The Life of a Snow Girl @an-everlark-swiftmas - Tumblr Blog

It Always Leads to You in My Hometown

By @theslayslayer

Based on the prompt: Tis the Damn Season

Rated E

Tags: everlark, angst, some fluff, modern setting, explicit sexual content, open ending, no hea depending on who’s reading…

December 23rd, present day

Not yet used: poison on the rim of a cup, switch medication, maybe little pills made with rat poison

For anyone who stumbled upon those words in that little notebook, it would’ve been enough to make them faint or maybe even the police if they were particularly dramatic.

But for Katniss Everdeen, best selling mystery author, that list was just part of her daily routine.

The notebook went everywhere with her: planes, meetings, breakfasts with her publicist, the grocery store, literally everywhere. If she overheard someone at a restaurant saying “my boyfriend is allergic to apples, have you ever heard anything more stupid? He still eats them,” she wrote it down. When she took her cat to the groomer, the assistant told her they’d had to sedate him to bathe him, but that she’d gone a little overboard with the medication. Instead of getting angry, Katniss just rolled her eyes and wrote down every word. If someone mentioned a sudden death, or an unsolved disappearance in their town, Katniss listened and made mental space for the note.

She watched TV with the same intention. Medical dramas and documentaries were especially useful, and her favorites too, because each episode was a tiny lesson in possibilities. All in the name of art, of course.

This case was no exception.

The Uber driver was one of those people who didn’t know when to shut up, which was annoying enough. But what irritated her more was that on the app, Katniss had specifically selected that she didn’t want to talk. Even so, the man kept going like she’d personally asked for his entire life story.

“Thats why I almost lost my aunt last week,” he said “My uncle gave her the wrong pills. Who does that ? They were for blood pressure, or her colesterol, something like that. Her heart almost gave out—three days under observation! Cost a fortune.”

For the driver, it was a tragedy. For Katniss… well, everything was a possible story.

“What brings you to Michigan?”

Katniss rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses.

“Holidays,” was all she said.

“Oh,” the driver replied. “Are you staying through New Year’s?”

As uncomfortable as his questions made her, she wasn’t a rude person.

“No. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know,” Katniss grumbled.

The driver frowned at her through the rearview mirror.

Yes, it was strange to everyone else, but not to her or her family. In the Everdeen household, Christmas had always been on December 23rd. It started by accident. One night, many years ago, her parents had booked a vacation alone for the first time in ages and their flight left on the morning of the 24th. Katniss and Prim, kids at the time, celebrated a day early so they wouldn’t lose the gifts and the family. But mostly because of the gifts.

From there, it became routine. Every year, on the 24th, her parents left for a getaway, and Katniss arrived on the 23rd. She spent the day with her them, smiled in the pictures, opened her gifts. And after that, she went back to her busy life in Los Angeles.

At least, that was the official version.

Twenty minutes later, the driver stopped in front of her old house. Katniss got out quickly, grabbed her small wheeled suitcase —even if she’d only be there a short time, any other kind of luggage felt like torture— and her purse, and went to her house.

The front was decorated with the kind of Christmas enthusiasm that had always felt a little too excessive to her. Colorful lights hanging from the roof, red bows on every window corner, and of course, the same four inflatable figures as every year, a little more faded with time. Each one represented a family member; the reindeer with a shiny red nose was her father, the snowman was her mother, the little elf was Prim, and the last one, a penguin with a green scarf and wide little feet, was her.

Before stepping onto the porch, she brushed a hand over the snowman’s carrot shaped nose. She raised her hand to knock, but didn’t need to, the door opened immediately, revealing Prim with tangled hair and the exhausted face only hospital shifts could give her. Still, she threw her arms around her sister.

Katniss hugged her back just as tightly, without letting go of her purse. “Hey, Prim,” she murmured into her shoulder.

When they pulled apart, Prim held her face in both hands, just like when they were little, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Happy Christmas Eve-Eve!”

Katniss smiled. “Were you watching the door to see when I’d show up?” she asked, closing it behind them.

“Maybe,” Prim said, tucking a blond strand behind her ear.

Katniss rolled her eyes with a smile as she set her suitcase next to the stairs.

“Where are mom and dad?” she asked, sitting on one of the kitchen stools.

“Dad was checking on a few patients,” she said, slicing a carrot into rounds. “Mom went to the store. She forgot the stuff for the punch.” Prim dipped a finger into a bowl filled with a thick dark-brown sauce and tasted it. “Oh, and we need to pick up dad in a few minutes. His car’s still in the shop.”

Katniss nodded while taking off her coat, immediately regretting it. Even with the heater on, the whole house was freezing. She wasn’t built for Michigan winters anymore.

“I’ll take my suitcase upstairs and then we can go,” Katniss said. “And I can’t wait to hear everything about your new boyfriend.”

Prim smiled without lifting her eyes from the board.

Half an hour later, the Everdeen sisters were parked outside Bluebonnet General, the car fogged up from the inside. The heater wasn’t particularly efficient, and the warm air mixed with their nonstop talking had completely covered the windows. They hadn’t stopped talking since they left the house, well, Prim hadn’t stopped.

She told her everything about Mike. How they met at the hospital when they started their residency a few months ago, how he’d lent her an extra set of scrubs on their first day because someone had thrown up on her, and how they hadn’t been apart since. They were the happiest people on earth. It was a shame Katniss wouldn’t get to meet him, since he’d be working that night.

Katniss answered every question Prim asked about her own work. She talked about a few vague ideas for future stories, and the events she’d attended recently. She told her about her small circle of friends and talked a lot about Buttercup, her cat. She had managed perfectly well to avoid personal questions up until that moment, but eventually, it arrived.

“And you,” Prim said, turning toward the passenger seat, “are you seeing anyone?”

Katniss felt a dry pinch in her stomach. She swallowed, kept her eyes on the fogged windshield, shaking her head.

“I don’t have time,” she said. “Publishing two books takes more out of you than you’d think,” she added, dripping in sarcasm.

“But wouldn’t you want to…” Prim propped her feet on the dashboard, her eyes dreamy, “fall in love… write your own novel?”

“I do write my own novels.”

Prim let out a snort. “Yes, silly, I know. But I mean love—romance. Living your own book worthy romance. The kind that’ll make you want to switch genres. Needing someone, being with someone, loving someone.”

“I don’t need anyone.”

It was a lie so old and so well rehearsed that no matter how she said it, it always came out perfectly believable. Prim let out a soft snort —a sound Katniss knew she used to express disagreement—, but she didn’t push further. Thank God.

They spotted their father walking through the hospital’s doors with his briefcase slung over his shoulder, and his white coat draped over his arm. As soon as she saw him, Prim quickly lowered her feet from the dashboard and straightened up, fixing her posture. Katniss opened the car door and stepped out to meet him before he reached the car. He dropped his briefcase to the ground and hugged her immediately, lifting her off the floor for a few seconds, as if she were eight and not thirty.

“My beautiful girl,” her father said. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more, dad,” Katniss replied, her arms still around his back.

When they pulled apart, she still had a huge smile plastered on her face. Her father tugged her wool hat down to her eyebrows with a grin and opened the passenger door.

Before climbing in, Katniss noticed something happening at the hospital entrance — a small commotion. There were a lot of people, much more movement than usual, and flashes, cameras, several phones held up, voices lost in the crowd. She scowled. Probably some local politician or a surprise visit from the press to cover holiday events at the hospital. Her stomach twisted at the thought, but she didn’t give it more attention.

Hours later, the four Everdeens were seated around the round dining table, all wearing matching Christmas sweaters; a tradition their mother took more seriously than anyone else, and no matter how busy she was, somehow managed to have ready year after year. And of course, no one ever dared complain. This year the sweaters were green, with each person’s initial embroidered in giant letters and tiny snowflakes scattered around it.

The turkey looked perfect in the center of the table. Her father had hunted it a couple of days earlier —one of his personal pleasures was sport hunting— and he spoke proudly about the clean shot he’d made straight through the eye. Prim took care of all the sides and her mother, as always, had made the bread, dessert, and a big pot of red berry punch. Katniss… well, she had contributed two bottles of wine she’d bought at the airport on the way there. She didn’t even know if they were any good, but no one seemed to care.

December 23rd was the only day of the year she could see her family. Or rather, the only day they could see her. All three of them were doctors, and their whole lives revolved around the hospital shifts that, to Katniss, sounded like pure torture.

Her family functioned perfectly well despite the fact that Katniss lived nearly three thousand kilometers away, and had decided from a very young age not to follow the same path her parents did. That had always made things a bit complicated, but even so they supported her unconditionally. Even if they didn’t always understand her, they were happy to share those hours with her.

After dinner, the family gathered by the Christmas tree to open presents. Her father was the first to hand them out. He gave each of his daughters a five hundred dollar gift card to a makeup store and gave his wife a new handbag. Katniss had already given her parents something that didn’t fit under the tree: the plane tickets for their traditional yearly vacation. For Prim, she’d gotten a ticket to a Taylor Swift concert they would attend together the following year. For Prim, it was the best gift in the world since Taylor Swift was her favorite artist, and Katniss’s too.

Prim gave their parents vinyl records, and Katniss received a secondhand copy of Little Women. It was her favorite book, which was ironic, since it was the complete opposite of what she wrote, but she collected every edition she could find: new, old, damaged, french, spanish, japanese. It didn’t matter; each one was a different reflection of the same story she would never get tired of reading. So yes, it was a great gift.

When it was their mother’s turn, she let out a small breath and covered her face with one hand, holding back a nervous smile.

“What’s wrong, mom?” Prim asked.

“I’m sorry,” she said, visibly embarrassed. “There are no gifts from me this year. I’ve been too distracted lately. I told myself I’d go look for the gifts after the supermarket, but… well, I completely forgot. I’ll send you Amazon gift cards or for whatever store you want. I promise.”

Katniss moved to sit beside her, giving her a few pats on the back to calm her down, since she genuinely looked about to collapse. Truthfully, it was something material and unimportant to her —the sweaters already counted as gifts— the important thing was that the four of them were there.

“There’s no need to, really, mom.” she said with a grin.

Asterid let out another sigh.

“Oh! And I ran into Otho Mellark at the supermarket. That distracted me too.”

Katniss’s stomach flipped.

“How is he?” Burdock asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“Very well, he looked happy. He told me his son was in town for the inauguration of the new pediatric wing at the hospital, but that he’d be leaving tonight. That’s sad, with the holidays and all.”

“Ohhh, that explains the whole commotion at the hospital this morning,” Prim said. “I practically live there and I completely forgot about the inauguration.”

Katniss just stared at the floor, running her fingers along the leather of her boots.

“Yes,” Asterid added. “Great young man that Peeta. He’s done wonderful things, and he certainly looks like he’s aiming for the governorship,” she turned to Katniss. “Have you talked to him lately, sweetie?”

Katniss shrugged. “No. But who cares, it’s dessert time!” she said, getting up from the couch. “I’ll get it. Does everyone want some?”

She walked to the kitchen without even checking if they said yes. She uncovered the carrot cake and started cutting slices for each of them. She set them on small plates, taking her time, because the last thing she wanted right now was to go back to the living room where they were probably still praising him.

While she served the final slice, she thought that maybe she should add something else to her list of things that can kill and not used yet in her writing; subtle than poison, slower than switching medications: love.

Christmas Eve, present day

Katniss’s alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. Prim was already awake, getting dressed in the room next door for her morning shift at the hospital. Her parents had their suitcases by the door, fastening their coats speaking quietly about flights and whether they’d packed enough sunscreen. They insisted Katniss come with them to the airport, but she refused.

“My flight’s later,” she said. “I don’t want to spend extra hours at the terminal.”

It was a lie. Katniss was also about to leave, only her destination wasn’t the airport.

After saying goodbye to the three of them, Katniss went to the kitchen, made herself a strong coffee, and drank almost all of it in one go. The Uber had already been scheduled the night before since she didn’t like improvising with these things. All her belongings were ready, so when the car pulled up in front of the house, she bundled up, grabbed her suitcase and bag, and slipped out the door without making a sound.

The driver, a young man wearing a cap and looking half asleep, rolled down the window when he saw her.

“Ride for Katniss?”

“Yes,” she said, getting into the car.

The driver checked his screen. “Okay. Lake Grove, that should be about fifteen minutes. We’ll be there soon.”

She closed the door, leaned her head against the window, and watched her old street disappear behind them.

The Uber drove for what felt like hours, though it had only been a few minutes. At that hour, even on Christmas Eve, traffic was scarce and the city still seemed asleep.

As they got closer to her destination, Katniss didn’t know what to do with her hands, or with her whole body. She fiddled with the edge of her coat, picked at her cuticles, adjusted her scarf until it nearly suffocated her. Her entire body buzzed, a kind of anxiety she was sure no amount of meditation techniques she’d learned over the years could ease. She tried to relax, pulled out her phone and attempted to focus on a sudoku, but couldn’t get past the first square. Her nerves won, like every year, like every Christmas Eve.

The car turned toward a more wooded area, and after a few curves, it finally stopped in front of the house. The huge, luxurious wooden house, partially hidden among the trees.

Katniss got out, pulled a bill from her pocket and handed it to the driver.

“Thank you,” she said, giving him the tip before closing the door.

She began climbing the small stone steps that led to the path. The only sound was the thumping of her suitcase wheels against the uneven ground and her own uneven breathing; whether from the cold or the nerves, she couldn’t tell.

When she finally reached the door, she raised her hand, knocked twice, and waited anxiously, tapping her boot against the ground. It took no more than ten seconds before she heard footsteps on the other side.

When the door opened, her stomach flipped so hard it caused actual pain.

Standing in front of her was the person she longed to see more than anyone in the world, the only one who could trigger everything in her and more, the only one who knocked the breath out of her, rattled her organs, and spun her entire world a hundred and eighty degrees.

“Katniss,” he said.

“Peeta.”

Christmas Eve, eight years ago…

Katniss didn’t want to go out.

She had only a few days left of winter break before heading back to California, and every second at home with Prim felt like gold. Her plan was simple: put on the comfiest pajamas she owned, make herself a mug of hot chocolate, serve another helping of yesterday’s leftover mashed potatoes with gravy and spend the rest of the night watching Love Actually with her sister, just like every Christmas Eve.

She had already turned off the light in her room and had her pajamas in hand when she heard a couple of honks, too insistent to be accidental. She scowled, walked to the window, and pulled the curtain aside. Outside, a car with its hazards flashing sat parked, two heads sticking out of the windows: Madge and Johanna.

“Let’s go, brainless!” Johanna shouted. “Party!”

Katniss barely opened the window.

“Don’t you have a family dinner?” she yelled back.

“It ended an hour ago,” Madge replied with a smile. “It’s already ten! Let’s go drink!”

“And dance!” Johanna added.

Katniss was seconds away from saying no, rolling her eyes, and closing the window. But before she could speak, Prim appeared in her doorway with her arms crossed and a smile on her face.

“Go. It’s only one night,” she said. “Besides, you always complain that you never do anything fun when you’re here.”

“I do not do that,” Katniss answered, scowling.

She hesitated for a few more seconds, then sighed. The truth was, going out wouldn’t hurt her.

“Just for a while.”

She got ready as quickly as she could and headed downstairs to meet her friends. As soon as she got in the car, Johanna handed her a bottle of vodka.

“To warm you up,” she said. “Don’t worry, I haven’t been drinking. I will once we get there, and Annie’s driving us home. She’s already there.”

“Where are we going?” Katniss asked, fastening her seatbelt.

Madge turned toward her from the passenger seat.

“To a party. In Lake Grove.”

“What? I thought it was somewhere nearby.”

“It is nearby. It’s at the Mellarks’ lake house,” Madge said. “The one who’s in my class—he invited me earlier and said I could bring friends.”

Katniss nodded without saying anything else and took a swig from the bottle.

About ten minutes later, they were in front of the most beautiful house she thought she’d ever seen.

