his laptop case from the backseat. There was no telling how long his car would be in the shop, so it was probably best to just take everything. After what seemed like hours (but was no more than ten minutes), a low rumble followed by a loud bang caused him to glance into the rearview mirror just in time to catch sight of an old, dingy tow truck as it pulled up behind him.

Peeta reached over to pop the trunk and grabbed his laptop case and phone before doing one last scan of the interior. As he slammed the door shut, he caught a glimpse of the driver and shook his head.

Typical.

The man took a not-so-discreet sip from a sliver flask before hopping down from the driver seat to greet Peeta. "Cars always choose the most inconvenient times to break down, don't they?"

"You're telling me," Peeta said as he grabbed his weekend bag from the trunk and slammed it shut. "Thanks for coming out so fast."

"No problem, what kind of shady operation would I be running if I wasn't on call twenty-four seven?" A corner of the man's mouth rose into a crooked grin. "Why don't you toss your bags in the truck and get settled? This shouldn't take more than a few minutes to get hooked up," he said as he started to lower the towing hook.

Peeta nodded and made his way to the passenger side to open the door. He held his breath as he hoisted himself up into the cab of the tow truck, taking a quick glance around before placing his bags on the center console and settling into the seat. The floor and dash were littered with empty plastic bottles and crushed Styrofoam coffee cups, balled-up napkins were strewn everywhere, and he kicked away a crumpled up Wendy's bag to make room for his laptop case. He released a deep breath as he shook his head.

He cringed as he reached over to buckle himself in, somewhat concerned as to what filth most likely covered the strap of the seat belt that rested against his clean, white button-up shirt. He hadn't thought to pack another in favor of travelling light, but when he looked down and noticed a brown and grey stain across the front of the strap and the distinct smell of oil radiating off of it, he frowned. When he lifted the belt off his chest and found it had left a mark, his cursed under his breath. Great. Just what he needed—a dry cleaning bill to go with his garage bill.

The sound of the winch reeling in caused Peeta to startle. He checked again to make sure his phone was tucked into the front pocket of his laptop case, but when he pulled it out he was disappointed to find that he had only one bar of power remaining. It was then he remembered that he'd left his charger at home, thinking he'd only need his car charger for the weekend. What else could go wrong?

As he tucked his phone back into his bag, the driver's side door swung open and in hopped the man. "You ain't from around here, are ya?" he said as he eyed Peeta's attire. He could tell by the way the man arched an eyebrow that he was no doubt branding him a city slicker by the look of his crisp starched shirt, gray slacks, and dress shoes.

Peeta sighed. He didn't always dress like this. In fact, he hated dressing up. It was only when he met with his lawyer or accountant that he felt the need to upgrade from his usual worn-in jeans and plaid shirt combo. After his meeting earlier in the day had run late, he couldn't be bothered to change. He was in a hurry to hit the road and start the two-hour drive back to his hometown. Besides, he had promised Delly he'd make it back in time to meet up with her for dinner.

"Actually," Peeta said as he began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. "I grew up here."

"You don't say!"

"Yeah, my father ran the bakery in town."

"Mellark's?" the man asked as he turned his head to give Peeta a second glance. "You're Jeb's son. I thought you looked familiar!" The scruffy man's face fell not moment later, taking on a serious look as he pursed his lips. "Your father was a good man, the whole town loved him."

Peeta smiled back with a nod but remained quiet.

It'd been two years since his father passed, which meant it'd been two years since he'd last been home. As much as he hated to admit it, there was nothing left for him here, except for an empty storefront and an empty house that held too many memories, good and bad, for Peeta to deal with. But he couldn't stay away forever, and those two exceptions were the reason of his return home.

After his father's funeral, both the bakery and the house sat idle while Peeta decided what was to become of them. The thought of moving back home crossed his mind on more than one occasion; he could fulfill his childhood dream of taking over the bakery and move into his old house. But at the time, it was too much too soon. Timing had never been on his side, and he was torn between his past and his potential future when he'd finally started to make a name for himself out in the city with his artwork. He wasn't ready for a career change quite yet…or at least that's what he kept telling himself.

The flicker of a flame caught Peeta's attention. "You don't mind, do you?" the man asked, although it didn't really matter considering the man was already puffing out a billowy cloud of smoke before Peeta could answer. Great. His stained shirt just wouldn't be complete without also smelling like an ashtray.

