The banner is created by Any, Loving-Mellark on tumblr.

Noting but the terrible mistakes are mine, and everything belongs to its original creators.

Please enjoy!

"You can't really be a virgin," Johanna says in skeptical disbelief over her martini.

Katniss scowls at her co-worker and friend, "Why would I admit to that." She immediately regrets her words, realizing now, for the first time in her twenty-four years, that she regrets being a virgin. And as if her brain were a second person it retaliates brutally, reminding her that It's better than being pregnant at sixteen with no career.

But still, she wonders if she made a mistake. If somewhere along the way she was meant to sleep with one of the many men who got away.

"I don't know, for attention." Jo shrugs taking a gulp of her drink and signaling the waitress for two more even though Katniss' has yet to be touched.

"Drink your martini," she commands with an icy glare.

So Katniss takes a gulp, the liquid burning as it trails down her throat. "What do you think?"

"About your Hail-Mary Virginity?" Katniss levels a glare at Johanna's question and looks around to make sure no one overheard them, the last thing she wanted was to be is the loser virgin. "I feel like I should have known. I mean I've worked with you for three years, been friends with you for one, and I've never even heard a peep about your sex life, or guys in general. You're so… prudish. Especially when it comes to going out."

"I went on a date with Thom Aldrich," she defends instantly.

"One date doesn't count."

"So, what should I do?"

Johanna scoffs, "What? You've been a virgin your whole life and now only think about losing it? That's stupid." The waitress drops off two more lemon drop martinis.

"Can we have two shots of tequila?" Katniss asks. There's only one intent for the night: get drunk and hopefully forget everything that has taken place today, including that stupid article.

She was at the doctors office when she read, "What Men Think About Your Number." The article was in Time, a magazine she thought was meant to be harmless and informative. Instead, with rapt interest, she discovered being over the number 14, and under the number two is actually absurd for anyone over twenty-two.

No guy would actually settle with her, according to Jenna Kauffman, the writer of this misogynist post. And then, any thought of Katniss being sexy and pure dropped to the bottom of her stomach.

This morning she woke, thinking she had made a name for herself rather than her sex life. Now, she's some twenty-four year old virgin who no man will want to touch… again according to Jenna Kauffman.

Johanna breaks Katniss out of her thoughts, "I mean, if you want to lose it… lose it. I did when I was like fourteen. But make sure you're doing it for you and not for anyone else. Don't be brainless about it."

"Brainless," Katniss raises an eyebrow.

"Your new nickname."

Katniss isn't losing it for anyone else, she thinks stubbornly hiding her scowl behind her glass. Then her shots arrive.

Ninety minutes later, Katniss slurs, "I know!" After two shots of tequila and the shot of whisky Johanna insisted on, Katniss knows everything.

"A vibrator doesn't count."

"I'll make a list!" She says excitedly, purposefully ignoring Johanna's quip.

Johanna finishes her drink, "Wow, you're a slut now too."

"A list of the people who I could have had sex with. You know, like the people who wanted me to have sex with them, but I ignored them. I can make a list and just re-try them. Maybe I was just too picky."

"Standards, they get you every time," Jo agrees. "You'll have to find them."

"I know," Katniss smiles, downing her drink. But in this social, multi-platform age, she thinks it'll be easy.

Like usual, the elevator has a "Do Not Use" sign on the doors. Katniss stops and cocks her head at the crooked and skewed reflection that stares back at her. She's not ugly, not particularly pretty either in her opinion. She's fit, toned, thin, with dark hair. She doesn't even know why she's never had sex, or even thought about it.

And as she starts wondering about the sex she may soon be having, she somehow stumbles up to the sixth floor. Her heels are clutched in her left hand as she starts walking down the hall, thinking of all her neighbors.

604. Tina …Something… She always blares Green Day on Tuesdays like she's still living in 2003.

606. Annie. Intense dog lover.

608. She stops instantly in front of his door and scowls. 608 is habitual one-night-stander.

One night, after too many drinks like tonight, she left her apartment and stomped to his door. She raised her fist and punched the wood six times before screaming at the top of her lungs, "Must you always wake the floor up with your mating rituals?"

She then stomped back to her room, making as much noise as humanly possible in a 110 pound body and slammed her door behind her.

Then, two weeks later, she reopened her door to find him on the other side. Her cheeks brightened instantly, but her lips tugged down, as she remembered her actions. It was his own fault she acted like that anyway.

He claimed he locked himself out and she was the only one who answered his knock. She mentally cursed, and had half a mind to just slam the door in his face. Instead, she let him in.

He toured her apartment, looked at the pictures on her wall and asked about Gale. She told him the truth, because the truth was always simpler than some random lie and she can't lie for shit.

The truth is, they were just two friends who lost each other through bad timing and poor communication skills. That's it.

He just smiled and said, "Well, if you ever need help finding him, I have some good face-stalking skills." She shrugged away his joking offer without even a smile.

Why would she ever want to get into contact with Gale Hawthorne?

Why would she ever want to get into contact with Gale Hawthorne… The list!

She stares at the wood of Peeta's door and smiles. Her hands reach for the knob without thinking about it. As she turns the knob, she's surprised when the door opens. Although, she shouldn't be that surprised… he's probably waiting for some girl to visit him in the night.

But as fate would have it, when the door slowly opens, she hears wet lips. She should turn and run to her apartment, lock herself in there and forget all about her idiotic ideas. But instead, a plot begins to shape in her head as she treads slowly and silently through his apartment. Katniss finds him pressed underneath some blonde on his couch.

"Peeta!" She shouts, rushing over to them. Their lips break and he carelessly throws the girl off of him, his head snapping to where he heard his name.

He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion "Katniss, wh-"

"Mom's sick, she's in the hospital we have to go," she rushes taking his hand and pulling him off of his ratty couch. The girl he was kissing just stares angrily at her as if she has seven heads and wanted to rip all of them off. "Come on!" Katniss pulls on his arms, ignoring how his grip tightens and his eyes begin to sparkle.

"Sorry, Glim. I'll talk to you later," Peeta apologizes superficially, touching her shoulder, before Katniss pulls him jarringly across to the apartment door. "Just let yourself out," he calls.

Katniss looks over her shoulder when they get to the door, and notices how the girl just stares pointedly at Katniss, a frown and glare marring what is a very, very pretty face. Her stomach immediately plummets when she realizes what she did, but she doesn't stop. Instead, Katniss just pulls Peeta through his door and down the hall, leading him quickly into her own apartment.

She sifts through her black purse, trying to find keys, but her hands are shaking when she finally manages to pull them out.

Peeta doesn't say a word, he just stands to her left, his eyebrows lifted as he watches her closely.

When she finally gets him through her door, she slams it and turns around to stare at him. His blonde hair falls messily into his eyes, probably from the girl who was just perched on his lap. As she stares at him, she realizes that he's standing in just his boxers.

A very pointed pair of boxers.

"Hi," he begins cautiously, not even attempting to hide his arousal. Did it just twitch? Her eyes lift to meet his.

"You're going to help me," she tells him pointedly. He follows her helplessly into her living room where she pulls a blanket off the back of her couch and hauls it at him.

She may want to lose her virginity, but nudity still makes her uncomfortable.

A smile alights his face as he wraps himself in the quilted cover. "With…" his eyes squint as he trails off.

Her cheeks heat instantly, trying to remember what her original plan was when she stomped through his door. "You're going to help me lose my virginity."

"Oh," he gapes at her, as if trying to figure out if she is serious or not.

"Alright. This is new," he laughs ludicrously and drops the blanket, "Let's get started." His fingers reach for his boxers.

"No!" She shouts covering her eyes instantly. "No," she waits a few seconds then separates her fingers to see if it's safe. She finds him staring at her with a damned smirk on his face.

When it's safe, she continues, "You're going to help me find all the could-haves."

"The could haves?" he asks in confusion.

She sighs impatiently, how many times does she have to tell this plan tonight? "Any person who I may have had a slight romantic link with deserves a revisit. One of them has to be the right one."

"Oh," he says, then nods. "Well then let's get started. Do you have the list?" He asks, grabbing the blanket from the floor and sitting on the couch. He picks his feet up and drapes them on the coffee table.

"Not yet…"

"Well get to it women, do you want to die a virgin or something?" He asks impatiently with a joke light in his voice.

She sits next to him, and he toys with his phone showing her he's going to type the list on his phone.. "Number one," she starts, looking over his shoulder, as he begins to type. He makes eye contact with her and waits for her to continue. "Gale Hawthorne. G-A-L-E…"

His fingers type quickly and she watches them dance across his screen. She doesn't even wonder why this isn't weird.

She wakes up to an apartment that smells like pancakes. She hates pancakes.

Katniss scowls and sits up on her couch, wiping the drool from her face, and horrifically remembers the night before. She thought alcohol would help forget. Instead, it just brought everything back, along with a few mistakes, tenfold. Her hand grasps the glass of water that was left for her and chugs from it.

Why did she go to Peeta Mellark's apartment?

She vividly remembers Peeta Mellark sitting next to her. She remembers drunkenly telling him every single detail about her non-existant sex life. Then she remembers quite literally passing out on him. Like actually falling asleep on his lap, his skin underneath her cheek.

She silently prays, fruitlessly, that it was a dream. But then, as if God wanted to inflict more horrific karma on her, there's clattering coming from her kitchen. She gets up and stretches, trying to keep the vodka in her stomach. Her mouth tastes like a mini-bar. Stale. She quickly goes to the bathroom and brushes her teeth to get rid of the taste before going to see who invaded her kitchen, thinking that it's Prim.

Instead, she finds a fully-dressed Peeta Mellark with a towel slung over his shoulder as he flips pancakes on the stove. She doesn't miss the way that his shirt clings to his biceps, or the way the vein in his forearm raises when he grips the pan.

Katniss clumsily falls into the kitchen bar-stool.

"How nice of you to join me drunkie," Peeta teases. As his hands effortlessly flip the pancakes onto plates, she just grunts a noise in response. "I made chocolate chip pancakes, hope that's okay. I was going to make them with blueberries because you seemed like a fruit person, but then I opened your fridge." After he turns off the stove, he swivels around to look at her.

"Did you know your missing an entire food group? It's called fruit, there's actually health benefits to it."

"I hate pancakes," she tells him dismissively, ignoring his comment about fruit, while eyeing the plate as if the food was going to jump off and grab her.

"Who hates pancakes?" Peeta questions.

She levels a glare at him. "I do."

"Well you've never had my pancakes," he boasts cutting a tiny piece of the meal onto a fork and holding it out to her.

It's nice that he's made himself comfortable in her kitchen. She bitterly realizes he probably knows his way around better than she does. If apartments could come without kitchen's, she'd be fine. That's what take-out and pre-made food is for.

Peeta dangles the fork in front of her, as if the small piece smothered in butter is meant to tempt her. Instead, it repulses her.

Reluctantly, she takes the fork from his hand and bites into the fluffy breakfast. Unfortunately, it's actually good. Her eyelids flutter shut, and her voice squeaks when the chocolate melts into her mouth with the salty butter.

"Good?"

She looks at him and notices his smirk… that smirk. God she hates that smirk.

"It's okay," she lies. Then hands the fork back to him with a shrug, "I guess I'll have one."

His smirk grows into a grin, knowing he's just won a reluctant compliment from her. He puts two on her plate, along with a mound of butter.

"Why are you here?" She asks, shoveling the food into her mouth with little regard for niceties.

"I'm hiding from Glimmer. You know the girl from last night."

"She's still there?" Katniss asks, her headache starting to lessen.

Peeta stiffly nods and pours her a glass of milk, then somehow produces a tylenol from one of her kitchen drawers. She was wondering where that bottle went last time she drank.

"Want me to get rid of her?"

Peeta's eyes dance to her, "You'd do that?"

"I mean…" she takes a sip of the water and takes the pill. "You're still in… on what we talked about last night, right?" Her voice grows quieter and her skin heats just from bringing up the night before.

"Yeah, I love corrupting virgins."

"That doesn't surprise me." Katniss states, pursing her lips into a scowl. She looks away then back to Peeta. "I mean, if you'd do that for me, then I'll do this for you. Like you can hide here, from all your women tracking you, and you can help me."

"Deal," Peeta holds out his hand for a shake, and she takes it reluctantly.

Ten minutes later, she re-enters her apartment to find a clean kitchen and a list stapled on her far wall. Peeta's staring at it from the couch and her laptop balances on his lap as he ferociously types.

"What are you doing?" She asks, an edge of irritation laced in her voice.

His head just furrows closer to the computer. "Finding information."

"From?"

He sighs. "My eldest brother works for the police, when I was younger he used to take me on stake-outs all the time." He tells her, finally looking into Katniss' silver eyes. "I'm using his login shit to see if any of these people have addresses in the system."

"That's illegal," she informs him, then realizes he probably already knows that.

"Do you want to find Gale Hawthorne or not?"

"Gale Hawthorne is in Europe, expanding his father's new coal company. You'll never find him in that system."

Peeta shrugs, going back into her laptop as Katniss sits next to him. "Well, he'll take a while. But we can have some fun with the… Darius O'Hagens of the world?" Peeta turns the computer to so she can read it easier.

Darius O'Hagen was arrested for a DUI.

"No," Katniss shakes her head.

Peeta looks at her, "But he was on your list."

"No, I recant that name. He's not meant to be on the list. Absolutely not. I was drunk, and didn't know what I was saying."

Peeta's face brims with laughter, "Recant? Is this because he used to pick his nose at the office."

"No this is because… no. I have standards thank you very much."

Peeta nods and smiles crookedly at the computer. "Well he lives in town so if you change your mind… Though, I've heard the Irish aren't that good in bed."

She scowls at him and he pretends not to notice.

"Hey, while this is running background checks, maybe we can do some food shopping. You know? Maybe get some fruit."

"What is this fruit you speak of?" She asks while standing to grab her purse, then turns around and stares at him until he moves.

Peeta stands up and stretches, his shirt riding up above his pants. She remembers what his chest felt like under her cheek. She hopes that someone else will feel like that.

When they finally get to the door he lightly holds her elbow to stop her.

"Are you really a virgin?"

She looks at him confused, didn't he just go along with everything they talked about. "I mean… yeah. Unfortunately." She shrugs his comment away and pulls away from his touch.

"That explains the mating rituals thing," he says with a grin.

"Ha. Ha." She says, going through the door, already hating this arrangement, but something has definitely shifted between them.

Her door opens with a resounding thud.

"I found him," Peeta gasps, as if he ran seven miles instead of from down the hall. She watches as he walks over to her, papers in hand.

"Gale?" She asks excitedly, sitting forward on the sofa and forgetting all sense of awkwardness or formality. Over the past few weeks, they've gotten close. Hanging out. Him cooking for her. Who knew home-style cooking could be so good? And he also made her try pineapple, a fruit she actually enjoys eating.

Nonetheless, she shouldn't be this excited to see Peeta, except for the fact she's actually grown to some-what (not totally) enjoy his company.

"No," Peeta tells her, "I told you the rich ones are hard to get a hold of. But don't worry, I'll find him."

"Then who?"

"David "The Marvel" Stanton." Peeta says with a smile, showing her some of the papers in his hands. Her face instantly falls, as she slumps back, reading the papers with uncaring interest. He sighs, sitting next to her on the couch. "I know he was last. But listen, not a bad looking dude. Runs his own business, lives near-"

"He's a magician," she snaps throwing the papers on the coffee table.

"But he's a good magician," Peeta smiles. "Look, I found a video of him."

Katniss groans, and cradles her head in her hands, covering her eyes as Peeta pulls up Marvelous David's routine on his phone.

"I asked him out on your facebook."

"I don't have a facebook," she reminds him.

Peeta throws his phone on her coffee table and props his feet up next to it. "You do now," he explains. She shoves him off balance so he topples over on the sofa, "Okay, sorry! I had to make one. These people might be trying to find you while you're trying to find them. AKA, Gale Hawthorne who is out of the country."

Katniss rolls her eyes and scowls at him. Her interest piqued, she looks over at him, as he grabs his phone again, opening up the Facebook app. "What picture did you use?" She leans over him, but he side-eyes her and locks his screen.

"One I took of you sleeping this morning. A bit of drool, but other- Owe!" She shoves him again, maybe even punches him in the arm with more force than she intended. "Okay, okay," he holds his hands up in surrender. "It's just your sophomore yearbook picture, the one from your goth days."

"I swear to God Peeta."

"Got you again," he jokes with a cracking smile on his face and his hand pushes the ashen blonde hair from his face.

"No pineapple pizza for you." She tells him seriously, getting up to the kitchen with her cell phone in hand. She pulls the menu from the kitchen drawer and looks it over. She can hear his heavy tread follow her, and before she knows it, his body is looming behind hers.

She pretends not to notice that he's there, and instead only looks at the menu in front of her, reading words that make no sense to her.

His hands ghost over her back, trapping her braid in his grip and maneuvers it to the other side of her face. She feels him lean in, his breath drawing closer to the shell of her ear.

"I'll give you the password to change it if I can get a slice," he whispers, and a part of her shivers just from intimacy.

She elbows him in the gut.

Katniss punches the screen on her phone before she even gets out of the restaurant. The dialing only irritates her more as she stomps through the doors, not even thanking the hostess. She's about to hang up, say to hell with it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wonders why it takes him so long to answer. Wondering if he is with another girl. But she shakes her head, of course he's with another girl. He's always with other girls.

"Hello," his deep voice makes her feel at ease. He's her security blanket, her safety net. She realized before she even left the table that he was everything she needed in that moment. Corny jokes and bright smiles. Glossed blue eyes.

"It was terrible," she sighs through the phone not even waiting for his question.

"You mean Cato-Douchebag wasn't what you thought," Peeta surmises.

"Don't call him that," she chastises. He laughs, and she smiles with him. Katniss groans, "He was worse."

"Where are you?"

"Thirty second and fourth," she stops at the cross walk, imagining him on his sofa, or maybe in his room with a harlot.

"Wanna meet at Chow's?" He asks, and she can hear shuffling around from his end.

"I guess," she feigns indifference, like she didn't just walk out in the middle of dinner with Cato Baxter. Like her stomach hadn't grumbled in protest when she slid her chair out from under her and bid her terrible date to have a nice life.

Honestly, what was she thinking when she decided to go out with Cato Baxter. She's pretty sure, she was thinking desperation. God, he was miserable, like some beefed-up jar-head who peaked too soon in high school.

What an idiot she was thinking she'd lose her virginity to him.

"I'll see you in fifteen."

She locks her phone without saying goodbye and begins to walk over to the restaurant.

The walk is brisk. Her wedges silently pad against the sidewalk as the wind caresses her high cheekbones. Katniss crosses the streets, lost in thought on her way to the Chinese restaurant.

The past few month has been a bust. The biggest bust. If it weren't for Peeta, it would be humiliating, and she would have long ago given up on this entire idiotic idea. But here she is, trudging in a new dress, walking out on dates. Still. A month later.

Sure, she'd only been on two dates, but to someone who hasn't dated since the concept of dating died with Blackberrys, that's two too many.

She walks into Chow's, her quicksilver eyes scanning the room for blonde hair. Just before she can ask the host for a table, a light and intense whistle grabs her attention. She looks to her left and sees Peeta standing and waving her over.

With a shrug and smile to the hostess, Katniss walks over to the table he managed to grab in the busy restaurant.

"Hi," she grumbles, tucking her hair behind her ear, as if she hadn't just hung up the phone with him.

He smiles and pulls out her chair, "Don't look so glum." Collapsing into the chair, Katniss rises a single eyebrow in his direction. He shrugs carelessly, sits across from her, and pulls the menu from its resting spot.

"I want everything," she says sheepishly, looking over the endless possibilities. She can feel Peeta's eyes staring at her over his menu. Quickly, she peeks her eyes in his direction and sees his smirk.

"The usual?"

Katniss sighs with a nod, "The usual." She reaches for the glass of water, drinking it as if she were dying of thirst.

Peeta clears his throat, making his voice sound like gravel. Like when he first wakes up, it's deep and foggy. "So, how was it?"

Katniss grumbles, "A nightmare is making it sound nice."

"Now you know why I don't date." She silences him with a menacing glare. "Continue," he gestures with his hand and bites his lip with two very white teeth to contain his obvious smile.

"There's nothing to continue on about. It just sucked." She shrugs, running her finger along the edge of her glass.

"Did he at least tell you how beautiful you look?" His voice is almost shaking when he says the words, she can hear it without even looking at him. She doesn't know if she's flattered or pissed off at that sentence. She wants to claim indifference, like his words mean nothing, but that's not true.

"Yes, just after telling me about his ex girlfriends tits."

Peeta leans forward, "Tell me about them." He whispers with a faux deep timber to his voice.

She leans forward, her voice barely above a whisper, "firm and supple…" she trails off huskily.

"Continue," he says with a tilt of his head.

"Don't make me walk out on you too."

He laughs, lounges back and changes the subject. Tells her that the Knicks may actually have a chance this year, it's looking good for the blue and orange.

"Not if us Bulls have anything to say about it." She smirks, while taking another sip of water.

Their waitress comes over, and they quickly order their meal. Correction, their schmorgesborg. Katniss has never been one to over-order. She grew up in poverty, always wondering where her next meal would be coming from. But with Peeta, it's not like that. Food is their thing. They binge on greasy things then locate guys for her to have sex with. And she likes that. It's different, she's not worried about what he'll think or who she's taking this food away from. Instead, Katniss only thinks about how many bites are left until the food is sadly gone.

It's like he's always testing her, prodding her out of her comfort zones, making her rethink her once tepid boundaries. (Including fruit.)

She likes it.

And after they argue on who will be having the better season, after their plates are empty and their stomachs are full, he leads her out of the restaurant. Peeta's hand draped carefully and gentlemanly on the small of her back. They remain stoic there, but her stomach still drops with the contact. Wondering why he's touching her, and why he hasn't before.

Her heels click against the stairs as se painfully climbs them. Whoever invented heels deserves to be thrown in a snake pit with a group of starved anacondas. Those things freak everyone out.

"Elevator broken again?" She hears Peeta call from above her. She stops and looks up, only to see him hanging over the railing.

"No. Women love going up stairs in heels."

He laughs, "Well then you deserve a treat. I have Chow's."

She stops somewhere on the third floor to look at him, "Spare ribs?"

"The tiny ones," he affirms.

"I'll be there in fifteen." She continues to climb the stairs as Peeta disappears behind the staircase and presumably into his room. Forgetting about the pain, she quickly shuffles to her apartment, and toes them off as soon as she gets in. Her phone alights with a facebook message from Tom Aldrich.

She rolls her eyes and reads it as she shimmies out of the dress she somehow stuffed herself into.

"Was really great seeing you again."

He's sweet. He's fine. Too fine. That kind of fine that doesn't make her want anything, it's the kind of fine that just makes her think, awe Thom Aldrich, he's such a nice guy. He even bought the twenty-four dollar martini she ordered without a word about it.

Unfortunately, he's the kind of nice guy that finishes last.

She goes over to Peeta's in sweats, wearing a full on groufit. Even Peeta mentions something about it when she enters the apartment and she shrugs, because Peeta is, for some odd reason, the only guy she can actually just be around. Be around in sweats, and not have to worry about dresses.

But when she surveys the room and sees two glasses of wine with candles around the apartment she wonders if she should have kept the dress on.

"Are you expecting company?"

Peeta pokes his head up from the fridge where he grabbed the bottle of wine, knowing that she prefers white over red. "No." He makes his way to the kitchen table and sits, shoveling his unappetizing veggie lo-mein onto his plate.

She sits and grabs the spare ribs from the bag and dumps pork fried rice onto her plate. She groans the second she tastes the ribs. "So good…"

Her eyes meet his. They're staring intently at her, swirling all types of emotions that she feels like she should be able to decipher. But, she isn't a mind-reader.

"So who's coming? Glimmer? Clove?" When he doesn't respond, she licks her fingers, "Oh! Is it another new one?"

She loves the new ones, so many things to talk about after a night with one of the new ones.

"No," his lips fall at the tips. "I actually think I'm going to take a break from the whole scene for a while."

Katniss bobs her head in understanding, "Running out a sperm?"

He shakes his head and as he shovels broccoli onto her plate. "Try it."

"No." She puts it back on his plate, only to have it wind back on hers. He knows she detests broccoli with a burning passion. She just stabs it with her fork and nibbles it with disgust. Then just plops it into her mouth and chews it thoughtfully.

"It's okay I guess."

He smiles that damned smirk again. "Okay."

"Well, I like the candles," she tells him honestly.

"Yeah?" he asks almost hopefully, as his smile turns into a full sheepish grin.

"Yeah," she tells him with a blush. "It's okay I guess."

Katniss' phone vibrates in her hand. She unlocks her screen and swipes her messages open.

Peeta Mellark: Where are you?

Today at 3:14pm

She bites her lip and leans back in the waiting chair she's sitting in.

I'm shopping with my sister and Jo

Today at 3:15

Her fingers linger over the irritated emoji, tempted to let Peeta know just what she thinks of her day thus far. What she thinks of shopping in general, it's such a waste. But she decides against it when she sees the ellipsis appear, informing her that Peeta is writing again.

Peeta: Can I use your bathtub?

Today at 3:15

Absolutely not

Today at 3:15

"What do you think of this?" Prim asks opening the curtain and revealing a black cocktail dress. Her sister's blonde hair shines in the light, once again reminding Katniss of how different the two of them are. While Prim has light hair and even fairer skin, Katniss is older, with tanned skin and chestnut hair. Blue eyes, and silver eyes respectively.

Complete opposites.

So it's only fitting that Prim has her life planned out before Katniss even has an idea of where hers is heading. That's what their celebrating after all, Prim's just been accepted as an intern at Panem Hospital. A prestigious feat for anyone.

And while Katniss is happy, ecstatic even, for her sister, she's also disappointed that their worlds are at complete odds. While her sister's is being tied with a neat bow, Katniss' is a fraying rope, her job becoming more strenuous, and her love life literally going no where. Even with all of Peeta's help, she's still a twenty-four year old virgin. She wonder's if they'll put that on her grave.

"You look beautiful Prim," Katniss tells her honestly, pride for her sister overwhelming her.

"Can I see the red one again?" Johanna asks, "You look good in red."

Prim steps back into the dressing room just as Katniss' phone lights up again.

Peeta: Why is there so much 50 Cent on your iPod?

Today 3:18

Katniss rolls her eyes, scowling lightheartedly at her phone.

Listening to a person's iPod and judging their music is crossing a big line.

Today 3:19

She smirks before adding:

Some even say it's a friendship ending line.

Today 3:20

"Who are you talking to?" Johanna inquires with a skeptical gaze and raised eyebrows.

Katniss' eyes dart up to her friend's after she hits send, "No one important."

The other girl's lips purse, and her brown eyes narrow when Katniss' phone lights up again.

She quickly looks down and shifts her phone away from Johanna's prying eyes. She opens up Peeta's message and sees him holding her iPod while sitting bare chested and wet in her bathtub with a cheshire-cat's smile on his face.

Peeta Mellark: Whoops.

Today 3:21

Katniss barks an uncontrollable and unforeseeable laughter. An uncharacteristic laugh, especially for her. It consumes her, and bubbles forth, making Johanna raise an eyebrow.

"Did you just laugh?" Prim asks, her head poking out of the purple changing room curtain.

I want my key back.

Today 3:22

Katniss looks up, startled that anyone actually heard her. "What? No- I don't know-I guess," she dismisses nonchalant, like she laughs all the time, when in fact she doesn't. "I like the black one better," she tells her sister, hoping to change the conversation that's about to happen.

"Oh no, no, no, no," Prim smiles, "Who were you laughing at?"

"Just Peeta," Katniss grumbles and pulls at the end of her braid. When no one speaks she looks up at Prim whose eye's are on Johanna's. "What?"

"Katniss," Prim starts with a sigh.

"Peeta Mellark can't be your first fuck," Johanna blatantly takes charge.

"Excuse me," Katniss blanches.

Prim sits next to her sister and grabs her hand. "What I think Jo meant to say is that Peeta is not the kind of guy you want to lose your virginity to."

"He's the guy you screw after your first screw. You know, to get back at your first guy," Johanna surmises. "Girls get attached to their firsts it's a scientific fact."

"It is not," Katniss cuts in, looking to Prim for help. Her sister's going to be a doctor after all.

Prim shrugs, "There have been studies that say women become more attached after sex because of the hormones released during it. It's not a weird thing."

"Look, Peeta's just a friend. Nothing else." They just don't know Peeta. They know the womanizer Peeta, the Peeta she spent hours on end complaining about. Not this Peeta, the witty, friendly, and helpful Peeta. They don't know her friend Peeta. "He's actually a good guy," she defends.

"He's a trainwreck!"

Katniss' eyes strictly narrow to Prim in utter disbelief. She's never heard Prim talk like that, let alone talk about someone her sister's friends with. Katniss slowly retracts her hands from her sisters grip. When Prim sees her sister's eyes, she shakes her head, "He is."

"What does he even do, Katniss?" Johanna asks, "Sit on your couch all day?"

"That's harsh. He's an artist."

"We're just trying to help you, okay?" Prim delicately says."We want what's best for you, and we are just worried with how much time your spending with him. We don't want to see you get hurt."

"Thanks, but I can take care of myself." Katniss scowls coldly, throwing her braid over her shoulder and stiffly standing up with her arms crossed over her chest. "Which dress are you getting?"

Prim looks like she wants to continue, or say something else. Her eyebrows furrow across her forehead, making worry lines appear when she should be calm and ecstatic about her news. She should be happy, glowing. Instead, Katniss ruined her little sister's achievement. A sinking panic rises in the pit of her stomach, making her wonder if she ruined her sister's day.

So she smiles, complacently, a tiny brittle one that looks like it could shatter into a million pieces. "I'll be careful."

"That's all I want," Prim says softly.

"Can you, I don't know, just pick a damn dress already so we can eat?"

Prim giggles, "Yeah I guess."

"I want my shirt back, I'm always losing my damned shirts," he tells her with a pointed stare, as if she were behind the disappearing act of his clothing.

"But it's so soft," she pouts.

He gazes at her heavily. "Your pout won't work."

They just came from a hiking trip, where he "accidentally" pushed her into the river. So, in retribution she took his shirt and made him walk bare chested down the trail. Telling him that she hoped he had seven thousand mosquito bites on the middle of his back where he couldn't reach.

"Not only is that unrealistic, but that's also really cruel," he told her with a pout.

She informed him his pout wouldn't work, and kept her wish. Then, she stayed in his shirt that reached the middle of her thigh.

At one point, she slipped her jeans off tired of walking in drenched pants, and she swears she saw him watching her every move.

"Maybe you wouldn't lose so many clothes if you didn't have so many one-night stands," She tells him defiantly, her hands on her hips.

"So what your saying," he starts, walking over to her, "Is that I would have more shirts if I was in a steady relationship?"

Katniss shrugs looking up at him, "I guess that's what I'm saying." He looms over at her, staring into her eyes trying to pass something through them.

Peeta nods and looks behind her as if in deep thought. Then he suddenly looks down at her, "So then," he swallows thickly, "Go out with me."

Katniss stares at him, wondering if she heard him correctly. But then his hands frame her face, and she instantly leans into his touch, as if she had been drowning a thousand lifetimes until this very second. As if her face have never felt skin against it, and was only now needing human touch.

His hands trace her pouting lips, and she instantly releases a sigh.

"O-Okay," she says fluttering her eyes shut when his lips descent on hers.

It's chaste, just two lips pressed against each other, until she feels him move. Feels his hands thread into her hair. Feels his mouth suck her lip into his mouth.

She has never experienced a kiss like this, the kind of kiss that she feels in her heart, slowly unlocking its locked secrets. He groans, when she bites his lip and releases her.

He rests his forehead against hers. "We'll go slow," he reassures her, blue eyes boring into hers.

She simply nods because has no words.

"Just you know, a little kissing," he says pecking her on the lips. "Okay a lot of kissing," he laughs letting his lips slant over hers again.

He then walks her backward until they're in her bedroom.

Whatever Peeta's definition of slow is, doesn't correlate with most people's type of slow. Or at least her slow. Her slow is dates and movies and just chaste kisses. His slow is not that.

It's been a day. Just 24 hours, and here she is, straddling his hips on her bed. His lips sucking some pulse point on her neck, making her quiver with a need that comes like constant waves around her. She whimpers into the air, when his hand slithers under her shirt and cups her breast, softly kneading it.

She's never felt like this, she realizes. Not with anyone. And his lips move over hers, biting hers, pulling her in then pushing her out. His teeth nipping her jaw to her ear. He's too much she realizes, too experienced in the best kind of way.

She hears a phone ping and starts to get up, only he rolls her underneath him.

Peeta shakes his head at her, his eyes hooded, "Uh-uh." Then his lips slant over hers, his hips nestled in between her thighs. She's okay with it, with the feeling the weight on her.

She's okay with all of it.

Then his phone goes off again and she pulls her lips away from his. "Your phone," she laughs, pushing his hair from his forehead.

Oh how long she's wanted to be able to push it away. He shakes his head and leans down again lightly pressing his lips on her cheek.

Somehow, she maneuvers him underneath her and traps his hands above his head. Her hips flush against his, and she can feel the startling evidence of his arousal.

He looks up at her, his eyes adoringly tracing her face. She can feel him all around her, she can taste him in her mouth.

"I like this view," he says, a smile pulling his flushed cheeks.

And his phone pings again.

She rolls her eyes, and looks at it menacingly on the night table. She reaches for it, as Peeta's hands trace circles on her back, slowly pulling her shirt up inch by inch.

It's an unknown number, so she swipes and types in his code.

212-976-2423: Hey man, Gale Hawthorne's still waiting.

Her stomach drops just from the name, and scowls when she keeps reading.

212-976-2423: Hasn't heard anything, that girl still interested?

212-976-2423: Let me know, he's looking to reconnect now that he's back in the States.

She scrolls up and sees a tiny box "Gale Hawthorne's Contact Information" Then she sees Peeta's response.

Thanks man!

March 6th 3:16

I owe you one.

March 6th 3:17

She stiffens on top of Peeta, realizing that he's known where Gale was all along. Or at least for a week. When she feels his hands trace patterns on her skin, she pushes him away and fixes her shirt.

"What's wrong?" he says, sitting up to rest his head on her shoulder.

Only she gets off the bed, tossing his phone in his lap.

"How long have you known where Gale Haawthorne was?" She asks, fear coming back to her now.

"What," he laughs at her. He picks up his phone and read the texts messages. "It's not what you think," he says standing up in front of her.

"I think it's exactly what I think."

"No, it's not," he tells her putting his phone in his back pocket.

"So what? You got scared that I wouldn't be a virgin anymore and decided you wanted me for the conquest?" She asks, all fury and venom.

"No I-"

"I think you should just go," she says, pivoting on her heal towards her kitchen.

"Katniss, just stop." he tells her, running his hands through his hair. He follows her, "Yes, I knew where Gale Hawthorne was, but I didn't think any of that mattered now, not with us."

"Us wasn't on May sixth," she reminds him, taking the dishes from their dinner and throwing them in her sink.

"No, but us has been going on for a while now. You have to of felt it," He says, reaching for her, getting as close as she'll allow him. Only she deflects him and goes to the other side of her kitchen isle. "You have to of."

"Just go. I was stupid to even think you could be the one." Prim's and Johanna's warnings slither into her mind. He's not the guy, he's the wrong guy.

"Could be what? The perfect guy doesn't exist Katniss!" He tells her his voice raising. "I hate to be the one to shatter your ideal world, but he doesn't."

"No, but you aren't even close to him." Katniss says sharply pushing on his chest. "You're the guy I sleep with after. The guy I use to get back at him. You're nothing but a one night stand and that's all you'll ever be!" She punches with her words.

"Yeah? Well, let's talk about you," he crosses his arms over his shoulders as his eyes narrow. "You're so busy trying to be what you think you need to be that you don't even know what you are! There's nothing wrong with being a virgin, Katniss! And here you are, auditioning men to lose it to. You're acting like a child. Getting their hopes up, leading them on, just so you can feel some intimacy!"

Her mind races as she takes in everything he says. Her cheeks flush, not with embarrassment, but with anger. True, unbridled anger.

"Well thank you for telling me what I am. I was really concerned there for a few minutes." She says coldly, "At least I'm not the one fucking random people just to feel some type of anything! At least I can try and have a relationship, unlike you."

"That was true until I met you!" He confesses with a shout, slamming his fist on the kitchen table.

"Well," she says slowly, moving past him and opening the door for him. "If you slept with me, I'm sure you would have been long gone by now."

"Whatever." He mutters, passing through her door, "I'll be sure to send you his information."

"Fine." She says, then slams the door.

It takes a few seconds but she hears his slam from down the hall, and her phone buzzes with what she knows is contact information.

Instead of reaching for it, she falls against the door, wondering what just happened.

Come find my on tumblr I'm: BottledMichelle