Katniss straightened in her seat. She hadn’t grown up poorly and she knew how to recognize money when she saw it. She could tell a good coat, good shoes, a designer bag. She’d attended plenty of charity dinners with her father when she was younger. And now goes to school at Stanford, luxury wasn’t foreign to her.

But this… this was something else.

The house was a monster. It was enormous, with slanted roofs and massive windows, wood and stone walls carved and polished to perfection. Colored lights blinked from every window, and the music was blasting so loudly it could probably be heard all the way in Detroit.

“Holy shit,” Katniss murmured as she stepped out of the car.

“Right?” Madge said with a grin. “Being the mayor’s kid comes with perks.”

Katniss nodded lightly, forcing herself to close her mouth. She shook her head and walked alongside them, looping her arm through Madge’s as they headed up the stone path toward the main entrance. The door was slightly open, and inside everything looked like chaos; a complete contrast to the beauty of the house’s exterior.

People were everywhere; some sitting on the stairs, others sitting on top of each other, people dancing, people making out. There was smoke, alcohol and way too much noise.

Katniss let herself be swept up by the energy of the house and started walking a bit through the living room, taking in everything around her, until she realized her arm was empty; Madge was no longer beside her. She turned and there was no sign of Johanna either. For a moment she thought about calling them, but then she thought: what the hell?

She lifted her head and let herself go. She kept walking, exploring every visible corner. The dining room was made of fine wood, the kitchen was big and equipped with the latest technology; without the party’s mess, it was surely even more beautiful. The floor was double height so she climbed a few steps to what seemed like a secondary living room, reaching a hallway where more people were smoking. Until she reached a pair of sliding glass doors that opened onto the terrace.

It was bigger than her entire apartment in California. It had a bar on one side, a fireplace in a corner, and couches with blankets; but none of it compared to the view, which didn’t even look real.

Katniss couldn’t understand why no one was outside. If she lived here, she would spend all her time on that terrace, in comfy clothes, her playlist on repeat, writing or just enjoying the view. It was the perfect setting.

Curious, she slid one of the glass doors open. The moment she cracked it, the icy wind hit her, and she immediately understood why everyone was inside. It was lightly snowing and the air was so cold it felt like it burned the skin on her face, but she stepped out anyway.

The terrace looked like a stage facing the lake, the lights of the few neighboring houses softly illuminating everything around it. She wanted to shove her hands into her coat pockets to keep warm, but she didn’t. Instead she leaned against the cold railing, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

Michigan winters were relentless, but they were also beautiful; nothing like California. She had always preferred spring, but there was something about this weather that kept pulling her back. Yes, she was born here and spent most of her life here, but it had been her choice to leave. Maybe it was just her melancholy mixed with the holiday season.

Despite everything, coming back was always her weakness.

“Breathtaking.”

Katniss jumped at the sound of a voice behind her. She turned quickly, scowling on instinct, but once she focused on the figure approaching her, her expression softened. Despite the cold numbing her nose and fingers, a wave of warmth rushed through her body.

“The view, I mean,” the man added.

Katniss didn’t reply. She simply crossed her arms, hugging herself.

“That’s what I thought the first time I saw this place,” he said.

The man walked to one of the chairs near the railing, sat down, and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. He offered one, lifting the box slightly, but she shook her head.

He shrugged and lit his own. Smoke poured from his mouth as he took a drag, and Katniss looked away, uncomfortable. She didn’t know where to look, if at the lake or at the perfectly sculpted man now only a few steps from her. The lake, she decided. So she turned back toward the railing, hands inside her pockets this time.

“I’m trying to quit,” he said then. She glanced at him sideways, frowning, and he pointed at the cigarette between his fingers. “But I can’t. At least not now, it’s even harder during the winter.”

Katniss nodded slowly, pressing her lips together, and he let out a low, rough laugh.

“You’re not very chatty, are you?”

Katniss scowled again. Her only reaction made him smile again, wider this time; a smile she thought —against her will— was rather charming.

“And you do that a lot, right?” he added, pointing at her with two fingers. “The eyebrows together, the little wrinkle in the nose.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. Yes, that expression was her trademark.

“I do talk,” she said finally. “Just not a lot with strangers. And especially not with the ones actively trying to kill themselves with that.” She nodded toward his cigarette.

He paused, pressing his lips together.

“And if I put it out… would you sit here, and maybe tell me your name?”

Katniss scowled again, and felt heat rise up her cheeks. Who the hell did this man think he was? But there was something about him, something magnetic, that pulled her in his direction.

Without answering, she walked over to the couch across from him and sat down. Just as he’d promised, he put out the cigarette against the railing, brushed off his gloves, and settled in to listen.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Katniss.”

He tilted his head. “Like the flower?”

Katniss raised her eyebrows, surprised. Normally, when she said her name, the next reaction was confusion, followed by questions and then a longer explanation than she ever wanted to give about its origin.

“Technically it’s not a flower,” she clarified, in her usual dry tone, but softer this time. “But yes, like the plant.”

He gave her a crooked smile.

“That’s the same thing,” he said, waving a hand. “At least I got more syllables out of you.”

Katniss chuckled. “And you?” she asked. “What’s your name?”

“Peeta.”

She frowned slightly. “Like the bread?” she said.

This time, he let out a big laugh and shook his head.

“No, not at all. It’s P-e-e-t-a.”

“That’s a weird name,” Katniss said.

“Look who’s talking,” Peeta replied, she smiled. “So, Katniss-like-the-plant, what are you doing out here?”

Katniss pulled her feet onto the couch and hugged her knees.

“Out here on the terrace or out here at the party?”

“The party,” Peeta said.

“Oh. I came with friends. One of them was invited by—um, I don’t remember. One of the hosts, I believe.”

Peeta lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s your friend’s name?”

“Madge,” Katniss answered.

Peeta’s expression lit up.

“Oh, Madge! Yeah. We’re classmates,” he said. “I’m the one who invited her.”

Katniss looked at him from the corner of her eye. For a moment she felt a little embarrassed about having her dirty boots on the couch, but then she remembered everything happening downstairs and let the shame go. Now she was only getting nervous because of him.

“You live… here?” she asked.

Peeta nodded with a half-smile.

“Yes and no. It’s just a vacation house—I’m from Bluebonnet.”

Katniss let out a slightly awkward laugh.

“I live in Bluebonnet!” she said. Her voice came out higher than she intended. “Well, not anymore. But I’m from there, born and raised.”

Peeta removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. His curls shifted under his touch, blond with an almost ashy tone that contrasted perfectly with the white snow and the dark sky above them. Katniss stared longer than she would’ve considered appropriate, but she couldn’t help it.

“So am I,” Peeta said, looking out at the lake, still smiling. “Born and not exactly raised, but basically.”

Katniss turned to look at him again, narrowing her eyes.

“How have I never seen you before?”

Not just because Bluebonnet was small, but because she would’ve remembered that face. He had that face that made him absolutely unforgettable, it would never have gone unnoticed in a town like hers, or by her.

“I was born here, went to preschool here, and before starting elementary school my parents sent me abroad, same as my brothers,” he explained. “I officially came back when I started college—before that I’d only come here during winter break.”

That explained everything. Why she had never seen him in the hallways at school, at the supermarket, at the ice rink, at any of those small town events where everyone knew who everyone’s parents were. In that moment, she started connecting the dots and remembered what Madge had said in the car.

“Peeta… Mellark?” Katniss asked, he nodded. “Your dad’s the mayor?”

Peeta let out a sigh. “Yes.”

“Oh, he’s a friend of my father’s,” Katniss said casually, smiling. This time it was Peeta who frowned. “What?” she asked, still smiling.

Peeta shook his head and looked down.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, offering a small smile. “Who’s your father?”

“Burdock Everdeen.”

“The cardiologist?” Katniss nodded. “Of course I know him,” Peeta said. “Did you know they play basketball together every Sunday?” She nodded, smiling. “When I come up here, I join them. He’s really good. I don’t know much about his agility in the medical field, but he’s very skilled with a ball.”

“Yeah, he’s the best—in both.”

Her gaze met his, and she dropped her chin to her knees.

Peeta was watching her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable… but not in a bad way. It was the kind of discomfort that knocked her slightly off her axis and put her whole body on alert without knowing exactly why. She already knew he had something magnetic, but his eyes were hypnotic. Blue, but not just any blue; not like her mother’s or Prim’s. This blue was deeper, cold and warm at the same time, which didn’t make sense, but that’s how they felt to her. Every time their eyes met, her heart gave a little jolt.

But no matter how beautiful his eyes were, no matter how the cold had flushed his cheeks and somehow made him even more handsome, that wasn’t what had her the most unsettled. It was his smile, and his lips.

Even though they were sitting about two meters apart, Katniss couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting down to his mouth. Just a second, but it was enough to silently curse herself and shift uncomfortably in her seat.

Peeta was attractive, very undeniably so. The kind of beauty that caught you; the kind you notice once and then can’t stop noticing, in a very devastating way. Katniss couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her overstrung this quickly… and they barely met.

It was ridiculous, because she didn’t believe in that kind of thing — love at first sight and all that. She wasn’t someone who got swept up by a pretty face or a fleeting sensation. But then why did it feel like something inside her had just been set alight simply by sitting on a frozen terrace across from a stranger with an unusual name and a deep, hypnotic gaze?

Katniss took a deep breath, trying to control the temperature of her blood, which obviously she could not do.

“How about we…” Peeta stood from the couch, walked to the small fridge in the bar, and opened it, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Play a game.”

Katniss laughed. “We’re not thirteen, Peeta.”

Peeta let out a chuckle too, coming back with a bottle and two cups stacked over the neck of it. “Do you drink?” she nodded. “Tequila?”

She scrunched her nose just thinking about the smell, but ended up shrugging. He handed her one of the glasses, and Katniss took it doing everything in her power not to touch his hand. Before he opened the bottle, she scowled.

“Aren’t we mixing it with something? Soda? Juice?”

Peeta raised an eyebrow, pausing right before pouring.

“Juice? Come on, Katniss, that’s disgusting.”

“So is straight tequila.”

Peeta smiled, and Katniss’s skin prickled. This time, instead of returning to the seat across from her, he sat right beside her. So close that the heat of his body brushed against her leg through her coat, she felt her whole insides twist.

He turned slightly to look at her from the side, his knee almost touching hers.

“Look,” he said, finally pouring until the first line of the cup, “let me propose something.”

“Yeah?” Katniss replied, still holding her cup, not drinking.

“We’ll ask each other questions—anything. If one of us doesn’t want to answer… take a shot.”

Katniss gave him a narrowed look. That was the last thing she would normally do. Maybe she’d do it with Madge and Johanna, maybe even with some of her friends in California. But with a man? No. And one she’d just met? Absolutely not.

But this wasn’t just any man. This case was different, Peeta intrigued her. And what did it matter? She wasn’t planning on seeing him ever again. Yes, they were both from Bluebonnet, but she didn’t live there anymore. Yes, their parents were friends, but she didn’t live there anymore. Yes, they had mutual friends, but she didn’t live there anymore. And yes, he was ridiculously attractive.

“Okay,” Katniss agreed. “But you start.”

Peeta smiled with satisfaction. He poured himself a little more tequila and turned his whole body toward her, resting an elbow on the back of the couch. Their knees now were touching; not in an intrusive way, but she felt it through every inch of her body.

“Are you still in college?” he asked, running his fingers along the rim of his cup.

Katniss nodded.

“How old are you?”

She raised both hands, two fingers on each.

“Four?” he said, sarcastically, she rolled her eyes; Peeta laughed. “Same,” he added. “What’s your major?”

“English, with a focus on creative writing,” she replied.

Peeta raised his eyebrows and smiled again. “Really? That’s awesome.”

Katniss dropped her gaze for a second, a little embarrassed, not knowing exactly why.

“Yeah, it is. I love it,” she admitted. “I can’t see myself doing anything else. What about you?” she added, lifting her eyes to return the question. “What’s yours?”

“Political Science.”

Katniss let out a soft laugh and set her cup down on the table for a moment. “Are you following in your father’s footsteps?”

Peeta didn’t say anything. He took the shot in one gulp and refilled his cup without a word. Katniss laughed again, this time more openly.

“Very eloquent,” she said.

“I’m just following the rules,” he replied.

Katniss rested her elbow on the back of the couch, turning her body toward him.

“What school do you go to?” she asked, then tapped her forehead lightly. “Right—you’re in Madge’s class. U-Mich, not too far from home.”

“I’ve been away from home long enough,” he said. “And you? If I remember correctly, you said you didn’t live around here anymore.”

“That’s right,” Katniss said, turning the glass slightly in her hand. “I live in California. Stanford, and I’m graduating in the spring.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she noticed a shift in Peeta’s expression; the way he pressed his lips together, the faint line of tension along his jaw, something almost imperceptible in his gaze. If she wasn’t mistaken, he looked… disappointed. But it softened quickly, disappearing within seconds.

Katniss swallowed.

“California,” Peeta said. “It’s beautiful, very different from here.”

Katniss nodded and let out a sigh. “I dreamed of getting out of here my whole life,” she said, glancing toward the lake. “I like it here, but I wasn’t going to get what I wanted from here.”

She could feel his piercing gaze; a shiver ran through her, and it wasn’t from the cold.

“What is it that you want?”

Katniss turned to look at him, the fondness on his face unsettled her a little.

“I want to be a writer—obviously,” she said, with a small smile. “I’d love to write mystery novels. I’ve been a huge fan of the genre for as long as I can remember. And I’m good, I’ve written some really good stuff, I think.” She let out a small laugh and traced her fingers along the back of the couch, brushing lightly against Peeta’s jacket. “Obviously—nothing published yet. But hopefully.”

Peeta smiled, and it didn’t seem like a polite smile; it was genuine, Katniss could see it in his eyes. She leaned in a little more, her forearm resting fully on the back, shortening the distance between them even further.

“Michigan is a great place,” Peeta added.

“For inspiration, sure. But I don’t want to live here.”

A brief silence followed. Peeta spun his cup slowly between his fingers, watching her with his head slightly tilted.

“Do you plan on staying in California for the rest of your life?”

Katniss held his gaze for a second. Then she lowered her eyes to her cup. She didn’t answer, she just lifted the shot and drank it in one go. He laughed as she set the empty cup on the small table.

“Maybe we should start asking more uncomfortable questions,” he said, pouring more into her cup. “To warm things up a little.”

Katniss’s stomach tightened. She could blame the disgusting tequila shot, but she knew that wasn’t it. She was sure her cheeks were bright red, but the dim terrace lighting hid it —she hoped it did—, so she tried to act normal. But a single question kept bouncing around inside her, making it harder to pretend: was he flirting with her?

It was still too early to tell. It’s not like she was an expert, but she wasn’t stupid either. Katniss could flirt, but only when she got clear signals. And Peeta… Peeta was something else entirely.

He gave her every sign that made her think yes, he was flirting; but at the same time, he could just be a friendly stranger who happened to be interested in her life. Maybe he was just like every other guy trying to pick someone up at a party, and she was the one misreading everything.

But it was confusing. From the way every word left his mouth, to the casual brush of knees and arms that neither of them corrected. And his gaze, especially his gaze. All of that told her yes, that Peeta was definitely flirting with her.

That scared her. He was different, he looked like someone who knew he didn’t have to do much to get attention, and if that was the case, well, it worked.

Peeta Mellark was a mystery. And mystery was, by far, Katniss’s favorite genre.

“Go ahead.”

After that, she lost track of time.

The game was no longer just a game. They spent the next hours exchanging bits and pieces about each other. They talked about the obvious things, what people usually say when they meet someone: college, family, hobbies. Then more personal things slipped in. Peeta talked without filters. He told her he was on the college basketball team, that he loved running —something Katniss hated—, that he could spend hours outside, even in winter.