It wasn't long before he was desperate to open a window, his nostrils burning from the cigarette smoke, combined with the distinct scent of alcohol that was quite discernible on the man's rancid breath. Peeta swallowed back the building urge to puke as they continued down the highway at a painstakingly slow speed. At this rate, he was definitely not making it back in time for dinner with Delly.

What a great homecoming, he thought as they passed the town's welcome sign that hadn't changed since he was a boy—not that he expected it to. It was one of the few constants in his life that he could rely on, and in a way it was comforting.

After a few turns, they pulled up to the front of a dilapidated old building, the flickering streetlight above casting an almost strobe light effect on the sign overhead. Abernathy's Garage. The name finally clicked as Peeta put two and two together. Haymitch Abernathy. Veteran and town drunk. Or was. The man appeared to have cleaned himself up enough to make better use of his time.

"Why don't you head on inside and make yourself comfortable. I'll just drop your car off at the back and I'll be with you in about ten minutes."

Peeta left the man with a nod and collected his bags.

The strong scent of burnt coffee and motor oil invaded his nostrils the moment he swung open the door, expecting to find the interior in a similar state of disarray as the tow truck. However, the dimly lit waiting room was tidy and the floors were spotless. He settled into a seat in the far corner next to a door that was ajar and took the opportunity to check his messages, not surprised to find two already waiting for him from Delly.

As he typed out an apologetic response with his regrets that he wasn't going to make it to dinner, his foot began to tap in time with the rhythm of a familiar song that played from behind the door. To pass the time, he riffled through the collection of magazines on the table, hoping to find something entertaining. He didn't recognize any of the titles but eventually settled on an outdoor life magazine with a large deer posing majestically on the cover. His mind was elsewhere as he thumbed through the pages, glancing at the pictures and skimming the captions.

The weekend was going to be a trying and exhausting one, and it was already off to a great start.

He checked his phone after a while for the time, thinking ten minutes had passed by now since there was still no sign of Haymitch. Ten minutes turned to fifteen and fifteen turned to twenty. He grew antsy, his foot bouncing off the linoleum floor in time with the muffled beat from the music still coming from behind the door. All he wanted to do was get home and out of his clothes and maybe order in a pizza before crashing headfirst into his childhood bed. There was still a lot of work to be done around the house and he only had two days.

His ears perked up and his train of thought derailed when he heard a voice—a distinctly female voice—singing harmony along with the song playing in the background. An odd familiarity about the voice caused goose bumps to form along his arms and with his curiosity piqued, he abandoned his seat and crept over to the crack in the door, peering through in hopes of catching a glimpse of the voice's owner.

He couldn't see much from the poor lighting and a large toolbox that obstructed his view—he needed a better vantage point. He glanced over his shoulder and scanned the waiting room for any sign of Haymitch before sucking in a breath and slowly easing the door open a few more inches. As he brought his face closer to peer through the crack, a loud crash, followed by a string of expletives, caused him to stumble forward and reach for the door handle to steady himself. By the time he righted himself he could feel the heat creep up the back of his neck, certain that he'd been caught red-handed sneaking around and spying on the mysterious songstress. But he couldn't see anyone around, only the back of his car and the two black racing stripes on the hood that was propped open.

He took a few tentative steps further into the room and circled around his car, unsure of what to expect, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted a petite figure bent over the front of his car, wielding a wrench as she released another round of curses. He couldn't help but be drawn to the woman's backside, and even in loose coveralls the curves of her ass were apparent.

Not wanting to push his luck and get caught creeping around and staring like a peeping Tom, he cleared his throat and crossed his arms behind his back. When she didn't look up to acknowledge his presence, he tried again, a little louder this time as he took another step toward her. Still, the woman didn't move.

"Excuse me?" he finally said, raising his voice above the music and releasing his hands from behind his back, shoving them into his pockets.

The woman finally straightened, flipping her braid onto her back as she turned to greet him with a hardened scowl. But his breath caught in his throat the moment her stormy grey eyes locked on to his.

Holy shit.

Off all the places he could have ended up tonight, here he was, standing face to face with Katniss Everdeen. Perhaps fate had finally thrown him a bone and his timing had taken a turn in his favor.

