A/N: Hiiiiiiii sorry this took so long! BabyPearl and I are happy, healthy, and thriving (baby pic in my profile picture, if you're inclined to look). He came into the world without a hitch, but he came two weeks early, catching us a little off guard. I feel like I've been playing catch-up on life ever since. I've been working on this chapter since before he was born, and I worked on it throughout the summer and the fall. For some reason, it was stupidly tricky to write, and required—I kid you not—thirty-three separate rounds of editing to get the pacing, beats, and flow right. And now I send it off to you! Over 10,000 words! Here you go! For those wondering, I think there will be one more chapter after this. :) Enjoy!

Peeta's fingers fumbled against the latch of the gate. When he finally managed to unhook it, he pushed against the gate, but he was met with solid resistance.

He gave it a shove with his shoulder, but the thing wouldn't budge.

"It hasn't been two hours, kids—" a voice said from the other side. "Sit tight and sober up."

"Rye," Peeta called, his throat tight. "Let me out."

A fumbling noise came from the other side of the gate, and then it swung open a few inches. Peeta pushed through. Rye stood there guiltily, one hand trying to tame his mussed hair and the other busy straightening his shirt. Johanna grinned at him and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out in an even stream.

Peeta's heart was beating fast, but he tried to appear calm. He scuffed his shoe on the gravel. "It's getting late," he said. "And I'm pretty tired."

Rye's eyes shifted to Johanna. "It's not even ten," he said.

He shrugged. "Late night last night, remember?"

"Right," Rye said. "I forgot."

"You mind if we take off?"

Johanna blew out a puff of smoke. "You're going to leave me here alone with the children? I'm a terrible babysitter."

"Yeah, well, don't give them more booze and don't let them leave without a basic sobriety test and a breath mint, and they'll probably be fine," Peeta said.

"Hey now," Rye said, brow furrowing.

Johanna's eyebrows drew down in appraisal. She glanced at Rye. "There appears to be a bee in Blondie's bonnet."

Peeta felt a little bad for his shortness with her, but not bad enough to apologize. "Can we just go?" he asked again.

Rye stepped forward and placed a hand on Peeta's shoulder, ever the protector. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he said, brushing his brother's hand away.

Johanna tapped ash onto the gravel. "Aw, what'd she do?"

"Who?" Rye asked.

"Brainless, of course." When this failed to trigger recognition, Johanna clarified, "Katniss."

Rye whipped back to his brother. "Did she say something to you?"

"No," Peeta said.

"After everything you did for her?" Rye pulled his hand through his hair, loosening a few waves from where they had been tied back neatly before—before Johanna, Peeta realized.

"Yeah, okay, great," Peeta said. "This is really helping. Keys?"

Johanna tossed the remains of her cigarette onto the gravel and stomped it out aggressively with her boot. "Katniss does stupid things all the time. How stupid are we talking this time?"

Peeta shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it."

Rye shook his head, anger flashing in his eyes. "I was right. I hate that I was right."

Peeta held his hand out. "Rye, shut up and give me the keys."

"See," Johanna said, squinting at Peeta, "he's mad, but he's not just mad. To me this looks more like—" Johanna crossed her arms and swore under her breath, suddenly serious. "Oh. It was both of them."

"Both of who?" Rye demanded.

"Katniss and Gale," she said. "Right?"

Rye went still, deadly.

"Hold up," Johanna said, grabbing Rye's arm. "Maybe there's an explanation."

Peeta couldn't take anymore. He was done, and he needed out. "I saw them kissing."

"Each other?" Johanna hissed. She swore again.

"Keys, Rye," Peeta demanded one last time.

"They're even bigger idiots than I thought," Johanna said, unclipping Rye's keyring from his belt loop and tossing the keys to Peeta. "I'll make sure your brother gets home before he turns into a pumpkin."

"Thanks," Peeta ground out bitterly, his heavy tread crunching loudly on the gravel. His ankle hurt like hell. He paused without turning back. "Please stay out of it. I mean it, Rye."

"I'm sorry they're assholes!" Johanna called after him.

Peeta raised a hand in acknowledgment and took off to find the van.

At work the next week, Peeta lived in dread of the possibility of seeing Katniss again. She didn't know he'd seen them, didn't know he knew he'd been played. He felt like an idiot—an angry idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. He'd allowed himself to be taken in, and he knew how transparent he'd been about his own feelings. He'd kissed her, for goodness' sake.

The more he thought about it, though, his feelings shifted. She didn't owe him anything—she was her own person, and it wasn't like helping her gave him any right to her time or attention. She was free to like—and kiss—whoever she wanted. But he'd thought she maybe liked him. It hurt that she lied to him—that she thought she needed to lie to him—in order for him to help her. He'd thought she was his friend, maybe more, and she'd given him just enough hope to hang himself with. After his anger cooled, he was embarrassed to the roots, and his bitterness left him jaded.

People talked about love as carrying a torch. Good, he thought tiredly. Maybe this icy breeze would finally extinguish the flame.

All day Monday, he'd flinched every time the bell chimed at the door until Rye had decided to forcibly remove him from his front counter duties, steering him into the kitchen. Peeta was more than happy to hide out there, throwing himself into pastries, cakes, bread, and the occasional sandwich order. He kept himself busy so he wouldn't have too much time to devote to his thoughts and feelings.

Still, the sword of Damocles hovered over him: he'd told Prim to come at the end of the week—told her to come and bring her sister for cookies, but told her specifically to come for a surprise he'd intended to make for her, something small he'd thought up in the moment that would last longer than a cookie or a cake. He'd wanted to paint some Romneya for her—just a small canvas, the flowers done up in acrylics. Peeta was nothing if not a man of his word, despite any wrongs he'd suffered. So when he finished his shifts that week, he went home and worked on the painting just in case Prim remembered to come by.

Which she did, on Friday. Peeta heard the bell distantly, and then the sound of a young, female voice. It was after school hours, so Peeta felt a little more prepared for it.

Rye ducked his head around the corner and whispered, "Prim."

Peeta froze in his work.

"Just Prim," Rye clarified.

Peeta dusted his hands off on his apron and pinned on his second-best smile. Rye took his place rolling out the piecrust as Peeta grabbed a tray of sugar cookies and took them out to the front.

Prim stood in front of the counter, inspecting the pastry cases.

"Hey, Prim," Peeta greeted. "How are you?"

"Good," she said, straightening up with a smile. "Just admiring. Everything looks so good."

Peeta smiled. "Thanks. My dad and Rye and I do all the baking and decorating ourselves."

"You guys are really talented. I keep thinking about how incredible that cake was."

"I'm glad you liked it."

Prim stepped closer to the counter and rested her hands on it. "It's Peeta, right?"

"Oh, yeah," he said with a gentle laugh. He extended a hand to her. "Peeta Mellark."

She echoed his laughter as she shook his hand. "Katniss told me about you after the party." She leaned in and lowered her voice. "I'm so embarrassed. I don't normally drink— Rory said the alcohol made me a little more blunt than usual."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a half-smile.

"I'm sorry if I came off as rude that night. I was feeling a little protective. I know I'm her younger sister and all, but Katniss doesn't really do relationships. Like, at all. And then there you were suddenly at this party, and she had told me nothing about you, and I guess I was a little suspicious. I'm sorry about that."

"Nothing to apologize for," Peeta said. "We're not. In a relationship, that is."

"Oh, that's what she said, too," Prim said. There was a glint in her eye that said she didn't believe either of them, and it made Peeta's jaw clench.

"She had an assignment to work on today for National Geographic," Prim continued. "That's why she couldn't come with me. But she said to say hi and thanks again."

"Just doing my job," Peeta said with a nod.

"Sure," she said, her eyes lighting up, "but she told me about what happened with the cake. Katniss doesn't have a lot of friends, and you seem like a good person."

"It's nothing," he demurred, longing for a change in subject, an armed robbery, the apocalypse—anything to stop talking about him and Katniss.

"Right," she said. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. "Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks again for the cake. And I hope we didn't scare you off on Saturday."

"Oh." He scratched at his stubble. It didn't seem right to divulge what really happened, so he half-lied. "I was pretty tired from being up all night baking. I left early and went to sleep."

"Katniss said she figured it was something like that." She eyed the tray of cookies he'd laid on the counter. "Are those sugar cookies?"

Peeta's smile returned at her excitement. "They are indeed." He took a paper bag from under the counter and carefully packaged up half a dozen of the delicately frosted treats. He'd painted primroses on them that afternoon. "I have something else for you in the back, if you'll give me a minute."

Prim nodded shyly, and Peeta went to retrieve his gift from his bag. Rye seemed to inspect him for any signs of damage as he passed through the kitchen and into the back room. Peeta just shrugged at him.

"You can make excuses if you need to," Rye said quietly as he came back through the kitchen. "Say you're on a cake deadline or something."

Peeta waved him off.

Prim was halfway through one of the cookies by the time he came out.

"Oh my god," she said, covering her mouth as she spoke. "These are delicious."

Peeta laughed. "They're not just for looks."

"What's in this?" she said, inspecting it more closely.

"Secrets," he said. "But also brown butter and a little bit of crushed bourbon-vanilla toffee."

She pointed her finger at him. "That's genius. I'm beginning to understand why Katniss has been hanging out here the last few weeks."

Peeta shrugged. "She cared a lot about your cake, and we wanted to make sure it was just right." He handed the small package across the counter to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Open it," he said. "If you like."

She unfolded the paper and her mouth dropped open. Her fingers touched the canvas in an admiring caress. "This is gorgeous. You made this?"

He stopped himself from shrugging again. "You mentioned at the party what a shame it was that you could only enjoy the cake for such a short while. I kind of love that about cake—that you can have these small, ultra-temporary extravagances in life. But I also understand the desire for something special like that to last a little longer. So I thought of this. Your sister chose those flowers for you."

"Fire-followers," Prim said softly. "I love it."

"I'm glad I could make something you'll enjoy," he said. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, and he hated himself a little for what he said next. "I'm on a little bit of a cake deadline and need to get back, but is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Oh," she said, straightening up a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," he said, smoothing his hand across the counter.

"Is there—I mean, I thought I'd pick up something for Katniss while I'm here since she couldn't come with. What do you think she'd like?"

A little bolt of pain shot through him, but he did his best to smile as he pulled out another bag and started fishing out cheese buns from the pastry case. "She loves cheese buns," he said, raising his eyebrows at Prim over the counter.

Prim smiled and handed him a five-dollar bill. "Keep the change," she said cheerfully. She leaned toward him and whispered, "I've always wanted to say that."

Peeta nodded and thanked her, dropping her change into their tip jar.

"I'll definitely be back," she said. "Good luck with that cake deadline."

He waved as she left, the bells jingling in her wake.

Peeta breathed a sigh of relief and allowed his shoulders to slump.

Rye came up behind him and squeezed his shoulders to loosen them. "You're a better man than me."

"No," Peeta said, turning to him. "You would have done the same."

It was Rye's turn to shrug.

Monday brought another familiar face to the storefront. Peeta was delivering a sandwich order to a customer when she walked in, setting the bells on the door into a violent cacophony.

Peeta glanced to Rye, who was fixing a tray of cinnamon rolls in one of the pastry cases.

She leaned against the counter, all cool in her ripped jeans and dark blue tank top and combat boots. She raised an eyebrow at Peeta before turning toward Rye. "Forget how to use a phone, Mellark?"

Rye's head popped up so fast it collided with one of the shelves with a loud bang. He winced, holding the injured spot before straightening to face Johanna. "Jo," he said, cheeks reddening.

"So it's not that you forgot my name. So what, then? Misplace my number? Phone line disconnected? Abducted by aliens?"

Rye ran a hand over his hair to smooth it and cleared his throat before dropping his voice. "I, uh, wasn't sure you were serious about wanting me to call."

Rye, Peeta thought with an internal sigh.

"What a stupid thing to think." She said this dismissively, but not meanly. "I wouldn't have given you my number if I didn't want you to call. What kind of girl do you think I am?"

Rye shrugged and mumbled. "One who's out of my league?" His eyes betrayed such hopeless sincerity that no one could mistake his words for flattery.

"Alright, that'll do," Johanna said with a nod. "You can make it up to me by feeding me some of these stupid pastries I've heard all about." She turned to Peeta. "He's gonna take a half-hour break now."

Peeta glanced to Rye to make sure he was okay with Johanna's plans. From the way he was looking at her, Peeta was assured Rye didn't mind. So he just said, "Give a yell if anyone comes in. I'll be in the kitchen."

Peeta was busy making strawberry buttercream when he heard the bells a few minutes later. He kept an ear out for his brother's voice, but it didn't come. Maybe Johanna left, he thought. But if that were true, it meant things might not have gone well with her and Rye.

Peeta stopped the mixer and went to look into the front—

He ducked back immediately, heart thumping, praying he hadn't been seen.

One glance had shown him Katniss and Prim chatting with Johanna and Rye at their table. Peeta quickly and quietly made his way back to the supply closet to compose himself.

She was here.

He chastised himself for hiding. The only thing he had to hide from was his own embarrassment and the knowledge that she'd led him on.

He should go out there, he told himself. He should face her. She should be the one hiding in embarrassment, not him.

His feet didn't stir from the faded linoleum.

He thumped his head gently against one of the supply shelves and sighed before making his way quietly back into the kitchen. Coward, coward, coward, he accused himself. He went back to work on the buttercream, keeping an ear out for anything from the front.

A few minutes later, the bells chimed again, and Peeta let out a cautious gust of breath. Rye appeared at the doorway a few moments later. In his hands was a vase of flowers, but his face was grim.

Peeta eyed him.

"They left," Rye said.

Peeta nodded.

Rye came and set the vase on the counter. Romneya and lavender.

"They wanted to know if we'll be at the fair next weekend," Rye said. Mellark's had hosted a booth at the fair every year since Peeta could remember.

"What did you tell them?" Peeta asked.

"What could I say?" Rye said. "I told them the truth."

The fair was always good money for the bakery, and this year was no different. This year, though, they were unprepared for what seemed to be a sudden run on baked goods. They'd sold out of cheese buns within the first two hours on the first day, and the sugar cookies went shortly after that. Customers periodically asked for them throughout the day, but Peeta and Rye had little trouble convincing them to try something else.

By two o'clock, though, they were almost completely sold out of everything.

"I don't remember it ever being like this," Rye said between customers.

Peeta handed a middle-aged woman a lemon poppyseed muffin across the counter and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "That was the last of the muffins."

Rye surveyed the meager offerings they had left. "We'll be closed in less than half an hour unless we restock. Do you think you could call Delly?" Delly had sometimes helped them in years past, though more for company than out of need.

Peeta pulled out his phone and rung Delly while Rye helped the next customer.

"Hey, Peet," came Delly's cheerful voice over the phone.

"Hey, Dells. Are you at the fair?"

"Duh. It's date night."

"Oh, right. So you probably couldn't come cover for Rye for an hour or two, then."

"Actually," she paused. "Darius and his friends want to try the Triple Tornado before his shift starts, and I don't particularly feel like hurling my guts up. So what the hell. When do you need me?"

"As soon as they can spare you," he said.

She laughed. "They already took off to get in line. I'll head right over."

Delly arrived looking fair-ready in little denim shorts and a blue gingham top that showed off her shoulders. She threw her hair up into a messy bun and donned Rye's apron.

"Wow, is there a gluten famine or something?" she asked, surveying what was left.

"We're just really popular this year for some reason," Peeta said.

Delly eyed him curiously.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head, but she pursed her lips thoughtfully as she turned to the front table to take an order.

Delly was a natural at food service, and Peeta enjoyed working with her. They laughed and joked with the customers and bumped into each other on purpose just for fun.

Delly was jabbing Peeta in the ribs with her tongs when Prim Everdeen materialized at the front of the line.

"Hi, Peeta," Prim said with a smile.

"Hey Prim," he said, swatting Delly's tongs away with a laugh. "What can I get for you?"

Prim surveyed the nearly empty cases, her face falling. "I was hoping you'd still have some cheese buns and sugar cookies?"

"We're all out," he said. "But Rye should be back in an hour or so with more if you want to come back in a little bit."

"Oh," she said with a little shrug. "Has Katniss come by yet?"

Peeta could feel Delly scrutinizing him.

"I haven't seen her," he said.

Prim's eyebrows drew down. "Hm. She was working this morning, but she should be here somewhere now. I know she was planning on stopping by."

Peeta wished Delly would stop looking at him. "I'll keep an eye out for her," he said simply. "Fresh sugar cookies soon, though! Don't wait too long, or we might sell out again."

Prim gave him a suddenly sly smile that lit up her eyes. "Oh, I'll definitely make sure I get some," she said with a wave. She wandered off in the direction of the carnival games.

Delly poked him in the ribs again with her tongs.

"That's not sanitary," Peeta said, swatting her hand away again.

"I thought you were mad at Katniss," she said, putting the tongs under the counter and grabbing a new pair.

He sighed. "I am."

"So then what are you doing?"

"It's not Prim's fault," he said.

"Okay," Delly replied with an eyebrow raised.

"And what am I supposed to do—refuse to sell Katniss any cheese buns if she comes by?"

"Maybe," Delly said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because that wouldn't be petty or anything…"

She shoved his shoulder.

They sold the last of the pastries in the next few minutes and had to turn the rest of the customers in line away with the promise of more pastries in an hour or so.

Peeta leaned against the counter and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I don't understand why we're so popular this year."

Delly smirked. "Not even a guess?"

He frowned. "Why, do you know something?"

Delly dug her phone out of her back pocket. "You really should get an Instagram," she said as she scrolled. She handed him her phone.

On the screen was a picture of a couple of cheese buns and sugar cookies artfully arranged, the Mellark's bag they came in tucked just so under a corner of the plate. A steaming mug of tea and a nosegay of daisies completed the picture, making everything seem just a little more special. Below the photo was a caption:

themockingjay: I'm new to the food photography scene, but I couldn't resist—everything from #MellarksBakery is incredible. The cheese buns are my new favorite thing, and Prim adores the sugar cookies. (Prim set the table and plate up for this photo. Didn't she do a great job?) Mellark's will be at the #PanemCountyFair this weekend, so be sure to check them out! I know I'll be there!

Peeta's cheeks went hot, and he wiped at his forehead again with his sleeve. "This is…"

"Katniss's Instagram," Delly confirmed.

"But you don't really think this one picture is why people are coming, do you?" he asked.

Delly swiped up to show him Katniss's follower count at the top of her page, and Peeta's eyes bulged at the number.

"Katniss Everdeen is Instagram famous?" he asked.

"It's not like she's a Kardashian or something, but she's got her own following" Delly said. "You didn't know?"

Peeta shook his head. He took the phone back from Delly and started browsing through Katniss's pictures. There were cute photos of her and Prim out and about, and some stunning nature scenes and shots of wildlife, but the really popular pictures seemed to be stunt shots—her and Gale in the forest doing daring and dangerous things, like hanging one-handed out of trees or balancing precariously on boulders or peering over the edges of cliffs. The shots really were incredible—they were the kind of pictures that gave you a thrill just looking at them.

"Well, shit," he said, rubbing at the back of his head.

"Right?" Delly asked. She took her phone back and scrolled back down to the cheese bun picture. "She's a great photographer, but I think connecting with NatGeo really boosted her visibility."

She tapped the MellarksBakery hashtag, and they watched as the screen loaded with several more pictures from different users. It looked like they were almost all from that day at the fair, and some of them even included covert shots of Peeta or Rye or Delly.

Peeta tapped on one of the pictures of him and Rye working the counter and read the caption:

panemnm: Is it just me, or is it hot over here at the #MellarksBakery booth? ;) Thanks for the rec, themockingjay #PanemCountyFair #ThreeAlarmFire #BakerBoys #CameForThePies #StayedForTheGuys

"Okay, that's embarrassing," Peeta said. "Put it away."

Delly slipped the phone back into her pocket. "I kind of can't believe you didn't know," she said.

"I'm not on Instagram," he said with a shrug. "And anyway, it doesn't mean anything. She's probably just trying to pay me back for all the trouble with the cake."

"Okay," Delly said.

Rye returned eventually with the van and a respectable resupply of goods, but there were fewer customers now, as word seemed to have spread that they'd sold out. Peeta was actually grateful for the slower pace. Delly stuck around for a little while and helped them unload, but she eventually returned to Darius and his friends.

Rye also disappeared after another hour or so, when Johanna came by and collected him with Peeta's blessing. The afternoon was waning, and Peeta enjoyed the quiet. He hummed to himself as he wiped down the booth's counter and restocked the plates, napkins, and forks. He squatted to retrieve his orange soda from under the counter and took several gulps.

"Peeta?"

Peeta startled, like he often did around her, but managed not to spill his soda this time. He contemplated staying where he was, hidden behind the counter, but he'd chosen the coward's way once before. He took a deep breath in and out, and then stood as gracefully as he could. "Hey, Katniss," he said.

She was wearing a black shirt and shorts with black tennis shoes, but she had her hair in two braids today. It reminded Peeta of when they were in elementary school. She looked young—and happy, he realized. Well, good for her.

Peeta allowed his face to settle into a friendly, customer service smile. He could do this. "Can I get you something?"

"Oh," she said, her eyebrows furrowing a little. "Prim said you guys ran out of cheese buns."

"Actually, we just restocked. How many would you like?"

Her frown deepened. "Two, I guess. And two sugar cookies for Prim, if you have them."

Peeta opened a pastry bag with his tongs and popped the cheese buns into it, then did the same with a second bag and the sugar cookies. He folded down their tops and handed them over with a couple of napkins. "That'll be eight dollars. We have to raise the prices at the fair to cover costs, so it's more than it would be back at the bakery. Sorry."

Katniss shrugged and pulled out her wallet. She handed over two five-dollar bills, and he tucked them away in the till and handed her her change.

"So Prim said Delly was working here earlier," Katniss said. She pinched a piece off of one of the cheese buns and popped it into her mouth.

"Yeah," Peeta said simply. "I called her in for backup when Rye went back to the bakery to restock."

Katniss glanced around at the non-existent line of customers. "You guys were busy?"

"Yep. We sold out around three. Thanks for that, by the way."

"For…?"

"Delly showed me your Instagram post."

"Oh," she said, her cheeks flushing. "I didn't mean to—I'm not used to having so many followers. It's kind of new."

He nodded. "That's what Delly said. NatGeo."

"Right," she said. "Anyway, I didn't mean to cause a stir, and I'm sorry if it caught you guys off guard. I'll try to be more careful. Give you guys a heads-up or something."

He shrugged. "Business is business. Speaking of—" he nodded toward a mother and daughter who were approaching the booth.

"Oh, yeah," Katniss said. She stepped to the side.

Peeta helped the daughter pick out a cupcake, and then suggested another cupcake flavor to the mother.

"Actually," the woman said, "do you have any sugar cookies? Somebody recommended them."

Peeta avoided looking at Katniss. "Yeah, let me grab one. They're pretty popular."

When he turned back around, the daughter was squeezing the mother's hand and pointing shyly to Katniss. The mother gently pushed her daughter toward Katniss.

"Excuse me?" the girl said.

Katniss startled and took another step away from the counter. "Oh, sorry," she said. "I'm in the way."

"No," the girl said. "But you look like—" She looked back at her mom who smiled and raised her eyebrows in encouragement. "Are you the Mockingjay?"

Katniss's eyes shot to Peeta in a panic. He didn't know what kind of answers she expected from him. He just shrugged.

"Uh, yeah," she said. "I'm Katniss."

"I'm Isabelle," the girl said with a smile.

"Hi!" the mom said, stepping toward them. "We're really enjoying the fair! We drove an hour to come here because of your post. I'm Catalina." She extended her hand out to Katniss, who shook it. "Would you mind if I take a picture of you with my daughter? She's a big fan."

"Oh, sure," Katniss said, surprised. She crouched down and put her arm around the girl, smiling in a stunned sort of way until the picture had been taken.

"I really love your animal pictures. I want to work with animals when I grow up," the girl confided.

"That's great!" Katniss said. "We need more people to help watch out for them."

"Do you mind if I post this?" the mother asked.

"Go ahead," Katniss said. "It was nice meeting you."

"Thanks, and thanks for the recommendation," she said. She paid Peeta, and then they left, the little girl waving goodbye and looking moon-eyed back at Katniss.

Katniss turned back toward Peeta, her lips pressed hard together. "I swear that's the first time that's happened."

She'd handled it pretty well, he thought. "Well, then you're a natural."

"It's really weird," she said. "I never intended that kind of thing."

He shrugged. "Is there any harm in it?"

She thought about this. "I guess not. As long as everyone leaves Prim alone."

Peeta took out his cleaning cloth and wiped down the counter again, just to give himself something to do. When he glanced back at Katniss, she was still standing there, watching him work. "You don't need to get back to your friends?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I was hanging out with Madge for a little while, but she had to get home. I'm here by myself now."

He scrubbed at a permanent spot he'd already scrubbed at four or five times that day. "Did you ride all the rides already?"

"A few," she said.

Why are you still here? is what he was thinking, but instead he said, "What are you going to do next?"

She straightened a little. "Well, I wanted to make sure I got these." She lifted the pastry bags. "Prim called me and specifically asked me to come by and get her some sugar cookies. And then Johanna texted and said she'd stolen your brother and you were here alone, so I thought I'd come keep you company."

Peeta felt like he had static in his ears. He inwardly cursed Prim and Johanna for meddling as he tucked the cleaning cloth under the counter. "You don't have to do that."

She offered him a half-shrug. "I haven't seen you in a few weeks."

Another customer stepped up then, and Peeta helped him choose some treats for his family. Katniss didn't move away this time—she just watched him until the man left.

"So I came by the bakery three different times since Prim's party, but you weren't there," she said when the man had gone. "Did Rye tell you?"

This was news to Peeta. He rubbed the back of his arm across his forehead. "He only mentioned once."

"He said you were working the night shift."

"I was," he said. "One of us typically switches shifts the week before the fair to help my dad prepare."

"Oh," she said. "So you're probably pretty tired."

He shrugged. "It's not so bad. I got to sleep in during the day." Peeta helped two teenage boys, and then a family of four. When he finished, Katniss was just watching him. He raised his eyebrows at her.

She shook her head. "What time do you get off?"

Peeta's eyebrows went up now in surprise, but he tried to quickly smother the feeling. From anyone else, that kind of question would be an invitation, but surely that wasn't how Katniss Everdeen meant it. Not to him, not now. "I'm here until closing, or as long as we have pastries," he said evenly.

She nodded. Two groups of young teens descended on the booth, and Peeta patiently began sorting through their orders. By the time he finished with the first group, a line had formed behind the second group.

"I can take whoever's next," Katniss said suddenly from beside him. She'd donned Rye's apron and was wiping her newly washed hands on a paper towel.

"You really don't have to," Peeta said.

"I said I was going to keep you company," she said simply. Her eyes were silver and steadfast, and the corner of her mouth twitched up in the quietest whisper of a smile. "And besides, it's not fair of your brother to ditch you when you're this busy."

"I told him I could handle it, and we weren't busy until just now," he said. But he let his objections die there. The line was only getting longer now.

They figured out pretty quickly that they couldn't work independently, as Katniss didn't know the pastries well enough. So Peeta took orders and made suggestions while Katniss bagged whatever Peeta pointed her to and helped take the money. The rush hardly let up over the course of the next two hours, and several times customers stopped and asked Katniss for a picture. She always obliged, leaning over the counter to smile for a selfie.

Within another hour and a half, they were having to turn people away again.

"Sorry folks," Peeta called to the rest of the people in line. "Come back tomorrow morning for more, or visit the bakery in town!"

Katniss waved to them alongside him until the line cleared. A few disappointed stragglers came up to ask for pictures with her, and she agreed, snagging Peeta and pulling him into the picture with them.

"They don't know who I am," Peeta said through his smile as they froze for another selfie.

"Everyone, this is Peeta Mellark," she said as they finished the pictures. "He's one of the bakers, and he makes the most incredible cakes you've ever seen in your life."

People thanked them and promised to visit the bakery in town, and then it was just Peeta and Katniss, alone again.

She turned to him and blew out her breath in a long stream. "That was exhausting. I don't know how you do that all day."

"We're not usually that busy," he said. "I guess word spread that we'd restocked."

Katniss checked her phone. "Oh yeah. It looks like that lady posted the picture with her daughter right after they left. I probably should have asked her to wait to post it until tonight," she said. "I didn't mean to draw a crowd."

"Closing up early isn't so bad," he said with a shrug. He pulled his soda cup from under the counter and sipped the warm, watery dregs. It made his nose scrunch up a little in disgust.

"What do you need to do to close up?" Katniss asked.

He tossed his cup into the trash. "Empty the till, clean the cases, clean the counters, take the trash to the dumpsters, gather up all the tongs and dishes and aprons and dishcloths to load into the van so we can wash and sterilize them at the bakery tonight—I think that's it."

"Well," she said, "I'm dying of thirst, so how about I go get us some drinks, and then I'll come back and help."

"You don't have to—"

"Peeta," she said. "Just let me help, okay?"

Peeta stared at her, trying to understand, trying to figure out what she wanted from him. He gleaned no answers, so instead he went to the till to retrieve some money. He held out thirty dollars.

She plucked a ten-dollar bill from his hand. "Um, I'm pretty sure the sodas here are only three bucks each."

"No," he said. "I meant, you know, for your time."

Katniss pocketed the ten dollars with a smile. "You can pay me the rest later in cheese buns." She jogged off toward another vendor's stand.

Finally left to himself, Peeta contemplated calling Delly to help bail him out. He hadn't exactly been bursting with charm for the last few hours, but Katniss seemed determined to stick around anyway. Was she just bored? Waiting for Prim? And where was Gale? In the end, he decided to ride it out and just started cleaning the cases.

Katniss returned with a root beer, an orange soda, and a steaming, overloaded plate of Irish nachos. She hopped up on the counter and patted the spot next to her. "Take a break," she said. "These things taste like shit if you let them get cold." The sun was setting behind her so that she was haloed by the golden-orange light.

Peeta leaned against the counter instead and took a long sip of his soda.

"Seriously, you're not going to make me eat these alone, are you?" she asked after a minute, pushing the plate closer to him.

They did smell good. He picked up a fry, blew on it, and took a bite. Hot carbs covered in melted cheese—god, did it get any better than that? He realized he'd forgotten to eat lunch because they'd been so busy, and he'd eaten breakfast before six that morning. He was starving, now that he thought of it. He ate another fry, and another.

"Here, try it with this," she said, pushing a condiment cup toward him.

He dipped a fry into the cup, and then raised it up to smell it. It smelled like dill and something spicy.

"Sriracha ranch," she said around a mouthful.

Peeta's eyes closed involuntarily as he savored the flavor. They polished off the plate in no time.

"Thanks," Peeta said, taking another long sip of his soda. "I didn't realize how badly I needed that."

Katniss nodded. "I know what hunger looks like."

The comment, offhanded as it was, made Peeta's stomach sink. But she didn't seem to think much of it.

She tossed the empty plate into the trash. "How about you take care of the register, and I'll finish up the cases and the counter?"

"Sure," Peeta said.

They worked alongside each other in companionable silence. As they were loading up the utensils and things into the van, Peeta finally spoke.

"So are you just waiting around for Prim tonight?"

She looked over at him. "No, Rory's bringing her home later."

"No Gale?" He tried to sound cool and collected, like it didn't matter to him who she hung out with or kissed or whatever.

Katniss shifted the box in her hands. "We're not really talking right now," she said with a frown.

They were in another fight, he supposed. Maybe that explained why she was here with him. "So what are you going to do with the rest of your evening?"

She placed her box into the van in the space Peeta had cleared for it. "It depends."

"On?" He closed the doors.

She shrugged. "You," she said.

Above them, the fluorescent lights of the vendors' parking lot were just starting to flicker to life for the evening. The sounds of the fair filtered to them through the distance, highlighting the silence that fell between them.

Peeta rubbed at the back of his neck. "Katniss…"

"You're free now, right? Everything's cleaned up and put away," she said shyly. She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her shorts and rocked a little on the outsides of her feet.

He shook his head. "What are you doing? What is this?" he asked, finally voicing his frustration.

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, you show up out of the blue, no warning, and suddenly want to hang out. I appreciate the help and everything, but forgive me if I'm a little confused."

"I tried to come see you," she said defensively. "You were always gone, so I figured I'd come at a time when I was sure you'd be around."

"That's not what—" he swallowed. He scrubbed at his face and turned away for a second. "I need to tell you something."

When he turned back to her, her movement had stilled. Her face betrayed no small measure of anxiety.

Peeta took a deep breath. "At Prim's party," he said. "I saw you. And Gale. I didn't mean to."

She was still like a sparrow is still when you move too close, the moment right before it takes to the air. Her face looked pale in the fluorescent light. At last she said, "You left without saying goodbye."

He didn't deny it.

"You've been avoiding me," she said softly.

He didn't deny that either. But it made his stomach feel like someone was wringing it out.

Katniss brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear and stared at her shoes. "I guess I don't blame you."

Peeta nodded, jaw tight. "So look," he said. "You don't have to pretend anymore. I get it. I'm tired and I'm just going to head home now. Thanks again for your help."

Katniss reached out and held on to his arm as if to stop him from leaving. She shook her head earnestly. "I wasn't."

He stared at her. "Wasn't what?"

"Pretending," she said.

The static was back in his head. "What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes a little, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I'm not trying to be cryptic, Peeta."

He frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying. "So… so I wasn't just imagining that you were interested—"

"No," she said quickly.

"Then tell me," Peeta said gently, fidgeting with his keys, afraid to ask what he needed to ask. "Why were you—why did you—"

She shook her head. "I was confused."

He paused. "About me?"

"Sort of," she said.

On instinct, he pulled away from her, but she held on to his sleeve. "Please let me explain," she begged, her voice breaking in her earnestness. Her eyes pled with him to trust her.

And because he was a fool… and because there was a glimmer of hope… and because that's what a friend would do… Peeta took his keys and opened the passenger door of the van. Katniss frowned, confused.

"We're not going anywhere," he said. "I'm just tired, and my leg hurts, so I'd like to sit if that's okay."

She nodded and climbed into the van. He shut the door and went around to the driver's side. He took a deep breath in and let it out before opening the door and climbing in himself. He turned the key in the ignition so he could roll the windows down a little, and then he took the keys out and placed them on the dash. Neither of them looked at each other.

"So," he said.

Katniss blew out a breath. "I don't know where to start. I haven't told anyone this before."

"Because it's embarrassing?" he asked.

She shook her head and looked at him. "Because I didn't figure it out until recently. I'm kind of still figuring it out."

Peeta nodded as he tried to process this. "Okay."

Katniss took another big breath and let it out. Then she started to talk. "My dad died, but you know that. What I mean is, he died, and things were really bad. I had to take care of me and Prim and my mom, and I was just a kid, you know? And that went on for years. I didn't get a break—not until about two years ago when my mom was finally well enough again to get and keep a job. But it still didn't feel safe yet. Even now, I still feel like I'm waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under us."

Peeta nodded gently.

She swallowed. "People at school started dating, and I was working two jobs and foraging and hunting and cooking and taking care of my sister."

He puzzled over this, trying to follow where she was going. "You were too busy to date, you mean?"

"I didn't even think about it," she said. "I mean, I watched my mom fall apart when my dad died, so I saw what relationships could do to people. But it wasn't that I was refusing to be in a relationship on principle—I actually figured that part of me was, I don't know, broken."

She suddenly looked a great deal smaller sitting in the seat next to him. Vulnerable, he realized. He'd never seen Katniss Everdeen really vulnerable before. Peeta turned in his seat to face her better. "Broken how?"

"Like it didn't work. Like I wasn't like other people." She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her. "Like other people were attracted to each other enough to kiss and date and have sex, and I felt nothing for anybody ever, not in that way. It didn't even occur to me to think that way."

He blinked. "You don't find people attractive?"

She tipped her head to the side. "I can tell when people are attractive, like, objectively, but it doesn't make me want to do anything about it. I'm not attracted to them."

He thought about this for a minute. "Different doesn't mean broken, you know. Maybe you're asexual. Or maybe aromantic, or both," he suggested quietly. But if that were true, why had she let him kiss her? And why had she kissed Gale?

Her cheeks went red, but she nodded. "I didn't have the vocabulary for a long time. It felt like being broken, like I was wired wrong or someone forgot to install a switch or something. Until a few weeks ago."

Peeta stilled, his pulse pounding in his ears. "What happened?"

She rubbed at her face with her hands, and her voice came out rough. "There was this cake I needed," she said. "And this baker."

Peeta laughed breathlessly, avoiding her eyes. "Tell me more."

"Remember that first tasting?" she asked.

He nodded.

"I thought I didn't like cake," she said. "Then I tried it again, and all of a sudden, I liked it."

He nodded again.

"It was like that," she said softly.

He dared a glance at her. She was biting her lip. Did she mean… Or was that just a metaphor? "What do you mean?" he asked.

"It was a lot of things," she said. She traced her finger along a crack in the dash. "You were always good-looking, and kind, and generous, and charming. But none of that meant anything to me. Not until—I don't know when. It didn't mean anything, and then it did. It was like—like math, almost."

There were revelations aplenty here to sustain Peeta for months to come, but it came as such a surprise that all he could do was bark out a little laugh. "Math?"

She pushed on the dash with her fist a little, embarrassed but determined to be understood. "Imagine you could never do addition or something. Something really basic. One day it was all just numbers, and you could understand that they combined in some way to make this new number, but you couldn't tell how. And then, all of a sudden, the next day it made sense. Suddenly three plus two started to equal five, except with feelings."

"I think I understand," he said.

"You do?"

He tried to formulate what he wanted to say. "Maybe you didn't have room for romantic feelings and experiences before. Because you were worrying about keeping the lights on and keeping your family fed and together." He remembered something like that from a psych class he'd taken in college—a hierarchy of needs. "It'd be pretty hard to think about school crushes when you're literally trying to survive."

She chewed at her fingernail and stared at a spot on the dash. "Maybe. They were really good feelings, though. They made me want more, and then it was scary because I wasn't sure what more I wanted. The more time I spent with you, the scarier it got, but—this is so stupid. I don't know how to say it—even the scary was good, I think. Like climbing too high in a tree or looking over the edge of a cliff."

Like the threat of falling, Peeta realized with a little awe. The muscles of his throat started to constrict. "And when I kissed you?" he asked softly. It was the first time either of them had spoken of it. Peeta listened to her breathing hitch.

She was silent long enough, her hands covering her face, that it worried him. "Katniss?" he prompted.

She cringed and forced the words out. "I thought I'd let you kiss me because what the hell, I'd never done it before, and I liked you, and maybe it wouldn't be so bad."

Peeta's brows shot up. That was damning. Her first kiss? He wished he'd known.

Katniss misinterpreted his surprise. "It wasn't bad—it was good, I mean. At least I think. I don't have a lot to compare it to. It just freaked me out how much I liked it."

Peeta shook his head and held his hand up. "I wasn't fishing for compliments. It just surprised me."

"That I liked it?"

He laughed. "Maybe, but I meant that it was your first kiss. I figured…"

"What?" she asked. "That I've kissed a lot of people? Most people I know aren't into surly and snarling and stubborn, Peeta."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Katniss, we probably could have filled the football stadium with all the people who had crushes on you in junior high and high school, and you're the only person I know who would have been surprised by the fact. You have no idea."

She brushed this off.

"I'm being serious. You're passionate, brave, and capable." He cleared his throat. "Not to mention the most beautiful person I've seen, far away or close up."

Katniss's cheeks flushed deeply red. She pulled away and slouched back against the seat, her knees pulled in tight to her chest. She seemed to be trying to cool her face with the back of her hand.

"You okay?" Peeta asked gently.

She nodded. "I'm just not used to feeling like this. It's too much. It feels good and bad at the same time."

"That sounds confusing," he said.

"It is," she said. She picked at a frayed edge of her sneaker. "That's basically my point, anyway—you were my first kiss, Peeta, and I liked it, and I wanted more. It was like I'd been living in a box, and then the walls got knocked down, and suddenly there was this whole world out there I'd never known about. And I thought, hell, maybe I'm not broken after all. I just didn't like cake, and now I do. Or I did for a little while, at least."

Peeta's heart sunk, and he paused, blinking. "You don't anymore?"

She rubbed her hands over her face. "Here's the thing. We kiss, I freak out, I go home and can't stop thinking about it, can't stop feeling it, over and over again. On top of that, I'm exhausted. We pull off Prim's party, and the cake, and everything is going surprisingly well despite the hiccup with the punch. And there you are being cool and sweet and a good friend, and I feel like I'm falling downhill and can't stop. I kept wanting to find ways to touch you and be near you, more more more, which felt so patently absurd given that less than twenty-four hours prior, we'd hardly come within a foot of one another. It was overwhelming and confusing and exhausting—and then there was Gale, suddenly being sweet for once, bringing me tea and apologizing for picking fights and telling me I'm a good sister to Prim. And I'd had a little to drink, and he put his arm around me, and—"

Peeta held up his hand. "I think I got it."

"No," she insisted, pulling his hand down. "I kept wondering if I was being crazy, or if something had really changed. Maybe I really would have liked kissing all along but hadn't known because I hadn't tried it, or maybe it was like cake, and my tastes had only recently changed. And I knew Gale liked me. I thought that maybe if I let him kiss me, I'd like it, and then I'd start to like him, too. It seemed—I don't know—saner somehow, because we'd known each other so long, and everyone seemed to think it was just a matter of time before we'd get together anyway. I didn't ask him to kiss me—I just didn't look away or move away or change the subject when he gave me that look he gives me sometimes. I let him—and I kissed him back to see what would happen, but Peeta—" she gripped his hand and looked up at him earnestly. "There wasn't anything there."

He studied her. "No?"

Katniss shook her head, worry and fear playing across her face. "All I could think about was how weird kissing is, how it's just mashing your lips and tongue against someone else's, and how this was my best friend's lips and tongue, and I couldn't get my brain to stop. There weren't any of those feelings from before—I thought there should be, if there would be with anyone, since Gale and I are so close, but there was nothing, and it was maybe even kind of gross." She finished this somewhat breathlessly and held his hand tightly, waiting for him to say something.

Peeta measured her with his eyes. "For real?"

She nodded. "For real."

He bit his lip, thinking. If that was it—if what he'd witnessed had been nothing more than her confused attempt to understand what was happening to her—he couldn't really hold it against her. The knowledge filled him with a sense of relief, but there were still edges that needed to be smoothed. He cleared his throat. "So let me get this straight," he said. "You were using Gale as an experiment to see if what you were feeling was just a fluke?"

She let go of his hand. "When you say it like that, it sounds kind of awful."

"It is awful, isn't it? How does Gale feel about it?"

She squirmed. "Like I said, we aren't exactly talking right now."

"Because you kissed?"

"That's one reason. But give it a few weeks and we'll be back to normal. Gale and I are always hot and cold."

Peeta shook his head. "Seems a little optimistic to me. You don't get over Katniss Everdeen in just a few weeks. At least I couldn't."

Her face fell. "You tried?"

Peeta nodded. "I was hurt. Still kind of am, to be honest." He frowned. "What if it had worked?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Peeta stared hard at the dials on the dashboard. "If you had kissed Gale and had started to have feelings for him. You'd be with him, wouldn't you?"

She was silent for a moment, and the silence sounded to Peeta like an answer of its own.

"Katniss," he said with a sigh, "I like you. But I don't want to be your second choice."

"I like you," she countered.

And as much as he'd wanted to hear those words from her, dreamed it in every possible and impossible scenario, he said, "But you like Gale, too, at least on some level. You wouldn't have let him kiss you if you hadn't wanted it to work."

Her mouth dropped open in protest. "I don't have feelings for him," she insisted.

"But you wanted to?"

She sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest. "I can't give Gale what he wants. There's this nagging sense of guilt when I'm with him. I thought maybe it would make things easier for us if suddenly now I could want him the way he wants me. And I know you'll say guilt isn't a good basis for a relationship, but he's my best friend, and I want him to be happy, too. It would have been convenient if we could have made each other happy, but we can't, so that's that."

"Convenience isn't a good basis for a relationship either," he said. "But I understand the urge to try to make someone else happy."

After a few moments of silence, she said, "Maybe that's the difference."

"What is?"

"Convenience. Gale and I work together, and we live near each other, and our siblings are dating each other, and we have a shared history and interests in common. With you, I find myself going out of my way just to see you, doing things I've never done before, stepping beyond my comfort zone. That has to mean something, doesn't it?" She turned to him. "I missed you, Peeta. Not seeing you for three weeks felt like a small eternity. I missed your smile and your jokes and seeing you make beautiful things, and—" She cut herself off, her cheeks glowing red.

"And?" he prompted.

Her mouth hung open for a second. "Your eyelashes."

His eyebrows went up, and a smile slid up half his face. "My eyelashes?"

She covered her face with her hands. "Never mind."

Peeta laughed and pulled one of her hands away. "No, no, no! Don't be embarrassed. My eyelashes. That's fine."

"I haven't had any practice at this. Don't make fun of me," she said sadly, pulling her hand away from him.

"I'm not," he said, still smiling. He leaned back against the driver's seat and stretched. "Honest. If it makes you feel any better, I've always had a thing for your eyes. And your hair. And your voice. To be really honest, I've been a fan of the whole Katniss Everdeen package since about the first grade."

"I'm sorry I kissed Gale," she said. "I shouldn't have done it. But I didn't know how else to figure out what was happening to me."

He shrugged. "You could have tried kissing me again."

Her face glowed bright red. "I didn't know how to make it happen again."

"How to make what happen?"

Her eyes flitted away. "How to make you want to kiss me again."

He laughed gently, an unimaginable lightness filling him to the brim. He leaned in and brushed a piece of hair away from her face. "I pretty much always want to kiss you."

"Shit," she said, pulling away.

He smiled sympathetically. "Too much?"

She nodded, fanning her face with her hand. "How do people do this?"

"It tempers over time," he offered. "The feelings aren't always as intense as they are at first."

She wrinkled her nose. "So eventually kissing you might be like kissing Gale?"

Peeta thought about it. "It might. That happens sometimes. But most people who stay in love say that it changes over time, but it doesn't diminish. You don't have the same rush of feelings all the time, but you do from time to time, and the feelings of love and support and being known that you have the rest of the time are just as good, if not better."

"But that's love, that's not—"

"I've had a long time to figure it out," Peeta said, his fingers tracing the seams on the steering wheel. "It's okay if you don't know for a while."

"Oh," she said quietly. Her eyes shifted, taking him in head to toe, almost as if she were seeing him for the first time. They came to rest on his lips. "What if I kiss you again, and I don't feel anything?" She said it so quietly that it was nearly a whisper.

Peeta sensed her fear. He gripped and released the wheel. "You don't ever have to if you don't want to."

She took a deep breath and swallowed. "What if I want to?"

Peeta turned to her, took her hand, and softly pressed it to his lips. He smiled, because it was impossible not to. He said, "I think you should probably take me on a date first."