She confessed she couldn’t stand any sport that involved running and that just thinking about exercising exhausted her. She preferred reading, writing or simply doing nothing. Peeta talked about how much he loved baking and cooking; Katniss was terrible in the kitchen. Peeta loved going out, partying, going to bars, singing karaoke; Katniss hated singing in public —despite having a nice voice— and preferred quieter plans. Peeta didn’t read much, only sometimes, and it wasn’t his favorite thing in the world; while for her, books were her world.

They had nothing in common. In fact, anyone would say they were completely incompatible. The distance between them grew wider with each new detail; they were opposites in almost everything.

And yet, physically, they seemed to be getting closer.

The curious thing was that they hadn’t kept drinking, so their closeness could not be excused by alcohol. They had fallen into some kind of rhythm, neither of them wanted to go back to the question game.

At this point, Katniss could recognize his interest. Peeta wasn’t faking it; he wasn’t doing what any other guy would, pretend to care about everything she said just to get in her pants. And that was exactly what impressed her the most.

Every single thing they didn’t have in common seemed to intensify the chemistry between them. Katniss felt it, she was sure Peeta did too, but she was scared.

She glanced at her phone screen and quickly stood up from the couch.

“It’s late,” she said, adjusting her coat. “I should go find my friends.”

The time didn’t matter, she could get home whenever she wanted. That wasn’t what she was trying to run from. Before she could take a step toward the door, Peeta reached out and took her hand.

The contact was electric. Katniss lowered her gaze, watching how their hands fit together, her skin against his. A tingling sensation shot from her chest to her head.

“Don’t go,” Peeta murmured. “I’ll drive you home.”

Katniss swallowed. It was tempting, he was tempting. But she couldn’t, she didn’t trust what might happen if she stayed five more minutes near him.

“No, Peeta,” she said.

He stood then, without letting go of her hand. Their bodies aligned, closer than ever, and she felt him begin to slide his thumb softly across the back of her hand.

“When can I see you again?” he asked, eyes locked on hers.

Katniss pressed her lips together.

“I don’t think we’ll see each other again,” she answered.

Peeta let out a short laugh. “Come on, Katniss. We’re from the same town.”

“I don’t live here anymore, Peeta.”

“Neither do I,” he said. “We’ve got something good here. I want to get to know you. I want to see you again.”

She looked at him with fear.

“You already got to know me,” she said, lowering her gaze a little. “I don’t think we’ll be able to see each other.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

She shook her head.

“Let me see you tomorrow.”

Katniss hesitated.

“I have plans with my sister,” she said quickly.

“The day after? I don’t care about the day—or the hour.”

Katniss hesitated again, that was the worst part. But what came next wasn’t an excuse.

“I’m leaving on the twenty-sixth, early,” she said at last. “New Year’s trip with my friends. After that, I go back to California.”

Peeta didn’t respond, but his eyes said everything: he was resigned, but even then, he didn’t let go of her hand. Even though she didn’t show it, she felt a bit split apart inside.

Her body screamed at her to stay. To close the distance and kiss him, to ignore everything and cling to him as if time didn’t exist. But her cold, rational mind had already mapped out the consequences. If she gave in, she’d lose herself, and she knew a long distance relationship would never work. It wasn’t realistic, or fair, for either of them.

Finally, she pulled her hand free and walked slowly toward the glass door, forcing herself not to turn around. When she reached it, she stopped and cast him one last glance over her shoulder.

“It was nice meeting you, Peeta.”

“Wait!” he said suddenly. “Give me your socials.”

Katniss smiled as she opened the door back toward the rest of the party.

“I don’t have socials.”

Christmas Eve, present day

“Can I come in?” Katniss asked, smiling.

“Oh, let me think about it,” Peeta said, leaning his body against the doorframe, blocking the entrance. Katniss scowled, though the smile never fully left her face. “Don’t scowl,” Peeta said, reaching out to brush his hand over her forehead.

Finally, he moved aside, gesturing for her to enter. Katniss dipped her head slightly and stepped inside the house.

Oh, the house.

Everything looked exactly the same as she remembered: the flower patterned couches she always found hideous but Peeta loved, the thick rug in the center, the green countertops in the kitchen, the half frosted windows. It felt like walking into a memory.

But this year, there was no Christmas tree.

She noticed it the moment she crossed the living room. The corner by the windows, where the tree usually stood, was empty. In its place sat only a small table, a lamp softly glowing, and a couple of books beside it. Something tugged at her chest, but she didn’t mention it.

She set her suitcase against the wall, took off her hat and tucked it into her bag.

“Coffee?” Peeta asked as he started walking toward the kitchen.

“Please,” Katniss replied, dropping her coat over the couch.

She followed Peeta through the living room into the kitchen. Katniss ran her fingers along the doorframe that connected the two rooms. Things changed, yes, but the essentials never did. Every look, every kiss, every touch, every Christmas Eve they’d spent together… it all lived in these walls.

He set a mug of coffee on the kitchen island, and she settled onto one of the tall stools, crossing one leg over the other as she smiled at him. She wasn’t an expressive person, she only saved her emotions for certain people, like him.

“How was the flight?” Peeta asked, leaning his forearms on the counter, inching closer to her.

Katniss’s stomach fluttered just having him that near.

“Same as always. Exhausting and boring,” she said, blowing on her cup before taking a sip.

Peeta nodded, watching her. He had always looked at her like that, with too much intensity; even though they weren’t in that kind of moment, it felt dangerous. For as long as she could remember, that look had made her uncomfortable, but never in a bad way.

It was hard to explain. His eyes had weight, and she didn’t only feel that weight on her shoulders but on every inch of her skin. It took her just a little time to get used to those eyes again, especially after so long without seeing him.

Though not that long, exactly a year.

“How was dinner last night?” he went on.

“My dad outdid himself,” she said, smiling more openly now. “Well, the three of them did. I obviously only contributed the wine.”

Peeta let out a brief laugh.

“When did you get here?” she asked.

“Three days ago. I stopped by the hospital yesterday,” now, that confirmed the little commotion. “Also went to the community dining hall—dropped off some things for dinner and helped out a bit.”

Katniss tilted her head, smiling softly at him. “Aren’t you the best?”

He just looked down again, a faintly curve forming in his lips.

“How’s your family?” Peeta asked. “How are you?”

How was Katniss? That was the million dollar question.

As far as work went, she was fine; one could even say excellent. She had a finished draft, an original story that both excited and terrified her, since she’d been experimenting with other genres. Her publisher had offered her a huge deal; which she still didn’t know whether she would accept it, but it was a very good sign.

She should have been happy. She had —almost— everything: success, independence, among other things. A career she’d built from the ground up, a life in an exciting city. But deep down, she knew she wasn’t. Her life was filled with sadness; one she’d learned to camouflage well over the time, but that always grew. She buried herself in work so she wouldn’t feel it; she wrote late, slept nothing, turned down every outing that wasn’t necessary.

She felt lonely.

She had friends in Los Angeles and went out with them sometimes, but nothing felt real. Her only true company was Buttercup, her grumpy cat and Prim’s video calls, though those had become scarce thanks to the residency.

Katniss was doing well, but she didn’t feel well.

“I’m doing really well,” she lied with a smile. “My parents too, they left for Honolulu today. Prim’s good—just exhausted, but happy. She has a new boyfriend.”

Peeta held her gaze for a few seconds. Katniss pressed her lips shyly. She knew Peeta knew that her answer wasn’t entirely true, but he also knew better than to press. One of his many talents was reading between the lines, but he rarely pushed.

“I’m glad,” was all he said.

He turned toward the stove, picked up a couple of thick slices of French toast and set them on two plates. This time he sat beside her, not leaving much space between them.

They started eating and catching up.

Peeta told her everything he’d done that year. All about the endless meetings and the Senate sessions. He also told her about the new places he’d discovered in DC, like diners he actually liked, or secondhand bookstores, and that he had finally found a good park to run on Sundays. And even though he had lived there officially for three years, he admitted he was only now starting to feel like the city was his home. Lately he had been traveling often to Ann Arbor for work, and said it always brought back memories of college. He also told her that his brother had started helping him with the state offices, taking care of everything he couldn’t handle from Washington.

It was as if no time had passed at all, as if they saw each other and spoke every day, as if twelve months hadn’t gone by since the last time they met.

That was what surprised her most every time she came back to Michigan, every time she saw him again. It felt exactly the same as always. No matter how much of a nervous wreck she was before stepping into this house, the moment they reunited, they became Katniss and Peeta again. Old friends Katniss and Peeta, old lovers Katniss and Peeta.

“By the way,” he said, getting up from his seat, “I have a gift for you.”

“Can’t we wait until after dinner? So I can give you yours too,” Katniss asked, though curiosity already tugged at her.

“You know I love giving gifts,” he said from the living room. “I can’t wait until dinner.”

She knew that perfectly well, she knew him too well. She had no idea what to expect, but her chest tightened.

When Peeta returned, he had one hand hidden behind his back and a smile that lit up his eyes. Katniss rolled her own eyes, unable to hide her grin.

“Enough games, Peeta. Now I’m curious.”

Finally, he pulled his hand forward and held it out to her. It was a medium sized box, dark green, tied with a ribbon. She set it on the island, loosened the bow carefully, and when she opened the lid, the air left her lungs.

Resting on a piece of cloth was an antique edition of Little Women. Hardback, dark green, the edges worn with age, the title engraved in an old font, a floral design stamped across the cover.

She felt lightheaded as she ran her fingers delicately over the cover. When she opened it, she saw an inscription, and a date that knocked the rest of breath out of her: 1880.

Extremely rare; it had to be one of the earliest editions ever made. She had never seen anything like this, the oldest copy she owned was from 1934.

Her heart was hammering so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

Katniss looked up at him still stunned.

“How…? Where—this must have cost you… a fortune. I’ve never… never seen one.”

Peeta simply smiled.

“Anything to make you happy.“

Then she stood up, crossing the short distance between them, and threw herself into Peeta’s embrace, wrapping him tightly. His arms closed firmly around her waist, pulling her against his chest.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel him; breathe the smell of coffee, cinnamon, honey, and shivered to his breath on her neck. All she wanted was to freeze that second in time, so she clung to him as if she could.

It was probably the best gift she had ever received.

“Thank you, Peeta. I love it,” Katniss whispered against his neck.

He only tightened his arms around her.

When they finally pulled apart, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

Katniss did what she had been longing to do since the last time she did it. She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. The warm brush of lips that knew each other, that missed each other, that remembered exactly how to fit together.

Peeta had been one of the few things that ever felt real in her life… and yet, never completely.

Christmas Eve, seven years ago…

Chocolate, gummies, cookies, instant ramen… she wasn’t thinking about balance at all. It was her sacred movie and junk food night with Prim, and this time she wouldn’t let anyone drag her to a party. Katniss had only one goal: fill the cart. So she kept wandering down the snack aisle, checking the shelves to see what else she could grab.

On the very top shelf, something caught her eye: spicy dill pickle chips. Weird, but very tempting since she loved both pickles and anything spicy. She grabbed a box of cookies to help her reach the bag, and she was just about to get it when a voice behind her broke her concentration.

“Pickles, and flaming hot? That sounds disgusting.”

Katniss felt her stomach twist. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, she recognized the voice instantly.

When she did turn, her body moved faster than her mind, and the box of Oreos slipped from her hands.

Standing in front of her was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life, again, after literally a year without seeing him. Same charming smile, same piercing blue eyes. He was wearing a brown sweater with the collar slightly open, a long coat, good slacks, and his curls were loose… and perfect.

He looked impeccably dressed, while she stood there in what could only be described as her least glamorous version of herself: pajamas under a giant coat, crocs, a loose braid, and a cap she wasn’t sure was saving her look or making it worse.

Her cheeks burned. Who knows if it was embarrassment at how she looked or the simple fact of seeing him again, after a year.

“Peeta,” she said, bending down to pick up the cookie box. “Nice—to see you.”

“Yeah… it’s been, what? A year?” Peeta said, grabbing one of the gummy bags from her cart, Katniss scowled at him. “Such a coincidence, I honestly thought I’d never see you again—if it weren’t for your dad mentioning how proud he is of his daughter the writer who lives on the west coast every five minutes during games, I’d have thought I imagined you.”

Katniss blushed even more, she tried to hide it by snatching the gummies from Peeta and putting them back in her cart. “Well, I do exist,” she said, starting to push the cart forward.

Peeta’s quick steps caught up to her. She shot him a frown, but her expression softened when she saw he was holding the bag of chips she had wanted, and forgotten.

“No doubt you exist,” Peeta said, dropping the chips into her cart and joining her on the walk. “Is everyone in your family under six, or why is this all you’re eating tonight?” he asked, nodding toward the mountain of junk food.

She rolled her eyes.

“No. My family celebrates Christmas on the 23rd, so dinner was yesterday.”

Peeta frowned a bit. “That’s weird.”

“A little, yes—but it’s tradition now,” she said. “This is for my movie night with my sister, we do it every Christmas Eve.”

Katniss scowled again, but this time at herself, at what she’d just said. Why was she telling Peeta that? The last thing she wanted was to see him again. Well… no, she didn’t know. The only thing she did know was that Peeta unsettled her. She had spent the entire year trying to forget the night she’d had with him, or the night they could have had. And yes, she often wondered if she would ever see Peeta Mellark, political science student, smoker, and extremely attractive, again. But at the same time, she wished she wouldn’t. Because seeing him meant attraction, attraction led to desire, and desire led to love. And that went against every principle she had.

“That’s sweet,” he said. “I have family dinner tonight—like everyone. I just came to buy a bottle of wine.”

“Wine? From the supermarket?” she asked. “I wouldn’t have guessed the mayor’s family drinks grocery store wine.”

Peeta laughed. “It’s for me. I like simple things.”

She let out a short laugh and turned to look at him. “You’re wearing a four hundred dollar sweater.”

“So what? It was a gift,” he said. “And look who’s talking. If I’m not mistaken, your watch costs much more than my sweater—and don’t even get me started on your bag.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Not that you care, but the watch was a graduation gift, and the bag is secondhand.”

They both entered the wine and liquor aisle. She didn’t waste time; she reached for the first bottle of rosé she saw and tossed it into the cart. She didn’t want to stay there a second longer than necessary. Peeta, meanwhile, seemed intent on inspecting every bottle on the shelves.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Katniss pushed her cart toward the registers, leaving him behind. Hopefully for good this time.

“Hey, wait—don’t go!” Peeta’s voice reached her just as she was about to turn into a checkout line.

Katniss stopped, closing her eyes briefly. Then turned her head just enough to look at him over her shoulder. Peeta, holding a bottle in his hand, approached until he stood beside her, giving her a smile that twisted her insides.

“Don’t you think it’s fate?” he asked. “Running into each other again, here, exactly one year later?”

Katniss felt heat rush to her face. “That does not exist,” she said flatly. "Don’t you have something better to do? Go smoke or so, and leave me alone.”

He let out a low laugh. “I don’t smoke anymore, sweetheart.” He said as they stepped into line. He moved ahead, and she ended up right behind him.

Katniss watched him lean toward the cashier and whisper something in her ear. She rolled her eyes. Typical man behavior, of course he was flirting. He probably did that with everyone; how stupid of her to think that night had meant anything special.

Peeta handed the cashier some bills and turned to her.

“Goodbye, Katniss Everdeen,” he said.

Katniss only raised her eyebrows, refusing to play along. As he walked toward the exit, she tried to ignore the sharp little emptiness she felt in her chest.

With a quiet sigh, she began placing her things on the conveyor belt. The cashier scanned the items, and when she reached for her wallet, the woman lifted her gaze and smiled.

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s already paid for.”

Katniss scowled. “What?”

“The guy before you,” the cashier said, smiling even wider. “The blonde—he left extra cash to cover all your things and his.”

Katniss felt her cheeks heat again, as she started getting angry. She grabbed her bags, and placed everything back into the cart. She didn’t even thank the cashier, which was already making her feel bad.