He stared back at her, slack-jawed and wide-eyed as his mind went blank. She continued to stare right back at him, her eyes narrowing as she looked him over. Did she even know who he was? He wouldn't be surprised if she didn't; it's not like he'd made any sort of impression on her at any point in time, good or bad. But her eyes eventually softened as she opened her mouth to say something but remained quiet. He too was coming up short for words, at a complete loss as he took her in.

Damn. The years had been good to her. Really good. Better than good.

"What are you doing back here?" she finally asked, her tone flat as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sorry, I, uh, was just looking for Haymitch. He said he'd meet me out front after dropping off my car but, uh, he never showed up."

She looked to the car and then back over to him and said, "So this is yours?"

"Unfortunately yes, although maybe it's time I got rid of the piece of junk." He laughed nervously in hopes of cutting some of the tension, or whatever it was that was causing the air between them to thicken.

"It's a 1969 Chevy Camaro with a Turbo Hydra-Matic 350."

"Um, yeah, it is," he replied casually, although the year of the make was news to him and he had no fucking clue what a Turbo Hydra-Matic 350 was. All he really knew about the car was that it was orange, his favorite color, and that it'd seen better days.

"So then you'd know it's a classic muscle car…not a piece of junk." Despite her small frame and short stature, her challenging stance, in combination with her intimidating stare, made it known that she wasn't impressed with him. "And Haymitch got called out for another pickup, so don't expect him back any time soon."

"Uh, ok, thanks." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do or say next. "So, um, about my car…"

"Right, well, there's oil under your distributor cap," she said as she motioned under the hood of the car.

Peeta took a few tentative steps forward to stand next to her, the distinct smell of oil and something else—coconut?—filling his nose as she leaned in to rest her hands up on the hood. He chanced another brief glance at her before turning his attention back to the car, but he stared blankly at the maze of hoses and tubes, unsure if what she was talking about was supposed to mean something to him. He released a steady breath, trying to control the erratic thumping of his heart, still in shock from standing less than two feet away from Katniss Everdeen.

"Your distributor cap…" she tried again. He watched from the corner of his eye as she set down the wrench and fished out a rag from the back pocket of her coveralls.

He stared with rapt fascination as she wiped off her hands and then proceeded to lightly dab at the column of her neck and down along her collarbone and then towards the back of her shoulder. Even after wiping off her hands, he could see that her hands were still slightly blackened. Obviously after working around cars all day, the grease and oil she had to deal with had probably soaked into her skin. He wondered if it came off with just soap and water, or if she had to scrub it off with some special solvent. The image of her innocently washing her hands suddenly spiraled out of control and before he knew it he was picturing her as she stood under a steady stream of hot water, cupping her breasts with the palms of her hands before lathering up every inch of her body.

Fuck. He was such a pervert.

She arched an eyebrow at him as she tossed the dirty rag into a bin behind her, his silence no doubt leading her to believe he was a complete moron. He cleared his throat as he came to his senses and finally found his voice. "M-my what?"

"Your distributor cap," she repeated slowly as he straightened up to rest his hands against the edge of the car. She turned her head briefly, but when she took note of his bewildered expression, a hint of amusement tugged at the corner of her mouth. "There's oil under the distributor cap…which means there's a leak somewhere…"

Peeta furrowed his brow and nodded his head as she trailed off, still completely lost as to what she was talking about. If only he'd paid more attention in auto class back when he was in high school then maybe he wouldn't be standing here feeling like an absolute idiot. And her piercing stare wasn't helping any either.

She waited for a response, but when she didn't get one, she continued, "It's preventing the spark plugs from firing up…which in turn starts the engine…hence why your car won't start." She reached into her back pocket again, but this time she produced a clean white rag and tossed it at him with a smirk. "You got some grease on your hands; wouldn't want to ruin that fancy white shirt of yours, now would you?"

He caught the scrap of fabric against his chest and frowned. She was mocking him. The evidence that his shirt was already ruined by that damn seat belt from the tow truck was obvious. And it was even more obvious that she thought he was a pretentious city kid who'd somehow ended up stranded out in the boonies—although the second part was somewhat true.

When Peeta didn't answer, she turned to rest her backside against the car, crossing her arms over her chest. He tried to be inconspicuous as his eyes raked down her body, starting at the exposed skin of her neck which lead to her prominent collarbone and bare shoulders that were slick from the humidity of the confined space. His gaze continued further down to the white tank top that was stretched taut against her chest, the definition of her curves through the thin material confirming that she'd most definitely filled out over the years. The hem of her tank top stopped just above her navel, the dip of her bellybutton barely visible between her top and the arms of her coveralls that she had knotted tight around her waist. He sucked in his bottom lip as he admired the shape of her hips and the way they moved as she shifted her weight from side to side.

At the sound of her throat clearing, Peeta's eyes shot back up to find her staring back at him, a cocky grin spreading across her face as she picked up the wrench once again and twirled it about her finger. "So as I was saying, the problem is that your central shaft is worn, which is allowing oil to leak into your distributor…hence no spark to ignite your engine."

Oh, there was a spark all right. She was standing right in front of him and had already succeeded at setting off a chain reaction that left a blazing trail straight to his groin. And that damn knot just below her navel was like a beacon directing his gaze straight between her thighs. He ran a shaky hand through his hair before it came to rest along the back of his neck where he discreetly tried to wipe away the perspiration that had started to collect against his skin, not from the humidity of the muggy garage but rather the way she was staring him down while waiting for a response.

"Um, so how much will it cost? To fix my shaft…I mean distributor…or whatever it's called…" Shit. He could feel his face turning beet red as he trailed off hopelessly.

She chuckled and shot him a wry smile. "I'm sure we can work out a deal."

"Right, but how will I know if you're trying to screw me—" He sucked in a breath as she took a step closer towards him, leaning in close until her entire body hovered just inches away from his as she reached for something off the shelf behind him,"—over," he said under his breath, the end of his sentence coming out as more of a hopeful statement than a question.

"Oh, trust me," she said as she retracted her hand, the knuckle of her thumb grazing along his forearm, just below his rolled up sleeve. "You'd know."

Peeta could feel her warm breath against his face and when he inhaled, the crisp scent of wintergreen invaded his senses. His gaze dropped to her mouth where he caught a flash of dark green between her teeth as she chewed on her gum slowly. The hypnotic motion of her mouth caused his to water as he wondered if her lips and tongue tasted just as sweet as the smell of her breath.

"Normally this would be something I could fix in no time. Only problem is, I don't have the parts I need to fix it tonight. I can put a call in to have them here tomorrow, but it looks like you'll be out of a ride for the better part of the weekend."

"Oh, uh, right."

It wasn't such a big deal not having his car. Besides, he planned to spend most of the day tomorrow packing up the rest of the things he wanted to keep from the house. Then he planned to clean it from top to bottom to get it "show ready" for the real estate agent who had said she'd be by on Sunday afternoon to pick up the keys and start parading potential buyers through on Monday.

Once again, he was faced with the issue of how to get home. Delly didn't own a car, and he was drawing a blank as to which of his childhood friends still lived in the area. Not that it mattered; he didn't have anyone's phone number anyway. After leaving District 12 to attend art school in the city, he had slowly lost touch with his friends from home. It wasn't intentional; the fast-paced lifestyle and culture of the city combined with his desire to get his name out there and start building his portfolio was consuming and at times exhausting, leaving little time to return home to visit with his father, let alone catch up with his friends.

Besides his father, there was a short list of people he actually cared to see again during his occasional visits home. And the person at the top of that list didn't even know he existed. Until now.

"So is there someone who can come pick you up?" she asked.

"Uh, no. I guess I'll need to call a cab."

"Right." Her lips pursed as she rolled the handle of the wrench in her hand.

Peeta retrieved his phone from his back pocket, but when he touched the home screen to bring it to life, nothing happened. Great. He ran his free hand through his hair again before shoving the phone back in his pants. "Is there a phone I can use? Mine seems to have died."

He watched as Katniss gnawed on her bottom lip, her eyes shifting from the floor to his car a few times as though she was considering something. "Listen, my shift ends in about fifteen minutes. I'm heading back into town after, so I can give you a lift if you want."

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks! But uh, you sure you're okay giving rides to strangers?" He smiled and hoped the playfulness in his voice was obvious enough for her to catch on, and that he indeed was harmless.

She wrinkled her nose and shot him a curious glance. "Your dad's place is on my way home. I'm assuming that's where you're staying, right?"

His eyes widened…she knew who he was? "Um, yeah, at my old house, but…you know where I live?"

"Peeta, we went to school together. We'd been in the same class since kindergarten, and I'm pretty sure every kid growing up knew where the baker lived."

"Right," he answered, still shocked that she recognized him and even a little thrilled that she did. Maybe she hadn't been completely oblivious over the years to his presence, but then again, everyone knew his father and by association everyone knew he was the "baker's son."

Katniss looked away and blew out a heavy breath, the expression on her face hard to read. "You probably don't remember me, but I'm—"

"Katniss…Katniss Everdeen," he interrupted, a shy smile playing on his lips as he stared directly into her eyes. "Of course I remember you."

How could he forget? She had the starring role in the majority of his boyhood fantasies for as long as he could remember, not to mention she had been the subject of most of his sketches. But who was he kidding—she still was. He always thought he'd been pretty clear about his interest in her throughout most of high school when he'd finally grown the balls to act on his feelings. He was certain she'd caught him staring at her from across the classroom or in the hallway by their lockers on more than once occasion, but she never acknowledged him.

Perhaps fate was tossing him a second chance. A second chance to clear his conscience and finally tell her how he felt—still feels—about her.

He took a deep breath. "Katniss—"

"Everdeen!" The gruff voice of the tow truck driver echoed through the garage, causing Peeta to jump in his skin.

A faint smile tugged at her lips, but her face turned serious and she took a step back when the surly old man reappeared from the front of the shop.

"Back so soon, old man?" she said flatly, tossing the wrench onto the workbench behind her.

"Yeah, false alarm." He looked between Peeta and Katniss, a wry smiling spreading across his face as though he'd just interrupted something. "You 'bout done in here? I'm ready to call it night, whatdya say, Sweetheart?"

Katniss nodded before turning her back to Peeta, striding back over to his car to release the hood. "Yeah, should be able to have it up and running by tomorrow." She leaned back against the front of the car and folded her arms across her chest.

"You gotta ride, boy?" Haymitch asked.

Peeta looked over to Katniss quickly before dropping his gaze to the floor and rubbing the back of his neck. "I, uh, yeah, I think so."

"You can wait up front if you want. I wouldn't blame you. Company around here tends to be a little rough around the edges." Haymitch cut a sarcastic glace over at Katniss, who responded with a roll of her eyes.

"No, that's alright," Peeta said, trying to keep a straight face as Katniss flipped her boss the bird when his back was turned. "I'll just wait back here. My ride's about ready to leave."

Haymitch shot him a knowing look before glancing between them one last time. "Suit yourself." As he turned to stagger back to the front of the shop, he swore he heard the old drunk mutter under his breath, "Damn kids."

Peeta turned back to Katniss, but froze in place when he saw her reach for the knot at her waist and begin to undo it. Holy fuck. Was she seriously going to undress in front of him? He couldn't avert his eyes even if he tried, and he watched with heated anticipation as she dropped the coveralls, wondering if she wore the plain white cotton panties he pictured in all his fantasies or something a little more…exotic. He chided himself though and shook his head when he realized she was wearing a pair of jeans underneath, but it was too late. His body had already betrayed him and he tried to inconspicuously shift the growing bulge in his pants.

"Alright, why don't you go grab your stuff and meet me out back," she said as she tossed her coveralls into another bin, completely unaware that he'd just been ogling her like a horny teenager. "My car is the only one in the lot. I'll put in the call for your parts and I'll be out in a few minutes."

After quickly filling out some paperwork with his contact information at the front desk, he collected his laptop and overnight bag and bid farewell to Haymitch, who was sitting back in his chair with his boots propped up against the wall and his silver flask in hand. The man mumbled something that Peeta didn't quite catch as he tossed the papers on top of a pile. Haymitch grinned back at Peeta, raising his flask before taking a long drag from the spout. Peeta shook his head as he let himself out the front door and made his way to the back parking lot. Some people never change.

His heart began to race again when he spotted Katniss already waiting for him by an old Jeep. He was slightly taken aback by the lack of doors and roof, wondering if the steel bars that appeared to act as a roll cage were really necessary. But then again, this was Katniss Everdeen—she lived and breathed the outdoors, so in actuality her choice of vehicle suited her entirely.

"Just toss your stuff in the back," she said over her shoulder as she hopped into the driver's seat, her glossy black braid whipping around to hang down over the back of the seat cushions. After taking a deep breath to collect himself, he climbed into the passenger seat and smiled to himself when she turned the FM dial to the old rock station his father used to listen to in the bakery.

As they made their way out onto the highway, she absentmindedly tapped out a rhythm along the steering wheel with her fingers. She seemed to be content with the lack of conversation, but it made him anxious. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her, the most pressing whether or not she was single, but he wasn't sure how to go about it without sounding like a creep. Casual, he thought. Start out casual.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, how'd you end up working at the auto shop? And with Haymitch of all people?"

She turned her head and narrowed her eyes. "Why, is there something wrong with being a mechanic?"

"No, no, not at all, that's uh, not what I meant. I just thought…that you, uh…"

Damn it. So much for keeping it casual.

Here he was, Peeta Mellark, known for his skills of capturing an audience and schmoozing a crowd, reduced to the bumbling tenth grader he was back in high school all because he was sitting next to Katniss Everdeen, who was completely oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

Katniss chuckled. "I didn't aspire to become a mechanic if that's what you're asking. I went to college and ended up graduating with a science degree. So being a mechanic isn't my day job. I'm just helping Haymitch out since one of his guys quit last month."

"Oh, well that's nice of you. So, what's your day job then?"

"I work in the parks department for the district."

"That's great!" He couldn't contain his smile knowing that she was completely in her element out in the woods and that the job suited her perfectly.

"So what about you? How are things going with the art career?"

"It's going. I had a showing last month that I was hoping would get me in touch with a few other potential buyers, but I, uh…haven't heard anything back yet."

She took him off guard when she released her hand from the gear shift to reach over and squeeze his hand, which rested on top of his thigh. "Yeah, I heard about your show, but I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."

The unexpected contact caused his head to spin, the soft skin of her fingers burning an invisible print onto the back of his hand. The thrumming of his heart picked up as he considered turning his palm over to grab hold of her hand, but that would be crossing the line, he was sure of it. But she didn't remove her hand and neither did he. Instead, he tried to remain calm as he responded in a controlled voice. "You knew about that?"

He spied a blush creep across her face as she shifted in her seat, finally moving her hand back to the shifter and staring out at the road in front of her. "Well, yeah, it was in the paper. You're one of the biggest things to come out of the district, so the papers like to keep tabs on you every once in a while."

He watched her in awe, completely taken aback by the fact that over the years she, of all people, had paid attention to his career. Despite the sudden change in her demeanor, he silently willed her to look back at him, hoping to find sincerity in her eyes with regards to her unexpected curiously about him. Unfortunately the moment had passed, and silence once again filled the space between them.

Before he knew it, they had turned down the familiar street he'd grown up on. Nothing looked different, except for perhaps a few trees that had grown or a house here or there that looked to have been weathered from the elements over the years.

As they pulled up to the darkened house, Peeta couldn't help but hold his breath as a wave of emotions flooded his mind. There were so many memories locked up in that house, some bad, some good, but the one thing he was most anxious about was walking through the door where he was certain to be greeted by an overwhelming sense of loneliness. And right now he really didn't want to be alone.

Katniss cleared her throat as if sensing his hesitation. "So, any plans for the weekend?"

Her question caught him off guard. She was making a habit of it today apparently. "Well, I was supposed to meet up with Delly tonight for dinner—"

"Delly Cartwright?" Her eyes widened and the hint of shock—and disappointment?—in her voice caused him to cringe. Did he say something wrong?

"Um…yeah…" he trailed off, sinking back into the seat.

Her face hardened momentarily before she forced an apologetic smile. "Well, I'm sorry your missed your date."

"Oh, no, it was nothing like that," he quickly replied, the disappointed look upon her face softening as he continued. "Delly's been kind enough to look after the bakery and the house while I've been away. We were just meeting up so she could give me back her set of keys. I'm, uh, putting them both up for sale next week."

Katniss's grip on the steering wheel visibly tightened before she looked away from him, her eyes staring out through the windshield. "Oh."

When she didn't look back at him or attempt to say anything else, he took it as his cue to leave. He inched his way off the seat and hopped down to the sidewalk, pausing to glance back at her one more time before retrieving his bags from the back.

The underlying awkwardness of their conversation did little to ease the apprehension between them. He didn't want to leave her like this, not when the growing urge to set the record straight about his feelings was eating away at his sanity. Besides, this was his second chance, wasn't it? He'd be a fool not to take. He set down his bags and steadied his nerves.

"Katniss," he started, her face turning at the sound of his voice. "Are you busy tomorrow? I mean, besides fixing my car that is, but afterwards?"

There. She was in the driver's seat now—physically and figuratively speaking. It was all up to her as to where they went from here, and he hoped to God that he wasn't reading too much into the signals he thought he was seeing.

She stared at him, her grey eyes unyielding as to what was going on behind her unreadable face. Her silence was slowly yet surely chipping away at his waning confidence, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair as he sucked in a breath and held it.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

Shit. She was going to make him come out and say it.

"Well, if you're not busy, I was wondering if maybe you, uh, wanted to do something…with me…" She arched a curious eyebrow at him as he began to rock back and forth on his heels. "That is, if you're not busy," he repeated again, his voice rushed and flustered. "Or seeing anyone of course..."

"Actually, yeah, I am."

His face fell immediately, the unforeseen feel of rejection hitting him square in the chest like a Mac truck. Of course she was seeing someone, why on earth would she be single? Despite his crushed hopes and his wounded pride, he quickly recovered with a tight smile and curt nod of his head.

"That's cool, um, never mind. I guess I'll see you when I pick up my car then." He muttered a casual "good-bye" as he dragged a heavy foot against the sidewalk, turning to pick his bags up off the ground.

"No wait!" she shouted, causing him to spin back around to face her. "That's not what I meant, I, uh, I mean no, I'm not seeing anyone, but yeah I have plans…but uh, you can join me…if you really want to…" She dropped her gaze as she trailed off and reached up to toy with the end of her braid.

His chest filled with renewed hope and a slow smile crept across his face as he watched her; the way she was fidgeting was adorable and it made him realize that maybe he wasn't delusional with reading her before.

"Katniss," he said firmly to capture her attention, and she looked up. He took a step towards the Jeep and grinned. "Of course I want to, I'm the one that asked you in the first place, remember?"

She finally smiled back at him, her nose crinkling as she nodded her head. "Right."

"So, uh, normally I'd say I'll pick you up, but I guess given the circumstances, that's not really an option." He chuckled as he scratched his nose with the back of his thumb.

"Don't worry, no need for formalities, it's not like this is a date…or anything…"

Peeta's smile faltered at her words, but the way she left her statement hanging in the air made him wonder if perhaps she'd done it on purpose, leaving the interpretation completely up to him.

But if it wasn't a date, then what was it?

Before he could begin to process the meaning behind it, she cleared her throat and lowered her hand to the gear shift. "So, how about I pick you up around four?"

"Yeah, sounds good!" Despite the vagueness she'd left him with, Peeta couldn't hold back the shit-eating grin that was threatening to split his face as he finally pried himself away from the vehicle. "So, uh, where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise."

Katniss grinned back at him as the Jeep roared back to life, the mischievous glint in her eye sending a bolt of electricity to shoot up his spine before she winked.

"Don't worry, city boy, I promise I'll keep you alive."

Author's Note: Hello again! I wrote this story as part of the Stories 2 Save Lives (S2SL) fundraiser that my dear friend Streetlightlove hosted back in February, if you're not familiar with it I would suggest checking it out over on tumblr at S2SL :) Although this story was written as a one shot I will be posting it as four chapters here. I hope you enjoy it! Huge thanks to the wonderful Court for really pushing me on this one and keeping me motivated until I was happy with it and thanks to Dispathesfromdistrict7 for being an extra pair of well needed eyes and of course to Ro Nordmann for the cover art (she always blows me away!). All of these talented ladies have also written pieces for this wonderful charity event that you should definitely check out. Lastly, all the awards go to the amazing Streetlightlove and her husband for their time and effort in organizing this wonderful event! Thank you so much for reading!