a/n. title comes from "Gilmore Girls", loosely inspired by the relationship between rory gilmore and jess mariano. reviews are greatly appreciated!

He moves to town at the end of September.

Capitol, Massachusetts is a small town, population hovering around 2,765 with one grocery store and the lone traffic light was only installed the spring before, so a new kid, especially after the school year has already begun, is noteworthy. Like most of the people that live in Capitol, Madge grew up here, and even before she gets a good look at him, she knows this tall, broad shouldered boy sitting alone in the cafeteria is a stranger.

Madge's chemistry lab partner, Katniss Everdeen, on the other hand, seems to know him very well if the one armed hug she gives him as she slides into the chair next to him is anything to go by. Madge swears that she catches the brunette smiling at the boy, too, in a very nonKatniss manner.

"Who is that?" Delly whispers as if the new kid might be able to hear her from all the way across the cafeteria. "He's cute."

Madge rolls her eyes at her turkey on wheat sandwich, because Delly thinks everyone is cute. But then again, her eyes linger on the boy's sloping shoulders and tanned complexion against the bright white of his T-shirt. Maybe Delly's not so wrong about this one.

When she gets to sixth period chemistry, she sits at her regular lab station and flips through the day's lab assignment while waiting for Katniss to arrive. She's known the other girl since they were both in Miss Graham's kindergarten class together, gravitating toward each other during free time to sit in the reading corner, flipping through books, as the rest of their classmates ran around screaming and throwing blocks at each other. Even then, the two were decidedly reserved, making them a great match. They aren't friends exactly, but they have an understanding ever since those early days of Clifford the Big Red Dog picture books. From middle school gym classes to history projects over World War II to tenth grade chemistry partners, they always seek one another out in classes to pair up, working together in easy silence.

Katniss sits down as the bell rings, only giving Madge a small nod in acknowledgement before adjusting a pair of clunky, plastic goggles over her eyes. "This experiment looks pretty easy," Katniss comments, scanning the instructions. "We should be able to finish early."

Madge nods, already measuring out their solutions precisely. Curiosity seeps through her, wondering who the guy she ate lunch with is and how she already knows him, but she can't think of a way to ask without sounding intrusive and gossipy, the exact opposite of how she ever wants to come across. Like most small towns, Capitol is notorious for how quickly news spreads, regardless of whether or not it's true, and as the mayor's daughter and therefore under even more scrutiny than most, Madge prides herself on staying out of that silliness.

But when they're halfway finished with the experiment, it becomes clear that Madge's resolve to stay above Capitol's nosy nature is deteriorating quickly. "So," she begins, trying to keep her tone light and casual and failing miserably, "How do you know the new guy?"

Katniss looks up from her notebook. "Gale?" Madge shrugs. "Our dads grew up together," she replies, flicking her long braid over her shoulder, then she resumes copying down data in her neat print.

Madge stares at her, a hundred more questions running through her mind. Like why did this Gale character move to Capitol? Why did he start school late? But Katniss's forehead is crinkled in concentration, not at all interested in the novelty that is a new person in this town, so Madge focuses instead on the beakers arranged on their table.

Fortunately, Madge's aunt Maysilee doesn't care about being a town gossip, and when Madge shows up at her flower shop, the bell chiming cheerily as she enters, Maysilee happily fills her in over trimming rose stems.

Gale Hawthorne, she learns, is a year older than herself and moved to Capitol from New York City after his father passed away over the summer. Madge bites back a gasp when hearing that. It was bad enough losing her own mother three years ago when she was surrounded by people who have loved and cared about her since she was little; she can't imagine being uprooted after something like that. But his father was from Capitol, apparently, and although his wife wasn't, living in a smaller town is generally less expensive and allows the Hawthornes – there's serveral kids, apparently, although there hasn't been an exact number confirmed – to be near their family friends, the Everdeens, and when Madge makes a noise of understanding, she explains to her aunt the small snippet of information Katniss gave her.

"Sounds about right," Maysilee agrees, setting the last trimmed rose in a vase of water with its companions. She whisks the vase away, placing it at the front of a display. "Now, if anyone asks where you heard this from," she calls over her shoulder, "You didn't hear it from me."

She's got a minute before her French class starts, and because her locker is on the opposite end of the world, she needs to practically sprint down the hallway, books threatening to spill out of her arms as she does. It's when she's just rounded a corner that she slams into someone, though, and her books tumble to the ground.

"Oh, god," she mumbles, staring helplessly at the mess spread across the gray tiles before dropping to her knees to gather everything. "I'm sorry," she apologizes hastily, "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Clearly," she hears someone mumble, and her eyebrows furrow as she looks up to see the new kid, Gale, crouched down onto her level. Annoyance is etched in his features when he holds out her French textbook.

She takes it before trying again. "I'm sorry." She slides a notebook that she doesn't recognize towards him. "I was trying to get to class, and well, clearly that's going well." Tucking a stray lock behind her ear, she smiles politely. "My name's Madge."

"Gale," he says, not quite friendly but certainly less rude. This close, she sees that his eyes are a steel gray, an eye color that she's only ever seen on Katniss before, although hers have never caused Madge's heart to pause in her chest. "Hemingway?"

He's studying the cover of A Farewell to Arms, and Madge makes a face. She's only halfway through, but so far, she's not a fan of Hemingway's writing style, no matter how universally praised it may be. She prefers Fitzgerald's extravagant characters or Austen's artistry of language or the fantastical world of Rowling. But she plans to continue making her way through the book before pushing it to the back of her overflowing book case. At least then she can say she truly gave it the good ol' college try.

"I love this book," Gale says quietly, more to himself than to Madge who checks the time. The late bell should be ringing any second. Gale stands, Hemingway still in hand, and adjusts the strap of his backpack with his other hand.

Standing up straight, she tightens her arms around the stack of books in order to prevent another future disaster and says, "Sorry again. I've got to head to class." Gale nods curtly, and she's off again, barely making it into her seat as the bell reverberates throughout the halls.

She doesn't even realize that she's missing her copy of A Farewell to Arms until she gets home.

On Wednesdays before school, Madge eats breakfast at Haymitch's Diner with her dad. They usually leave the house together, but this morning, her dad left early to drop documents off at the office, agreeing to meet her there. Like everything in Capitol, Haymitch's is within walking distance, and she treks down the main street, pulling her jean jacket closer around herself in the New England autumn morning chill.

"Hey," a voice calls out behind her, and she sees turns to Gale Hawthorne jogging towards her. "Madge, right?"

"Yeah, hi," she greets tentatively. She's a bit surprised that he remembers her name, let alone that he's flagging her down in the streets at 7 A.M.

Stopping in front of her, he unzips his backpack and pulls out a book, turning it over to display that it's her copy of A Farewell to Arms. "You forgot this yesterday."

"Oh. Thanks." She'd thought she'd left the book in one of her classrooms, planning on searching for it today. She takes the book and puts it away in her bag. "Can't say I missed it too much, though," she comments wryly. "Ernest and I aren't shaping up to be good friends."

Gale shrugs. "It's one of my favorites."

"Even more of a reason for you to have kept it," she jokes, but Gale doesn't even crack a smile. Well. She's starting to understand why he's a fan of the author of few words, but maybe he took Ernest Hemingway's style a little too close to heart.

Haymitch's Diner sits at the corner of Capitol's main street, and Madge gestures to it vaguely over her shoulder. "Well, I've got to go," she says, already taking steps backward. "Thanks again for the book."

He nods and keeps walking, and Madge watches his flannel-covered shoulders continue down the street for a moment longer before pushing open the door to Haymitch's.

When she joins her dad at their usual table closest to the window, he's flipping through today's New York Times, and there's a plate of pancakes topped in syrup waiting for her. Her fork is en route to her mouth when her dad asks, "Who was that boy you were with?"

Her dad doesn't look accusatory, simply curious, but she has a feeling that this could be a trap. They've never talked about boys or dating before, and she's not sure she really wants to start now. She's always considered herself to be close with her dad especially after her mom passed away, but part of their relationship's success depends on the understanding that he never attempts to play a motherly figure in her life. She's got Aunt Maysilee for that.

Mouth full, she chews slowly to buy time before answering, "He's from school. He was returning a book that I accidentally left at school."

Her dad nods thoughtfully, and she watches him take a drink from his coffee, cream and no sugar like always. He picks up his paper again, pushing his glasses up his nose as if to say that this discussion is over, and grateful, Madge lifts her fork to her mouth to take another bite.

"He was very handsome," her dad comments, and she chokes on her pancakes.

He gets into his first fight after only being at school for three weeks.

After a quick visit to her locker, she exits Capitol High School to see Gale and Alex Cato on the front lawn, surrounded by other loitering students, pummeling each other into the ground. Seeing Alex Cato, the only hockey player anyone deemed skilled on their subpar team, in a fight isn't anything too shocking, but seeing Gale surprises her. But she chastises herself for that, because indulging in town gossip and a brief exchange about Ernest Hemingway doesn't mean she actually knows anything about him.

So she stands frozen behind the crowd, catching glimpses of a fist colliding with jaw, a busted lip, a knee to the stomach, before a history teacher slash baseball coach breaks up the fight.

On Halloween, her father is out of town, and Annie and Delly come over to binge watch seasons of American Horror Story, eat copious amounts of Chinese food, and spend the night. But with her father gone, Madge is on candy duty, handing out mini Snickers bar to kids dressed like whichever superhero got a movie that year and forcing Annie to pause Netflix a dozen times in a hour.

They're just about to finish an episode that's taken twice as long as it should for them to get through when the doorbell rings, and Delly cries out, "Oh, come on!" Even Annie huffs in annoyance before pressing the remote's pause button a little too aggressively.

Madge shoots them a sheepish smile before opening her front door to reveal Gale Hawthorne, standing against the orange-streaked sky, the sun disappearing over his shoulder. He has an arm around a little girl dressed as a ballerina, complete with a fluffy pink tutu and her dark hair in a neat bun. The girl, practically Gale's splitting image with her bone structure and steel colored eyes, beams up at Madge to reveal a missing front tooth and cheers, "Trick or treat."

Madge holds out the bowl of assorted candy bars for the little girl to pick one out. "I like your costume," she says kindly. "Especially your tutu. Pink is my favorite color."

Gale nudges the girl – his sister, presumably – and says, "What do you say, Pose?"

"Thank you," she says, finally deciding on a Twix bar and dropping it into her tin decorated with pumpkin stickers.

"Nice costume," Gale comments, eyeing her ensemble of sweatpants and an oversized Taylor Swift concert T-shirt critically, and self-conscious, Madge hugs her sides tightly. He still has a bruise rimming his left eye from his fight the week before.

"Thanks," she repeats dumbly.

"Madge," Delly's voice rings out from the living room. "What's taking so long?"

Posy begins to tug on Gale's hand, ready to move onto the next house, and Madge watches as he allows Posy to drag him off the Undersee's porch. Before going back inside, however, Madge hesitates at the door watching the two make their way down the walkway. Gale pat the top of his little sister's head, careful not to mess up her bun, and she moves closer, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulders and squeeze her tight. They're halfway to her neighbors' house before she closes the door.

"You know that new kid, Gale Hawthorne, right?" Finnick, Annie's boyfriend asks one day at lunch. Madge nods vaguely, digging through her brown bag lunch for her Ziplock bag of carrots.

Delly leans across the table, her voice low when she says, "I heard he hooked up with Johanna Mason behind the old elementary school playground."

Annie's face screws up in disgust, because who hasn't hooked up with Johanna Mason at this point? Not that Madge cares what the girl does – she has the right to do whatever and whoever she pleases, after all – but her gaze flits over to where Gale sits with Katniss, Thom, Bristel, and oh, yeah, Johanna. Her heart squeezes uncomfortably, and she bites down hard on a carrot.

"I heard that he got kicked out of school in New York," Finnick says.

Delly tilts her head. "I wouldn't be surprised. Did you see his fight with Cato? I thought people knew better than to fight that guy by now."

Finnick smirks. "Must be a guy with nothing to lose."

"How did you get your hat to stay on?" Annie asks, trying to adjust her pilgrim bonnet over her hair for the umpteenth time.

"Here, let me try," Madge offers, reaching over to position the white bonnet on her friend's head.

They had always paired up to volunteer a handful of shifts for Capitol's Thanksgiving canned food drive, requiring them to sit at a table in the park with cardboard boxes filling with canned food dressed as pilgrims. The costumes are supposedly to honor their New England founders, but Madge suspects it's mostly just to embarrass the teenagers whose parents guilt them into signing up. Luckily, the gig is relatively low energy, and Madge and Annie spend the hour people watching while sorting cans by food group.

"He really is good looking," Annie admits, separating canned vegetables from fruits, and Madge follows her friend's gaze to see Gale Hawthorne playing catch with a younger boy, one with the same jaw line and dark coloring. Hawthorne genes must be strong. Annie's not wrong; Gale essentially exemplifies tall, dark, and handsome in an entirely unfair way. Plus, he's wearing flannel, and honestly, it's like he doesn't want to give anyone a chance.

But Madge just shrugs noncommittedly before continuing to stack cans of corn in a cardboard box. "I guess."

Annie gives her a look of disbelief. "Oh, come on, Madge," she laughs, "Even you have to appreciate the bad boy." She waggles her eyebrows, and the blonde rolls her eyes.

"Says the girl dating the nicest guy ever." Finnick Odair is definitely a golden boy to Capitol – well-liked by anyone of the age two to ninety-two, the star of the swim team, and undeniable good-looking with a toothpaste ad worthy smile and warm, brown eyes. Not to mention that he's hopelessly in love with Annie.

A pink blush appears in Annie's cheeks, but she ignores her friend, adjusting her bonnet instead. "Still," she says, "Gale is good looking. You can't deny it."

But Madge sure can try.

Capitol's Thursday night town meeting at Effie Trinket's Dance Studio lets out, and Madge hangs back, waiting for her dad to finish talking to Mr. Odair. When he's done, he drapes his arm over her shoulders as they leave the warmth of Effie's for the crisp December night. "Haymitch's for dinner, kiddo?" her dad asks.

"Sure," she says. "But let's get it to go. I still need to finish a history paper for tomorrow." She makes a face, and her dad chuckles. They stop under the navy overhanging of Sae's Market, three stores down from Haymitch's.

"How about I grab dinner and you grab a few things from Sae's? We're almost out of eggs and milk," her dad says, pulling his wallet out of the back pocket of his khakis.

"Sounds like a plan," Madge says, accepting the twenty dollar bill he hands her. "Get me my regular?" He gives her a thumbs up before continuing to Haymitch's.

Madge pushes open the door of the market, waving politely at her classmate, Peeta Mellark, who works part-time as Sae's bag boy. She grabs the requested milk and carton of eggs then makes her way to check out. There's only one lane open this late – most of Capitol is off to bed post-town meeting – and there's someone in front of her – Gale Hawthorne, buying two apples and a box of baking soda. He glances back at her, his face not giving away any sign of recognition.

"Hey, Madge," Peeta says, "How's it going?"

"Good. School, piano, the usual," she answers brightly. "How are you? Wrestling starts soon, right?" Peeta and his two older brothers all have been on Capitol's wrestling team, and even though Madge doesn't really keep up with that sort of thing, Delly says that Peeta's pretty good, maybe even the best out of his brothers.

Peeta nods, grinning when he cracks his knuckles loudly. "I'm ready to get back at it."

Gale snorts, a look of disdain etched into his features, and Madge gives him a questioning look. But he ignores her, accepting his change from the cashier. "I don't need a bag," he says shortly before the blonde boy can even ask if he'd like paper or plastic.

Her gaze follows Gale as he exits the store, quickly paying for her items and taking them in the paper bag Peeta offers her, before hurrying out of the market. He isn't far, not having even passed Haymitch's yet. "What was that about?" she calls after him.

He turns, and if he's surprised to see her, his face doesn't show it. "That was pathetic," he says, and she wants to slap that stupid smirk off his face.

"What are you talking about?" she asks.

"You guys attempting to flirt with each other," he says, "It was pathetic."

"F-flirting?" she sputters. With Peeta? They'd known each other since the first grade, and while friendly, weren't even really friends. He was not flirting, nor would she reciprocate said hypothetical flirting. "No, that was called being polite. You should really try it sometime." His smirks grows wider, and her blue eyes turn icy. He's laughing at her. She crosses her arms over her chest. "Besides, why do you care?"

He shrugs. "I don't." And then he turns, leaving Madge with a dozen eggs, a carton of milk, and immense frustration.

She's played the piano accompaniment for Effie Trinket's winter dance recital since she was eight years old. Christmas carols were one of the first things she learned how to play on the piano, back when her fingers weren't even long enough to play the right chords, and after failing out of Effie's ballet and tap classes when she was seven, playing piano for the recital seemed like the only way she'd be able to participate. Now, at sixteen, she doesn't care if she's a part of the performance or not, but it's tradition, and her dad likes to see her play for an audience. So, now she spends her Friday night playing "Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies" while six years prance around the stage in fluffy tutus and ribbons in their hair.

When the performance is over, the last chord resonating from the old community piano, her dad stands and claps too loudly, and Madge bows her head, hoping to hide the blush in her cheeks behind the instrument and her hair. Once the dancers leave the stage and run into their respective parents' arms, Madge rises from the piano bench and finds her dad.

"You were great, honey," her dad says, beaming when he pulls her into a one armed hug.

She resists the urge to her roll eyes. He can't help but be a lame, proud dad. It's practically in his DNA. "Thanks, Dad," she says, letting him hold her close. "But I don't think the requests for an encore were necessary," she teases, nudging him with her shoulder. He smiles sheepishly.

In the crowd, she recognizes one little girl in a pink tutu and a matching ribbon threaded through her dark hair, standing in front of her family and talking animatedly with her hands. Sure enough, Gale Hawthorne stands in front of her, an amused grin on his face as he listens to his sister. Next to him is Katniss Everdeen.

As if she feels someone staring, Katniss looks up and catches Madge's eye. The brunette smiles politely and waves. Her cheeks feel warm again from getting caught staring, but Madge waves back.

Gale must notice the exchange and tilts his head to look at Madge, too. His gray eyes lock onto her blues, and she thinks that she's never seen a lack of intensity to his gaze. It's intimidating. But maybe that's the point. He lifts his chin, giving her a slight nod, his eyes not leaving hers.

Her dad's voice cuts through her thoughts, pulling her back down to reality when he asks, "How do you feel about a celebratory milkshake, kiddo?"

She looks back at where the Hawthornes are standing, but Gale's looked away, listening to Katniss now. She squashes the inkling of disappointment that leaks through her and smiles at her father. "Sounds great, Dad."

"Do you still tutor?" Katniss asks one day in chemistry class.

Madge shrugs, not lifting her eyes from their assignment. She's surprised that Katniss even remembers her talking about that; it was something she did more last year through the library's tutoring program, but she hasn't worked with anyone recently. "Sometimes. Why?"

"You've met Gale Hawthorne, right?" she asks.

Madge pauses, her pencil hovering over the paper as she looks over to Katniss. "Yeah," she says slowly. "Why?"

"He'll never admit it," Katniss says quietly. "But he needs some help in math. Do you think you could tutor him?"

Is Madge physically, mentally, and emotionally capable of tutoring Gale Hawthorne? Yes. Yes, she is. Does she ever want to in a million years? No. No, she doesn't. While she may not know him well, their few tense interactions are all she needs to know that Gale is unnecessarily rude and holds an inexplicable grudge against her. She doesn't answer, asking what she already knows the answer to, "But isn't he a year older?"

"Aren't you a year ahead in math?" Katniss counters.

"I – yeah," she admits against her better judgement. Although it seems that Katniss, her seemingly silent chemistry partner, has secretly memorized everything Madge has ever said, so it's not like she can exactly lie. "But how am I supposed to tutor someone who doesn't want a tutor?"

"I'll give him your number," Katniss says. "And he'll call you."

"And if he doesn't call?"

"Trust me," Katniss says. "He'll call."

That is how Madge begrudgingly shows up to the library after school the next week to tutor an equally unenthused Gale.

They sit at a table near the door, like they both are prepared to make a speedy exit if necessary, and she explains that they'll go over his last test to make corrections and then she can assist him when necessary with tonight's homework assignment. While Madge takes out her spiraled notebook, labelled "pre-calculus" in neat, block letters on the front, Gale says flatly, "I'm only here because Katniss made me."

Her jaw clenches, and she refuses to look up. As if she wants to be here? Hardly. "Then let's get this over with," she says as sharply as she can. "Do you have your last test?" He pushes it towards her, a fat, red 53 circled at the top, and she flips to the first question marked wrong.

An hour later, they've revised thirteen problems, Gale's completed his math homework for tomorrow, and Madge calls it a day. After donning their coats, they leave together, keeping as much distance as possible in between them as they exit the high school, and tightening her knit scarf around her neck, Madge begins to cross the front lawn in the direction of her house, watching her breath escape her in little puffs in the cold air, when she hears, "Are you walking home?"

Gale is still standing behind her, and her eyebrows furrow. "Yeah." Obviously, she refrains from adding.

Then Gale sighs loudly and shakes his head. "No, you're not. Come on."

The crease in her forehead deepens. "I am perfectly capable of walking home, you know." But she's already following him, hurrying to catch up.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm sure you are," he says, "But I'm not going to look like an ass by leaving the mayor's daughter stranded in twenty degree weather." He stops at a truck, the model seriously dated and the red paint fading, and unlocks it, climbing into the driver's side. "Get in."

She huffs in annoyance but climbs in, and it's surprisingly clean on the inside for a boy's car. Her other experiences in guys' cars, although rare, usually consist of clutter crammed everywhere and the smell of B.O. and fast food sealed into the vehicle. But Gale's truck is spotless and smells faintly like pine. She sets her backpack next to her feet, and Gale turns the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life. The radio stays off.

After giving him her address, they remain silent, the shops of Capitol's main street rolling past Madge's passenger window. "I didn't think many people in New York had trucks," she comments in a feeble attempt to make conversation.

While she glances over at him, Gale stares straight ahead at the road, his grip on the wheel tightening. "It was my dad's from college. He never wanted to get rid of it." His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, and Madge looks away.

She remembers Maysilee telling her on Gale's first day that his dad had passed away recently, prompting the Hawthornes' move back to his hometown. She tries, not for the first time, to imagine what it's like to move to Capitol after not growing up here, and she can't. This teeny, tiny town full of its colorful people and traditions and neurotics has never been kind to newbies, instantly putting them under a microscope to analyze and critique. She loves living here and has come to accept the mayor's daughter role pushed upon her, but it wasn't easy. It must have been a million times worse for Gale.

"My mom died," she blurts out. She doesn't know why she says it, and Gale glances over at her. It's like a domino effect, the words tumbling out of her mouth. "So I get it. The whole hating everything thing. Like, you've lost a part of yourself, and you wanna find it, wanna go check the lost or found or something, but they don't have a box in the school office for this. And it doesn't even feel real after, no matter how many days or weeks or months pass. I mean, my mom died three years ago, and whenever I get an A on a test or play through a new piano piece without messing up, the first person I think to tell is her, and I can't, you know?"

Her voice catches, and she stops, swallows thickly. She feels Gale's eyes on her, and she realizes that they've pulled up in front of her house even though she hasn't given him directions. Exhaling deeply, she says, "The point is I get it. You might not think anyone does, but . . . I don't know." She unlocks the passenger door and pushes it open. "Thanks for the ride."

She climbs out, pulling her backpack over her shoulders, and is about to close the car door behind her when she hears, "Hey, Undersee." She looks back, and his eyes are softer than she's ever seen them before.

"See you tomorrow," he says, the hint of a smile on his face.

"You seriously didn't like A Farewell to Arms?" He stares at her in disbelief, and she shrugs helplessly. They've gone over this for the past three study sessions ever since he gave her a ride home.

"No. It was so frustrating," she exclaims, "And the ending? Completely unsatisfying."

He gapes at her. "You've got to try again. Ernest Hemingway is considered one of the greatest writers of all time, and you cannot write him off after one so-called unsatisfying experience. You can even borrow my copy of The Sun Also Rises."

Her shoulders fall in defeat. "Fine. But only if you borrow my copy of Sense and Sensibility."

They don't suddenly become best friends. But they acknowledge one another in the hallways now, smile at each other on the streets, and actually talk during their biweekly tutoring sessions. About books, mostly, but sometimes music or movies. Gale, it turns out, is a huge movie buff; apparently, the whole Hawthorne family is, and the look of disappointment he gives her when she admits to never seeing a single Star Wars film is immense.

They're almost friends, Gale and Madge. More than acquaintances, not really friends. But maybe they could be.

She is in the kitchen, rinsing off strawberries at the sink, and her phone is plugged into speakers, playing an album that Gale recommended. It's completely different from what she typically listens to, but when he referenced the band in conversation and she stared blankly, he started scribbling down album titles for her to check out. So far, she likes it.

"Hey, kiddo," her dad says, picking a strawberry out of the bowl and popping it into his mouth. "That's different." He nods towards her speakers, and she shrugs. He's right. She usually only plays instrumentals or classical piano pieces that she's working on, not classic rock from when her dad was her age.

"Good different?" she asks.

Her dad listens to the music and chews thoughtfully. "Good different."

"We could see the new Fifty Shades of Grey movie," Delly suggests, eyes glued to her phone as she scrolls through movie times.

Madge makes a face. "Veto," she says before grabbing Delly's elbow and pulling her out of a bulky football player's way as he charges down the hallway. "Why don't we decide what to see at lunch?"

"Fine," Delly relents, sliding her phone in her pocket.

"Hey, Undersee," a voice says, and she looks up to see Gale walking towards her. He wears a lazy half-smile, and it looks so easy and natural that she can barely remember the time when he only scowled every time that he saw her.

She's smiling before she knows it. "Hi," she says, and then they've passed each other, two parallel lines traveling in opposite directions.

Delly stares at her, one eyebrow raised, a look that Madge always wishes she could pull off but has never quite managed. "What?" Her voice sounds more defensive than she would like.

"I didn't know you knew him," Delly says.

"Yes, you did," Madge replies, crossing her arms. "I told you that I was tutoring him."

Delly smirks. "But I didn't know tutoring was code for hooking up."

Madge's eyes widen, and she pulls on her friend's arm, causing her to stop short in the middle of the hallway. "What?" she blurts, "It's not. At all." Madge doesn't hook up with anyone, ever, and Gale is so obviously not interested. They're just actually becoming friends is all.

Delly doesn't say anything, only hums in disbelief, and keeps walking down the hallway, leaving Madge behind to gape until she calls after her, "It's not."

He stares at her so hard that she thinks he's trying to burn a hole in her head.

"What?" she finally asks.

"Come on," he says. "I know you finished it. Tell me what you thought."

She sighs. This is the exact conversation she's been trying to avoid all day, but with Gale, resistance is futile. Taking the book out of her backpack, she slides it over to him, the title, The Sun Also Rises, staring up at them. "It was . . . " She grimaces. "Better. Ish."

He groans, his face falling into his hands. His voice is muffled but audible when he says, "You're killing me, Undersee."

He shows up to the library with a big smile on his face and his latest pre-calculus test in hand, an 87 circled at the top.

Her first instinct is to hug him out of excitement, but she refrains, twisting her hands together behind her back. "That's great, Gale," she says instead. "You should be really proud of yourself."

He's still grinning as he rubs the back of his neck. "I think this calls for a celebration," he declares, grabbing her notebook off the table and pushing it towards her. "I say we skip tutoring for the day and grab coffee instead." She opens her mouth to protest, but he adds hopefully, "My treat?"

They end up at Haymitch's at her table near the window, Madge sipping her hot chocolate while Gale has black coffee. She makes a face after he takes a long sip. "I have no idea how you can drink that," she says. No matter how many different ways she's tried it, she can't get behind the taste of coffee, let alone coffee in its most natural state.

He raises an eyebrow before lifting the mug to his lips again, taking an even longer drink than before. He stares at Madge over the rim of the cup, his eyes teasing as she grimaces.

"I drank coffee before my test," he says after setting his drink down on the table. "Maybe it boosts intelligence."

She shakes her head. "You're already smart." He gives her a pointed look. "You are," she repeats, her tone defensive. "I would know. I'm your tutor. I have authority on these kinds of things."

He rolls his eyes, and she stares at him. Gale is smart. He's reading constantly and is more knowledgeable about politics around the world than anyone she's ever met their age. His academic troubles are obviously due to his indifference towards homework and school, because clearly, when he's interested in the topic, he has no issue. But before she can state any of these facts, he changes the subject, asking about the book she's currently reading, and it's his subtle way of effectively ending their previous discussion.

She runs into Gale in the book store one day on a Saturday afternoon. There's been a slow drizzle all day, resulting in a gray and somewhat dreary day in Capitol, and in Madge's opinion, a trip to the bookstore is practically a requirement on a day like this.

She has a book cradled against her chest as she turns down another aisle and bumps into someone exiting the same aisle. She squeaks in surprise, but her shoulders droop in relief when she sees Gale.

"Hey," she says, holding her book a little tighter. "Fancy seeing you here."

He grins and leans against the shelf. "Do you always meet people by literally running into them?"

Her mouth opens to respond then she clamps it shut. He's teasing her about how they met, obviously, but that seems like so long ago. It was so long ago. They never talk about any of the interactions before being friends, save multiple discussions about the merits of Hemingway. Interactions that were always tense and sharp and – well, it's weird to think about. How exactly did they go so long without being friends?

(Because that's what they are now. Not just almost friends. Definitely friends.)

"What are you looking at?" She changes the subject, pointing to the book in his hand. He holds it up for her to see: The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.

"Hey," she exclaims, a smile lighting up her features. "I recommended that for you."

"Yeah, I figured that – "

"Gale, are you done yet?" A teenage boy appears over his shoulder. He's a teenager, twelve or thirteen, and Madge has seen him around town with Gale before. Rory is his name if she remembers correctly. The boy's gray eyes widen when seeing that his brother isn't alone. "Hi."

"Hi," she greets him politely. "I'm Madge."

His eyes grow even wider in recognition, a familiar smirk appearing on his lips. He turns to Gale, eyes glinting when he says, "So this is the girl that you're always talking about. She's even prettier – "

Gale interrupts him, speaking loudly, "Well, time to get home." Grabbing his younger brother by the shoulders, he spins him around, only glancing over his shoulder to wave goodbye to Madge. She watches the brothers leave the store, Gale punching Rory in the arm as they go.

Madge bites back her grin.

Valentine's Day this year falls on a Saturday, and as the busiest day in the floral industry, Madge helps out at Aunt Maysilee's shop. While Maysilee runs out on deliveries, Madge stays at the store, helping customers when they come in to pick up their orders. She doesn't expect to see Gale walk in.

"Hey," she says. She's mentioned that this was her aunt's shop, but she hadn't told him that she'd be working today – not that she thinks that he'd come visit her on Valentine's Day. That'd be . . . weird, she decides. Definitely weird. "What are you doing here?"

He rests his hands against the counter, leaning forward. "Well, let's see," he says with a teasing grin. "I'm at a flower shop on Valentine's Day. What could I possibly be getting here?"

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, I get it," she says. "Dumb question." The arrangements ready for pick up are lined against the back counter, and she finds a clear vase filled with light pink lilies with a tag marked Hawthorne.

While she rings him up at the register, she attempts to sound casual when she asks, "Are these for someone special?" But her voice sounds incredibly forced to her ears, and she glances up to see if he notices, but he's busy getting out his wallet.

"Oh, yeah." Her ribcage feels tight. "My mom."

"Oh," she says, surprised. She smiles in spite of herself. "That's sweet."

He lifts his shoulders before handing her cash. "What about you? Got any big Valentine's Day plans?"

"Oh, yeah," she echoes. "The peonies and I have a long evening ahead of us."

He laughs, a rare occurrence, and she smiles, prouder of herself than she should be. He accepts the change she holds out before carefully lifting the vase she slides across the counter.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she says brightly.

He tilts his head towards her. "Happy Valentine's Day, Undersee."

"Just go over the rules for trigonometry once more, and you should be ready for your next quiz," she tells Gale on their Tuesday tutoring session. She begins packing up her notebooks, handing him back his papers, and standing to leave.

Gale leaves his things spread across the table, though, and when she looks over, he's staring at her, looking like he has something to say. She slowly sits back down in her chair.

"My friend, Thom is throwing a party this Friday." Madge knows Thom; they were in the same first grade class. But she hasn't spoken to him since they were paired together for a sixth grade science project, let alone receive party invitations. Especially when she hasn't received any party invitations since Delly's eighth grade birthday party at the roller rink. "You should come," he says.

Madge messes with her sweater sleeve, pulling it down past her fingertips. The idea of going to a party with the combination of alcohol, dancing, and her peers makes her want to crawl into a corner of her bed. "I don't know. Parties aren't really my scene."

He shrugs his broad shouldered shrug. "Sometimes they're lame. Not always. It might be fun if you're there." She looks up from the sweater's cable knit pattern, but Gale is busy shoving his papers into his backpack. When he glances up, he shrugs again. "Think about it."

"We're going," Delly declares.

Annie's eyes flit over to Madge in terror, and the blonde instantly regrets letting news of Gale's invitation slip. But he knows why she mentioned it – to see if they could provide clarity. What does it mean that he invited her to one of his friend's parties? Outside mutually knowing Katniss, they stay firmly within their own social circles, their friendship limited to biweekly tutoring sessions and friendly, randomly occurring exchanges. Is this a step forward? Towards what, Madge doesn't even know, but it feels like a shift in their dynamic, and she's not sure how to proceed.

Not like she really seems to have a choice in the matter, though, as Delly has already begun to plan their outfits for that Friday.

She hears the bass thumping two houses down where Annie parks her car. Delly clambers out of the back seat, bouncing on the balls of her feet, while Madge pulls herself out slowly, dread settling in her like lead. Her feet feel so heavy that she's not even sure how she'll be able to make it to Thom's house, but Delly loops her arms through Madge's and Annie's and singlehandedly pulls them up the walkway.

They enter without anyone noticing, and Delly, the only one with any previous party experience, makes a beeline for the kitchen to grab a drink. Madge follows obediently, her grasp firm on Annie's wrist. They wait while Delly shamelessly flirts with Thom at the keg as he pours her a beer.

Annie nudges Madge. "You can drink if you want," she says quietly. The brunette designated herself as the sober driver for the night, but Madge hadn't planned on drinking. The only times she's had alcohol was champagne or wine at her father's fancy political parties, and she doubts that Thom has any white wine hiding in his cabinets. But she accepts the red plastic cup Delly holds out for her, planning on holding it and not much else.

Delly drags them out to dance to annoying pop music that she knows every word of, but Madge takes the opportunity to scan the crowd for Gale. He should stick out, towering above everyone else, but all she sees is John Marvel shoving his tongue down Jen Glimmer's throat in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, an image she'll never be able scrub from her mind.

They spin around for a few more equally as poppy songs, Delly finishing off her beer and beginning the one Madge hands her, when she sees Gale. He's leaning against the entryway to the kitchen, cup in hand, talking to Katniss and Bristel, and she inhales sharply upon spotting him. As if he hears her, he looks over, and a smile takes over his face. He says something to his friends and begins to head towards Madge and her friends.

Delly gasps, poking Madge hard in the back. "He's coming over here."

"I can see that," she hisses back, shoving her hand away.

"Hey," Gale says, his eyes bright. "You came." His cheeks are faintly pink from what she assumes is the alcohol.

"Yeah – ow," she says. Delly poked her again. "These are my friends, Annie and Delly. I figured it was okay if they came?"

He smiles widely – definitive proof that he's been drinking, Madge thinks. "The more, the merrier. Nice to meet you, guys." Delly waves excitedly before tipping back her plastic cup to drain its contents. Gale's hand loops around Madge's forearm loosely as he leans closer to be heard over the blasting techno. "Do you want to go outside?"

She nods, grateful for the chance to escape and mouths to her friends that she'll be back before following Gale outside. The cool air hits her at once, and Madge lets out a relieved sigh.

Gale sits at the edge of the porch, and she sits next to him, lifting her mass of curls off her sweaty neck. "It is a million degrees in there," she gasps. She turns to see Gale, beer raised to his lips, staring at her amusedly with his red rimmed eyes. Her hair falls back against her neck, and self-conscious under his gaze, she runs her fingers over her lips as if to wipe off something that may be there. "What?"

He shakes his head, but there's a smile on his face. "This is your first party, right?"

Her face flushes knowing that she wears her lameness so openly, but she ignores the warmth in her cheeks, crossing her arms defensively. "So what if it is? Are you laughing at me?" He shakes his head again, his shit-eating grin growing wider, and her eyes narrow. "You suck," she declares, reaching out to shove his shoulder.

Gale intercepts, however, and grabs onto her wrist to pull her close, their noses mere inches apart. Her breath hitches at the contact, and the space between them feels like it's filled with static electricity, waiting to be set off by any slight movement.

Madge tries to remember the last time she kissed someone. She was thirteen, and it was Tanner Mellark at Alice Jensen's birthday party. It was her first boy girl party, and it was during a game of Spin the Bottle. Tanner had given her a quick peck while she had remained frozen in her spot in the circle, her friends next to her squealing in response. Annie and Delly have since agreed that it was the lamest first kiss in the world. Madge doesn't mention that it was her first and only.

Gale's nose brushes against hers, his breath fanning across her face, and the smell of beer is strong, sour, causing Madge to wrinkle her nose in response. The reminder that Gale has been drinking, that he's drunk, reverberates through her.

They are friends, and no matter how hard she squints, there have been no hints to the contrary. Sure, she's always had this weird, nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that maybe, if she ever had the chance, she could develop true feelings for Gale, but she's never had that chance. She's been able to forge a friendship with him, and just because he's had a couple of beers and she's been dancing to Usher for the last hour doesn't mean that she's ready to throw their platonic relationship out the window.

Before their lips touch, Madge ducks her head down. The move is subtle but does the trick – Gale's chin bumps against her forehead, and she pulls away to see his thick eyebrows knotted together in confusion.

Beats of silence stretch between them, and she watches Gale try to piece together what just happened in his inebriated, slowed down mental state. His mouth parts to say something, and she pulls her hand away. "We should probably get back inside," she says. The warmth from his touch has already been replaced by the sting of the cold air.

"Madge," he exhales.

She goes back inside before he says anything else.

His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he works on a problem set, his pencil stuck in between his teeth.

Madge, on the other hand, can only concentrate on him, watching his silver eyes flit across the worksheet, his long, calloused fingers resting on top of the table, his Adam's apple bob with his every swallow.

It's been three days since the party. Gale has been nothing but normal from nodding in acknowledgment when they pass one another in the hallway to casual conversation at the start of their tutoring session, and Madge knows she should feel relieved that he seemingly remembers nothing from that night. But it's actually killing her.

They almost kissed. Maybe it's silly, but to Madge, that means something. Even if it's technically only an almost something. Was that his intention by inviting her to the party in the first place? To make a move? Because he's interested in her? She doubts it – especially with how he's acting now. But she does remember it, and it has bothered her non-stop for reasons she wishes she could ignore, because there's a really, really, really good chance that the possible feelings she may or may not have been able to develop for Gale have definitely developed. And it's driving her crazy.

"What time is it?" Gale's voice pulls her back, and she blinks into focus. She holds up her phone, displaying that it is already 4:25 P.M.

Gale shoves his schoolwork back into his bag. "Sorry to cut this short, but I gotta run. I'm supposed to pick up Pose at 4:30." He already has his jacket on and backpack hanging off of one shoulder, his back turning away from Madge.

"Gale?" Her voice quivers, and the fragility of it makes her cringe.

"Yeah?" He's not looking at her, busy digging through his jacket pocket for his car keys.

"Do you want to go out sometime?" she asks. He pauses, head snapping up to look at her, and she cringes at how blindsided he looks. "With me?" Another cringe.

But Gale smiles. "Name the time and place, Undersee."

He texts her later that night and asks when she's free. They agree on Saturday night, but when she asks what they're going to do, Gale says that since she's the one that asked him out, she has to plan the date, because that's how that works. Madge rereads that text a dozen times, eyes wide. She's never even been on a date, let alone planned one.

What do people even do on dates in Captiol? Go to Haymitch's to eat burgers under the microscope of everyone else in town that's there? Go to the bookstore? Go to the movies? It's not even a real cinema, and they only play pre-approved films from this list that deems them educational and suitable for any and all audiences which usually means they play Pippi Longstocking every other weekend, and that sounds like the least date acceptable movie in the world.

What do normal teenagers even do for fun in Capitol?

She has a lot of research to do.

When she opens the door to see him on her porch on Saturday night, he hands her a single clean, white lily. "Your aunt said that this was your favorite kind of flower," he explains when she accepts the flower carefully.

She turns the stem slowly between her fingers. "You talked to May about me?"

"She's the town florist," Gale says. "I figured that I might as well use her insight." He gives her a wry smile. "Small towns sometimes have their advantages after all."

"Well, thank you. She was right," Madge replies, holding the lily up to her nose to inhale the fresh scent. Gale shoves his hands in the pockets of his khakis, and the pale blue of his button up compliments his gray eyes. "You look nice."

One hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. "Thanks, I didn't know how dressed up to be, because I don't know what we're doing or where we're going, so . . . I hope this is okay." She smiles. He's nervous. She's nervous, too, if the swarm of butterflies in her stomach is anything to go off of, but it's nice to know that the always calm, cool, and collected Gale is nervous. That she makes him nervous. "You look beautiful," he finishes.

Her face flushes as she mumbles her thanks. Usually one to get ready in twenty minutes or less, she'd actually taken the time to carefully recurl her naturally wavy hair to neat spirals and meticulously apply her makeup. "Ready to go?" she asks.

"Yeah, of course," Gale says, leading the way towards his truck. "Where exactly are we going?"

He opens the passenger door for Madge, and once he's in the driver's seat, she grins. "First stop, Haymitch's." She placed a to-go order before Gale got to her house, so it'll be ready to pick up before moving on to the next location.

He raises an eyebrow as he pulls away from the curb. "First stop?"

Her smile grows wider. "You'll see."

"You brought me to school?" He turns off the car and leans forward to see the Capitol High School lettering above the main entrance. The sun has started to set behind the brick building, so they're right on time.

Grabbing the paper bags overflowing with fries, Madge hops out of the passenger side. "Technically yes," she says. "But we need to climb a few stairs first." She points to the closest fire escape, and Gale's eyes trail up to the rooftop.

Two stories climbed and an impressing balancing act involving their fast food dinner later, and Madge and Gale are settled on the edge the rooftop, burgers and French fries and cherry Cokes and tator tots and mac and cheese spread out between them on napkins and brown paper bags, the town of Capitol beneath their feet. The sun has sunk low in the sky, but Madge can still pick out Haymitch's Diner and the town hall and her house and Maysilee's shop in the dimming light.

"So how did Madge Undersee end up on the school's roof?" Gale asks, taking a bite of a fry. "Seems like a pretty delinquent move for the mayor's kid."

She gives him a look, and he grins. "Aunt May and my mom used to do this all the time in high school. They said it was a good way to put all the small town stuff in perspective. To remind them how insignificant all the drama and high school problems and gossip is."

Madge grows quiet, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her mom brought her up here after she got sick, saying that she wanted to pass down her special spot and that when Madge needed a reminder to get past the small town stuff, the roof would always be here. Even when her mom wouldn't be.

The faint outline of the moon appears in the sky, but when she looks back at Gale, he's staring at her intently. She looks away and shrugs. "I figured you might be able to relate to that."

"I'm sorry that I was such an asshole when we first met," Gale says suddenly. "I was pissed about moving here, and I took it out on everyone including you, because you're like the Capitol posterchild. Everyone in this town loves you and you're the mayor's kid – not that any of it was your fault, obviously, but I was being dumb, and it seemed like a good enough reason to not like you at the time. Except you were this hot girl who reads Hemingway and plays the piano really well, and I was screwed."

Madge stares at him, her brain caught in a weird feedback loop, because did Gale just call her hot? She doesn't think that she's ever been called hot by anyone, much less someone like Gale. But he must interpret her silence as something else, because he continues talking.

"And I'm sorry about the party. About the . . . trying to kiss you thing." He winces at the admittance, and her eyes widen. She thought that he didn't remember that. After all, he never said anything . . . "God, I'd wanted to kiss you for so long, and that night, I thought I blew it, because I was being an idiot, but uh, that's not the point of all this. The point of is that I really, really like –"

Madge lunges forward before he can finish, pressing her lips against his, and he responds immediately, threading his fingers through her thick hair and keeping her close. Gale deepens the kiss, leaning backwards and pulling her down on top of him, and she settles in between his hips, their ankles knocking together. Madge rests her hands gently against his chest, strong and sturdy under her palms.

When air becomes an issue, she pulls away, craning her neck backwards to look at Gale, all dark hair and hooded eyelids and swollen lips, and he's beautiful.

She smiles and says, "I like you, too."

"Are you ready?" he asks once his truck is in park. It's Monday morning, and there's fifteen minutes before first period begins. "For all the stares and the whispers and the oohing and aweing?"

She lifts a shoulder in an air of nonchalance and takes the wrapper off the blueberry muffin she'd grabbed before leaving the house. "I mean, I already told Delly, so I wouldn't be surprised if there's already a banner proclaiming our newfound coupledom."

"Did you just say coupledom?"

"Maybe," she teases before taking a bite out of her pastry. She's joking. Mostly. Delly had literally squealed when Madge had told her that her and Gale were actually and officially together, but she doesn't think her friend would go too crazy over the news. . . "Do you have a problem with that?"

Gale hums thoughtfully in consideration before shaking his head. "But if anyone other than my girlfriend said that word, I'd probably make fun of them. Relentlessly."

Madge grins widely. "Good thing I'm your girlfriend then."

He grins back before leaning over the gear shift to kiss her softly. "You taste like blueberry."

"I wonder why," she says sardonically, holding up her muffin in explanation, and Gale makes a face at her sarcasm. "Now come on," Madge continues, unbuckling her seat belt and opening her car door. "We don't want to be late for class."

"We don't?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

But he follows her out of the car anyway, and they stop in front of the main doors. "Ready?" she asks, echoing his earlier question, as she adjusts the straps of her backpack over her shoulders.

Gale takes her hand in his, and Madge looks down at their intertwined fingers before up at Gale who grins back at her. "More than you even know."