jen

“Lil brother, do you really think the Rixians are going to put a man on the moon before us?” Graham, the eldest amongst the Mellark brothers, asked.

“I heard the Rixians' rockets are stronger than ours,” Rye, Peeta’s other brother, said.

The biggest news in the country was the Space Race. Panem was competing with Rixa, a former district. Rixa was once formally known as District Thirteen. It was the largest district of Panem until they decided to separate. After they won the War of Secession, District Thirteen separated and began its own country in the 1800’s. They became Panem’s biggest rival as they were always competing to have the upper hand on the world stage.

“They also have a satellite, too,” Glenn, Peeta’s father, said. “No, telling what type of pictures they’re taking of us.”

“Now, now, you must calm down,” Adena Mellark patted her husband's leg. “Remember what the doctor said, Glenn, no excitement for you.”

“It sucks that they’re ahead of us,” James, Graham’s oldest son, exclaimed from the floor.

“James, language,” Adena admonished.

Graham’s wife, who was pregnant, ducked her head before giving Graham a look. Graham addressed his son. “James, that is not an appropriate language for a Mellark.”

James mumbled, “Sorry, grandmother.”

It caused nervous laughter in the small group of celebrants.

Katniss found it strange to think of the Rixans as the enemy. When the world became engaged in a world war, Panem and Rixa became allies for an instant. As soon as it was over, Rixa and Panem went back to being rivals. Panem considered itself a democracy, and Rixa was a military state-run government. They were progressive about women. They allowed their women to fight in the war, and even had a woman leader.

Women in Panem didn’t have the same opportunities. Katniss was part of a small group that wanted to make a change. The women’s movement was gaining popularity as women continued working even after the men came home from the war. They had managed to get a few women elected as senators. Things in Panem were changing. Katniss had been involved in the latest election. Christine Paylor, a Senator from District Eight, was running for President. No one thought she would win, but it was exciting.

However, Katniss couldn’t talk about what she was doing with Peeta’s family. It wasn’t appropriate to speak about politics during dinner. Or any other time while on the Mellark compound.

In Peeta’s home, from what she had observed and from what little Peeta told her, Adena Mellark wore the pants in the family. The boys, as she called them, never dared to step out of line.

“It is unpleasant that those Rixians are ahead of us. But our scientists, no doubt, are working around the clock to get ahead,” Adena said while sipping her cocktail. Her cold blue eyes observed the family.

“They did send a dog into space,” his brother Bannock said.

“Sputnik,” James snorted. “What kind of name is that?”

“FIDO IN SPACE!!” Rye said, tickling his nephews.

Adena looked annoyed but said nothing. She held out her glass, and Rye’s new wife, Misty, immediately refilled her glass.

Katniss would never serve that woman hand and foot. She would rather get shot in the foot.

“I heard the men in the space program can’t be around their wives or girlfriends,” Rye said, getting up.

“The program didn’t allow Blight, Felix, or Sejanus to see their families. The last time I saw those guys was a couple of months ago.” Peeta put his arm around Katniss's shoulder.

“I don’t think Katniss would make it without Peeta,” Rye joked, winking at Katniss.

Katniss blushed.

“Let’s leave Katniss alone. I know if you were involved in the space program, I’d be a nervous wreck every time you were chosen to go up there,” Misty said.

“Peet’s never going up there, he doesn’t have the right stuff,” Graham joked.

Peeta didn’t reply.

Katniss focused on television. They were showing a long shot of the all-new rocket for Orion 1 to launch. The three men inside the new space capsule were Sejanus Plinth, Blight Jones, and Felix Ravinstill. Claudius Templesmith’s voice was narrating the events. The three astronauts entered the transportation vehicle with their pristine white space suits.

“These new space suits that our astronauts are wearing are easier to maneuver in than the suits used in the Nova project and comparable to the ones used in the Spartan program. They are now the white color that our beloved president favors. And they have a new compression system that will keep our astronauts safe as they make a space walk.”

The entire nation was glued to their televisions right now. The tension and excitement filled the air as Peeta’s parents celebrated their anniversary.

Katniss turned her head away from the television set. The Mellarks were a well-to-do family. They owned several bakeries in District Four. Katniss grew up without the monetary security that Peeta had. Katniss had lost her father as a young girl to another dangerous job; her dad tested airplanes after the Second World War. They lived in the middle of nowhere, in ramshackle houses, so that her father could continue to fly as a test pilot for Panem Air Command. He was involved in the development of jet engines. He died while testing an airplane. The last thing she wanted was to fall for a man with a dangerous job. Why couldn’t he be a baker like the rest of his family?

The camera switched back to Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman. They were smartly dressed in heathered sport coats.

“This is an exciting day in the history of Panem. We will be trying out the new propulsion and capsule named Orion.”

“Yes, this is indeed an exciting day in Panem history. Right now, our three brave astronauts are being transported to the CSM, Caesar.”

“Claudius, explain to our home audience what a CSM is.” Caesar smiled at the camera.

“Well, Caesar, the CSM, is the command service module; the new CSM is larger than the spacecraft made for the Spartan. It holds three astronauts.”

“It must be a mansion compared to the Nova capsule, which only held one astronaut."

“As I understand it, Caesar, the mission is named after Captain Burdock Orion Everdeen.”

“Hey, Uncle Peeta, isn't that Katniss' father's name?” Bannock asked.

Mrs. Mellark gave her a funny look. No one in the family knew of her pedigree. They all thought she was a backward girl from a coal mining town. A picture of her father appeared on the television screen. There was no doubt that Katniss took after her father.

“Her father was a pioneer in the jet age.” Peeta winked at her as he spoke to his nephew, “He nearly broke the speed of sound. They teach us his pilot maneuvers at the academy. Without his sacrifice, they wouldn’t have found out about the fuselage leak in that jet plane.”

Bannock looked at her with awe in his eyes. “I didn’t know your father was a pilot.”

All of the attention was on Katniss. She loathed it; she wanted to squirm, but she knew the best way to avoid more questions was to be polite and deferential. “My daddy did his duty. Those men on that screen. They’re the real heroes.”

“Who do you think will go up on the next Orion missions?” Mr. Mellark asked. Although the Panem’s Space Program had announced a new set of projects with the goal of landing a man on the moon. They had yet to announce which pilots were going to be reaped for the missions.

“Dad, you know that’s classified,” Peeta said.

“Come on, Peet,” Rye said, grinning. “You can give us a clue, can’t you?”

Katniss saw the glint in Peeta’s eyes, and she knew there was more he wasn’t telling her. Peeta was good at hiding things. He had to be given his profession of choice.

Peeta was a hotshot navy pilot who was recommended for the space program because of his instinctive combat skills in the air and his good looks and charm in front of the camera. He was the youngest amongst the astronauts, and he was called the ‘Rookie,’ because of it.

She met him when her car broke down on the side of the road. He and his friends were drinking at a local bar when she walked in, soaked, looking like a ragamuffin. Peeta said he’d taken one good look at her and swore he was a goner.

“Sorry, Dad, I can’t say anything.” He stretched and stood. “I think I need a walk, Katniss?”

When they stood, his mother gave her a disapproving look. Katniss didn't avert her eyes. If Adena sensed a weakness in you, she would exploit it. She’d seen Peeta’s mother reduce people to tears with her words. Peeta told her he didn’t get along with his mother, and Katniss, having met the woman, understood why.

Peeta escorted her outside. Their backyard was huge and included a gated swimming pool.

“So I hope we didn’t scare you too much this weekend.”

“Huh,” Katniss said.

“Where are you?”

“I was thinking of my sister.”

“Oh,” Peeta said next to her.

Katniss nodded. “She would love the pool.”

“Next time we can bring her,” Peeta stopped walking.

Katniss looked up at the sky, rubbing her arms absentmindedly.

“You’re thinking about your dad, aren’t you?” Peeta put his arms around her.

Katniss leaned back into Peeta’s arms and closed her eyes. “How’d you know?”

“Because it’s my job,” he placed a tender kiss on her cheek. “By the way, did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”

Katniss looked down at her modest shift dress. She’d forgotten she’d worn the dress for him. She could feel the sting of a blush on her cheeks. “I wanted to look special.”

Peeta turned her around in his arms. She leaned up on tiptoe to press a kiss on his lips. She had to be careful because her lipstick would get all over him. To be honest, this wasn’t the path Katniss had expected for her life. She was part of the women's movement. She’d sworn off men and dating. She’d burned her brassière. How her path became off target was her chance meeting with Peeta Mellark. Love was funny; it had a way of creeping up on you. Here she was dressing up in his favorite color, a muted orange.

His forehead pressed against hers, “Katniss, I have to tell you something.”

Her lashes fluttered open, looking up into his azure eyes. “What is it, Peeta?”

“Back there when I said that it was classified-” Peeta drifted off.

Katniss' heart sank; her observation was correct. Peeta was hiding something. “You were chosen.”

Peeta let go of her, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“When?”

“Your birthday.”

“My birthday,” Katniss whispered.

“Yeah,” Peeta lifted her chin. “Finnick, and Gale too. It’s us or another group. One of us will make ten loops around the Earth in the new rocket. Haymitch told me that they were leaning toward us. If all goes well, then it’s only a mission or two before we land on the moon.”

She turned her face away. She did the math and calculated by the launch dates which one of the missions he was going to be a part of, and the President boasted about the missions on national television. “Orion 7.”

“Kat,” Peeta let his hand drop.

“Peeta, can’t they choose someone else?” Katniss choked on the words. The fear of losing him was real. Of all of the men in Panem, her heart had to fall on a man whose job, by definition, was crazy. Left off here.

“Kat, baby,” Peeta said. “It’s my job.”

“Don’t you dare call me baby,” she spat angrily. She was incensed at herself for falling irrevocably in love with him. But she understood what he said. Astronauts were basically test pilots strapped into what was essentially a large TNT stick.

He looked into her silver eyes before leaning down and pressing a kiss on her cheek. “You’re even prettier when you're angry with me.”

His small peck diffused the situation between them.

“Ugh,” Katniss said, allowing him to loosely hold her. She instinctively stepped closer to him. Her hands slid up his chest. “What if something goes wrong, what if they don’t have the right calculations and you’re shot into outer space, or if something goes wrong with that metal hunk of junk?”

“It’s been twelve years, Katniss, since your dad passed away. Science has come a long way. I tell you, do you know they’ve got women mathematicians working at the space program? They call them computers.”

“Computers.”

“I swear they make the lot of us look like kindergartners with sticks and mud.”

Katniss was scared to lose him. She’d lived through the devastation that came with losing a loved one. “Just promise me you’ll be alright, and listen to Finnick. Gale’s a hot head.”

Peeta laughed.

“He’ll get you in trouble.”

“Like Finnick wouldn’t.”

“Finnick’s married to Annie, and Annie would skin him alive if he did.”

“True,” he grinned. “I can’t wait to get you alone tonight.”

Katniss felt the heat blossom and expand to the tips of her being. She’d been daring enough to allow herself to be with Peeta outside the bond of marriage. “Peeta, your parents.”

“Fine, just let me hold you.” One hand slipped her face, his hand touched her lip, while his lips kissed her exposed neck

Katniss breathed, “You have to promise to behave.”

“Scouts honor,” he growled before pressing a kiss on her chin.

“Peeta, you told me you were never a scout.” Katniss pulled away, giving him a pointed look.

He gave her a rakish look. “Okay, fine, I promise not to get frisky with you tonight.”

“Good.”

Peeta leaned his head down, his nose bumped hers playfully, before he gazed at her, seeking permission to kiss her. Katniss nodded, and her lashes fluttered, and a high-pitched squeak escaped her lips when his lips settled on hers.

“Hey, are you guys going to come back inside? Or are you going to stand outside necking?”

Startled by Peeta’s brother’s voice, Katniss stepped away.

“Rye!” Peeta groaned.

“Come on, you're going to miss them blasting off.”

He grinned at Katniss, “We'd better get in there.”

Together they walked inside. Everyone, by now, was sitting watching the television set. Katniss stood, Peeta next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled into him.

Mission control could be heard counting down. Katniss put her hand on Peeta’s chest. The boys counted down silently, their lips moving.

 Katniss looked around at the unforgivable sight of Seam and Merchant intermingling. The Canary party, as it was called, was a tradition in District Twelve, held as a survival celebration. No one knew who began the tradition or why it was named the canary party. All she knew was that her father told her about it when she was a child. 

There was once a time she wanted to experience it, back then, when the world was filled with wonder, and her Pa was alive. Now it was useless and careless. They could be caught by the Peacekeepers, though she doubted Darius would do anything. If anything, he’d join them.

Either way, Katniss had refused to come, but Madge somehow convinced her. She felt guilty for celebrating when two poor kids were heading to their deaths. Not to mention, she had to worry about her sister for another four years without the ability to volunteer in her place.

“It’s a rite of passage, besides,” Madge said, looking at a point behind Katniss. “When are we going to get a chance to INTER-MINGLE!”

Madge turned her around and pointed to the one boy with whom Katniss had an unshakable bond. Her eyes popped out of their sockets when she caught Peeta Mellark staring at her. Quickly turning around, Katniss made a choking sound.

“Don’t worry, he’s not coming this way.”

Katniss was mortified that HE was here. “Madge…” she said, in a strangled voice. There weren’t too many people in the district that could turn her innards into mush.

“Oh, please, Katniss, it’s not a secret.”

“How?” Katniss asked, incredulously. She’d never spoken about Peeta.  She had never spoken to him or approached him. Hell, she never really spoke to anyone other than Madge.

“I’ve been sitting with you at lunch since we were kids.” Madge grinned and discreetly pulled out her flask and drank deeply. Encouraged by the alcohol in her system, Madge decided to do something about Katniss’s secret obsession. “I’ve seen you watch him.”

Madge was not wrong; she did keep track of Peeta, but only occasionally. Truth be told, Katniss could never forget the person who was her hope. She was eleven when the unthinkable happened: her Pa died in a mining accident. She and her family were left bereft. Everything in her world collapsed. The light in her mother's eyes had dimmed. Katniss tried to keep it together; she had sold everything to put food on the table.

Then, one night, when she thought she was going to become another statistic in District Twelve, Peeta tossed her those precious loaves of burned bread. It was the tether that she needed to hang on to this world. He was her boy with the bread, and he had sated more than just her hunger. He fed a flame within her; her faith and hope had been restored. His kindness reminded Katniss that there was good in the world. That she couldn’t give up. From then on, her life changed.

Later on, she found out his mother hurt Peeta for his rebellious actions. And it led her to keep tabs on Peeta Mellark throughout the years. Until this moment, Katniss thought she’d been clever about keeping her small obsession with him secret. She could feel the heat climbing her neck and reaching her face. 

“You’ve made cow eyes at Peeta since the age of twelve.” 

“I have not,” Katniss hissed. She researched her memories for any instances where she could have possibly made a fool of herself by letting her careful mask of indifference fall and allowing Madge to see her keeping track of Peeta. 

“Yes, you have,” Madge giggled. “Why don’t you go speak to him?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Liar,” Madge said before taking another sip from her flask.

Katniss was a horrid liar.

“Katniss, tonight is your night to go say something to him. You might not get another chance…” Madge's voice drifted off. “Oh, damn, too late,” she whispered.

Katniss turned around and saw Athena Marsden talking to him. She leaned in and put her hand on his shoulder. Katniss’s lips thinned at the sight of the slender blonde girl with the heart-shaped face. Athena hated anything and anyone from the Seam. Last year, she maliciously spread a rumor that Arlean Chance would sleep with anyone for a coin. Arlean was in her last year; the poor girl was tortured by Athena's vicious lies and name-calling.

Athena was a bully, and it didn’t matter if you were male or female. If you were from the Seam, you were an automatic target. She monikered Lester Wren, Bird-face boy. She had no sympathy for any of the reaped kids. When Abe Knute died in the Hunger Games, she walked up to his mother and said she was tired of seeing a good-for-nothing Seam brat in the games. According to Athena, Abe’s death was boring and a waste of airtime. Abe came to a horrid end; he was sliced in two by a weapon that was parachuted to a career. Katniss had put her hand over Prim’s eyes and had closed her own when she realized what was about to happen.   

Katniss disliked Athena immensely, but stayed clear because her focus was on feeding her family. Survival was predominant in her mind. It was why she never frequented fruitless events such as these. But Madge and Gale got together and harassed her to go, as this party was some beloved rite of passage. Gale, who never wanted to speak to anyone from town, crossed lines just to harass her into going into town.

“Sorry, Katniss,” Madge whispered.

“It’s okay,” Katniss shrugged, hardening her face. “She can have him. If I were interested in marriage,” she made a point of folding her arms and trying not to notice how handsome Peeta looked. “…Which I’m not. I wouldn’t be into anyone who is into Athena Marsden.”

“What?” Madge paused mid-drink.

“Don’t you know, I’m never getting married?”

“No, not that. That I knew. Why don’t you like Athena? She's totally sweet. She’s one of the nicest girls in school.”

Katniss rolled her eyes at Madge’s description. Athena showed a sweet, defenseless girl to the Merchants and a ruthless side to the Seam. She reminded Katniss of Victor Johanna Mason, who fooled everyone into thinking she was a weak, sniveling girl and incapable of harming a fly, but turned out to be a vicious killer during her Hunger Games.

“I’ve never seen you react so viscerally to anyone.” Madge drank from her flask. “Normally, you have a mask of indifference or your scowl. Are you jealous of her? Is that why you don’t like her?”

Katniss sighed and shifted her hands to her hips. Why was it that anytime women disagreed, someone brought in the jealousy thing?  “I’m not jealous of Athena. There is a real reason I don’t like her.”

“And,” Madge prompted.

It was clear Madge wasn’t going to let go. Madge could be single-minded when she had a goal in mind. “She doesn’t like kids or people from the Seam. And it’s deeper than the entire Merchant-Seam rift. Athena goes out of her way to be mean to us.” Madge frowned as if in disbelief. “She bullies the kids from the Seam. Do you remember when Arlean Chance passed out in the girls’ bathroom?”

“Yeah, I remember. She stayed out of school for two weeks. I thought she had the flu?”

“It wasn’t the flu, it was Athena. She spread a rumor that Arlean had sold herself to Cray and liked it so much that she was selling herself for only one coin. Some kids followed Arlean into the girls’ bathroom, flashing her coins. When they saw I was in there with Leevy, they backed out and left. Leevy knew her parents and convinced my mom to say she had the flu, so that Arlean could get the break she needed.”

Madge was quiet.

“Athena even tried some crap with Leevy. But since Leevy has a few cousins that wouldn’t mind slapping the silly out of her, she dropped it.” Katniss turned back to look at Peeta, and her lips thinned.  Peeta was good and was most likely like Madge, who didn’t know the viper that was in his midst. “To you guys, she’s all lightness and sugary sweet, but to us in the Seam, she’s a bully.”

“Okay, enough said,” Madge said, looking in the direction of Athena. Not totally convinced, but at the same time, Katniss kept to herself and never gossiped. “So if you’re not going to talk to Mellark, you’re going to have to drink.” Madge pointedly looked at the shot glass in Katniss's hands. “Gale said I was to show you a good time.” 

Katniss spilled the drink on the ground, “Oopsie.” 

Madge rolled her eyes. “Do you think that’s going to stop me?” She handed Katniss her flask. “Here, drink from this.” 

Katniss brought the foul-smelling liquor to her lips and drank. She was determined to erase Peeta and Athena Marsden from her memory. Taking Madge’s flask, Katniss drank the liquorish-tasting liquid. It burned as it slipped down through her throat and warmed her belly. She grimaced, “What’s in this?’

Madge laughed, “Absinthe, be careful, too much, and you’ll fly. My mom loves this stuff.”

Flying is what Katniss wanted, handing the flask back to Madge.

“Canary!” Delly Cartwright shouted.

Those gathered roared and took shots as they heard the drinking salute. From across the way, Peeta was searching the crowd. He’d lost her again. Peeta himself drank from his cup. His friends were all in high spirits with youthful exuberance. He watched one of his friends kiss a girl from the Seam. She was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the girl he liked.

Normally, such intermixing was frowned upon, but tonight everyone in the district turned a blind eye. Tonight, Peeta had one goal: to talk to the girl whom he was crazy about. The crowds parted, and she appeared wearing her light blue reaping dress, and her hair was braided in an updo. She looked lovely. Then all at once she was gone, disappeared in the crowd.

“Hey Peet, we did it,” his friend James said.

“Yeah,” Peeta nodded, though he found the celebration odd. He aged out, but tonight on a train headed to the Capitol were two unlucky souls.

“Canary,” James said in salute.

“Canary,” Peeta said back, taking a gulp from his cup. He was trying to pace himself; he wasn’t much of a drinker. He stayed away from parties and refrained from drinking alcohol. Tonight, he came hoping he could find the courage to speak to Katniss.

“Hey Peeta,” Athena said, sliding up to him. She handed him another drink. “I thought you could use a refill.”

Peeta took the drink and smiled tightly when Athena’s hand crept up his arm. He caught sight of Katniss as she spoke to Madge. He nodded politely at Athena as he watched Perry Langston ask Madge to dance, leaving Katniss on the fringes of the party. A boy from the Seam that he didn’t know asked her to dance. Katniss shook her head no, but she accepted the drink the boy offered her.

“Canary!” Someone else shouted.

Peeta took a drink from the cup Athena gave him. He frowned because the brew was strong and he was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. He watched Katniss walk to the drinks table and slam back shot after shot of the white liquor Ripper made. Katniss was small in stature, and Ripper’s alcohol was stronger than the tesserae grain stuff he was drinking.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Peeta said. He wasn’t really listening to Athena.

“I am going to wake up tomorrow with a headache,” Peeta said, drinking the contents of his cup in one long slurp.

“Wow,” Athena said.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to,” Peeta could feel his words slurring as he spoke. He left Athena and headed toward Katniss.

She was swaying to the music; he could hear her humming softly as she swayed. The moonlight fell over her shoulders, making her dress look like a bridal dress, and it created a halo over her dark tresses, and she looked ethereal to Peeta.

“You wanna dance with me?” He asked, not sure if it sounded correct.

Katniss turned around, her silvery eyes as big as the moon, and her head bobbed up and down slowly before shyly stepping up to him. She sighed the moment Peeta held her. There wasn’t any music momentarily, but it didn’t matter; their bodies moved as if their souls were cast from the same celestial mold. Somewhere in the distance, the music began, and a lone fiddle played a woeful song.

“Want a sip?” She offered the flask to Peeta.

“Yeah,” he said. He took a long swig, and it tasted funny to him, but it was warm going all the way down.

He handed back the flask. As they continued dancing to the music, their world shrank to only include them. A girl began singing, her voice carried by the wind, which brought the festivities to a stop.

“It’s the Valley Song,” Peeta muttered.

Katniss nodded. It was an appropriate song to commiserate all the lost children and the ones that had been shipped to their death. She buried her face in his neck, holding on. His hands gripped her closer. Anchored by the rich scent of cinnamon and dill, Katniss felt safe and secure. His arms became a safe haven against the train that today took two unlucky souls to the Capitol. Peeta held tightly to her as memories whirled around them of the past, of the loved ones they had lost. The Capitol was their jailers. Both knew they weren’t free; none of them were. They were pieces used by the Capitol.

The music changed once more to a quicker-paced song, but Katniss' small hands gripped him tighter. The music got louder, they drank and danced, until the dancing space became crowded. Katniss and Peeta stepped to the side.

He grinned at her, feeling hazy.

“I can’t believe I got the first date, let alone a year.” Katniss slurred.

“You are so beautiful.” He handed her the bottle.

Katniss laughed and brushed up against his body, “No, you’re beautiful.”

Peeta watched her drink, his mind fuzzy at this point.

“I want to put you somewhere safe, never go from me.”  Her eyes opened wide. “Come on.”

“Where?’ Her hand tugged his, and he followed her.

“I have an idea,” she laughed joyfully.

Peeta grabbed a bottle from the table as they passed and drank from it. Smiling, they drank together as they walked away. It was a night of celebration and of new beginnings. Hand in hand, they strolled away.

The moon and the night sky were the witnesses to the revelry that occurred that night. The dawn came quietly. All over the district, hungover former reaping candidates woke up to a new world without worry of their name being called. They also woke up to the consequences of their actions.

Katniss slowly opened her eyes. She groaned as her entire body hurt. Her mouth tasted sour, and the light entering through her eyes felt like that time she was running from a bear and ran right into a low-lying branch.

"Hi! We have appointments for two-thirty," Madge tells the receptionist, leaning over the marble counter. "Madge Undersee and Katniss Everdeen."

The receptionist, a bespectacled blonde, peers at Madge inquisitively for a few moments before letting her eyes wander back to her computer screen. She begins to punch away at her keyboard.

Katniss shifts awkwardly in her boots. The flat, running waterfall tiles around the lobby must be meant to calm the guests, but all it does for Katniss is emphasize how unnatural this all feels.

"You can sign in and have a seat," the receptionist — Glimmer, according to her name tag — tells them, tapping a glassy clipboard on the counter. "Since you did the intake forms online, you don't have to fill anything out now."

"Thank you," Madge says, and after Katniss mumbles her own thanks and signs in, she's pulled to the waiting area by the sleeve of her jacket.

Katniss twists her thumbs and stares down at her lap once they're seated. She's never gotten a massage before. And really, she doesn't want to be getting one right now, either.

But after her friend spent a whole day pleading with her, she couldn't exactly say no. As an Easter gift, Madge's coworker had given her a gift card for two massages at this place, but he hadn't known she'd be leaving for a yearlong sabbatical in less than two weeks.

There was no way she'd need two massages in such a short period of time, Madge insisted to Katniss, and she didn't want to go alone anyway. It took Katniss five, ten, fifteen hours to agree. But Madge wanted her to come so badly.

So now she's sitting glumly inside a fancy massage parlor all the way across town, trying to not to feel stifled by the wordless, vibrational ambient music and fake ivy hanging from the walls.

"I think this will be fun," Madge says, her voice cheery. "You could use some relaxation, Katniss."

Katniss squirms in her seat. "I don't have to be naked for this, right?"

Madge rolls her eyes. "Not unless you want to be. But in my experience, it feels better when—"

The wood-paneled door beside the reception desk swings open, cutting her off.

"Madge?" a slender, fox-faced woman leans out. Her black uniform fits loosely around her body and nearly resembles a nurse's scrubs, though it's somewhat more stylish.

"Bye," Madge murmurs to Katniss. She scurries over to the massage therapist and disappears behind the door, leaving Katniss to suffer the lobby's new-age playlist by herself.

After a few minutes, though, Katniss's body shudders with dread when the door opens again. My turn.

She begins to trudge toward the door to meet her massage therapist, but her feet halt at the sight of the person who steps out.

Her eyes widen and she blinks hard. Twice.

"Katniss?"

A man stands before her, peering at her with twinkling blue eyes under a shock of blond curls. Her eyes are drawn to the way his stocky frame seems to bulge under his shirt, how the curve of his biceps peeks out from under his sleeves as he holds the door open.

It takes a moment for it to set in. Her massage therapist is a man.

A very attractive man.

"Uh, yes," she blusters. "That's me."

"My name is Peeta, and I'll be your massage therapist today," he says with a good-natured smile. "I went through— is something wrong?"

Katniss bites her lip. She lets her eyes trace the confused curl of Peeta's mouth before deciding to tell the truth.

"It's just… I didn't think I'd be assigned a man," Katniss admits sheepishly.

"Oh!" Peeta's eyes light up in surprise. "Did you request a female massage therapist?"

"No," she says, feeling dumb.

"Ah, okay," Peeta tilts his head before scratching a hand through his curls. "Well, I think Cashmere's supposed to be done with her client in ten minutes or so, so I can check—"

"Um, it's okay," Katniss's eyes drift back to the rushing waterfall tiles. "I can do it with you. The massage, I mean."

Whatever. It's not like she'll have to be naked or anything, and she'll never see him again after today. And this Peeta guy doesn't seem like a creep. At least not yet.

"You sure? Because it's no trouble, and your comfort is the prio—"

Wordlessly, she ducks under his arm and slinks through the door.

"Alright," Peeta says from behind her.

She finds herself in a vast, brightly lit hallway lined with curtained archways. The faint, floral scent of oils drifts through the air, and though she won't admit it, it has a calming effect.

"Right this way," Peeta steps ahead of her now, guiding her to an archway in the center of the hall.

Before she wills her nervous feet to follow him behind the curtain, her ears catch the faint hum of Madge's voice through the adjacent arch. At least she won't be fully alone with him.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions before we begin," Peeta starts.

But Katniss stays silent, taking in the sunset orange walls, the warm lights stationed around the room. They seem to create the illusion of flames licking up the sides up to the ceiling.

Peeta motions for her to sit down on the cushioned massage table, which is fitted with sheets and blankets in the center. He settles down in a chair beside it, and she's almost startled when their pupils lock at the new eye-level position.

"So, what brought you in for a massage today?" he asks.

"My friend had a gift card," Katniss admits with a shrug.

"I see." He's smiling with a hint of levity that makes her relax her shoulders.

Peeta asks her a series of questions about her health history, what she's looking for in a massage, whether she's alright with oils and music and the temperature of the room, and if she's got any problem areas in her body.

"Do you have any recurring pain?"

She's about to open her mouth to answer 'no' before she freezes, a blush spreading over her cheeks. Anxiety churns in her stomach.

Should I say it?

She's unsure of whether she wants him, or anyone for that matter, to touch her there. But part of her is afraid that the massage will go wrong if she isn't honest. She could get hurt if she withholds information, and he just seems to want to help her, after all.

"Um, I did fall out of a tree two months ago," Katniss admits. When his eyes begin to widen with concern, she quickly adds, "I just hurt my tailbone, and my left heel. I'm all recovered now, but I have flare-ups every now and then."

"And when you have those flare-ups, do they travel down your leg? Up to your hip?"

"My hip," Katniss says. She eyes his large, muscular hands, picturing them gripping the flesh around there, and her blush darkens.

She tries not to think about how they'd feel working on her tailbone.

"Okay." Peeta's got that boyish smile lifting the corners of his lips again. "I'm going to leave the room for a few minutes, and you can get undressed to your liking. Leave as much or as little as you'd like on, Katniss, and then I want you to lie on your stomach underneath the towel."

She can't stop the way her lower abdomen, and then something lower than that, tingles at his words.

Once he's placed a soft white towel on her lap and left the room, Katniss inhales hard, swinging her feet back and forth under the massage table.

She decides she'll leave her tank top on, and the stretchy boy shorts covering her butt. As she shrugs off her jacket and jeans, her eyes float to the wooden cabinets lining the walls, where thick wax candles and bottles of oil sit pristinely.

The towel's fabric tickles her shoulders gently when she drapes it over herself and lies face-down on the table. She lowers her face into a cushioned structure that resembles a neck pillow, enjoying the pressure against her temples and cheekbones.

"Ready?" Peeta's voice is back.

"Yes."

"I'm going to start with your shoulders," he tells her. "Can I lower the towel a few inches, Katniss?"

"Uh, yes," she mumbles, cursing the heat lighting her nerves on fire.

The soft fibers of the towel lightly drag down her back until its hem sits at the crook of her armpits.

Peeta asks if she'd like some oil here, promising it won't burn. But heat still dances across her skin as soon as she feels his thick, warm fingers press droplets between her shoulder blades.

He begins working toward the padded muscles between her neck and shoulders with his thumbs, the oil allowing him to slide against her skin with a smooth, deep pressure.

When he applies his gentle touch to the crook of her neck, she squeezes her eyes shut and actually sighs at the sensation. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that she doesn't mind the long time he spends touching her there. She knows she won't be the one telling him to get a move on.

As he rubs slow, deliciously deep circles around the bend of her shoulders, Katniss sucks in a breath.

"Is this okay?" Peeta's voice is back when he begins to knead his thumbs around the strap of her tank top. The towel has ridden down a bit further, but she doesn't mind.

"Yes," she breathes, eyes still closed. His hands tighten around the sides of her upper back, palms moist with oil, and she's suddenly aware of how dangerously close the tips of his fingers are to her breasts.

Despite herself, she bites her lips at the way they tingle near his touch. She tries to suppress thoughts of how it would feel to be massaged there.

Katniss squeezes her thighs together, grateful she's hidden by the towel.

"I'm going to lower the towel just below your waist now, but I'll be touching you over your shirt," Peeta says next. "Is that okay?"

"Yes."

Peeta rubs the sponge against his palms, scrubbing hard to remove the rest of the oil. As the tap water runs over his hands, he turns his head for a moment to check on Katniss, who lays still on her stomach.

Shame punches his gut. He's worked with beautiful women as clients before, but there's just something about Katniss that draws him to her like a magnet.

Peeta sighs. He's a professional. And it's not like he's having a hard time keeping things professional.

But it almost feels wrong, to be so attracted to her under the hazy lighting of his own workplace, where she's made herself so vulnerable.

Especially because she seemed so uncomfortable when they met in the lobby.

"I'm going to do the rest of your back now," Peeta tells her once he's returned to her side, shifting his weight onto his prosthetic leg.

The orange walls of the room have cast a warm sheen over her olive skin, which shines softly from the layer of oil he worked into her upper back.

Katniss's head bobs with a nod from where it's buried in the cushion, and Peeta suppresses a chuckle.

He gets to work kneading her muscles over the thin, cotton fabric of her tank top, careful not to add too much pressure.

"You've got a lot of tension here," he observes, pushing the bend of his thumb into a tight spot on her back. "You said you're on your feet a lot for work?"

"Mmmmm, yeah," her voice comes out soft and hazy. "I'm a forest researcher, so I'm outside doing things a lot."

"Like falling out of trees?" he smirks, grounding his knuckles over her back.

"Ohhhh," Katniss moans, and he can feel the vibrations flowing from her chest through her body. "Unghhhh, yeah, falling."

Peeta's eyes widen, but he doesn't stop kneading her. He's grateful she can't see his face right now.

"Peeta? You can, uh, lift my tank top a little, if it's easier," her voice comes out small, almost shy. "The oil was nice from earlier."

"Oh," his voice lifts a beat. Peeta eyes the bottle sitting on the small table beside him, biting his lip with apprehension.

He supposes it would make the rest of this massage go more smoothly for the both of them. "I can do that."

He squirts a few pumps of oil into his palm, rubbing his hands together until they're sufficiently slicked up. When he turns back to Katniss, his breath hitches: she's already lifted the bottom of her tank top for him, exposing the small of her back.

With a gulp, Peeta's eyes trace down her back until they stop at the towel sitting under her hips. If he didn't know better, it would look like she's ever so slightly pulled down her underwear for him, too.

Peeta shakes his head wildly to clear it. He's a professional. He wouldn't even entertain the thought of crossing boundaries with any woman, let alone a client.

He pushes thumbs into the small of her back, working the flesh of her waist with his fingers.

"Does that feel okay, Katniss?"

"It feels sooooo good, Peeta," she groans, before letting out a small whimper that makes his heart skip a beat. "Can you keep touching me like that?"

"Uh— I— yes," he manages to choke out.

Peeta knows he needs to make small talk right now. He's always been good at that. It'll distract him from how he feels about her right now.

"So, how did you get into forestry?"

"I— ohhhhh, right there!" Katniss moans loudly. "I spent a lot of time outdoors as— ahh— as a kid with my dad. So it's always been important to me, to protect the wildlife and plants here."

"That's really nice," he hums. "Do you like it?"

"Oh, yeahhh!" she cries, and Peeta's fingers clench with a jolt from where he's rubbing at the tension on her left hip. He can't tell whether she's answering his question or responding to the way he's massaging her. Or both.

"I, mmmmmmph, I've always wanted to help people," she continues. "And protect the world."

Peeta grimaces. His plan is backfiring, badly. If anything, talking to Katniss has only made him like her more.

So she isn't just beautiful. She seems like a wonderful person, too.

"So, ah, how did you get into massaging?" she asks.

Peeta huffs, grateful to talk about himself. Someone much less interesting than the breathtaking woman writhing and moaning at his touch.

"I helped out a lot at my parents' bakery growing up," he tells her. "Really, kneading dough isn't more than a few steps away from kneading people, so it was a natural progression of my career."

Katniss's body rumbles with a hum against his knuckles, which have gently come to work the skin around her tailbone.

"You're really good with your hands," she murmurs, breathless. Peeta blushes.

"I'm a hobby artist on the side, so I work with my fingers a lot," he adds, before pushing them into her skin at varying pressure points around her tailbone.

He's careful, scanning her body and pricking his ears up to detect any signs of discomfort. But the moan that streams from her lips tells him she's njoying it.

"Yeah, your fingers feel good, oh," she whines, pressing her forehead deeper into the cushion.

Peeta squeezes his eyes shut as he keeps massaging her. It's no trouble to keep it professional, but he can feel the blood beginning to rush between his legs. His cock begins to swell involuntarily.

Fuck! No, no, no, no!

He quickly mills through a list of things that he's sure will turn him off as she continues to whimper on the table. The roadkill he saw on his way to work yesterday. The cheese buns he burned at home last night. His parents shouting at him over his career. The accident where he lost his leg six years ago.

"Um, I got massage therapy into my mind after my leg was amputated," he blurts out. "Physical therapy was a really big part of my recovery process with the prosthetic, and I had to learn how to massage myself."

Ordinarily, he'd avoid dumping so much about himself, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He's pleased to find that he's gone soft again.

"Oh," Katniss says. "I… I'm glad it helped."

"Me too," Peeta smiles.

But when he begins to gently massage her tailbone, Katniss's whimpering comes to a head, and he trains his face hard to look stoic instead of pleased.

"Oh, f— please keep going," she sings.

Beyond his professional duty, a deep, primal rumbling in his chest demands he give her what she wants. What she needs.

He works at her tailbone a bit harder, making her moan and quiver and breathlessly chant his name in approval.

But he knows he can only bear a few more minutes of it before he starts to get hard again.

"I'm going to move to your arms and legs now, Katniss," he announces. "Is that okay?"

Katniss quirks her lip. In truth, she'd like him to keep working her lower back with his thick, strong hands.

"Yes," she tells him. "Could you do my heel first? The injured one."

Peeta hums in the affirmative, and she lets her left leg go limp as he lifts it effortlessly by the ankle.

His thumbs get to working on her heel, melting away the knotted tension where pain has flared up every week since she fell.

She moans at the sensation, allowing bliss to course from her heels up through her legs as Peeta continues to knead. Katniss hums as he moves from one leg to the next, taking care of her feet, then her calves, the her quads, then her thighs.

When her right leg is lifted high, a cool draft of air floats between her legs, making her softly hiss.

It's then when it sinks in. The image of the position Peeta's got her in.

Katniss scolds herself for imagining him moving closer between her thighs, diving in. He's a professional. She's his client.

The arm massage is soft and short, and when Peeta asks whether she'd like to flip onto her back for a front massage, she blushes hard. She knows she'll have her breasts and her genitals covered, but she's afraid he'll be able to see how wet she's gotten through the towel.

"Could you go back to my tailbone instead?" she asks him timidly. "I still have some tension there."

"Of course."

Before Peeta can put his hands back on her, she reaches around to tuck the towel deeper into her boy shorts and pulls it down, exposing the area where her hips meet her ass. She's not ready to be fully naked, but he'll get a better feel of her tailbone this way, she thinks.

"Oh, um, thank you," she hears Peeta say.

Katniss's ears pick up the squirt of the oil bottle, and then his hands are back on her, pushing and pulling at the muscles right above her ass. His thumbs dig deep into her now, pushing outward in a v-shape around her tailbone, and she can't help but cry out as he works away at her nerves.

"Oh, Peetaaaaa!"

The rush of blood in her eardrums drowns out the ambient music and the sounds Peeta's hands make as they quickly shift to cup her sides, applying gentle pressure.

After a few more luxurious minutes, she feels his hands leave her with a final, gentle squeeze. Katniss frowns. If she told herself an hour ago that she'd miss her massage therapist's touch this much, she would have laughed in her own face.

"That's it for today," Peeta says. "How… how was it?"

"Really, really good," Katniss sighs. "Thank you, Peeta."

"That's always good to hear. Well, I'm going to step out so you can get your clothes back on, and you can go meet your friend in the lobby," Peeta finishes quickly, and the whoosh of the curtain tells her he's gone.

Katniss takes a deep breath as she pulls her jeans and jacket back on. She can admit that was good. Really good. She usually doesn't like to be touched, but Peeta's magic hands have carved out room for an exception.

When she steps out to meet Madge in the lobby, her friend throws her a smirking, almost teasing look.

"Let's go," Madge whispers abruptly, blue eyes flitting back and forth with a hint of urgency.

Katniss turns to peer at the reception window one last time as Madge practically yanks her out the door. She's able to catch a final glimpse of Peeta, his blond curls slightly ruffled.

For some reason, his face is beet red as he talks to Glimmer behind the counter.

"Dude," Madge says once the door has shut behind them.

"Did you bang your massage therapist or something?"

"What?"

"Katniss, you sounded like you were getting fucked six ways to Sunday!" Madge gasps. "Was it fingering? God, I didn't know this was that kind of massage parlor."

"No!" Katniss blusters, face suddenly hot. "Why would you think that?"

She can admit she was attracted to Peeta. But he didn't touch her in any way that was sexual, or unexpected.

Even when she sort of wanted him to.

"Did you not hear yourself?" Madge asks, eyebrows raised in amazement. "All the moaning and whining and 'yes Peter, please keep touching me like that Peter, oh, Peter! Don't stop!'"

Katniss huffs. "His name was Peeta. And I did not sound like that."

"Oh, yes you did," Madge cackles.

Katniss balks, mulling over the session with Peeta in her mind. She supposed she did occasionally moan, and yes, she did tell him when things felt good and she didn't want him to stop… but wasn't she supposed to communicate?

"Oh my God," she groans, mortified.

"I mean, the least you could do is buy him dinner after that," Madge says, shaking her head.

"I can never go back there," Katniss realizes with a jolt. She buries her face in her hands.

Madge blows a raspberry as they climb into the car. "It's okay, Katniss. You're probably not the first person to come in and make sex noises during a massage. I think I saw this on a sitcom once, actually."

Katniss shakes her head, and opts for silence the entire ride home. But pressure still swells between her legs.

She knows she'll be having a long date with her vibrator tonight.

It's been four days since his appointment with Katniss. And Peeta still hasn't been able to get her out of his head.

He's been twiddling his thumbs for hours at work, no clients on his Thursday afternoon roster, so Katniss naturally fills the empty space in his mind.

It doesn't help that everyone who was on duty during their session has been teasing him endlessly ever since. Except Johanna, who cleaned up their room while Peeta took his much-needed break.

"Dude. She left a fucking wet spot on the sheets!" she exclaimed. "Are you sure you didn't fuck her? I won't tell on you."

"Don't be gross," Peeta had winced. "It was just some oil."

"No," Johanna shook her head. "I know what oil feels like, and I know what pussy feels like. And this—"

"Johanna!" Peeta yelped. "Stop. We can't be like that about clients. And if people keep talking about this, rumors will start."

Johanna simply rolled her eyes, bored. "Oh, please. The security footage from the lobby probably picked up how she was moaning and wailing in there. They've already got the rumor fodder on tape."

Peeta groaned hard. He'll never live this down.

He tells himself it will be okay. All he did was make a client comfortable, and help improve her pain. He's got nothing to be ashamed about.

Except for thinking about her all night and jerking off in the shower, the traitorous voice in his mind scoffs.

He shudders, horrified with himself.

"Peeta? We have a walk-in," Gloss, his coworker, pokes his head into the room. "The client asked for you, actually."

"Oh, really?" he rises quickly, eager for some work that will distract him from Katniss. He's certain that if he packs his schedule full with clients for the next week, he'll forget about her.

"Yeah," Gloss smiles as they walk through the hall to the lobby together. "I wish I had as many regulars as you do. God, you must be driving these chicks nuts."

Peeta blushes. Because he does have a lot of repeat customers, most of whom are female. But he likes to tell himself that it's because he's good at his job, and not because they think they'll get a happy ending or something.

Besides… has anyone ever compared to Katniss?

Stop, he scolds himself.

The door handle creaks under Gloss's touch as Peeta steps into the lobby behind him.

Peeta's face flushes dark red as he meets her soft gray eyes across the room, freezing like a deer caught in headlights. She looks nervous, too, almost as if she's startled by the fact she requested him.

"Uh, hi," Katniss murmurs, rising to meet him. She stares at the ground sheepishly before looking into his eyes again.

"I hope it's okay that I asked for you again. It's just… you really helped me the other day, and I had another flare up with my tailbone."

Peeta ignores Gloss's smirk, willing himself to smile warmly for Katniss. He orders the nerves in his body to relax.

I'm a professional.

"Of course it's okay," he tells Katniss, and his heart soars at her shy smile.

They stroll through the hall together, and before he can pull open the curtain for her, she pauses.

"I did some research about my tailbone pain, and I have some ideas of things we can try today…"