The moment she stepped outside the supermarket, she scanned the parking lot for him. It didn’t take long; Peeta was leaning against his car, he lifted a hand when he saw her.

She pushed her cart toward him.

“I can pay for my own things,” she exclaimed as soon as she reached him, eyes fixed on his.

Peeta smiled. “Oh, I know.”

Katniss pulled out her wallet. “How much was it?” Peeta gently lowered her hand. The moment their skin touched again, a shiver ran through her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

Katniss frowned. “Yes, I do worry—I don’t like owing anyone favors.”

“It’s not a favor, Katniss. I wanted to do it,” Peeta replied with a smile. “Consider it a congratulations gift… for your story.”

She went completely still.

“What?”

Peeta pushed off the car slightly, standing fully in front of her with his hands tucked into his coat pockets. “Your piece in VQR. I read it—I loved it.”

If she had already been blushing, now she could feel as if the blush was coloring her hair. She swallowed hard, she definitely had not expected that.

“Your dad mentioned it a while back. As soon as I left, I looked up the issue and bought it,” he said, reaching out to gently lift the brim of her cap. “You were right—you are very talented.”

Suddenly, Katniss no longer felt the urgency to insist on being angry and paying him back. Something in her softened completely.

“Thank you,” she said, lowering her gaze.

Peeta glanced at his watch briefly, then opened the car door with a small sigh.

“Unfortunately, I have to go,” he said. Before climbing in, he paused and looked at her with a half smile. “But please, this time let me see you at least once before you go back to California.”

She blushed, lowering her head.

“Still no boyfriend?” Peeta asked.

She let out a nervous chuckle. “No, no boyfriend,” she said.

Peeta tilted his head slightly toward her. “Let’s do something tonight, after my dinner.”

Katniss bit her lower lip. She wanted to say yes so bad, but there was only one reason she wouldn’t: time with Prim. It was the one promise she couldn’t break.

“I can’t. I really want to spend time with my sister,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. They stayed quiet for a few seconds, until Katniss spoke again: “231-380-5027.”

Peeta looked at her frowning. “What’s that?”

“My phone number,” she said.

He laughed. “Why didn’t you give it to me last year?”

Katniss raised a brow. “Because you didn’t ask.”

“Yes I did.”

“No. You asked for my social media, and I told you I didn’t have any. I still don’t.”

Peeta smiled as he pulled out his phone to save it. “Okay, grandma, 231—” he repeated while typing. “Alright, I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” she echoed.

Peeta climbed into the car, and before closing the door, he said: “You are a very captivating person, Katniss.”

Christmas Eve, present day

When they pulled apart, their foreheads stayed pressed together, sharing breath. Katniss kept her eyes closed for a few seconds longer, clinging to the afterglow of the kiss, her arms still around Peeta’s neck, feeling his heartbeat against her own chest.

When she finally opened her eyes, she took him in the way she had the very first time; his lips still swollen from the kiss, the light coming through the windows made him look like someone painted him.

“God, I missed you so much,” Peeta whispered.

Katniss smiled, her gaze still fixed on his face. “I missed you too,” she said softly, “more.”

Peeta pulled back just enough to lift a hand and brush her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked.

Katniss smiled with playful intent. “What if… we go to the bedroom first?”

She missed him, too much. She missed his closeness, his intoxicating mouth on every inch of skin, their bodies intertwined. It was something they only ever allowed themselves for a few hours, apparently only for one day a year. Why wait?

But this time, Peeta’s reaction was different.

His gaze dropped, and his lips pressed together as if he were hesitating. Katniss felt a small ache forming in her chest. That expression wasn’t a normal response to her suggestion; if anything, it was odd.

Peeta let her go gently, though his hands stayed on her waist. He recovered his usual easy smile quickly, but this time it felt slightly forced.

“How about we think about that later?” he said. “Help me get a few things ready for dinner so everything’s set, and then we’ll see what to do.”

Katniss studied him his expression for another moment. She didn’t push, though the ache inside her remained. She simply nodded, forcing a smile of her own.

They finished preparing what was left for dinner. There wasn’t much to do since Peeta had already prepped a potato casserole and chicken roll the night before, and stored them in the fridge. Katniss only had to make the gravy and chopped some vegetables for a salad. Once everything was ready and placed in the oven, Peeta appeared with a bag in his hands. From it he pulled a bag of spicy dill pickle chips —Katniss’s favorites for the last few years— and a bottle of wine, though this time it wasn’t grocery store wine.

Katniss felt a rising urge inside her to kiss him again, to melt into him. But she held herself back, thanking him with a smile before turning to pour the chips into a bowl. She needed a moment, just a moment, to breathe; to not let desire and nostalgia take her over completely.

While they ate and talked, Peeta kept insisting on hearing more about the new draft of her novel. Katniss dodged every question with vague answers, steering the conversation toward other things. The truth was she didn’t want to talk about her new story, yet. Instead, she told him about other work related things, and about a few contracts currently on the table. Peeta had a great eye for business; if anyone could support her with that, it was him.

In the living room, Peeta lit the fireplace while Katniss settled onto the couch, wrapping herself in one of the blankets. She curled up, still smiling at him; seconds later Peeta sat beside her, slipped an arm behind her, and pulled her into his body. When he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, she felt high.

They turned on the TV and put on a Christmas movie. They stayed wrapped around each other, their bodies fitted together; the warmth of the fire mixed with Peeta’s body made her forget the winter outside.

Every now and then, Katniss’s gaze drifted to the bookshelf beside the TV. Just like she collected every edition of Little Women she could find, Peeta had a complete collection of every book Katniss had ever written; every edition, even some from foreign publishers. Peeta actually owned more copies than she did, each one read and marked.

She shifted closer, letting his breathing set the rhythm of her own, until they both fell asleep right there, lulled by the fire’s warmth, the scent of wine, and that peace she only ever felt on Christmas Eve.

When they woke, their bodies seemed unwilling to leave the warmth of the couch, of each other. They shared a soft quick kiss. Peeta cupped her cheek before standing, and she followed, feeling her muscles slightly stiff from having slept tangled up with him for so long. If she could sleep like that forever, she wouldn’t mind waking up sore.

He suggested they go for a walk.

They bundled themselves in their coats and stepped out the back door with hands intertwined. They wandered around the property, talking about everything and nothing, in the effortless way they always had since the day they met. Nothing between them ever felt forced; every pause carried layers of history that time and distance could never erase. They touched every topic possible, except what they would do tomorrow, at least not yet.

After a while, they ended up on the dock. The view had always left Katniss breathless: the lake, the trees dusted with snow, the sky tipping toward sunset. She let go of his hand and walked to the edge of the dock, taking it all in as if for the first time. She would never tire of this.

Behind her, Peeta’s voice broke the silence. “Breathtaking.”

Katniss smiled softly and looked at him over her shoulder.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Always.”

She walked toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him slowly, without urgency; they’d have time to kiss each other that way later. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the view, her happiness, and him.

When they parted, she brushed her cold nose against his. “I need you, I miss you—let’s go back to the house.” Her voice was soft, and even if she hadn’t intended it, it sounded like a plea, but she didn’t mind. It was the truth, she missed him, and she needed him.

His body tensed under her arms, and instead of drawing her closer, he looked down, swallowing hard. The smile that usually followed anything Katniss said… did not appear.

Now she could finally confirm that something was wrong. She pulled back a little but didn’t let go of his neck.

Peeta lifted his gaze. His eyes were the same, but at the same time, there was something different on them.

“We need to talk, Katniss.”

Everything inside her tightened. Her pulse began pounding in her head the way it did when she stood up too fast. The smile she’d been wearing vanished instantly, because she already knew what was coming.

Peeta closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, he said:

“I’m getting married.”

Christmas Eve, six years ago…

When she returned to California after her last Christmas in Michigan, Katniss took something unexpected with her: a new friend. In the few days she had left before flying back, they went out several times; got burgers, went to the movies, even met up at the bar with Johanna, Madge, and Peeta’s brother. But that was all, just really good friends.

When it was time to go back to California for New Year’s, Peeta told her that he’d visit her any time, that he wanted to learn how to surf and see what life on the west coast looked like through her eyes. But that never happened.

Peeta had been busy with his last semester of college, and after graduating, he got an internship in Detroit. Katniss had also had a packed year. She landed a new job as an editor at a small publishing house in Los Angeles, and she was officially working on the draft of her first novel. They both lived their year as real adults.

But despite the distance, the messages never stopped. They wrote to each other almost every day, at any hour, about anything. Sundays became a routine; both their days off so they’d call each other. Katniss started recognizing every detail about Peeta through the video calls they began doing halfway through the year. The cadence of his voice, anticipating his jokes, the shape of his laugh, the way he used to fall asleep during some calls, sometimes she could even feel his stress through the screen after he’d had a long day.

Peeta was amazing; that year, he became a safe place in her fast paced and somewhat lonely life.

For that same reason, she didn’t know why she felt so nervous to see him again. After all, they were just friends. Friends who texted, who called, who knew each other extremely well. So why did it feel like her heart was going to burst out of her chest? It made no sense; she couldn’t possibly be in love with someone she’d only seen a handful of times in person. They were just friends who shared some kind of bond… or maybe not, she didn’t know how to name it. She only knew she was nervous. Maybe that was a sign.

Katniss paced back and forth across her parents’ living room, biting her nails with an anxiety she didn’t remember feeling since high school, Peeta wouldn’t take much longer to arrive. With every passing minute, the knot in her stomach tightened.

The movie night she had planned with Prim wasn’t going to happen; this time her sister had ditched her to go to a last minute party. So Katniss ended up accepting Peeta’s invitation, they were going to watch Christmas movies at the lake house.

When her phone lit up with a message from him saying he was outside, Katniss felt her stomach drop. She took one last breath, turned off the Christmas tree lights, and headed for the door.

When she stepped outside, she found Peeta leaning against his car. The smile that formed on her face was immediate, very wide, mirroring his. She walked toward him slowly, even though everything inside her wanted to run. Her heart was pounding when she stopped in front of Peeta, and she was about to greet him when he closed the distance and wrapped her in a hug.

Katniss tensed for a moment, she hadn’t expected that, but she relaxed quickly; it was normal in any reunion, especially between friends. Peeta pulled her in tightly; he was warm, the feel of his body against hers shook her entire being. When they pulled apart, they were both still smiling.

“Merry Christmas Eve!” Peeta said.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” Katniss echoed.

Peeta opened the door for her and walked around to the driver’s side. Katniss was just about to sit when she frowned, noticing a gingerbread house decorated with frosting and candy sitting on a tray in the passenger seat.

“And this?” she asked, lifting it carefully.

Peeta got in, closing the door with a thud.

“Christmas snack for a Christmas movie, duh,” he said.

Katniss rolled her eyes, smiling as she settled the gingerbread house on her lap.

“I don’t think anyone actually eats these things, Peeta.”

“I do,” he replied, slipping the keys into the ignition. “I love them. But don’t worry, I brought more stuff. It’s in the back.” He tilted slightly and pointed his thumb behind him without taking his eyes off her. “Like your repulsive spicy dill pickle chips.”

Katniss laughed and shook her head. She turned slightly in her seat to glance behind them and saw several grocery bags, warmth collecting in her chest.

“Thank you, Peeta.”

Peeta turned the key, and just like that, they left Katniss’s neighborhood behind on the way to Lake Grove.

On the drive, Peeta told her all about the family drama that unfolded during Christmas dinner. His sister in law —his older brother’s wife— was pregnant, and his mother was desperately hoping it would be a girl because she was sick of being surrounded by men.

While he talked, she watched him from the corner of her eye, mesmerized by the little gestures she was beginning to recognize.

He asked about her trip, about Prim, her parents —this year they’d gone to Scotland for vacation—, Katniss said they seemed to be having a great time, judging from the family chat. He also asked about her friends, her job, her writing, and a thousand other things. They talked so much that when the car slowed in front of the lake house, she was surprised by how fast the drive had gone.

Peeta got out first, walked around to grab the grocery bags, while Katniss followed him with the gingerbread house in her arms. Once inside, they set everything down in the kitchen, and Peeta told her to make herself comfortable. While he turned on the heat and started the fireplace, she arranged the chips and candies into bowls. When only the gingerbread house was left, she glanced at him and let out a soft huff.

“No idea how to set this up—I’m leaving it to you,” she said.

After that, they settled on the couch in front of the TV. Katniss wrapped herself in the blanket he handed her and rested the bowl of chips on her lap. Peeta sat a little over a meter away.

They each chose a Christmas movie to watch; Peeta’s choice was Elf which Katniss had seen it countless times, but didn’t mind doing it again. Between them sat the gingerbread house on its tray and Peeta kept pinching off bits of the roof or stray candies, leaving tiny crumbs on the blanket they shared. Katniss scowled in disapproval every time he wiped his hands on his sweater, but that disappeared whenever he leaned toward her to grab whatever candy bowl she had resting on her legs, the brush of his arm made her hold her breath.

When the movie ended, it was her turn.

“That’s a Halloween movie, not a Christmas one,” Peeta said.

Katniss pointed the remote straight at the screen, ignoring him.

“Gremlins is a Christmas movie,” she said, turning toward him with a smile. “Just be quiet and watch it.”

Peeta huffed, but the smile on his face betrayed him.

As the movie went on, Peeta’s attention drifted more and more toward the screen. To her surprise, he actually seemed to be enjoying it, but the real surprise came for Katniss when she tried a piece of Peeta’s Christmas snack; he was right, it was good, though she tried her best to pretend it wasn’t.

Between switching snacks and passing bowls back and forth, the two of them kept inching closer without noticing. Their hips ended up touching in a casual way, though the effect on her was anything but casual. The contact was subtle, but enough to send a current up her spine, her mind could ignore the closeness but her body couldn’t.

Peeta turned his head toward her when the movie ended. “Okay,” he said with a smile, “I’ll admit, it’s more Christmassy than I thought.”

Katniss turned too smiling. “I knew you’d like it.”

They stayed like that, just hips touching, looking at each other.

She felt her own breath press tight in her chest, her eyes drifting over his and over that small crease between his eyebrows. There was still something about him that made her heart race, just like that first night with him two years ago.

“I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,” he whispered.

She frowned slightly, not in displeasure but because of the sudden drop in her chest. Peeta lowered his gaze with a shy smile, scratching his neck almost nervously.

“Well, I hadn’t forgotten,” he said. “It’s just… different. Seeing you here, in person—it’s nothing like the video calls or the photos you send. It’s something else.”

Katniss looked down at her hands, which were fidgeting with the blanket on her lap. She felt that if she added anything, she’d sound too sharp or too foolish, so she covered it with a laugh.

“I guess so—I’ve always thought I look different in pictures, or even in the mirror,” she said. “I think I’ve never actually looked good, you know?”

Peeta lifted his to hers gaze again. “From the first moment I saw you,” he said softly, “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life.”

Katniss’s voice died out, and she was certain she stopped breathing altogether. She felt heat gather in her chest, slide down her stomach, and settle right where their hips touched. She had no defense and even less what to say. The only thing she managed was to turn toward him, following an impulse.

Peeta reached out, his fingers brushing slowly through the strands framing her face, tucking them behind her ear. The touch was light, but enough to make her swallow hard.

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. If she said anything, she would stop; and she didn’t want to. Instead, she leaned in. And he did too, their faces so close she could feel his breath all over her. When their noses brushed, Katniss felt her stomach twist, and even more when Peeta’s gaze dropped to her lips.

His hand slid to her chin, tilting it up, making her meet his eyes. His fingers stroked her skin gently, and the next thing Katniss felt was Peeta’s lips on hers.

She closed her eyes and gave in completely, her hands finding their way to his hair, gripping his curls tightly. Peeta cupped her cheek with steady pressure, his warmth spreading across her skin like an electric spark that woke every nerve in her body.

It felt terribly perfect.

But when Peeta’s tongue met hers, Katniss’s whole body reacted, heat pooling low in her belly. Her chest tightened, the world shrinking to that single point of contact, to the need to satisfy the desire clawing its way to her most sensitive spot… that’s when her internal switch flipped on. She couldn’t do this; it wasn’t fair to her, to him, to what she knew could never be. Her body begged for more, but her mind forbade it.

Katniss’s eyes snapped open, and she pulled back with a sharp uneven breath.

“Wow—wow, wait.” Peeta pulled away instantly, lips parted. “I—I have to—I…” she stammered. “We can’t do this. This can’t happen.”

Her body was still vibrating from the kiss, but now the trembling was guilt and reality crashing over her like a bucket of ice water. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure Peeta could hear it.

He nodded slowly, dropping his gaze, letting out a quick laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. Katniss had already learned that he did that whenever he was nervous.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I just—I followed an impulse. I’m so sorry,” he said, getting up from the couch, taking a few steps before stopping again. “I think it was—something I’ve wanted to do since I met you. But really, I’m sorry.”

Katniss shook her head immediately. “No, don’t apologize. I kissed you too. I’m sorry—well, I guess our apologies cancel each other out.” She tried to smile, and managed half of one.

Seeing it, Peeta smiled too, then walked toward her slowly. He crouched down in front of her, his face level with her knees. His eyes sought hers with vulnerability, and his hands rested on her knees, squeezing and releasing gently, causing every hair beneath the layers of clothing to stand on end.

“Katniss, I…” He lowered his gaze. “Our friendship means a lot to me. This year… getting to know you more, even from afar, has been one of the best things that’s happened to me. And I think I understand what’s going through your head. Maybe—maybe this was something we had to do once, to realize that—um, or to know how—” He paused again, searching her eyes. “Do you get me?”

Yes. It was something Katniss had always known, something she’d been certain of for as long as she could remember: never get involved with someone from home. Not out of arrogance, and not because she didn’t love her hometown, but because she knew her stay there was temporary. Her life wouldn’t be in Michigan. She wanted to build an entirely different world in California, and any relationship she started here would be, inevitably, doomed.

For years, she’d managed to stay loyal to that rule. When she left for California after high school, she started dating a few people, but nothing serious, nothing lasting, and most importantly nothing felt real. She liked certain things about them, some dates were nice, they were attractive, but it was never enough. No one ever made her feel fully there.

She never thought the first connection that might feel real would be with someone she met on Christmas Eve, at home. Even less that this someone would be from the very place she’d spent years wanting to distance herself from.

Katniss was willing to bury the moment, pretend it hadn’t happened. To forget that kiss as quickly as it had occurred. Not because she didn’t care; it was because if she didn’t forget, she might care too much. And Peeta seemed just as willing.

She extended her hand, wearing a sad smile she prayed he wouldn’t notice.

“One time thing?”

Peeta pressed his lips together, and even though something flickered in his eyes, he eventually reached out his hand too.

“One time thing,” he repeated.

They both let out a nervous laugh at the same time. Katniss lowered her gaze and nodded slowly. Even though the moment had changed direction, the energy between them hadn’t dissipated; it had simply rearranged itself.

The rest of the night, they managed to act as if nothing had really happened. And when it was time to drive her back, they spent part of the ride in silence until Peeta finally spoke.

“I like this thing of seeing you on Christmas Eve.”

Katniss turned to him, a little surprised, and smiled. “These are practically the only days we ever get to see each other.”

Peeta laughed. “I know, but it’s cool. We can do something with this.”

She tilted her head. “Like what?”

“Alright, let’s make a deal.”

Katniss frowned. “You’re not about to tell me we should get married at 30 on Christmas at the mall or the beach if neither of us has a partner, right? Fun in movies, but in real life it sounds pretty stupid.”

Peeta burst out laughing.

“No, no.” He shook his head. “We’re both very busy people, and we live on opposite sides of the country, but… this day seems to be the one constant for us. What do you think if we do this every year? See each other at least once a year, here. On Christmas Eve.”

Katniss pretended to be confused. “In the car?”

“No, dummy,” he laughed. “Although yes, anywhere. But on Christmas Eve.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, amused. “You’re so cheesy.”

Peeta shook his head with a laugh. “Ugh, forget it.”

“No, I’m kidding,” she said, laughing too. “It sounds like a good deal—only if you never bring a gingerbread house again.”

“But you ate it too!”

“It was pretty bad, Peeta.”

“You definitely need a palate cleanse.”

Katniss laughed again, but this time her smile drifted, getting lost somewhere in her thoughts. Peeta was right; she did need a palate cleanse, but because of that kiss.

Christmas Eve, present day

She definitely hadn’t expected that.

It felt like she’d been hit by a car, no, worse. It was as if he himself had shoved her into the frozen lake and, as she fell, the ice had cracked beneath her weight, letting her plunge straight into the freezing water.

“What?” Katniss let out a laugh. “Are you joking?”

She clung to that possibility, to the idea that it was just a terrible attempt at humor. That he would say it wasn’t true and then laugh the way he always did when he wanted to lift her spirits. But several seconds passed, and he didn’t.

“Katniss…”

“You’re… getting married? I didn’t even know you were seeing someone!”

“I’m not seeing anyone.”

Her disbelief turned into anger. A sharp frown formed between her brows as she spun around, giving him her back. She couldn’t look at him, not now. She hated jokes like this, and she felt tears pressing behind her eyes, her heart kicking violently against her ribs.

She started walking back toward the house.

Peeta said something behind her, words she no longer registered.

“That’s a terrible joke, Peeta,” she answered without stopping.

“I’m not joking.”

Katniss froze, then turned sharply. “What the fuck then?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, just turned again and walked faster toward the house. She needed distance from him, even though she’d spent all year wanting the opposite. She needed to understand what the hell was happening.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, she slammed the door shut and leaned her back against it. She pressed her hand to her forehead, then to her nose, as if she could wipe away the expression Peeta had just carved into her world. She wanted to scream, and more than anything, she wanted him to admit this was a joke, because tears were starting to spill.

She heard the door open gently behind her and stepped aside. Peeta came in, and when she saw him, she shut her eyes and took a step back, feeling him too close. He lifted an arm, reaching for her shoulder, his touch making her flinch.

“Don’t touch me,” she said.

“Katniss, look at me. Please.”

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to see his eyes, or his face, or the expression he must be wearing, pity, most likely. But she did, because hearing her name in his voice had always sounded like a prayer.

The knot in her throat was starting to choke her as she lifted her gaze and found the most familiar pair of eyes she had ever known, looking at her with guilt.

“What is going on, Peeta?”

“I need to settle down, Katniss.”

Katniss let out a laugh with no trace of humor. “What does that mean?”

Her stare was defiant, but she was trembling, inside and out. Her fists were clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms; she wanted the physical pain to drown out all the emotional.

“You know why,” Peeta said, standing firm in front of her. “Because of my job, because I want to take my campaign seriously, and I’m going to do everything I can to make it happen.”

She studied him, still hoping to find something in his expression that would tell her this was a joke, the worst joke anyone had ever made, or anything else.

“Why do you have to get married?”

Peeta lowered his gaze for just a second before answering. “Unfortunately we live in a country where no one is going to take me seriously unless I have a wife by my side.”

She knew it was true; it was the reality for every politician, especially young ones like him. Not everyone trusted single candidates; the idea of stability, commitment, of having your life in order, weighed just as much as any other qualification. Still, Peeta had gotten into the congress without needing to get married. Despite being young, he was idealistic, brilliant, intelligent, authentic. That was why he’d been elected. But if he wanted to go further, yes, there was probably a big wall.

“But you already did something without needing—that,” Katniss said. “They elected you anyway. You’re already a senator, what makes you believe you need a… wife to get further?”

“For now,” he replied, leaning his weight against the arm of the couch. “But if I want to advance, if I want them to take me seriously, I have to think bigger.”

Her Peeta; always so aware of duty, always so correct.

“There has to be another way,” she said.

Peeta let out a tired laugh, shaking his head lightly. “I know there isn’t. I’ve thought about it, I’ve asked around. This is the only thing that makes sense.” He paused. “My campaign manager introduced me—to a woman. I’ve been getting to know her these last couple of months, but that’s it.”

Katniss felt her stomach twist violently. She stepped away from him, pacing through the living room as if space itself could help her think. She walked past the fireplace, turned, crossed toward the kitchen, then back again, like a trapped animal. Her thoughts were spiraling and so was her body.

“What is wrong with you then?” she burst out, her voice cracking as she turned toward him. “If you have a girlfriend, I—I’m not your mistress—why would you kiss me? Why would you tell me you missed me? If—if you’re getting married…” She let out a laugh that sounded more like a scream escaping in the shape of a chuckle. “What is wrong with you?”

Peeta took a deep breath. “I don’t have a girlfriend, she’s not my girlfriend—you don’t have the right to accuse me of any of this.”

She felt everything inside her coil tight, ready to snap: the anger, the sadness, the pride, the love. She stepped toward him, then back again. She wanted to scream at him, but forced herself not to.

“Yes, I do,” she said quietly. The words clogged in her throat. “I’m your—”

What was Katniss to Peeta? She had no idea, neither of them did. It was something they’d kept postponing for far too long, trying and failing to name whatever this chaos between them was. Were they friends? Yes, they were, they always had been. Were they lovers? Yes, that too, even if they had never defined it.

Neither was more to blame than the other; in that, they were painfully similar; because of their own fears, their goals and their constant denial. Katniss didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to get married, to be the wife of a politician, to step into everything Peeta now represented, much less into the life he planned to build. Being the wife of a senator meant exposure, public examination, living under a spotlight that didn’t forgive. Katniss had a public life, yes, but nothing like his. She didn’t have the same pressure, the same eyes waiting for her to slip, to say the wrong thing, to be the wrong thing. And Peeta… Peeta had never tried to do the same for her. He had wanted her to change her life for him, but he never had for her.

If she had accepted his proposal three years ago, they probably would’ve been happy. She could picture it; making coffee every morning, her writing on a couch in front of the huge window of their apartment, maybe a dog, kids… a normal life. The life she dreamed of in silence. But she could also see the headlines: Senator’s Wife. From Promising Author to Politician’s Woman. Gold Digger.

Katniss had fought too hard to build a name of her own, to make her voice matter in the literary world, to throw it all away like that. She knew Peeta was everything she needed beside her, but she could never be the person he needed, not without losing herself along the way.

“What? You’re my what?” he repeated, eyes locked on her, bright with anger and hurt. “Tell me, please, because I don’t know.” Katniss froze, her throat bone-dry. “I don’t know what goes on in your head, Katniss, or what you expect from me. You don’t write to me the whole year, you don’t talk to me, you don’t call me—I find out you’re okay when you give interviews, or when I stumble on some article of yours.” Peeta took a step back, running his hands through his hair. “I spent the entire year in agony,” he continued, his voice lower now, but tighter. “Waiting—praying for you to show up at my door again this year.”

Katniss felt her chest tighten, her eyes filling against her will.

“You could have come to find me too!” she threw back, her voice rising. “You’ve always wanted me to change, to come back, but you’d never do the same for me.”

Peeta laughed again, shaking his head. “I know I didn’t do things right, but I never asked you to change for me.” Katniss’ lips trembled the second she heard it. “Do you know what that was like for me? To try—to step into your world again? Scared you’d slam the door in my face? Katniss, I—I can’t keep doing this.”

She lowered her head, tears spilling freely now. All she wanted was to cover her ears and leave.

“I can’t keep coming here every year and playing house with you for a day,” he said, raising his hands. “We’re not twenty five anymore!”

His words hurt more than she ever imagined they could. Not because she hadn’t anticipated them, but because hearing them out loud, in that frustrated tone, while looking into his eyes… everything inside her cracked open.

She had imagined this conversation many times. One way or another, she knew this moment had to come eventually.

For years, she’d pushed this conversation to the back of her mind and kept living inside a bubble. She wanted to believe they could exist in a parenthesis, as if seeing each other a few times a year was enough to keep what they had alive. Pretending the rest of the days didn’t count was no longer an option, because until this year, she hadn’t realized how much this affected him, and her too, though she was still working her way through it.

Just like she used to think being together was unfair, staying like this was unfair too, worse, even. But Katniss was selfish for not wanting to let Peeta go, for making him waste so much time, for never looking for anyone else. Because she didn’t need to. She didn’t want anyone else because she had him, even if it was only halfway, not even that. This was never enough for Peeta —would never be enough for anyone—, only for her. Sshe had never allowed herself to consider that he, too, could get tired of waiting.

The worst part was that she had planned to give him that today, because she had been preparing for it. At least enough for it not to hurt too much.

Christmas Eve, five years ago…

Every year that Katniss returned home for the holidays, what excited her most was the time with her family. Dinner, exchanging gifts, seeing which ridiculous sweaters her mother had gotten for all of them that year. She loved listening to Prim’s college stories, seeing her parents still just as in love. All of that was part of their tradition, part of what made her feel like she belonged somewhere.

But that year was different. This time, her mind didn’t settle only on her family. It slipped away constantly to the same place, to the same person: Peeta, she thought about him all the time.

Her body tensed just thinking that he was there, sitting in the exact same spot on the couch where they had kissed for the first time a year ago.

That memory lived inside her relentlessly, ambushing her even in the simplest moments. What she felt, what she avoided, and what she wished so much she could repeat. Sometimes she thought that if she could just turn off that rational voice that always stopped her, she’d run to him without hesitation. She’d kiss him again, and she’d go even further.

But she would never dare. She hadn’t dared the three times he visited her in California that year, much less now that they were surrounded by people. She was terrified of ruining what they had, of saying or doing something she’d regret later. Afraid that her logic wouldn’t be enough to save her if things got complicated.

Katniss finished preparing her drink and forced herself to walk back to the living room, where the noise of the gathering wrapped around her instantly. She sat on one of the couches next to Madge and pretended to listen to whatever she was enthusiastically talking about, even though Katniss’s attention was somewhere else entirely.

She couldn’t help it. The whole night she had turned into a hunter, quietly stalking her prey from a distance. She watched Peeta from across the room almost desperately, careful that no one noticed, especially him. They had talked, he had picked her up from her house, everything was normal between them, and that was the problem.

She couldn’t be in the same room with him without remembering his mouth on hers. Without the memory of his tongue against hers lighting up every corner of her body. She couldn’t stop imagining how his hands would feel around her waist, slowly sliding down her hips… lower. Thinking about it made her restless, made her want to close her eyes, press her thighs together, and breathe deeply.

Just as she thought about him all the time when she was awake, she also did so while she slept. She dreamed about him, and that embarrassed her even more, because it wasn’t always… normal. Sometimes they were peaceful dreams —the kind anyone would have— but sometimes they were wild, uncontrolled, desperate, and when she woke up, it was impossible not to notice the arousal between her legs.

Maybe she was just horny. She hadn’t had sex in over a year, maybe that was all her body was screaming for: contact and intimacy. Something that had nothing to do with her work, maybe that was why she couldn’t stop thinking about Peeta. Perhaps her mind drifted toward him in those moments because he was the only man in her life who wasn’t part of her family. It was easier to believe her desire for Peeta had to do with need and not with something deeper.

Katniss crossed her legs on the couch, feeling heat rise up her neck. She looked down at the glass in her hands and forced her face to remain neutral. Obviously, she couldn’t let anyone notice what was going on in her head.

As she watched him from the corner of her eye, she wondered if Peeta had kissed someone since that night their lips touched. She rolled her eyes internally. Of course he had. For starters, he was a man, an attractive and charming one. And besides, she had no right to be thinking about that. She had been clear herself; she told him it was a one time thing and he’d agreed.

After all, they were just friends, even if the mere idea of another woman in Peeta’s arms burned through her entirely.

Christmas Eve, present day

Katniss walked straight to the kitchen, eyes brimming and jaw clenched tight. Her throat felt sealed shut; she couldn’t keep doing this, not without something strong in her stomach. She didn’t reach for one of the bottles of wine they’d been drinking; her trembling fingers went to one of the cabinets instead, pulling out the whiskey. She didn’t even bother with a glass, just twisted the cap off as best as she could and took a drink straight from the bottle.

Peeta appeared moments later “Say something, please,” he said. His voice sounded frustrated, not angry at all, just… at the edge.

She closed her eyes and set the bottle down on the counter, exhaling through her nose.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Peeta,” she finally said, turning toward him. “You’re right, we’re too old to keep doing this, that doesn’t make this any less cruel.”

Peeta stepped closer, and her whole body tightened at the feeling of him near. His hands moved restlessly, his blue eyes not shining like they always did, that was something that broke her even more. He looked like he was hurting just as much as she was, yet still clinging to whatever composure he had left.

“Cruel? Cruel how? For wanting to secure my future—getting married?” he said, eyebrows lifting.

“Yes, exactly,” Katniss said. She hated how weak her voice sounded. “It hurts me!”

Peeta pressed his lips together; the calm he seemed to be holding onto cracked into anger, he looked like he was about to explode.

“What did you expect, Katniss?” he yelled, making her flinch. Despite everything they’d ever gone through, he had never raised his voice at her. “That we’d really spend the rest of our lives like this? Seeing each other once a year? Pretending that’s enough? That is cruel.”

She lowered her gaze, swallowing with difficulty.

“I—all I ever did, all I ever wanted was you, for you to be here,” he said. “You think this doesn’t hurt me?“ He swallowed. "You think it’s easy to see you come and go from my life like this? This isn’t good for me either. If it were up to me…” his voice cracked, “you know I would. I’d leave my whole life behind and go with you. I’d drop everything.”

Katniss looked at him now, and her heart caved in on itself. Peeta wasn’t angry anymore; he just looked… devastated.

“But I can’t,” he continued. “I won’t—and you wouldn’t either. No matter how much you want to, you wouldn’t—and I get it. Which means we’re at a dead end.”

Could she leave her life in California for Peeta? It was a question that had chased her for the past year. Unfortunately, Katniss had always been the kind of person who shoved anything emotional, anything that didn’t matter, as far down as it could go until the problem became impossible to ignore.

The problem was that this had always mattered, she had just refused to treat it like it did.

But she was tired. Tired of feeling miserable and sad, completely shattered on the inside. And this past year, for the first time in a long time, she did something new, something she never would have considered before: she went to therapy.

During her first session, she sat down on the couch and the very first thing she said was that she needed help figuring out what her next step in life should be. The therapist told her it wasn’t that simple; that it wasn’t something she could know right away but something she would have to discover for herself, with her help. Katniss almost walked out right then. She didn’t want to discover anything; she just wanted a solution. But she didn’t leave, she stayed and she talked.

She told her that despite her success, her life felt empty. That she hadn’t had a functional relationship in years —ever really—, that she didn’t even know how she was supposed to react to the feeling of being in love. And of course, she told her about Peeta. She explained how she had never allowed herself to be fully happy with him because she didn’t want to stray from her dreams, and that now, even after achieving most of those dreams, she still didn’t feel truly happy. That he was the only real thing she’d ever had in her life, and yet she still couldn’t move forward.

To her own surprise, she talked for forty minutes straight. When she was done, her therapist told her that realizing she didn’t know what to do was the first step, and that together they would work on that.

Throughout the sessions, they began to dig things Katniss didn’t know still affected her. She began to feel a little less weighed down, even if things were still hard. But for the first time, she felt like she was actually trying.

In her last session right before coming to Michigan, they practiced. Her therapist asked her to imagine what the conversation with Peeta would be like. And it worked, Katniss felt like she could do it. She had the intention and she had found the courage. So she decided that this year would be different. She would tell Peeta everything; everything she felt, everything happening in her head and heart, and they would finally have clarity. Because she truly loved him, even if he didn’t know it.

But selfishly, she wanted to enjoy him a one last time before doing that, kiss him, feel him. She never, ever imagined he would be the one to drop the bomb.

“Peeta, I… I don’t know, I… this is too hard for me,” Katniss said with a trembling voice.

Peeta took a step back, digging his hands into his hair in frustration before letting out a sharp, desperate breath. He was no longer the patient, soft, loving Peeta from a few hours ago. This was wounded Peeta, heartbroken Peeta, on the verge of collapsing Peeta.

“Oh, really?” he said with a bitter laugh. “I had no idea—genuinely no fucking idea, how you were going to react. And knowing you—” his eyes were full of fury and sadness, “I thought you’d just say it was fine, or that you already knew, and you’d walk away.”

Her body felt like it was betraying her with every possible emotion at once; and to top it off, a sharp stab of helplessness.

“Do you really think I’m that mean?” she said, her voice breaking. “That I don’t care about you at all? It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“Of course I know you!” Peeta took another step closer. “I know you care, in your weird way, but I’ve never—I—I’ve never understood how you feel about me.”

“I know…” Katniss whispered, her voice in pieces.

“I love you, Katniss.” Peeta wasn’t shouting anymore.

“I know!” she yelled this time.

The tears were already running down her face, she covered her face with both hands.

Katniss Everdeen, someone who made a living giving life to emotions on paper, was incapable of doing the same for herself. Not without a map.

“Yes, I know you know,” he said. “You always say the same thing.”

All her life, she had held herself together. She always cared about who saw her fall apart, who heard her cry. But right now, she couldn’t care less, she had no control anymore. Not over her body, not over her thoughts, not over her heart.

“Do you think I want to marry a stranger?” Peeta continued, his voice cracking at the end. “Someone I don’t feel anything for? Someone I don’t love?”

Katniss squeezed her eyes shut, her expression twisted with pain.

“I can’t love anyone else—I only love you.”

“I…” she tried to speak, but her throat was burning. “I’m not ready to get married.”

“I’m not asking you to be my wife!” he shouted. “I’m trying to let you go!”

Peeta closed his eyes and slowly leaned back against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out. His gaze fixed somewhere on the ground, ignoring Katniss’s presence.

There was no point pretending to be strong; she was already completely broken, and he had seen it. She grabbed the bottle of whiskey and walked toward him slowly. With all her sadness weighing on her, she sank to the floor beside him, letting her body barely touch his.

She held the bottle with one hand but didn’t drink. She drew in a breath —if that pathetic attempt to swallow air could even be called breathing— and through her sobs she managed to say:

“I—I don’t think… I could never—I could never be with anyone who isn’t you.”

Peeta turned his head just enough to look at her. His eyes were bright and red; he wasn’t crying, but he was about to.

“When I met you,” he said quietly, “I never thought I’d see you again—much less that we’d end up here. That we’d end… like this.”

Painfully, she turned toward him and leaned in, pressing her forehead against his for a moment.

“It’s not over yet.”

Christmas Eve, four years ago…

“I still don’t get why we had to come all the way back here for your wallet,” Katniss said as she shut the door of Peeta’s car. “I told you I could pay. We’re going to lose the reservation and show up late to Madge’s house.”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to let you pay for your celebration dinner of your first book.”

Katniss let out a laugh. “Okay, fine, you’re right. You’re paying—if they still honor the reservation. Detouring all the way here cost us twenty minutes.” She stopped in front of the lake house door, waiting for him to open it. But he stopped too, lifting one leg onto a planter.

“Can you grab it? It’s in the kitchen,” he said, handing her the key. “My laces keep coming undone—I can never fix them right.”

Katniss rolled her eyes and took the key from him.

When she opened the door, she reached blindly for the light switch, feeling the click under her fingers. The second the light flickered on, a loud burst made her stumble a step back.

“Surprise!”

Katniss froze. Her mouth fell open in shock, but nothing came out. She didn’t know what to say, or what to do.

Standing in front of her were her parents —who were supposed to be on a Caribbean beach—Prim grinning beside Madge, Gale —Madge’s boyfriend—, Johanna, and several people she knew well enough to consider friends. All of them smiling, arms raised, celebrating… celebrating her? She had no idea, her brain was still trying to catch up.

Her heart was pounding as she turned toward Peeta, who stood behind her wearing the brightest smile.

“Wha—?” she stammered. “What is this?”

“Your surprise party, dummy,” he said, amused as he gave her a gentle push on her lower back; one that sent a shock through her whole body, though she was too overwhelmed to even process it fully.

She faced him completely now, eyes still wide.

“You did this?”

Peeta nodded. “I did.”

“What? How—when?”

“For about a month,” he said, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair off her forehead. “I reached out to everyone. Your parents stayed here after leaving your place—they spent all day helping me keep it quiet.”

She was still stunned, and deeply moved. No one had ever done something like this for her. Especially someone like Peeta; though maybe she should’ve expected it from him. He was that kind of person.

When she’d had her book release party in LA three months earlier, Peeta had flown out just to attend. She’d been so happy to have him there, knowing how busy he was with his new job and all the prep for his future campaign. Since her family couldn’t be there, she told him how grateful she was, admitting she wished she could’ve been surrounded by people who really mattered to her, besides him; but she never imagined he would do this.

She threw herself into his arms and hugged him with all the strength she had, clinging to him. She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in; that scent she always missed. Her arms trembled but she didn’t let go.

Peeta pulled her even closer. One arm wrapped around her back, the other settled on the small of her waist. The heat of his body, the steadiness of his hold, the way his curls brushed her temple as he held her… it was all too comforting.

“Thank you, Peeta. This is—you’re the best.”

Just when she thought he was going to release her, he lifted her straight off the ground and spun her lightly, then, without fully letting go, pressed a kiss against the side of her head.

“Go enjoy your party, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear.

Katniss insisted on staying to help clean, even though Peeta kept repeating that he would just call someone to take care of it in the morning. According to him, there was no point in both of them picking everything up at that hour, but she didn’t see it that way. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and besides, she didn’t want to leave yet. So they stayed.

She still couldn’t believe the night had actually happened. It was hard to process that Peeta had organized all of it, that he had reached out to every person who mattered to her just to celebrate her accomplishment together.

When they finished cleaning, they stepped out onto the terrace to drink, to talk, to enjoy the same place where, years before, they’d first met.

Katniss sat curled up on the outdoor couch, trying her best to keep her dress from riding up too much. Peeta sat beside her, one arm draped over the backrest, the other hand absently playing with the cap of the tequila bottle they were sharing.

“Do you remember the song Madge sang earlier?” he said, switching the subject.

Katniss nodded slowly and took a small sip of tequila, letting the warmth settle in her stomach.

“It’s the same one you sang at karaoke last year in LA,” he added, a crooked half smile forming as his eyes stayed on her.

She frowned slightly, trying to recall; until it hit her. A dead beat karaoke bar Peeta had dragged her into, back when they weren’t that publicly known yet, at least her. Katniss had gotten drunk enough to lose her shame and sing in front of everyone.

“Right,” she said. “We grew up listening to Taylor—it’s our safe place.”

Peeta chuckled and took the bottle from her, his fingers brushing hers just enough to make her hold her breath.

“I’d never heard that song before you sang it,” he admitted. “Not much of Taylor, honestly—just the commercial stuff.”

Katniss shot him a look but stayed quiet as he brought the bottle to his lips.

“But ever since you sang it…” he continued, turning his head toward her, “for some reason I haven’t stopped listening to it—not purpose.” He shrugged lightly. “It just… happens. At the gym, whenever I forget my headphones, it somehow ends up being the song that’s playing. In the mall. At the supermarket. On the radio, on the rare occasions I turn it on. It’s always there, and the song’s not even new.”

Katniss reached for the bottle, taking it from him.

“Somehow… that song seems to be everywhere. Just like the person who introduced me to it.”

Katniss barely laughed, trying her hardest to make it sound casual, but it came out higher pitched at the end, betraying her. Her stomach was a complete mess, though she didn’t know if it was the tequila or Peeta’s proximity.

“What do you mean?” she asked, unable to hold his gaze.

“I mean—one way or another, I always end up thinking about you.“

Katniss couldn’t focus on answering, or laughing, because of what he just said; or because he was close enough to smell him, to count his eyelashes, to notice every pore on his cheek.

Close enough that, if she simply leaned in, she could kiss him.

She wanted to say something; make a joke, change the subject… anything. But she also wanted to kiss him, and she was seconds away from doing it when Peeta interrupted her. He started humming a melody, one Katniss recognized instantly as the song he’d been referring to.

“Here’s to you and your helper—”

“Temper,” she corrected, smiling.

"Right, that,” Peeta laughed under his breath. “I remember what you said…” He lifted his eyebrows a little.

“Last night,” she added, taking another sip of tequila.

Peeta gently took the bottle from her, brushing her fingers again in the process. He looked at her for a second that felt endless.

“I know that you see what you’re doing to me.”

Katniss smiled, but it faded quickly, and she answered: “Tell me… why.”

This time she turned her head fully toward him. Peeta opened his mouth to say something, then looked down, but he quickly looked up again, meeting her eyes.

“I like you, Katniss.”

A tightness bloomed in her chest, a tremor rising in her throat. Such a simple sentence, but nothing about hearing it from Peeta felt simple. Not after everything running through her mind, not after spending so long avoiding that part of herself.

Peeta laughed then, shaking his head as he turned slightly away.

“Like, what a stupid word,” he said, taking a sip from the bottle. “I sound like we’re in high school. Whatever—you know I like you, you’re my friend, but on the other hand… “ he began peeling the label on the bottle, eyes down. "No, forget it.” He waved it off as if his words didn’t matter.

With her heart pounding against her ribs, she reached out and placed her hand gently on his chin, turning his face back toward her. Peeta blinked, startled, as if he were about to speak, but she didn’t let him.

She closed the distance with the determination she’d avoided so many times before, brushing her nose against his, unable to meet his eyes, only his lips, until she finally pressed hers to his.

Peeta didn’t react at first. He was still, as if he didn’t know what to do. And when Katniss, full of regret and embarrassment, was about to pull away, until she felt him move.

His hand slid behind her head, tangling into her hair in a way that knocked the breath out of her, pulling her into him with need. The kiss deepened in an instant.

Peeta’s lips were better than she remembered. Katniss felt her body melt into his with nothing but the touch of his mouth; she felt breathless, undone by just a kiss.

Then Peeta’s lips trailed down to her neck, leaving a line of kisses that made her writhe. Each brush of his mouth against her skin pushed back a quiet gasp in her throat. She was a little uncomfortable in that position; the legs tangled, her dress halfway up her thigh, the blanket slipping, but she didn’t care. His mouth erased everything else.

When Peeta’s hand slid down her side and came to rest on her thigh, just below the hem of her dress, Katniss couldn’t hold back. A moan escaped her lips, fueling the fire in her belly.

“Wait,” she murmured.

Peeta pulled back immediately, eyes filled with worry. His lips were swollen and red, and Katniss felt a sharp ache bloom in her chest at the sight; she couldn’t wait any longer to melt together again, or for their bodies to do it.

“I’m sorry, I—” he began, but Katniss shook her head, cutting him off.

“No, no. I—it’s fine,” she whispered, her breath uneven. “I want it—you.”

Peeta leaned in again, his lips brushing along her neck. She tilted her head to the side, giving him more space, her hands fisting in his sweater. The glide of his mouth sent shivers over her skin, pleasure rippling down her legs and gathering low in her stomach.

“I wasn’t lying,” Peeta said against her skin, making her shiver. “I really like you, Katniss… I don’t want you to regret—this.”

Katniss lifted her head, meeting his eyes. “I don’t want you to regret it.”

“Oh, I won’t.”

Katniss got up from the couch as best she could, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. Peeta got up too, and pulled her toward him, intensifying the kiss; their tongues intertwining possessively, leaving her completely breathless.

His hands moved down to grab her buttocks under her dress, lifting her up easily. Katniss wrapped her legs around his hips, clinging to his shoulders as he carried her back into the house, without breaking the contact of their lips.

The kiss was wild, with a dirty taste that evoked sex itself: saliva all over her face, moans muffled in each other’s mouths. Katniss was aroused to the limit, her body throbbing with need that made her rub against him. She felt the hard bulge of his erection pressing against her center, and that only made her insides burn more. She needed more. Peeta had her on the edge, lost in the storm of emotions and sensations that only he could awaken in her.

When they reached the bedroom, Peeta lowered her gently, without letting go completely. He turned her around, leaving her with her back to him, and took her by the hips, pressing her against his body with a force that made her gasp. She felt his erection pressing against her butt, gasping.

Peeta’s hands began to caress her from behind, exploring every curve, brushing the sides of her breasts before moving down again. He pulled her closer to him, his hot breath on her neck, moving closer to her ear.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this? To touch you? To feel you?”

Katniss shook her head, even though deep down she knew. She had fantasized about the same thing for endless nights.

He pulled away slightly, just enough for his fingers to find the clasp of her dress. He slowly pulled it down until the fabric slid off her shoulders and fell to the floor. She was left in her underwear, the cool air in the room making her shiver, but his cold hands resting on her waist brought her back.

Peeta turned her toward him and kissed her again. Her hands moved down, driven by desire, toward his belt, wanting to feel his skin, his hardness. But he shook his head, stopping her.

“No,” was all he grunted against her mouth. Then he returned to kissing her, his hand moving down her abdomen until it brushed the edge of her panties.

His fingers slipped under the fabric, finding her slit completely soaked. Feeling it, she couldn’t contain the heavy moan that escaped her; she was grateful that there was no one else in the house but the two of them.

“You’re so wet,” Peeta murmured as his fingers moved in circles until he finally inserted two, curving them toward that spot that burned her feet. “Do you like… this?”

Katniss nodded, unable to form words. Her body trembled under his touch, feeling empty in the microsecond he withdrew his fingers, only to insert them again, faster this time. The intensity of his gaze, the roughness of his caresses… made her more intoxicated than the alcohol.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” he added, guiding her toward the bed.

Katniss trembled as she fell onto the mattress, leaning on her forearms, her chest heaving as she watched him.

“Peeta, wait—I don’t want this to be… awkward,” she breathed, “the kiss—we agreed it would be a one time thing.”

Her words were filled with the all insecurities that haunted her, the fear that this was just a passing impulse, and that once she had fully experienced it, there would be no turning back. Katniss would be lost to him forever, and it was something she couldn’t afford, but also she couldn’t stop herself.

Peeta pulled off his sweater in one motion, revealing his perfect torso, and moved closer, positioning himself on top of her without crushing her. He placed his arms on either side of her head, and leaned down just enough to look into her eyes, their noses touching, which made her swallow hard.

“You would never be just a one time thing to me.”

She felt a lump in her throat, and a wave tightening in her stomach.

“Do you want to continue? I’ll understand if you don’t,” he added.

Katniss nodded without saying anything, using what little strength she had left for that simple gesture. The truth was that she had no more words in her mouth; it was all full of need and emotions that left her speechless.

Peeta kissed her again, slowly at first, savoring every inch of her lips. His kisses descended down her jawline, her neck, pausing at her breasts to bite a nipple through her bra, before pulling it down, and sucking it hard.

He continued down, kissing her stomach, her hips, the skin around her navel, until he reached her panties. He began to rub the fabric with his nose, while his hands spread her thighs apart. She trembled, her clit throbbing with anticipation, the heat spreading through her legs and every inch of skin. Peeta nibbled at the edge of the fabric, pulling lightly before slowly pulling them down, exposing her wet center.

He settled between her legs, his eyes locked on hers for a moment. Then he lowered his head and licked everything from her entrance to her clit. She gasped, her hands dropping to anchor themselves in his hair, clinging to him as pleasure hit her. He didn’t rush; he flicked his tongue slowly and gently at first, moving up to circle her clit, making her squirm.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against her, making her moan louder.

He increased the pace, inserting a finger, curving it to graze the sensitive spot inside her while his tongue returned to her clit, this time without mercy. Everything was pleasure for her; the roughness of his beard against her thighs, the heat of his breath, the suction that brought her to the edge. Her hips moved instinctively, and he held her with one hand, keeping her in place, while the other was finger fucking her. If there was any romance in all this, it seemed to fade away in the rawness of the moment.

She felt the heat in her belly growing with every stroke of his tongue and fingers. It was about to explode, she could feel it in her legs, in her tiptoes, until she could no longer contain it.

“Peeta, I’m going—I'm—”

Her inner walls contracted around his fingers, feeling more moisture come out of her, covering his mouth while he continued to lick nonstop, prolonging the contractions, making her writhe; she hated and loved at the same time the way he was making her feel. Until she collapsed, shattered.

Peeta looked up, his lips glistening with her juices, and smiled tenderly at her, contrasting with the obscenity of what he had just done. He stood up and began to remove the rest of his clothes, clumsy in his haste until his length was free. She couldn’t help but stare at it, desire beginning to throb in her core again at the sight of it so hard and thick. She sat up, her fingers reaching for the clasp of her bra. She unhooked it and let it fall, freeing her breasts, now completely exposed to him.

Impulsively, she moved closer to him and reached out, taking him with her hands. It was bigger than she could ever imagined, but so beautiful. She caressed it slowly at first, moving her hand up and down from the base to the head, feeling it harden more under her touch. He moaned, throwing his head back, urging her to continue, squeezing, rubbing his thumb over the wet tip. The way he looked at her, the way his hips moved toward her, his lips still full of her, lit a fire in her; touching him like this made her feel connected in a way she could never have imagined.

Peeta pulled away, leaning toward the nightstand drawer; he rummaged quickly until he pulled out a condom. Katniss settled herself lying on her forearms, watching as the latex stretched to fit him. He positioned himself between her legs, spreading them slightly with his knee. The tip of his length brushed against her entrance, still sensitive and wet from her previous orgasm, and she held her breath.

“Are you sure?” he asked, searching her eyes.

“Yes,” she murmured, “I need you.” It wasn’t just her body that craved him; he was everything to her. The emptiness she had felt since the time they kissed, the emptiness she felt every time Peeta left, every time she left, she wasn’t going to let her mind ruin the moment.

Right now, it was just the two of them, alone, in this Christmas.

A quick smile curved his lips and he kissed her again. As their mouths devoured each other, he pushed forward, entering her inch by inch. She gasped against his lips, feeling complete for the first time in a long time, filled with him, stretching her deliciously, grazing every sensitive nerve inside her. It was incredible, a fullness that went beyond the physical.

He began to move, pleasantly slow at first, pulling out almost completely before sinking back in, allowing her to feel every inch of him. Katniss wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her nails digging into his back as pleasure built on her insides.

Peeta picked up the pace, the only sounds in the room now were gasps and wet noises. He began to fuck her with such a force that made her hold on to his back so tightly she thought she was going to float away.

Sounds she didn’t recognize came out of her throat; no man had ever made her feel this way. She wasn’t just enjoying it; that fell short of describing the way her body responded, waves of pleasure that left her on the verge of fainting, her vision blurring, the world reduced to the friction inside her and his weight on top of her.

Suddenly, Peeta stopped, burying himself completely inside her, and pressed his forehead against hers. “Katniss, this… it’s perfect,” he muttered hoarsely. “It feels perfect. This is more than I ever imagined—this means everything to me.”

Her logical mind wasn’t working; she was thinking with her body, and more than with her body, with her heart. This moment satisfied more than her physical need for him; it was proving more, unearthing everything she knew she felt and didn’t allow herself to express. For Katniss, it also meant everything. Having him like this, inside and outside, was all she wanted most at that moment in her life.

Despite that, she couldn’t help the overwhelming and uncomfortable emotion that was beginning to scratch at her insides, and not because of hypersensitivity.

Luckily for her, Peeta captured her lips preventing her from answering. When he continued, it was faster now, his thrusts deep, more demanding, making the headboard creak behind them. His hand moved down to where their bodies were intertwined, finding her sensitive spot, rubbing it quickly. She cried out as she felt it coming, her insides contracting around him, until she couldn’t take it anymore and her orgasm shot through her for the second time.

Still trembling, she was gathering the strength to speak, until Peeta turned her over, leaving her face down, her stomach pressed against the mattress. Katniss was surprised, but she lifted her hips instinctively, and he entered her again with a single thrust that made her grunt against the sheets. It was a new angle, rubbing parts she never felt before, spots that were driving her insane.

Peeta pressed his body completely against her back, his chest against hers, and moved closer, kissing her neck as he thrust in and out of her again and again. His hands slid under her body, cupping her breasts, squeezing them, until he left them on her shoulders. She was moaning loud as she began to move her hips backward, meeting his increasingly stronger thrusts. She felt about to explode again, it was too overwhelming. The sensation of pleasure, the sensitivity of her clit, the romanticism of his kisses on her shoulder, whispering her name in her ear as if it were a prayer, clashed with the savagery of how he fucked her.

They stayed like that until Peeta tensed, and a growl escaped his throat as he emptied his orgasm into the condom, until he collapsed next to her. She had her face buried in the sheets, not wanting to lift her head. She felt her cheeks red, her whole body marked by his hands, by her multiple orgasms, and also because sorrow was beginning to creep into her.

“Katniss?” Peeta asked. “Are you okay?”

Katniss nodded, without lifting her head.

“Are you sure? I—”

“Yes, Peeta,” she said, finally turning her head toward him, her cheek pressed against the mattress. Peeta reached out and brushed her face with his fingers. “I’m just tired. That was—it was incredible.”

Peeta smiled and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Katniss frowned lightly before kissing him back. Yes, it surprised her that he kissed her, but… that was obvious, right? They were in the kissing stage now. Please, they’d just had wild, filthy sex; she had no reason to get startled over a simple kiss.

He got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She watched the door, wrapped in sheets that held the traces of her orgasm.

She pushed herself upright, her body still sensitive from everything that had just happened, physically and emotionally. She stood up and picked her clothes off the floor. Should she ask him to drive her home? Should she just leave on her own? She couldn’t think straight, it was like her brain had stopped working, like sex with Peeta had undone her completely.

Something inside her didn’t want to leave, and it wasn’t about just desire. It wasn’t just his body she wanted tonight, she wanted him entirely; his warmth as they slept, his arms around her, their bodies tangled until sleep finally claimed her.

So she dropped the dress back onto the floor and, just put on in her underwear, and slipped under the sheets again.

The following days passed like water, swallowed by the need to be together. Something inside Katniss had definitely cracked open, because she no longer tried to resist. They had sex everywhere. In the lake house, in the shower, at her parents’ place, in Peeta’s car; any space that gave them even a little privacy.

Katniss didn’t give herself a break. She took everything he could give her before she had to fly back to California. Every night, falling asleep beside him, she counted the days she had left before returning to her normal life, far from him, far from home. She missed him even before she’d gone. His smile, his kisses, his hands, sleeping together, eating together, the flat tire on his car he kept postponing to fix, the way he scrunched his nose right before laughing, the way he cracked his knuckles every five seconds even though it drove her nuts.

When the day of her return finally arrived, she didn’t take a cab for the first time, Peeta drove her to the airport. Katniss spent almost the entire ride staring out the window, her fingers hooked in the sleeve of her coat, pressing down to ease the knot in her throat. If she spoke, she would start crying, and if she cried, she might not get on that plane. Peeta didn’t say anything either; he kept his eyes on the road.

When they reached the airport, he walked her all the way to security, stopping a few meters before the line. Katniss didn’t know what to do or say; she clutched her bag tightly, wrinkling the edges of her ticket. Thankfully, Peeta was the one who spoke first.

“I’m going to miss you.”

Katniss lifted her eyes to him, swallowing hard. “Me too.”

Peeta’s eyes were heavy with vulnerability. He stepped closer and took her hands in his, pulling her toward him until their foreheads nearly brushed.

“Look, Katniss… I don’t want you to get scared,” he said. “This… you, us—it’s something I’ve been trying to get out of my head since I kissed you—since I met you. I’m lost in you.”

She froze.

“I meant it when I said that it meant—means a lot to me. And I want to make this work. I know it’ll be hard, with my life here, your life there, our jobs, all of it… but I want to work with you. If we try, I know we can make it work.”

Katniss felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over her.

Now, standing here at the airport, about to return to her real world, she thought she’d be able to see things differently. But the truth was the same one she’d carried for years: she didn’t believe in long distance love. As much as she wanted to, she knew she and Peeta wouldn’t survive that.

But she also knew that nothing in her life had ever felt as real as him. That despite how overwhelming it was, despite how no one had ever made her feel this naked —not just physically— and still safe, despite how he made her feel everything, made her feel like she was floating… it was still too much to ask.

She was a realist, too much of one.

Would it work? Maybe not. The odds were almost zero, but the hope was too big. Now, in front of him, looking straight into his eyes, Katniss couldn’t say no, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, she wanted to be with him, and she cared for him even more.

“We’ll make it work,” she said firmly, though she wasn’t.

He lowered his gaze to their intertwined hands and brought them to his lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers that shattered everything inside her. When he let go, their eyes met again.

“I love you,” he said.

Katniss felt the world tilt beneath her feet. Her body didn’t move, but on the inside… well, she was ruined. She pressed her lips together so hard, trying to keep the knot in her throat from collapsing into tears.

“I know,” was all she replied before she turned to the line.

Christmas Eve, present day

They stayed sitting on the floor for what felt like hours. Katniss couldn’t move. Her eyes were fixed on a point on the floor, but she wasn’t really seeing anything. Her eyes burned, exhausted from crying so much, but the worst pain was in her chest; so full and so empty at the same time. Her heart was racing, and her mind was a complete disaster.

She didn’t want to look at him, she couldn’t. If she did, she knew she would fall apart again, and she had already cried everything she hadn’t cried all year. She was drained, all the words she had prepared, rehearsed and folded neatly in therapy… forgotten.

Peeta wasn’t speaking either. His body was just as collapsed beside her. Katniss swallowed, the knot still swollen in her throat, and even the warmth of the whiskey no longer offered comfort.

And yet, the only thing she wanted was to curl into his arms, tuck herself into that small space against his chest. All she needed was for him to hold her, even if he no longer belonged to her; just the arms of the only person who could make her feel so good and so unbearably awful at the same time.

“I started going to therapy,” Katniss said suddenly, without looking at him. She felt the weight of his gaze but kept her eyes on the bottle between her fingers. “I know this situation has never been ideal,” she continued, swallowing hard. “I know I’ve done a lot of things wrong—we both have. And from what I’ve learned… analyzing everything my life has been these past few years…” She paused, jaw tightening. “I know we can’t be together. Not without one of us losing.”

Peeta shook his head. "If we do, one of us will win, and the other will lose.”

“This isn’t about winning or losing, Peeta,” she said. “In a way it is, I guess,” she lifted her eyes to him, tears pooling again. “Do you remember when you asked me to marry you?”

Peeta lowered his gaze.

“I wouldn’t have everything I have now if I’d said yes,” she added. “And even though I never proposed it, and you never suggested it—if you had gone with me, you wouldn’t be where you are.”

It was the truth that hurt the most to accept, but it was the only one that held up amid the wreckage.

“I knew at some point we were going to have to let each other go,” she went on. “I realized it recently—maybe even long before that, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less to think about not being with you, even if it is just once a year.”

Peeta let out a broken laugh.

“I know,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “But this isn’t a way to live, Katniss. No matter how good we are together, no matter how much I love you with everything I have—it isn’t fair.” She looked at him, her throat tightening at that last word. “And yes,” he added, softer now, “I know we won’t be together. Not the way I want us to be.”

Katniss felt her chest collapse in on itself.

“I want to be with you too,” she burst out, her voice broken. “But you have to understand—we can’t be together if it means the other person has to give up their entire life.”

Peeta looked at her with wet eyes.

“I know,” he said, she rolled her eyes; no he didn’t. “If you had accepted my proposal, you’d be here, where you always say you hate—or worse, in DC, alone. Because you’d complain I’m never home, and you’d spend the rest of your life resenting me.”

“If you had come with me to California, don’t you think you’d do the same?” she shot back.

Peeta let out a sharp breath.

“Yes. Yes, I would—that’s the truth.” He stood and began pacing the kitchen. “Because just like I want to be with you… I also want to achieve my dreams. Same as you.”

Katniss didn’t dare look at him, her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

“Are you happy in California?” he finally asked.

“Yes,” she lied.

Peeta kept pacing from one side of the kitchen to the other. “I know you’re not. Not entirely,” he said without looking at her.

Katniss clenched her jaw, but the tears returned anyway, gathering in her eyes. She brought a hand to her chest, trying to contain the pain there.

“Yes, but only because the one thing missing for me to be happy there is you,” she said, voice completely destroyed. “And yet, I would never ask you to give up everything for me—I know we can’t be together.” She kept going, unable to stop, needing the words out of her system before they drowned her. “I feel lost,” she confessed. “I don’t feel like my life is in California… but I don’t feel like it’s here either—and even less in DC.”

Peeta slowly turned toward her, and the way he looked at her stole the air from her lungs: not anger, not frustration… just deep, accumulated pain. Pain they both shared.

Katniss felt herself at the verge of collapsing. “You and I… we wouldn’t work together. Not here, not there,” she said. “Not yet.”

Even with the weight of Peeta’s gaze on her, she couldn’t bring herself to lift her eyes. She didn’t want to see the expression on his face, because she knew that if she did, she’d fall apart completely.

“I’ve spent months working on this in therapy,” she continued. “My relationship with you, my relationship with myself. And it took seeing you for ten seconds for all of my sessions to go to shit.” She let out a small laugh.

She swallowed hard and finally dared to look at him. Peeta was a couple of feet away, hands braced on the kitchen island, head bowed.

“I don’t know why the fuck I can’t picture myself with anyone else,” she said suddenly, anger blooming out of the sadness. “Of course it’s going to hurt to hear that you want to—you’re going to… move on, get married—whatever the hell you’ll do. I don’t know why I always come back to you.” Her voice cracked, but she managed a bitter laugh. “Your public life and my public life… they’re completely different. Instead of helping you grow, I’d drag you down. And if you were next to me, you’d drag yourself down.”

Now he was the one who couldn’t look at her.

Katniss breathed unevenly, her fingers pressing against her chest as if she could somehow keep the pain from spreading any further.

“I’ve repeated it in my head a thousand times. I’ve said it out loud, I’ve cried it out. And still… every time I look at you, I want to lie to myself. I want to believe that we can—that we could.”

Peeta took a few steps toward her. “But we can’t.”

She had thought about this so much in the past months. Yes, she and Peeta knew how to live their public lives separately, but they were completely different lives lived in completely opposite ways.

Katniss lived hers on her own terms; with only a few people close. Her interviews were rare and carefully chosen, same with panels. She hated being told what to do or say. Her face hardly ever appeared in public, and when it did, it was behind the cover of a book or in some literary magazine. She had built a career that was solid and protected, safe for her.

Peeta, on the other hand, lived surrounded by a team of advisors, strategists, reporters, cameras. Every word he said was measured, every move calculated, every person who entered his life filtered through layers. He was coached every second; and apparently, even when it came to finding a future wife.

How could they ever survive in the same space without destroying each other?

If they decided to be together… the media would lose its mind. It would be a disaster. Headlines everywhere. Every gesture of hers analyzed, every expression of his dissected, every word twisted. They would stop being people and become characters in one of Katniss’s novels; one that would end with one of them faking their death and blaming the other for murder. It wouldn’t matter how much they loved each other, how deeply they understood one another when they were alone. In the outside world, they’d be something else entirely.

They would be star-crossed lovers. A famous writer, unafraid to speak but afraid of the spotlight, and a young, ambitious senator with a brilliant future and a public image to maintain. It wouldn’t matter if they loved each other, because no one would see it for what it truly was. They wouldn’t see the years of history between them, only the spectacle.

Their relationship was doomed from every angle.

Christmas Eve, three years ago…

That year had been one of the best and worst of Katniss’s life. On paper, she had achieved things she once thought impossible: she’d published another book, contributed to a short story anthology, been invited to her first author panel, and traveled the country attending conventions and signings, her name was starting to circulate. Everything she had wanted for so long was happening, she should have been happy.

Except she wasn’t. She was shattered, because of a man. How ironic; she had fallen completely, becoming everything she once swore she’d never be: a woman broken over a man, one she couldn’t even call hers.

That year, she barely saw him. He couldn’t visit her, she couldn’t visit him; the only times they saw each other were when she happened to be in the city where he was for work. Brief encounters, almost perfect ones; they would talk for hours, fuck, spend the night together —if they were lucky— and then leave, because they were busy.

The distance grew. Messages started spacing out, their Sunday calls simply stopped happening. Her inbox stayed full of half finished conversations, some started by her, others by him; she always replied, but few were answered by him.

When Peeta promised he would visit for her birthday, she was so happy. She freed her schedule, cleaned the apartment, planned the whole weekend, let herself get excited… and he didn’t come. His advisor told him it was best not to go, not to get involved in something that could spark controversy, and he listened. Making it painfully clear where his priorities were.

Katniss didn’t complain, because she had no idea where they even stood. Were they dating? She didn’t know. Were they friends? She didn’t know that either. Were they something? Yes, but she had no idea what.

Finally, things were about to change. Peeta’s campaign had ended successfully; now he was now one of the youngest senators in history, and it was also Christmas Eve, their day. The one night a year when the world seemed to stop just for them.

Peeta had sent a car for her. Now, sitting in the back seat, watching the snowy landscape pass through the window, Katniss felt her stomach tighten, full of nerves, excitement and love.

When the car stopped in front of the lake house, a wave of nausea hit her. She was excited, yes, but she also felt like she was about to collapse. She had been preparing herself mentally for this moment for days, imagining what their reunion would be like… but now that she was here, all of that vanished.

She felt sick because all the time she missed everything about Peeta, and now she was about to see him again.

When she reached the porch, she barely had time to breathe before the door swung open. Peeta rushed out and wrapped her in his arms, lifting her off the ground.

Katniss let out a chuckle, her heart swelling with warmth as she clung to him tightly. She buried her face in his hair for a second, drinking in his scent. Her body trembled, but she didn’t mind, she was home.

Before putting her down, Peeta kissed her. The touch melted her soul, quieted her nausea, washed away every drop of nerves inside her, and she simply sank into the warmth of it.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, pulling back only to kiss her again.

“I missed you more,” she replied.

Peeta lowered her slowly, took her hand and her suitcase, and led her into the house.

They prepared everything for dinner together; between glasses of wine and a series of slow, shivery kisses, they caught up. When everything was ready, they curled up on the couch to watch a movie while eating chips and popcorn. When it was time to eat, they didn’t even bother setting the table; they ate right at the island, sitting side by side, their feet tangled beneath the stools. Everything felt intimate and perfect. Katniss was tired of planning life, of measuring every step, of distractions and formalities. All she wanted was her special day with her special person.

As soon as they finished eating, they didn’t waste a second.

They made love right there in the kitchen. She lay panting in the isle, his hard body on top of her. He kissed every part of her, making her feel like she was made of fire. It was urgent, fast, a physical response to everything they had held back for far too long. Later, they did it again in the living room, but the urgency had shifted into something softer. The kisses grew longer, the touches gentler, until their bodies intertwined again and again.

Then in the bedroom, where they spent the entire night tangled in sheets. Touching slowly, and also not slowly. With her nails digging into his back, into his hair, until she cried out for release.

For a few hours she was truly happy beside him.

Katniss ran her hands over Peeta’s chest, tracing every line of muscle, every inch of skin, smiling against his body. She felt like a hormone flooded teenager every time she was with him.

“Unfortunately, I have to leave in a couple of hours,” he said, ruining the moment.

Her head lifted from his chest immediately, frown forming before she could stop it. “What? Why?”

“My father invited the governor over for breakfast. You know how it is.”

She felt the hit in her chest; how her heart slowly dropped to the bottom of her stomach. “Oh.”

Sadness came over her. Peeta noticed and slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently against him. His hand stroked her skin firmly but not enough to erase the disappointment building inside her. She didn’t stay quiet.

“It’s just…” she began, her voice softer, “you knew this day was for both of us. You knew I had to leave tomorrow too. I have an event tonight—It kills me to be away from you for who knows how long.”

She tightened her hold on his chest.

“And I just… I miss you. I want to be with you all the time.”

He slowly sat up. She stayed lying down, but lifted her head to rest it against her arm, looking up at him with that same scowl, trying to understand what he was doing.

“There’s a way to fix that…” he said.

Katniss furrowed her brows even more, confused.

“What?” she asked, not moving.

Peeta didn’t respond with words; he leaned over the side of the bed, reaching toward his coat hanging from the nightstand. She followed his hand with her eyes, still frowning, until she saw it.

A small velvet box in his hand.

The tight line between her brows disappeared, replaced by a frozen expression. Fear and anger tangled violently inside her, the words evaporated from her mouth.

“Katniss, I—” Peeta began with the box in his hand, his eyes searching for hers. But she cut him off instantly, sitting up in the bed.

“No, no, no.”

Her voice came out uneven, strangled by what she had in front of her. In a second, everything inside her collapsed. With trembling hands, she wrapped the sheet around her body in a rush and stood up.

“No, Peeta, what are you doing?” her voice cracked. “What is this?”

“I… want—” he started, his voice low, uncertain.

“What is wrong with you? No! We can’t get married!” Katniss shouted, unsure if she should laugh or cry. “I—I didn’t even know if we were dating! We barely talked this past month and now—you want me to be your wife?”

Her breathing sped up. She walked around the room like she was a cornered animal, beginning to shake as the fearful images built in her mind.

“Katniss,” Peeta repeated, standing up, “yes, I do want you to be my wife. Why not? I know you better than anyone. We’d be amazing together. I—love you.”

But none of his words could reach her, not now. Panic had taken over her body completely.

“No, Peeta! I’m scared! I’m not ready to get married! Much less to be a politician’s wife! I can’t!” she screamed, her voice splintering, lifting her hands as if she could shake the pressure off her skin. “I can’t marry someone who—no! My life is in LA! And yours is here—and now in DC! I couldn’t! Never!”

Peeta set the box down on the bed and tried to move toward her with his hands raised, as if trying to soothe her.

“Katniss, I want to start this new chapter of my life with you.”

“And what about my life?” she yelled, spinning around. “What about my dreams?” She began pulling on her underwear clumsily. “I don’t want to be boxed in as your wife forever! I want to keep growing—doing things for myself!”

“And you will. You can keep writing from—”

“Shut up, Peeta!” she exploded. “No, I’m not going to move to DC,” she continued, eyes blurring with tears, throat burning, “and I’m definitely not going to marry you.”

Peeta fell silent, lowering his gaze before lifting it again with glassy eyes. Seeing him like that shattered her heart into a thousand pieces.

“But I love you.”

Katniss squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and every word he spoke felt like being hit by a moving car.

“I know!” she shouted. “I… I can’t keep doing this.”

Her hands quivered as she pulled her pants on. Peeta kept talking to her, but his words no longer reached her. All she could hear was the dull ringing in her ears, and all she could feel were the tears burning down her cheeks. She didn’t even grab her suitcase, only her bag.

She rushed down the stairs as best she could, ignoring Peeta’s pleas, anxiety firing through every nerve, her mind seconds away from breaking.

When she opened the door, she paused at the sound of Peeta’s voice behind her.

“If you walk out, this is over! Don’t ever come back!” Peeta yelled.

Katniss whipped around, tears spilling freely from her eyes.

“This what, Peeta? We didn’t even start!”

Christmas Eve, present day

“I wish I’d never met you,” Katniss said as she pushed herself up from the floor.

It wasn’t true. It slipped out of her like defeat, a response to Peeta’s words. Because finally, after a long time, she understood they were on the same page. Both of them knew they couldn’t be together. Neither of them was clinging to the possibility, questioning the what if…? This was simply the way they were coping with the situation; Peeta already ready to move on with his life, just without her. The fact that she agreed they didn’t make it any less painful.

Katniss locked herself in the bathroom and broke down again. She covered her face with both hands, the only sounds in the room her sobs, her ragged breathing, and Peeta’s voice calling to her from the other side of the door.

She walked out an hour later. When she opened it, she found Peeta’s back; he’d apparently been leaning there, waiting. Their eyes met for a couple of seconds before Katniss moved past him, wiping her face with the back of her hand as she headed toward the living room.

Peeta sat on the same couch, though still keeping his distance. The silence in there was thick, Katniss didn’t know how much time went by before she found the courage to break it.

“Did you ever… think about giving up your dream of being a politician for me?”

Peeta exhaled hard, rubbed his hands together, and lowered his gaze.

“Did you ever think about giving up your dream of being a writer for me?”

Yes, she had. On the long days and empty nights after they stopped talking. She had imagined what it would be like to leave everything behind, come back, live with him. Not get married yet… but share a life. Waking up next to him, falling asleep in his arms, making him coffee in the morning, showering together, doing everything together. She imagined it with such intensity that it became her only source of comfort during the time without him. It was the last thing she thought about before falling asleep, and the first thing she thought when she woke up.

But no, she wouldn’t have done it, at least not then. She wasn’t brave enough to give everything up for him. She had worked too hard to get where she was, and still… none of it felt the same after Peeta left. She tried to bury herself in work, in her writing, in other people, but nothing was the same. After him, nothing in her could ever be the same.

“I did,” Peeta said, breaking the silence. “All the time—I still do.”

Katniss had her eyes fixed on an empty point in front of her, but when she heard him, she turned.

“But… it’s complicated. I—you have to understand me, Katniss. I can’t do it. I can’t walk away from my life and move to California with you.” He sighed, dragging both hands over his face before continuing. “I want this—I want to make a difference, you know how much it means to me. Trying to leave a mark… and if getting myself a wife is going to help clear the path, then I’ll do it.”

She swallowed, though the knot in her throat wouldn’t budge.

“Who—she is—who are you…” she asked, at least tried.

Peeta stood up, crossing the living room with nervous steps, rubbing the back of his neck. Without daring to look at her, he answered, “Her name is Delly—Delly Cartwright.”

“Cartwright?” she asked, turning her head toward him. “As in the Cartwrights from—”

Peeta nodded before she could finish.

Of course. A family with power and influence, owners of half the state, and with a huge political legacy in that went back generations. A family that guaranteed privilege and connections, exactly what he needed for a future run for governor.

The comparison to herself felt disgusting inside her. Katniss, who didn’t even know how to act in front of a camera without looking awkward, who only wanted to write, live quietly and be happy. She was useless in that world; Delly probably wasn’t.

Katniss tried to hold it back. To swallow the anger, the knot, the tears that threatened to return. But something different inside her broke, full of jealousy and rage.

“Are you gonna fuck her?”

Peeta let out a dry laugh. He shut his eyes tightly for a second, like he wished he hadn’t heard that. Then he opened them and looked at her.

“Oh, Katniss, don’t do this,” he sighed, exasperated. “I don’t know. I—no, I have no idea.”

She shot up from the couch, hands at the sides of her head, wanting to cover her ears again. But he kept talking, his voice louder this time.

“Like you haven’t slept with anyone all this time!”

Katniss turned her head and looked at him, offended but also caught, because it was true. She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling her eyes burn; not from sadness this time, but from pure frustration. Yes, she had slept with other people. All nameless, meaningless, all during the time they weren’t speaking. Never before, never during, nor the last year; but that didn’t give him the right to throw it in her face.

Peeta took a step toward her. “Have you?” he asked. His blue eyes were pure fire, pain and desperation mixed together.

Katniss held his gaze. “During our break,” she spat. “And you don’t get to be mad at me.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, lowering his eyes for a moment. “I’m not mad at you.” He looked up again, locking onto her. “I’m jealous—it kills me to think of someone else touching you. I-it makes me sick. