Finally, finally, FINALLY! The new chapter is up! I'm so sorry you had to wait all this time. I hope you're gonna like the new adventure of our sexy doctor.

Thanks to spcecadet on tumblr for pre-reading and betaing this.

All mistakes are mine.

I don't own THG or any of its characters.

Chapter 2. Why bringing your fuck buddy to your ex's wedding is a really bad idea

I move wearily through the Pediatric ward, careful not to meet anyone's eyes while looking around to find someone to save me.

I hate it here. It's not because I don't like to see sick kids. I'm a doctor, I'm used to sick people. I just don't know what to do around kids. I'm awkward and uncomfortable around them, so I try my best to stay the hell away from kids. I come to this part of the hospital only if strictly necessary. Meaning, if I can't get in contact with the doctors working here. Like in this case.

Last Wednesday, a girl with a severe mitral stenosis arrived at PMH. After some important surgeries I have been doing by myself - even though under his watchful eye - Abernathy has decided I'm ready to fly solo. I think I was ready last year, but I can't exactly protest about that.

The last few days, I've been studying the case very carefully. It's a tricky surgery, the girl needs a prosthetic valve and it won't be easy to perform it. But I'm positive I can do it. Just, I'm not sure how much this girl can take. I don't really like Dr. Titus, the pediatric surgeon that is supposed to help me with the case. He is very irritating, unprofessional, and, if you ask me, quite unprepared. Whatever he does, he always messes up royally. I have no idea how he made it through med school, honestly. So, this morning I asked Dr. Cresta, the Chief surgeon of Pediatric Surgery, for a consult. Which hasn't come, yet. That's why I'm here.

I feel really relieved when I spot a very familiar red ponytail at the nurses' desk.

"Lavinia, have you seen Dr. Cresta?" I ask the nurse while walking towards the desk.

She looks up from some papers. "Good afternoon, Dr. Everdeen. Give me a second." She swipes her tablet on and checks the doctors' schedules. "Her shift finished ten minutes ago. I think you can find her in the changing room, or in her office."

I smile at her in gratitude and turn towards Dr. Cresta's office. I'm in luck, sort of. The doctor is leaving her office right now, following her annoying husband, Dr. Odair.

I wouldn't exactly say that I hate the man, but God, is he irritating. There's no denying he is one of the most good-looking men I've ever seen, with his swimmer's physique, copper hair and sea-foam eyes – maybe I know only one guy who looks better – and everyone at the hospital thinks that, too. Dr. Cresta is lucky that he has eyes for her only. I heard he was the ultimate Casanova before he met her – which in some ways reminds me of someone else. The problem with him is that he likes to think himself very funny, and he likes to know everything about everyone. The biggest gossip in the whole hospital. It's like he can smell the secrets around you. That's why I usually stay clear of him, I don't want him to pick up something from me.

He smiles when he sees me. "Dr. Katniss! What can we do for you?"

I don't like the tone he uses, as if he knows something that I don't. "You, Dr. Odair, nothing. But your wife can."

"What is it?" Dr. Cresta asks me as she struggle to button-up her jacket over her protruding belly.

I swallow, trying with all my might not to look down in dread. Here's another category of people that I find myself ill at ease with: pregnant women. It is probably because of the obvious connection with kids. "The... The consult I asked you this morning."

She blinks at me twice, a half smile on her lips and her brow furrowed as if she doesn't understand what I'm talking about. Then something must click in her head, because she swears under her breath and lightly hits her forehead. "I'm so sorry, Everdeen! I completely forgot! Pregnancy hormones do that to me." Dr. Cresta starts rummaging around in her briefcase and fishes out her planner. "I usually write everything down so I don't forget it." She browses through the pages, stops at one and reads. "And I forgot to write it down."

I don't know what to say. I can't exactly scream at her. She's my superior, is pregnant, and looks like she could start ugly crying any moment now.

"Aw, babe. It's not your fault." Dr. Odair says as he wraps an arm around his wife's shoulders and kisses her head. He looks more amused than concerned. He is not pregnant, so I don't feel guilty when I glare at him.

"It's fine, Dr. Cresta. Maybe you could do it now?"

Her expression changes from extremely distressed to extremely reluctant. "But I'm tired and my shift's already over! I want to go home and take a bath. Can't it wait till tomorrow?" she whines. Mood-swings. That's great.

"But it's important, Dr. Cresta. And urgent." I try.

"Which doctor is on the case with you?"

"Dr. Titus."

"Why are you asking me, then?"

I give her a pointed look. She knows why.

Dr. Cresta seems to realize the answer to her question on her own. She sighs. "If you can't wait, you could ask Peeta. He is doing his rounds."

I like to think that lately I've developed the perfect poker face whenever he is mentioned. My expression doesn't change, my body doesn't move, my voice doesn't crack. But I'm probably delusional because I feel the blush starting at my hairline and spreading to my cheeks and chest. I also notice Dr. Odair's eyebrows lifting slightly, and there's a suspicious twinkle in his eyes.

I do my best to sound indifferent. "Not to be disrespectful but why should I ask Mellark? He's still just a resident."

"Well, so are you. And you are about to do a major surgery on your own." Dr. Cresta points out.

I would really like to protest, but Dr. Odair asks, "Why don't you want to ask Dr. Peeta? Is there a problem between you two?"

It's really something strange to admit but there's no problem at all lately. Mellark and I are going along incredibly well, mostly because he is no longer a threat to my job now that Dr. Cresta has made him her assistant. And that other thing, too. But when we are at the hospital, apart from the occasional chit-chat in the hallways and sitting at the same table at lunch together with Madge and – surprisingly – Johanna Mason, I avoid being seen alone with him. I don't want people to start assuming things – which they probably already are, considering Odair's question. And maybe, just maybe, because I feel that I'm not completely in control of my actions when he is around.

"Not at all. I'll ask him immediately. Have a nice evening." I say, then walk away.

I find Mellark in a little girl's room, writing something down on his tablet. I don't know what they're talking about, but he and the girl's parents are laughing while the girl looks a bit annoyed. I stay out of the room, watching him interact with his patient.

"When can I go home, Peeta?" she asks.

"First, you poop. Then you can go home. And it's Dr. Mellark." he says, pointing his finger at her but still smiling.

"I'll call you that if you send me home."

"Honey!" her mother tries to scold her.

"It's not a negotiation, kiddo. You poop, you go."

I'm fascinated by the ease with which Peeta can make everyone feel comfortable around him. Everything he does or says is socially flawless, even when he talks about poop, and he can create a friendly relationship with his patients and their families while still being incredibly professional. I am one of the best doctors this hospital has ever seen, but I can't do what he does. People often say that I'm cold, sometimes even rude. Not that I care. But I'm sort of bothered by the fact that this man seems to have everything. Intelligence, wit, looks, even a bit of swag – the last one is the thing that annoys me the most about him.

If someone had told me four months ago that I would be sleeping with Peeta Mellark, I would have laughed in their face and told them to fuck themselves. But here I am, and here he is, and I hate how hot he looks with his scrubs on.

After our first "encounter", I avoided Mellark like the plague. I couldn't find the courage to look him in the face, as much as I couldn't look at my own reflection in the mirror for a while. I couldn't believe I had fallen his victim, like all those other women that I pitied for so long. I couldn't believe that I let him leave little bruises over the skin of my neck and chest.

Something in our relationship had shifted. At first I thought it was just the shame eating at me. It took me a while to realize that what actually made me blush and made my heart suddenly jump whenever I saw him was desire, more than anything else.

After that, things got even worse. I couldn't be alone with him without fearing of doing something awful, like pleading. Once, I had to hide myself in the ladies restroom for a whole fifteen minutes because he had me so worked up with just a very intense look from across the hall. There was no denying that he had done something to me. I tried to recreate that day in the on-call room by myself, but to no avail. My body craved something that I couldn't get without help. And I knew, despite my reluctance to admit it, that the only person that could give me that help was Mellark.

So, one day, after two awkwardly frustrating months, during one of the most awkward elevator rides in history, I simply exploded. I hadn't seen him around with any woman from or outside the hospital during that time, so I imagined that he was in my same predicament. Especially because of that said look, and many others. So I stopped the elevator and straight up told him that we had to fuck again.

And we did. Oh, we did alright.

We worked on an agreement. We both needed to work off some steam. We were good at it together. We should keep doing that. And so we are doing.

I'm – very unprofessionally, I have to admit it – thinking about a particular session at his place when he wanted to mix sex and food and I had a chance to bite one of his firm buns. That's why I jump when he turns around and catches me ogling him. He doesn't complain, though. "Dr. Everdeen. What can I do for you?" I don't miss the slightly suggesting tone.

I clear my throat. "Dr. Mellark, do you have time for a consult?"

"Of course" he smiles. He says goodbye to the family and follows me in the aisle.

The moment he sees an on-call room, Mellark puts a hand on the small of my back and slightly pushes me towards it, careful not to be seen.

I freeze in the middle of the hallway. "What are you doing?" I ask him, my brow furrowing in confusion.

"You wanted a consult..." he lifts his eyebrows expectantly, as if my request had a second meaning I didn't understand.

"Yes, about a girl with mitral stenosis. Dr. Cresta told me to ask you."

Mellark looks at me in confusion. When he realizes I'm serious, his eyes get comically wide and he blushes slightly. "Oh! You wanted a consult!"

"That's what I've been saying."

I have to admit it, flustered Peeta is a show I'd pay to see. It's a very rare sight. I have to enjoy it as long as it lasts. "What were you thinking?" I ask him trying to hide a teasing smile, perfectly aware of what he thought this was.

"Nothing! I mean- You know..." he jerks his head twice towards the on-call room's door. At my unimpressed look, he hurries to explain. "It's not that I was expecting you to... you know... It's just... It's been a couple of days since the last time." He looks around to make sure we are not getting someone's attention. He then leans towards me and whispers in my ear, "And I miss your pretty pussy."

A twinge of unexpected pleasure darts to my hither regions, and I have to bite my bottom lip to avoid the moan elicited by his dirty mouth. He is right. It's been almost a week since the last time we fucked. And he fucked me so thoroughly that I walked funny all day after. I don't know how I managed not to jump him every time I saw him these past days. Probably it's the fact that we were both pretty busy lately, between OR and pre and post op. Plus, I don't want to have sex at the hospital again. You never know who could walk in on you, or see you sneak out of the room. That doesn't mean the situation doesn't need to change.

"No sex here, Mellark." I whisper back and he pouts adorably. Could he look more like a puppy lab?

"Okay..." he says in a tone so much like that of his little patients.

I smile a little. "When does your shift end?" I ask him.

He checks his watch. "Just in time for me to finish my rounds."

Good. I have the evening free, too. The first one this week. And after the consult, I'm positive that I'll have a clear plan of action for my patient. It needs celebration. "Okay. You go home, prepare something to eat, and then take it to my place. If you are lucky, you'll find me naked."

His perfectly crooked smile lights up his face. "Seems a fair deal."

I nod. "Now, about that consult."

When I open the door, Mellark's eyes immediately follow the lines of my naked body, slowly raking it from top to bottom. He doesn't look shocked or fazed, but he lets in a deep breath that tells me I managed the desired effect. I hadn't realized until earlier how much I needed this. When I came home to get things ready, just thinking about what his reaction would have been had me all hot and bothered.

He licks his lips before settling his gaze on my face. "What if it wasn't me?" he asks.

I shrug. "This is what peepholes are made for."

"Don't you have any neighbors?"

"The only one that could see me is Mr. Thread, and he is not home."

Mellark lifts an eyebrow and smiles in challenge. "How do you know that?"

My smile is seductive. I hope. "I checked." I say as I lean against the door jamb.

"And wh-"

I huff, smile gone because of his insistence on talking, and lift my hand in front of him to stop his question before he has time to finish it. "Mellark, I'm naked at my front door. How long are you still gonna blabber?"

He shuts up. The door closes with a bang as he kicks it and grabs a hold of me. I hear the bump of something hitting the floor, probably the Tupperware he used for carrying our dinner. But I can't give it much thought, not when Peeta's hungry mouth is locked with mine in a heated kiss, his hands raking my body, his fingers digging into my flesh and eliciting ecstatic moans. His hands are a bit cold, but I don't mind it. I barely even feel the corner of the wall that goes from the front door to the living room when we bump into it.

Peeta pins me against the wall, hips against hips, and I can already feel how much he needed this, too. It only makes my need even stronger.

My fingers comb and tug at his golden hair before swiftly moving to unbutton his coat and shirt. When his torso is exposed, I take a moment to let my short nails scrape the skin of his broad shoulders and hard chest. He groans. I love this sound.

Peeta's fingers move between my thighs, and even the lightest of frictions already feels so good. But I have different plans tonight. At least for now.

"No." I say as I move away his hand. Peeta looks at me puzzled, heavy breathing. The hand on his chest squeezes his pec. "I need you."

The intensity of his gaze is overwhelming. He lifts me up effortlessly and guides my legs and arms around him. In the months we have been going at it, he must have memorized the plan of my apartment, because we don't bump into any furniture despite being otherwise preoccupied.

He lets me slide across his body when we arrive at the couch, gently pushing me backwards. I'm flat on the couch, my legs slightly open across the armrest so he can position himself between them. I look up at him and smile teasingly while slowly brushing the side of my breast. I think it drives him crazy when I touch myself.

He all but jumps on me. His mouth immediately attaches itself on me. His hands squeeze my breasts as he grazes my collar bones with his teeth and leaves a wet kiss at the hollow of my throat. Oh, the things he can do with that mouth of his. But I don't have time to waste. I'm a woman on a mission.

I use my right leg and arm as levers against the couch and somehow manage to roll Peeta off of me. But he has a good grip on me, so we both tumble to the floor with me on top. Right where I wanted.

"Ouch." he mumbles massaging the back of his head.

I try not to smile. "Sorry."

He looks up at me through squinted eyes but there's a smile playing on his lips. "You don't look even remotely sorry."

I shrug nonchalantly and my hands are back in action. I easily unzip his jeans as he reaches to the right front pocket and retrieves a condom. Then he helps me pull the jeans and underwear out of the way.

I roll the condom on his shaft in a second but take my sweet time taking him in. And when he's in to the hilt, I just have to stay still for a moment and enjoy the oh, so delicious way his dick stretches me.

We start moving in sync, sensuously, guided by the same purpose. I gyrate my hips and he squeezes my right thigh. His other hand slowly slides up my body, stops in the valley between my breasts, his long fingers barely skimming my collarbones.

I quite enjoy the expression on Peeta's face. Jaw clenched, eyes burning, tongue that sometimes sneaks out of his mouth to wet his lips. It's really an amazing look on him. And it has an effect on me, too. It makes me feel beautiful, desired, powerful.

For as much as a boost to my ego this is, it isn't enough. I'm in desperate need of a release. So I pick up the time and intensity of my thrusts. Enough to make Peeta arch under me.

Apparently all these days without going at it were too much for Peeta. I feel him start to shiver a bit like he does when a big climax is on its way. But he is a generous lover, I know he won't leave me high and dry.

Sure enough, he sits up, wraps an arm around my waist, and starts rubbing fast circles on my clit with the thumb of his free hand. I change my position so that my feet are planted on the floor and he hits something inside me that feels just – oh, perfect!

It doesn't take much longer for me to explode, head thrown backwards, inner walls clamping deliciously around him. My orgasm seems to generate his, as he moans for the last time and squeezes my waist just a bit tighter.

Peeta still has a good hold on me, so he pulls me down with him when he falls back on the floor. He loosens his grip just enough for me to roll off of him. I register the coffee table mere millimeters away from me. Better be careful when I get up.

We stay there for a while, looking at the ceiling, just enjoying the scrumptious post-sex blissfulness.

"That was... Wow." he says.

"Yeah."

From the corner of my eye I see Peeta lift up his head. "I still have my shoes on." He wiggles his feet, jeans wrapped around his ankles.

I snort. "Not the first time." Probably, not even the last.

He chuckles. After another minute of silence, he says, "I'm hungry now. Are you hungry?"

Now that he makes me think about it, I'm famished. And my stomach decides it's the best moment to make itself be heard.

Peeta chuckles again. "Stay put. I'm on it." He puts his jeans back on and goes to the bin to get rid of the used condom.

I sneak a peek at the way those jeans perfectly embrace his fine ass when he bends to pick up the Tupperware he brought here. I just barely notice that he hesitates a second and picks up something else from under the umbrella stand next the front door, too. A slip of paper.

"Looks like a wedding invitation." he says coming back to the living room. "Do you know... Leevy and Gale?"

I would have shot straight up if it weren't for the coffee table. I painfully hit my shoulder on its side and fall back. "Shit."

I had completely forgotten about it. Not about the wedding. I highly doubt I could ever forget about the wedding.

I received the "save the date" card a couple of months ago. When I first found it in my mailbox, my first thought was, "How the hell did they get my address?". Then I sat on my couch, I don't know for how long. Not even thinking, just looking at the goddamned card.

I wasn't exactly surprised I had received it. When your family has been best friends for generations with your ex's family, there's no way you wouldn't get one. It would look quite weird and obvious for the whole family but one person to be invited. And I'm not entirely sure Leevy Jones would disagree.

She was my neighbor back in Pennsylvania. We weren't exactly friends, but we used to talk a bit sometimes. She was alright, but, for some strange reason, I always had this feeling that she was trying to be me. Not like me. Me.

We've always looked kind of similar. The same dark hair and gray eyes, even similar features. Same height, same size. We are of the same age, so throughout school I shared almost all my classes with her. She tried to be in most of my clubs, too. She even had clothes similar to mine. But when I was younger I was so focused on getting to where I wanted to be that confronting her about all this stuff wasn't at the top of my to do list. Not even when it concerned Gale.

It was quite obvious Leevy had a huge crush on Gale. I had caught her many times staring at him. Once we were having our lunch in the school garden and Gale was playing football with some friends when he suddenly had put his foot in the wrong position and fell, spraining his ankle. Leevy was at his side before me. And she was the one running to the nurse's office to tell the nurse Gale was coming. But I've never been the jealous type and, again, I was too busy to care.

They got together the year after I started college. When I was at PSU I used to go back home quite often, so it wasn't rare for me to see them together. I didn't mind at all that Gale had found someone else. He had made his decision when he had dumped me, I had accepted it and moved on with my life. I was glad that he wasn't still hung up on me. The first months of college he had tried to reconnect, saying that we had been best friends for a long time before anything between us had happened, that we shouldn't throw it all away. But it was really difficult, it was evident that things still couldn't get back to normal. So eventually we stopped seeing each other and effectively threw it all away.

After I moved to Washington, all the news about Gale came from my sister Prim and my mother. They didn't do that with malice or pity. They only thought I wanted to know that stuff. I didn't, but I let them tell me anyway.

So I knew about Gale and Leevy getting their own place, and I knew about how much Hazelle, Gale's mum, was happy of having Leevy in the family, and I knew he had proposed.

So, I couldn't exactly understand why I was so baffled by the card. At the end I just put it in the trash and didn't think about it. At least until I got the invitation. I gave it only a brief look before going back to shift through the bills. It must have slipped from my hand and ended up under the umbrella stand. I didn't think about this one, either.

But now, here it is, in Mellark's hand, and somehow it all feels wrong.

"Are you okay?" Mellark asks me.

"Yeah." I sit up more carefully and grab the comforter on the couch to wrap it around me. I don't feel like being naked right now.

Mellark doesn't say anything. He just sits on the couch and puts the dinner on the coffee table. Pasta with vegetables. He even brought his own cutlery. He starts eating without me.

"She was my neighbor back home." I tell him suddenly.

He hums. I don't know what prompted me to do so. Maybe I don't realize it but I just want to talk about it. This is not a conversation that I'm dying to have with anybody in general. Especially because it wouldn't be completely honest if I didn't tell him about Gale, too. I don't know. I'm honestly not that sure that I want to know. But I'm already saying it.

"He was my boyfriend."

Mellark almost chokes on a bite of broccoli. "What?" he says in between coughing.

"He was my boyfriend." I repeat.

"I got it the first time." He looks pretty serious for a moment. He picks up the card from the table where he had discarded it and reads it again, as if there is something on it he didn't notice before. He looks back at me. "How are you?"

I shrug, but hug the comforter tighter around me. "I don't care."

I'm not looking at him now, preferring to focus on the new task of filling my empty stomach. But I can feel his eyes on me, probably trying to discover some signs of my true feelings.

"Will you go alone? I mean, aside from your family."

"Yep." I answer, spearing my pasta.

He is silent for a long time, enough to make me wonder if he's alright. I turn to him and immediately am paralyzed by the intensity in his eyes. I'm still not used to the rapidity in which Mellark can change his entire demeanor. He was smiling and being silly just a moment ago, and now he is looking at me with determination and some other kind of emotion that I can't quite figure out. But it is somehow engraving itself in my head so that I probably will never be able to forget it.

I try to shake myself from the paralysis. "What?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

Okay, spell definitely broken. Now I feel annoyed, especially because of that expression on his face. But I ask him anyway. "Why so?"

"How long have you two dated?"

I don't know where this is going to. "All through high school."

"And how many people invited to the wedding will be thinking that you should have been the one wearing white?"

I think about it for the first time and... damn, he may be right. I know there won't be anybody not pitying me for being invited to the wedding that, according to them, should be mine. I'm scared to even fathom what everyone will say if I go on my own.

But I don't know anybody that will want to go to this wedding with me. Lately I only talk with doctors, nurses, and patients, and they're not exactly people that I would want around me on such an occasion. The only man I have a somewhat non superficial relationship with is Mellark and– Wait a minute. Why would he bring up a sore subject like my ex's wedding? And why would he suggest going with a date?

"Are you perhaps inviting yourself to my ex's wedding, Mellark?" I ask, watching him suspiciously. No way I'm bringing my fuck buddy to my ex's wedding.

I try to imagine a world where Peeta and Gale coexist in the same room. The man I'm sleeping with and the one I didn't have much time for. And no, it doesn't seem right, or even possible. These are just two aspects of my life that shouldn't ever cross. Plus, c'mon! I can't take Mellark to my hometown to meet my family. What if someone there discovers the true nature of our relationship? How can I exactly tell my parents I'm bringing my friend with benefits to this kind of event? And what will everybody think seeing me with him? He doesn't exactly go unnoticed.

He scoffs. "I would never do that. Who would want to be dragged right into all that drama waiting to happen?" He is kinda right, but I don't completely trust him, yet. "I only think that, if you have to be the other center of the attention, you should at least give them someone hot to talk about."

I feel like he is talking about himself, but I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. Especially because he gave me something to think about. Do I want to go on my own to prove some kind of point? Do I want to go with someone so people won't talk about me that much? Do I want to go at all?

Peeta surprises me again with his next exit. "I don't like the idea of you being there alone."

Again that tone. Again that thing at the bottom of his eyes that I'm starting to think could be able to cause some kind of disaster in my head.

And after that he once again changes topic and expression in a second. And I'm left there, half naked and confused, to ponder what the hell is wrong with this man.

"Rory was asking when I think you will answer Gale and Leevy."

Oh, Prim. My beautiful, smart sister. She is in San Francisco now, attending her first year of residency. I'm so proud of her. But right now, I'm mostly irritated. And I'm even more irritated by the fact that I'm talking at the phone in the changing room of the hospital and I can't freely express the right amount of irritation I'm experiencing right now.

I should remember that she is best friend with Gale's little brother, Rory. And I should remember that she tends to think that I'm acting a bit childishly in this situation. Which could be true, but I won't certainly admit it to her, for as much as I love her.

"Prim, not you, too. Mum has already been torturing me about it for the last month." The lovely Vivienne Everdeen doesn't miss a chance to remind me of the ties between the Hawthornes and us. Which is really nice of her.

From the other side of the phone, Prim sounds like she is the elder sister. "Katniss, I get it. You don't know what to do. But don't you think that not telling even if you're going or not is a bit too much?"

I huff. "I'm pondering."

"What are you pondering about? If you're going or not?"

"Yes and no." I pause, waiting for a third year resident standing next to the bench I'm sitting on to go away. I hate when people listen in on my private calls. "I've decided to go. I think it's the right thing to do."

"Then why haven't you told them yet?"

I huff again. I don't like to admit this kind of things. "I don't know if I should go with a date."

"Oh."

Yes, oh.

After Mellark found the invitation, and after the following conversation, the thought of the wedding has been ruining my sleep. And sometimes my wake, too. As if I wasn't giving it enough attention, Mellark has been asking me non stop if I was alright about going, and if I thought I would be alright once back home. He has been saying that I shouldn't be alone, that I should have someone with me to keep me in a good mood, and all those crappy, cheesy things that I only recently found out he can say so effortlessly.

And, I hate to admit it, he has convinced me. The thought of being there alone, with all those old hags talking about how lonely I look, how beautiful the ceremony was, what a beautiful couple the groom and bride make, how wrong it was of me to choose my career over this future... I feel like retching just thinking about it. At least, with someone with me, there's a possibility that the guests will see that I'm not lonely. That I have people in my life.

Unfortunately, that is not exactly true. I have nobody in my life. Well, nobody of the male kind, at least. And nobody that I want to spend this wretched weekend with. Because that is what we are talking about. I have to find a man that won't mind spending an entire weekend in a small town in Pennsylvania, at the immensely awkward wedding of my ex boyfriend.

For a while, I thought that I could ask someone back home. I had a couple of boy friends. Thom and Darius. Those two were the primary source of laughter for me during high school, when I was too busy even to really enjoy myself. But then I realized that they were mostly Gale's friends, that I met them through him. Asking one of them would make things even more awkward.

And now I am here, sitting on a bench in the changing room of the hospital. On the phone with my sister. Thinking that I don't have any choice but to endure on my own what would probably be one of the most difficult time in my life. And this irritates me even more.

"I think you should." Prim says after a long minute of silence.

"What?" To say that I'm surprised would be an understatement. I still remember how incredibly devastated Prim was after my break up with Gale. She was our biggest supporter. For her to encourage me to take another man to Gale's wedding is... I don't know. Strange.

"Yes, ask someone. Preferably someone hot, so that nobody will have the guts to talk ill about you." This is even stranger.

"I don't know anybody."

"I don't believe you. You must know at least one hot guy."

I know a couple of them, but not personally enough. Well, I do know one really hot guy, and I know him very personally. But I push away the idea. It's a bad idea. A really bad idea. Why am I even considering it? Why am I comparing him to the guy Prim is describing?

"Obviously" Prim goes on, "he should be someone you are comfortable with." Check. "Someone that would get the attention in your place and wouldn't mind it." Check. "That would make sure that you are having fun." Check. "And that wouldn't embarrass you." Check.

Oh, God, no. No, no, no, no. Not doing that. Plus, I don't think he would be the right guy for the job. I mean, we've never been in this kind of situation together. And I already shot him down when we talked about it. No way in hell I'm bringing him.

But apparently I'm insane or something, because, while my brain is thinking all these noisy, bad thoughts, I'm saying, "I might know someone", and I'm sprinting out of the changing room, my sister still on the phone.

"You do? Who is he?"

"Some guy. You don't know him."

"That's because you never talk about the people you've met in DC." she protests.

She's right. But I've reached the closest nurses' desk, so I ignore her. Nurse Flavius looks up at me with a smile. "I need to find Dr. Mellark."

"Uh! Dr. Mellark! A colleague! Or a superior?"

"Shut up, Prim."

Flavius keeps smiling, but I think I see a note of "she crazy" in there. "He is in OR one with Dr. Cresta. But they've just entered, I think he's still scrubbing."

I thank the nurse and march to the OR.

"Who is Dr. Mellark?" my sister asks.

"Someone."

"Have you fucked him?"

"Prim!" I'm incredibly scandalized by her question. I know that she's almost twenty seven, but I still see her as the little girl with two plaits and the hem of her shirt partially untucked.

"Hey, I'm not judging! Just curious. Is he hot?"

I unceremoniously open the door to the OR when I reach it, and Peeta looks up from the sink he is scrubbing his hands at. There, with the slightly surprised expression on his face, his ridiculous orange cap, suds covering most of his forearms, the answer comes easily. "Way too much."

"What is it, Katniss? Who are you talking to?"

"My sister."

He doesn't question it. "What is it?" he asks again.

"Are you busy next month."

"Next month isn't exactly a small time frame. You'll need to be more precise."

I roll my eyes. "The weekend from the 9th to the 11th."

Mellark thinks about it for a moment. "I guess I can clear my schedule. Why are you asking?" His face is way too innocent for him not knowing what this is about. But I know he won't say it first.

"Would you come with me to that stupid wedding." It's not a question. I'm too annoyed right now to ask it properly.

But Mellark smiles nonetheless, as if he had been waiting to hear that since the moment he picked up that invitation. "Gladly."

"Good."

"Did he say yes?" I forgot I had my phone still against my hear.

"Yes."

"What color is your dress?" asks Mellark.

"What?" Too many question all at once.

"Your dress. If we're going together, we should wear matching clothes."

It's a stupid idea. I don't know why I don't point it out. "I don't know. Prim, what color is my dress?"

"Why should I know? What color is it?"

"I don't think I have a dress."

Prim is cursing me for being completely incompetent when it comes to clothing, when Mellark says, "You have that red dress you wore for the hospital's gala two years ago."

I have to think about it. I didn't remember the red, one-strap dress with the flaring skirt. "How do you remember that dress?"

His crooked smile makes his appearance. "I could never forget you in that dress."

I'm sure I get as red as said dress. Now I can't run away from the OR fast enough. "Okay, I'll wear that. Bye." And I leave without giving Mellark a look.

"Who the hell gets married in December?" I murmur as I try to warm up my hands against the heater of my beat up Beetle.

"Romantic people, I guess." Mellark says.

"If for romantic you mean idiotic, then you're right."

"I bet fifty bucks that the reception's theme will be 'Winter Wonderland'."

I scoff. "Gale would never be that cheesy. But you're on."

Mellark smiles, looking at me from the corner of his eye. "We'll see."

I don't know how Mellark is managing to put up with me today. Since we left DC, I've been bitter, snarky and irritated. Everything he says makes me either growl or snap but he hasn't complained about it even once, choosing to laugh it off instead. He has been nothing but supportive since I asked him to come to Pennsylvania with me, actually.

I panicked a couple of times, on the other hand. I've been regretting even considering Mellark as a viable option. But I had already sent the plus one answer and it was too late to take it back, apparently. I tried to convince Mellark not to come, to hell the shame of being stood up, as the bride and groom may have thought. That would have been so much better than having to face my hometown with my fuck buddy at my side.

But Mellark was adamant that I couldn't take my invitation back, and early this afternoon he showed up at my apartment with his little luggage, his garment bag, and his crooked smile. He wasn't even mad that we were driving to small Panem, PA because I hate flying. He is driving now, because he doesn't mind being behind the wheel for the three hours drive, while I'm too irritated to put up with the other cars in the highway.

Mellark tried to get me involved in a game of "Dog", but I'm completely not interested. As a result, he is winning 12-0.

I fiddle with the radio, bored to death by the modern, poppy station we've been listening to for the past hour. I settle for the classic rock one that is broadcasting the familiar tune of Any way you want it. "That's better."

"You like Journey?" Mellark asks almost incredulously.

"Everybody likes Journey."

"You don't seem to."

Any kind of relief that the hopeful lyrics may have brought me is wiped away by this remark. It would have been too good to never have him address the issue of my sore attitude once during the whole weekend. And, for as much as I would prefer to avoid it, I brace myself for the hopefully small avalanche of question that is about to come.

"Are you gonna be this bitter all weekend or only for the next two hours?"

"All weekend wouldn't be that bad."

"I beg to differ. Dog." He points to the car speeding before us. 13-0.

I huff impatiently. "What do you want from me? You should have expected this kind of mood."

"I was prepared for it. But I don't know how helpful it will be to you."

God. Why does he have to be concerned with my emotional well-being? Stupid busybody. He is right, being this hostile won't be of any use, but I won't admit it to him. Call me stubborn, what do I care.

I don't want to talk anymore, but Mellark refuses to let it go. "Don't you want to talk about the reason behind it?"

"No reason. I just like to be a sore bitch sometimes."

"And you have any right to feel like that. But maybe, if you analyze the source of your bad mood, you won't feel the need to be a sore bitch" he says.

What I feel right now is the need to punch him in his stupid, handsome face. I don't do that only because he is the one driving and I don't want to die. "You're a surgeon, not a psychologist."

"It doesn't mean that I can't be a good friend and listen to you."

Friend. What a strange word to use to define what Peeta is to me. If you add the part 'with benefits' it wouldn't sound so odd. Not anymore, I've come to terms with it pretty soon. But just friend... Could he be my friend? Could I be his friend? We've been rivals for so long, and then so suddenly started having sex, that I hadn't exactly had time to consider any other possibility.

But apparently Peeta has been thinking about it, and he wants us to be friends. To be honest, since the beginning of our liaison or whatever, Peeta has always been supportive of me and my career. He has been the one inciting me to do my best at the hospital, and the one consoling me if I'd lost a patient. The one bringing me food and alcohol after a long, tiring day, and the one giving me the sweetest sexual relief that I could ever get. Thinking about it, it's not that difficult to see Peeta, if not as a friend, at least as an ally.

It's with this in mind that I finally decide to open up to him. "I regret ever thinking that going to this wedding was a good idea." I says while looking out of the window.

Peeta is silent for a while, then he asks, "Do you regret asking me to come?"

My first answer is yes, but on second thought that isn't exactly true. "Not really." I say. "I still think that you shouldn't be in the same room as my parents..." I pause, looking for the better way to phrase what's going on in my mind. "Strangely, in this whole messed up situation, you're the only thing that makes sense to me."

He smiles, a sweet, almost shy smile that I've seen on his lips only twice, top. "Good. 'Cause there was no way that I would have let you go without me."

Yes, I could get used to having a friend like Peeta.

We listen to the following three or four songs in silence, Peeta only humming along to an old tune that I don't recognize. Then he starts again with the questions.

"Not that it's any of my business" he says, "but how did things go south with Gale?"

I don't like to talk about me, and definitely not about a subject as hard as my relationship with Gale. But I guess that, if Peeta is to help me survive this weekend, I ought to at least tell him the story.

"We had been friends all our lives. Our fathers were best friends, like their fathers before them. So Gale and I were supposed to do the same. Not that it was hard. Back then, we used to share the same interests, liked and disliked the same things. Our friendship seemed completely natural to us. The same way that a romantic development of it seemed natural to anyone else."

"Anyone else." Peeta repeats. "It doesn't seem to involve the two of you."

I smile ruefully. "It didn't. We were young when we started dating. And only because people thought we were supposed to. I'm not saying that I was forced into it. I decided that, if I had to be with someone, Gale was the logical option. I was happy with him, and I think that I really loved him, in my own way. But Gale didn't seem to be on the same page. We used to fight a lot during high school, mostly because, according to Gale, I preferred studying and club activities over him. And he was right, I was so focused on creating my future that I was forgetting about the present. We broke up after my graduation."

"Who broke up with who?"

"He broke up with me." I admit. "It wasn't easy for me. In a single blow, I had lost my boyfriend and my best friend. It was a terribly sad summer. But I had been accepted into PSU, so I had other more important things to occupy myself with."

I fall silent, thinking about how the biggest part of fault for our breakup was on me. Feeling slightly guilty about not feeling guilty at all.

"It doesn't sound like the whole story." Peeta says.

So I continue. "Since I used to go home quite often, we kept meeting each other. It was inevitable since his family is always with mine. We tried to go back at being friends. Before it felt as easy as breathing, but after all those years spent as a couple our friendship was awkward and forced. So we gave up. And then he noticed my neighbor, Leevy."

"How did that feel?"

"At first, hard. But pretty soon I felt relieved that he had found someone else and wasn't hung up on me or something. I still am, honestly."

"Why are you this bitter, then?"

I'd like to know that myself. That is the question I've been asking myself since I got the invitation. And I still haven't found an answer.

I shrug, and this time Peeta lets it go.

He bumps me with his elbow. "Don't worry about it. I will look so sexy in my suit that you won't have time to think about anything else."

I laugh wholeheartedly, the first real laugh I had in awhile. Having Peeta with me is finally starting to look like a good idea.

Looking outside the window, a smile still on my lips, I notice something in the car we just surpassed. "Dog." 13-1.

I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting when I tried to imagine Peeta Mellark interacting with my family, but it probably wasn't this.

When we had parked in front of the old one story house, my parents were already there. My mum's hands were very cold and she was sort of shivering. It made me wonder if she hadn't been waiting out there for us since when I texted her to tell her we were on the road.

She was incredibly happy to see us, and I think only a small part of it was a show for her guest. She didn't miss the chance to lament that I never visit, and that I should call her more often, but after years I sort of became immune to it. She absolutely loved Mellark. She asked him all sorts of questions, like if he's enjoying his work in Pediatrics, or what his parents do for a living – he was strangely evasive in answering this one. All throughout dinner, I couldn't not notice the knowing looks my mum was giving the two of us. I was extremely careful when I told my parents that Mellark would be my date to the wedding. I insisted on the fact that he was only doing me a favor, that we weren't a couple. But I couldn't stop the gears inside her head from working on who knows what kind of plan.

My dad was a slightly different kettle of fish. You may not guess it by looking at him, but Abraham Everdeen is a shy man. He doesn't speak very much, he prefers actions to words. The only time he raises his voice is to sing, which he does almost constantly. But he spent the entire dinner in complete silence, not even hiding the fact that he was studying Mellark very carefully. I think dad scares him a little. Nonetheless, he hasn't said anything bad about Mellark, and even offered him a glass of his favorite scotch after dinner. That is a clear sign that he hasn't found anything that worries him. At least, not yet.

My sister has arrived not even an hour ago. She couldn't get today off, so she had to catch a flight this afternoon after her shift, eating and sleeping on the plane. When the taxi left her in front of the house, she was so tired she barely even said hello. But before going to bed, she looked at me with a somewhat proud face and nodded twice. I know that tomorrow she will ask all sorts of questions about Mellark, but for now that is all the approval he got from her.

After some more small talk – mostly between Mellark and my mum – my parents decide to go to sleep. I don't know if they – mum – want to give us privacy or if they are actually tired. Dad has been nodding on his armchair for a while now. Anyway, before heading down the hallway, my mum pulls me in the kitchen.

"So, Peeta..." she starts.

"What about him?" I think I know what she is asking and I would really like to avoid it. But I was the one inviting Mellark here, so now I have to suck it up.

"Are you sure there's nothing between you two?"

I huff. "I told you, mum. We're just friends. He's just doing me a favor."

"Really?"

"Really."

She doesn't seem to believe it. "And is there any chance of something starting in the future?"

The idea is ludicrous, I can barely contain my laugh. "No chance."

"Are you sure about that? I mean, by the way Peeta–" she stops suddenly when something above my left shoulder catches her eyes, and she spaces out.

I shake her gently a couple of time. "Mum? Mum."

She snaps out of it. This one was short, luckily. "Did I go away? I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, it was only a few seconds." Her new meds seem to be working well.

"What was I saying?"

"Something about the way Peeta something."

She has to think about it for a minute, but then remembers it. "Sometimes he looks at you like you hanged the moon."

My heart seems to skip a beat, and then starts pounding away. But it is not excitement. It's panic. What did my mother see? Did she confuse lust for something different? Does lust show on Mellark's face sometimes? Does it on mine? I need to have a talk with him, we can't let anyone understand what we do together.

"You're wrong, mum. We're just friends. He's just doing me a favor."

She is still not convinced, probably because I repeated myself. But apparently she will let it go, for now. We exchange goodnights and she goes to her room.

Mellark is finishing preparing the couch he'll sleep on this weekend. Neither of us is really tired, yet. I actually feel a bit anxious about my conversation with mum. And about tomorrow, even if I'm playing it down and trying to be a bit less bitchy than this afternoon. Mellark doesn't ask, for once, and I'm grateful for it. Since I don't want to talk about anything right now, I decide that the other topic can wait, too.

We decide to watch TV for a while and settle for an old black and white Christmas movie. I don't know it but Mellark has seen it before and he assures me that it's good.

I couldn't have imagined that such a domestic scene would be this nice. At least not with Mellark. But sitting with him on a couch made up as a bed just watching a movie is so relaxing that I feel the residual worry starting to melt. I don't know if the cause of my state of mind is the calm reining in the house or Peeta's presence next to me. I don't ponder about it too much, deciding to just enjoy it and chill.

Unconsciously, my eyes wander from the screen where a happy family is decking their house for the holiday. I study Peeta's profile. I've been doing that a lot, lately. He really has a nice profile. I don't know if I like it or if it just annoys me. The straight nose with just a sprinkle of freckles on it. The pink lips, the bottom one slightly plumper than the other. The strong jaw that sometimes Peeta rolls almost without thinking. And the eyes. Those perfect, blue eyes. I don't know how to exactly describe his eyes. They're like shining gems embedded in the golden nests that are his lashes. Ugh. This one is terrible. But even his lashes are a thing of beauty. They're golden and thick, slightly curved at the end. And they're so long that I don't know how they don't tangle when he blinks.

Suddenly, Mellark points his perfect eyes on me and I startle, rapidly focusing again on the movie to pretend nothing happened. But Mellark has too much fun teasing me, he won't let this chance pass.

"Were you looking at me, Katniss?"

"Nope."

"I could swear you were."

"Uh-uh."

I feel him shift next to me. "Are you sure about that?"

I swallow and nod. I don't trust my voice right now.

Peeta's nose grazes the side of my neck, and his breath warms the skin there. "Too bad." he whispers, then lays a kiss just under my jaw. "If you were, I could have been prone to do something nice for you."

The prospect of something nice, together with the wetness quickly gathering in my underwear, prompts me to ask. "What if I were?"

Peeta's finger under my chin makes me turn my head towards him. The sudden fire in his eyes would be enough to set me ablaze.

"Then I would do this."

It's a sensuous, slow kiss, the kind Peeta got me used to. It starts gently and softly, then a slow swipe of his tongue against my bottom lip asks for entrance. We explore each other's mouth leisurely as hands start to roam, caress, grab. Before I know it, I'm splayed on the couch under Peeta, his left hand pinning my wrists on the armrest and my legs spread enough to cradle him.

It's a very familiar position. When his free hand sneaks under my sweater I'm oh so tempted to take things to the next, usual step. The same goes for Peeta, too, if the bulge that I feel hardening against my jeans is to be believed. But somehow I can't get out of my head that this is my childhood house and my parents and little sister are sleeping down the hallway. And this can definitely ruin the mood.

I manage to detach my lips from Peeta's. "We are not having sex on my parents' couch."

"Are you sure about that?" he grins. He must be thinking he is so funny repeating himself. He thinks he is funny a lot. Or maybe he thinks that I can't resist him. If that's the case, then he is wrong. Sort of.

"Yes, of this I'm sure."

He looks disappointed but the almost childish glee that instantly follows makes me think that he was just pretending. "Can we still make out? 'Cause, you know, I don't dislike making out with you."

I have to stifle my laughter at his teen's antics. I don't dislike making out with him either. Which, now that I think about it, is kind of strange, considering the fact that I used to hate his guts. But his mouth descending on mine again distracts me from this thought.

And the knock at the front door distracts me from the kiss.

I free my wrists and get up from the couch so fast that Mellark almost falls off of it. I hope whoever knocked hasn't seen us tangled together from the living room's windows. That would be really embarrassing to explain.

"Do you think they saw us?" I ask Mellark straightening my sweater.

"Do your guests usually peek through your windows?" he asks me back as he sits up. "If not, then I don't think so."

My eyes roll back so hard I wouldn't be surprised to see the inside of my skull. Aside from that, I ignore Mellark and proceed to open the front door.

It must have just started snowing. Snowflakes are silently coming down in the night but they melt mere seconds after reaching the ground. All but those that have landed on his hair, sprinkling the dark locks with tiny white speckles. The cold has turned the tips of his nose and ears red. Despite slouching to repair himself from the weather, he still looks so much taller than me. His gray eyes are as piercing as I remembered them. He has a beard now. Gale Hawthorne has always been quite a good-looking man.

"Hey." he says. He looks kind of surprised to see me here for being the one who knocked at my parents' front door. But he is definitely not as surprised as I am to see him here.

No, scratch that. I'm not surprised. I'm panicking.

Mellark is sitting just across the room, I can see his blond curls from the corner of my eye.

Mellark and Gale in the same room. Two worlds colliding. This can't be happening. This won't be happening. I thought I had time, at least until tomorrow. And I will.

Before Gale asks if he can come in, or before Mellark comes to the front door with the ridiculous idea to meet Gale, or before any possible interaction between those two can happen, I step outside and close the door behind me.

Not a smart move. I locked myself out. And it's really too cold for just a sweater. I hug myself in a hopeless attempt to keep warm.

"Hey." I repeat his greeting. Original, Katniss.

A second of silence. "I didn't expect you to still be awake." he says.

I think he was hoping that. And I'm slightly confused. "Why did you knock, then? Did you need my parents?"

He looks slightly confused, too. "No, I..." Pause. He looks away. "I don't know."

This is a strange behavior for Gale. He always knows the reasons of his every actions and never does anything without thinking it through very carefully. It's like he is some strategist or something. Perhaps the prospect of getting married tomorrow is getting to him. Or perhaps some things change.

He looks down the street, three houses down, where Leevy used to live. "Lee texted me to go to her parents' and get this thing that she's forgotten there."

I feel a sense of uneasiness creeping up my back, not because I don't like my ex's soon-to-be wife but at the fact that my ex has come to my parents' house to talk to me about his soon-to-be wife. Or maybe I'm just cold.

"Oh, you're not staying at your place tonight?" I'd really love to kick myself right now, or to bite my tongue off. What the hell am I thinking asking this kind of question? Am I stupid? Well, I guess this wedding is making everybody stupid.

"No, I'm at my mom's. Lee is at our place."

I nod. My painfully awkward question has got its painfully awkward answer. Apparently, the conversation has reached its end because we both stay silent for a while, looking all around my parents' small front porch to avoid looking at each other.

Why doesn't he excuse himself and leave to do whatever he has to do at the Jones'? Why am I not excusing myself because my nose is getting runny and I'm sure I will get a bad cold if I stay outside any longer?

I inwardly bless Gale when he starts talking again. And I curse him the next moment because he is not saying anything about leaving. "Anyway, I saw a light from the living room window and thought I could catch up with you."

What? Why? My stupid brain takes one of the questions that are running around my head which shouldn't be expressed and lets it out. "You didn't expect me to still be up but you knocked to talk with me anyway?"

Gale finally – or unfortunately, it depends on how you look at the situation – looks at me, and it's a look I know all too well. His mouth a straight line, his head slightly cocked to the right. He used to look at me like that anytime I'd been over-analyzing things. Guess that some other things don't change, huh?

I lift my hands in sign of peace. It may be an awkward conversation but I definitely don't wanna fight.

His expression softens a little.

I don't know why but I try a simple, yet stupid question. "So, how are you feeling about tomorrow?"

This must be the most bashful smile I've ever seen on his face. The tip of his nose curls slightly as he looks to the ground and stuffs his hands deep inside his coat pockets.

"A bit anxious. But overall excited. I can't wait."

Here comes the uneasiness again weighting on and compressing my chest. It's all on me for asking this question. I should have imagined that a possible good reaction from my happy ex could have been painful to digest. For a second it makes me think of all the what ifs that have been collecting in my head since the moment I got the save the date. All of which I've been very careful not to think about.

Strangely, I also feel like smiling. I feel... how do I feel? Happy? Gosh, I think so. I think I'm happy that Gale is happy.

And, honestly, why shouldn't I be? My childhood best friend is getting married to the woman that makes him smile like a shy schoolboy. This is the best thing that could ever happen to him. The last time we had seen each other he still looked so hurt after everything that had happened between us and at the moment I wondered if things would ever get better for him.

They did. And that's why I'm happy, I realize.

It seems like a good moment to lighten up the mood even more. Let's try a joke. A joke seems harmless.

"Well, I was anxious about the wedding, too. I couldn't find a dress until the last second." I mimic tossing my hair over my left shoulder, like some girls at our high school used to do.

Gale chuckles. He knows I couldn't care less about dresses. In fact, it was a recurrent joke among our little group of friends.

I smile too. Good job, girl.

"How are you doing, Katniss?"

I recognize the genuineness in his question. I know he's not asking just to be polite.

"I'm really good. My job is fantastic. At the beginning of the year I became assistant to the Chief of Cardio and, thanks to him, I recently did my first solo surgery. That was pretty cool. In the last few years I even made some good friends. I'm really good."

Gale smiles. "That's good for you."

"Thanks."

This feels good. I never thought about our possible reunion in these terms. If I had, I probably would have spared myself a lot of long sleepless nights. Could it possibly be that for us to go back at being friends without feeling awkward, we should have eliminated any possibility of us? Because now that he loves someone else it feels right. It's easy to feel happy for him. Who knows what direction our lives would have taken if only we hadn't given into the pressure from the people around us. Maybe, it would have been like this. Easy.

We're both happy and smiling when the worst thing imaginable happens and I'm immediately aware that I'm outside in just my sweater and it is fucking cold.

The front door opens.

I don't know if the look on Mellark's face is surprise, confusion, or panic. Maybe a bit of all three. "Sorry to interrupt." he says, uncertain whether looking at me or Gale before settling his eyes on me. "You were out awhile, I thought you would be cold without your coat."

I only now notice the green thing on his arm. "Thank you." I say but I don't move to take the coat from him. I'm suddenly completely paralyzed.

Mellark doesn't wait though, and almost immediately drapes my coat over my shoulders.

I somehow grab the collar of it so it doesn't fall.

I don't know why Mellark hasn't gone back inside or why his hand goes to the small of my back and stays there. I don't know why I don't shake it off.

Gale has been watching our little interaction silently, but I could recognize the dissatisfaction mounting inside him from the thin line of his mouth and the slight frown.

"Hi. You must be Gale." Damn Mellark and his good manners. "I'm Peeta. Nice to meet you." He offers his hand to the taller man, but Gale only looks at it briefly and doesn't move an inch. Mellark resists a couple of seconds before retreating his hand awkwardly.

Nobody talks, nobody moves. I look at Gale, Gale looks at Mellark, Mellark looks at me. The spot under where Mellark's hand is resting is strangely warm. This is painful. Terribly painful. And, if I'm deciphering Gale correctly, it's gonna get even worse if someone doesn't do something.

"Mellark, why don't you go inside." I offer. "You do not have your coat on, after all." I really hope that he understands what I'm actually saying to him. Hide.

Luckily, he does. "You're right. It' really cold out here. I'm gonna wait inside."

"Don't lock me out."

"Don't worry." He turns to Gale. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Gale doesn't answer.

"Alright." Mellark seems weirded out by the fact that there is someone other than me that doesn't like him immediately from the start. He doesn't say another word as he goes inside. But he looks at me with some sort of apology written all over his face.

Gale doesn't talk for a whole minute after Mellark has disappeared inside the house. And when he does, I don't particularly like the tone he uses for the only word he says. "Right."

Calm down, Katniss. Take a deep breath, try to be nice, and try not to screw this up more than it already is. I mean, we were all smiley faces not so long ago, it shouldn't be difficult to go back there. Or is it? Was I right thinking that bringing Mellark to my hometown would have been a mistake? Is this the confirmation of my fear?

I try to use the most plain tone that I can muster. "What?"

"I almost had forgotten you were taking someone to the wedding." It doesn't seems like it. More like he was trying not to think about it. "Who is this Peeta, exactly?"

I use the same line that I offered everyone who asked me the same question. "He's a friend from work. He is doing me a favor."

Gale scoffs. "Yeah, right."

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" No reason not to speak my mind. To hell trying being nice.

"C'mon, Katniss. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Well, I'm starting to."

"He shouldn't be touching you in that way if he were just a friend."

"Excuse me?"

"It's obvious by the way he looks at you that he has already seen you naked."

"What?!"

"Are you screwing him?"

"How fucking dare you?!" I don't know how I manage to keep this as a whisper-scream. Probably I'm instinctively trying not to wake the whole neighborhood. So that's what he came here for. The fact that he just wanted to see me was too good to be true.

"I dare because I care about you!" I'm taken aback for a second. That was not what I was expecting to hear coming out of his mouth right now. The signs of anger that had started showing on his face leave their place to a more worried look. "What's happening, Katniss? You were such a serious girl. All you wanted was to be the best at your work. And I know you're doing it, but– what, you get involved in a sexual, probably meaningless affair with some piece of meat doctor? Why are you wasting your time on something like that? I'm sure it is incredibly distracting, especially if you two work together. He certainly looks like someone that can't keep his hands to himself. And you're even making him stay at your parents' house! What is it, Katniss? Did you start it so you could come back here and throw it in my face? Some sort of revenge for the wedding?"

"Oh, God! Shut up!" This one I can't keep hushed. I lower my voice. "First, I'm really offended that you think that I'm not capable of being an amazing doctor while being a woman with a sexual appetite. It is really rude. Second, you have no say in my personal and sex life whatsoever. What I do with whomever I want is none of your business. And the fact that you think I brought Peeta to somehow get back at you confirms what an idiot you actually are. The only thing Peeta is here for is to keep me company and to keep the horrible people of this town away from me."

He looks really surprised by my outburst. Good. He deserves even worse. At first I didn't want to tell him what there is between me and Peeta but now I just can't resist throwing in this last zinger.

"And since you asked me, yes, I'm screwing him. He's my fuck buddy. I can fuck him any way I want, and he can fuck me any way he wants. He fucks me so good that he always blows my mind. I have multiple orgasms every time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back in so I can fuck him hard and fast on my parents' couch." I raise my voice again. "See you tomorrow!"

I don't wait for his answer or to see him leave. I don't even wait to see if this last part had the desired effect on him. I turn on my heels, get inside and shut the front door on his face.

Back in the house, my frustration is immediately redirected to the familiar mop of blond curls that I see over the back of the couch.

I get to Mellark in two long strides and throw my coat at the back of his head. "I should choke you to death!"

It's pretty obvious that he's sorry when he turns around and looks at me like a sad puppy. It almost works. Almost. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think he would react badly. I just didn't want you to catch a cold." Well, okay, it works.

My anger immediately deflates and I suddenly feel very tired. I fall next to Mellark on the couch and I pinch the bridge of my nose as I throw my head backwards.

"Was it that bad?" he asks.

"He said some displeasing things. I said some others." I mumble.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Oh, hell, no!" Right now is not the time to let Mellark practice his psychiatry skills.

"It's okay if you want to cry."

I scoff. I feel offended. I never cry. And I'd be dead before Mellark catches me crying in front of him.

Nevertheless, I don't shake his hand away when it grabs mine between us. I let my head fall on his shoulder. This is actually a nice place to rest.

The old Christmas movie is still playing on TV, but neither of us pay attention to it. Or to any other program that this channel broadcasts after the movie is over until the sun is up and shining.

The first part of the dreaded day goes by faster than I thought it would.

I let Prim do my make-up, mostly because I made a poor job at covering the black bags under my eyes. My sister spends this time giving Mellark and me sneaky glances and snickering, definitely mistaking the reason why I look like I didn't have a blink of sleep. But nobody in the house dares to say anything about it.

The ceremony is actually pretty lovely. Thankfully, all the guests in the church are too busy looking at the beautiful couple at the altar to even spare me a glance. And, honestly, who wouldn't? Gale and Leevy look incredible together in their wedding getups. From the moment she walked down the aisle, Gale couldn't take his eyes off of her. She's radiant even with teary eyes. From my spot near the back of the church, I think I see Gale wiping a tear away. I don't think I've ever seen someone more in love. Plus, now that I look at her - really look at her - I don't see much of a resemblance between us, aside from the hair and eye color.

In this moment, realizing that this is the end of anything between me and Gale, I feel something inside me snap, like some kind of chain that was keeping me rooted to the ground has finally broken and let me free. I feel so light and happy.

And now that I'm not anxious or chained anymore, I feel famished.

The reception venue is the most beautiful hall in town, the Meadow Manor. Hidden in the middle of the forest, the majestic villa hosts all important events in Panem. During the Spring it is completely surrounded by all shades of green and by the completely in-bloom meadow the building takes his name from. In this season it's nothing short of a Winter wonderland.

The inside of the villa is beautifully adorned with iridescent crystals and lovely little bouquets of horned violets and snowdrops. White, velvety ribbons hang all over the hall. Cloths of different shades of white adorn tables and chairs mimicking snow.

"You owe me fifty bucks." Mellark whispers in my ear as he helps me taking my coat off.

I ignore him. I won't give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right.

He gives our overcoats to the girl at the cloakroom, and when he turns around he freezes. He looks me up and down and takes a deep breath, so much like he does when I surprise him naked.

"What?"

"I really overestimate my photographic memory." He gives me his crooked smile. "You look a hundred times more beautiful than I remembered in that dress."

Right, at my parents' he saw me only when I already had my coat on. And in church it was way too cold to take it off. Not that I would have dared to expose so much skin in church. Unless I wanted to be lapidated by some of the more conservative folks in Panem.

I think I'm blushing a little. I really hope my make-up covers it.

I try to play nonchalant. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."

He really isn't. The fabric of his suit looks pristine, perfectly tailored around his figure. The jacket wonderfully highlights his broad shoulders, muscled arms, and slim waist. He looks devilishly handsome wearing black on black. And he wasn't kidding about the matching outfits. His tie is the same color of my dress. I point at it. "I particularly like the tie."

He winks at me and offers me his arm. "Shall we?"

I shake my head but still accept his offer.

The event is relatively pleasant. There is a table reserved only for my family - plus Mellark - so I don't have to talk with others. Now and then people stop at our table to chat with my parents but most of them are more interested in asking any kind of question to Mellark than to me. I think I will have to thank him for today.

The food is fantastic. Especially the lamb stew with plums on a bed of wild rice. I probably won't forget the rich flavor any time soon. Mellark appreciates it, too. He looks at his empty plate as if he wants to lick it. The wine we're drinking is not bad either.

The newlyweds open the dances soon after the cake has been served. For their first dance as man and wife they opted for At Last. Well, it's not much of a dance. They're more like swaying together in place. Gale's tall frame has never allowed him to develop a decent coordination on the dance floor. But Leevy doesn't seem to mind at all. She's positively beaming up at her husband.

The day proceeds smoothly. I have to say, I'm extremely relieved that, aside from my encounter with Gale last night, the weekend has been pretty much uneventful. In retrospect, I admit that I may have been making a mountain out of an ant hill. I feel a bit stupid right now thinking about all my fears.

In the evening, Mellark and I are alone at our table. Prim has disappeared somewhere with Rory Hawthorne and my parents are talking with Hazelle at her table.

I think that I am a bit tipsy from that one too many glass of wine I gulped down like it was water. I'm looking at all the people dancing in the middle of the hall with a small smile on my face. Maybe Mellark mistakes my slightly intoxicated expression for wishful thinking because he gets up and takes off his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. "Let's dance."

"Uh, no, thank you."

"C'mon, it'll be fun." He offers me his hand.

"I don't wanna dance."

"Why? We are at a wedding. People dance at weddings."

"Because then people will start looking at me and I don't want them to."

"I think you're a bit too much obsessed about yourself."

I hope my face is enough for Mellark to understand he can go fuck himself.

But it doesn't deter him. "C'mon. I'll get everyone's attention away from you. I can do the chicken dance on every song. And I mean every song."

I remember an episode of some TV series that he wanted me to see in which there is the same scenario. "You watch too much TV. When do you find the time?"

"I'm great at multitasking." He smiles at me.

I give in with a defeated sigh.

Mellark grabs my hand and almost drags me in the middle of the dance floor. Dream a Little Dream of Me starts playing. We face each other, then Mellark rolls up his sleeves and starts doing the unthinkable. He does a slow-motion chicken dance.

I'm terrified. I grab his arms to stop him from waving them. "Oh, my God! Stop it! It's too embarrassing. I can't let you do that."

He laughs. His right hand catches my left, and his left one sneaks around my waist and pulls me closer to him. I have to grab his arm not to fall on my ass. He then proceeds to swirl me around three times. I'm not very good at dancing but with Mellark guiding me I look like freaking Ginger Rogers. Well, maybe I'm exaggerating.

"I think I forgot to mention that I'm also a great dancer."

I'm speechless. I don't know how to express how irritated I am that I still haven't found something Mellark is bad at.

"How?" I manage to get out.

"I may have attended two debutantes' balls. Don't ask."

He pulls me a little bit closer to him, my body only a centimeter away from his. My breasts brush lightly against his firm chest. I feel his left arm flexing and relaxing. The hand on his arm slips on his pec.

I look up at him and I'm immediately transfixed by the intensity in his eyes. If I don't look away or defuse the situation I'll drown in these perfectly blue pools.

"Whoa. There's not much space for Jesus in here. Did the debutantes teach you this?" I cringe inwardly. I always ask the best questions.

Mellark mischievous grin is the answer I get. "I can tell you that this is much better than a ball."

"How so?"

"Well, to start, you don't have braces." His mouth gets close to my ear as he whispers, "But my favorite thing is that with you I can recreate all the fantasies I'm having right now."

As he moves back, his lips lightly graze my neck and the skin there is on fire. I shiver. Goddammit, I hate him so much.

I hope my voice doesn't sound too shaky. "Oh, really?"

Mellark nods.

"What are those?"

He lifts his eyebrows, almost surprised. But I know he's just pretending, he knew I would have asked. The sneaky bastard. "Do you really wanna know?"

I shrug. Yesterday I told him we couldn't fuck in my parents' house but that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy a bit of dirty talk, especially from the gifted mouth of Peeta Mellark. There's no harm in it, right?

He looks around us as to make sure that nobody is listening in on us. "Well, by now you must have figured out that I have fond memories of you in this dress." His thumb starts caressing my side slowly. "What you don't know is that from the first time I saw it I couldn't stop thinking about taking you in it."

This kind of surprises me. The first time I wore this dress was for PHM fund-raising gala, almost two years before our first "encounter." Does it mean that Mellark had been having sexual thoughts about me for all that time and didn't do anything about it until I kissed him in the on-call room? That seems really out of character. For as long as I've known him, whenever Mellark wanted a girl, he had her in a matter of days. Why didn't he do the same with me? But I don't dare voice my thoughts.

Peeta continues, lowering his voice. I close my eyes to shut my head up and better enjoy the ride. "First, I want to pull down your top and see how perky your breasts can get with the extra support. Then I want to squeeze them, and lick them slowly, very slowly, and taste your sweet, tender skin. I don't wanna miss a single inch of it. You know how much I love doing so. I want to lift your skirt, scrape your thighs, and grab that pretty, little ass of yours."

His hand moves from my side to the small of my back, leaving a trail of fire. The thumb of the hand holding mine draws small circles on the back of it. I never thought hand-holding could be sensual.

"Now I want to see how my doing is working for you, so I slip a finger in your panties. By now, if experience serves me right, you should be pretty wet. Still, I move my finger a couple of times over your clit, before slipping it inside you to touch that sweet spot that always makes you moan."

I exhale tremulously. I grab the collar of his shirt as if it could keep me upright. I don't trust my wobbly legs. But I know that this is effecting Peeta, too. I feel his erection pressing angrily against my thigh. Perhaps that's why he pulls me even closer to him, to cover himself.

"At this point I usually imagine pulling your panties down to your ankles and giving you a good, proper lick. You always taste so good when you're wet for me. Maybe I could make you taste the flavor that you left on my finger earlier. Would you mind that?"

I try not to moan.

"I would use my hot tongue on your clit, just the way you like it. Then I would push it inside you again and again, until I'll make you come, the sweetest release you've ever felt. Actually, I think I would make you come this way another time, just because I can. After that, I want to throw your legs over my shoulders and bury myself so deep in you that neither of us would know where I stop and you begin. And I'd fuck you. Hard but slow."

"Okay. Stop it." I halt our dance. I wasn't even aware we were still dancing. I can't endure this any longer. To hell the no sex in my hometown policy. I look Peeta straight in the eyes. "You need to do this."

He grins at me. "I'll be happy to comply, as soon as we get a chance."

"No, you don't understand. I mean right now."

He looks surprised, this time genuinely. "But you said..."

"Forget what I said. Let's do what you said."

I don't think I've ever seen Peeta move this fast. He pulls me to our table and retrieves his jacket, his new shield against the world. He is definitely very pissed when we reach the cloakroom and find out that the girl he gave our coats to is nowhere to be seen.

"Where the hell..." he mutters as he looks around for her. I think he is tempted to go and retrieve our coats himself. It makes me giggle.

But then, of course, I hear someone calling my name.

Gale.

He is walking briskly towards us. From the expression on his face, I'd say he is pissed.

Shit.

Does he want to lecture me again? Or maybe he wants to start a fist fight with Mellark. Dammit, why did I think that the day had been uneventful? I jinxed it.

I stand between the two men. Perhaps, if I'm in the way no punches will fly. "What is it, Gale?"

"Are you leaving?" he asks me.

"Yes."

"With... him." He points at Mellark.

"Well, I came with him. I thought it would be rude if I left him here."

"Katniss, don't be witty. You can't pull it off."

"I thought it was kinda funny." Mellark says behind me.

I lift my hand to shut him up. "What do you want, Gale?"

"I'm trying to make you come to your senses."

I snort. That is rich. "And why should you do that?"

"I told you last night. I'm doing this because I care. You have to understand that I have your best interest in mind."

Okay, this is starting to sound way too patronizing for my taste. I cross my arms in front of me. "And you think I don't?"

"No, you don't. Or you wouldn't have started an affair with a random guy."

"I'm not a random guy, and I'm right here." Mellark chimes in.

"I'm a grown woman, Gale. I can do whatever I want."

He huffs and rubs his face. "You don't understand. I'm not saying you shouldn't have sex. That is your business. I'm saying that you are wasting your time and energy on something that is not gonna work."

I'm confused. "What are you talking about?"

"This thing that you two are having isn't good for you. You could have a normal relationship with someone who respects you and cherishes you. Instead you decide to have meaningless sex with someone that, obviously, wants only that from you. Otherwise, he wouldn't be okay with your little agreement in the first place."

Mellark starts saying something, but I interrupt him. "You don't know shit about our agreement."

"Yeah, well, I know you. I know how you work, even unconsciously. The kind of agreement you made entails that, aside from sex, you have nothing to do with him. You are not obligated to care about him. But you do, Katniss. You can say that it's not true, but you do. If you didn't, you wouldn't have brought him here, you wouldn't have introduced him to your family. You still don't realize that you're setting yourself up to be disappointed and hurt. And hurt is the only thing that will come out of this situation if you don't get yourself out of it as soon as possible."

What the actual fuck? Who the hell does he think I am, some kind of damsel in distress that needs to be saved? How dares he tell me what I should or shouldn't do?

I'm about to scream all this loudly, but Mellark puts his hand on my shoulder and stops me.

"I think that now I should have a say too, since you're talking about me." He speaks to Gale. "You don't know me and you don't know what I think. I get it that you worry about Katniss and don't want her to get hurt but I can tell you that you don't have to. You just assume things about me. You think that I am some kind of pervert that forced Katniss into having sex with me. But what you don't know is that she was the one proposing this agreement."

Gale looks at me shocked. I shrug. I don't care what he thinks right now.

Peeta continues. "You also think that I'm taking advantage of her, that the only thing I want is sex. Well, you're wrong. If I only wanted to get laid, I could have asked any other girl. It's different with Katniss. I enjoy every second I spend with her from the bottom of my heart. We can talk about work, or personal stuff, or the most stupid thing we can come up with. We can have dinner, or watch an old movie, or bicker. It doesn't matter, I always cherish those moments. Of course I do! She's smart, driven, sometimes funny, and kind, even if she doesn't seem to realize that. And yes, she's beautiful. Damn, she's smoking hot. But that's not the reason why I like being with her." He looks at me. "She's just... awesome."

My heart flutters. What does all this mean? Does he really think that about me?

Peeta looks back at Gale. "I have no intention whatsoever to hurt her. I want to spend all of my time with her, all the time that she will give me. And I want all this time to be happy because I want Katniss to be happy. Everything I do is to make her happy, I love it when she's happy. Because I really... really..." Suddenly Peeta trails off. His eyes, as big as saucers, set on the floor. His face becomes a shocked mask.

Nobody talks. Mellark looks paralyzed.

"You really what?" I ask.

Nothing.

I try again. "Mellark, you really what?"

Still nothing. What kind of epiphany could've hit him so hard that it has left him completely speechless?

I see Gale's face light up. He must have gotten it. "Oh." he says.

"Yeah..." Mellark answers.

I look between the two men. What the hell is it? I don't get it.

Mellark shakes himself and clears his throat. "Anyway, um... My point is: I don't mean any harm to Katniss. Plus, I think that if someone that can hurt her actually exists, she would kick their ass."

This seems like a weak point to end an argument. I honestly expected more by the captain of his high school's debate team. But Mellark looks strangely agitated. He's almost holding his breath. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, rubs his hand against his leg as if to dry some sweat. He's looking at Gale as if he is afraid of something. For a second, I see something that seems a plea in his eyes. But a plea for what?

Gale is looking at him, too. Actually, no, he's studying him. He squints his eyes and slightly cocks his head to the left.

They stay like that for what seems like an eternity, silently exchanging who knows what kind of information.

Then Gale speaks. "I'm not completely certain that what you said is true, but I do agree on the last part. She can kick your ass on her own. Just be careful."

The relief on Mellark's face is instantaneous. "Sure." he says. He can finally breath easy, it seems.

Gale sighs. He moves his eyes from Mellark to me, then back at him. "You two..." He shakes his head and a small smile graces his lips. "Maybe now I should go back to my wife. I'll see you next time, Katniss. This time let's try not to fight."

Uh? "Yeah..."

"Perhaps I'll see you again, Peeta Mellark."

Now Mellark is the one smiling. "Who knows."

And with that Gale leaves.

That's it. That's it?

Well, this was pretty... anticlimactic, wasn't it? I mean, I wasn't exactly expecting a Shakespearean tragedy but this resolution seems way to simple to me. But I'm afraid to ask Mellark if he thinks the same. I don't want to start a discussion that I don't know how will end.

But there is one thing that I am dying to know. "What was that between you and Gale?"

Mellark hums questioningly. Then tries to wave it off. "Oh, nothing. Don't worry." After a second he adds, "I guess that we don't need to run home anymore. The mood is pretty much ruined."

See, now, that is not fair. From the moment on the dance floor that I had decided to give in to my carnal desire for Mellark, I couldn't wait to have that nice fantasy of his fulfilled. I was really looking forward to it. Then Gale comes along, says some bullshit, and all our plans fall through.

I'll be damned if I'll let Gale Hawthorne ruin my night.

I grab Mellark's arm. "Only if we let it get ruined."

He looks at me, surprised. Apparently, I keep surprising him today. He asks, "Really?"

I get close to him enough to push my breasts against his arm. I bite his earlobe gently. I hope that my voice is as sensuous as I intended it to be. "Really." I whisper.

I don't have to say anything else. After looking around us to check if someone could see us, Peeta enters the cloakroom, pulls me in, and locks the door behind us.

This is gonna be a fun ride.

Hope you liked it. I have a tumblr (littleevilisa), come tell me what you think! :)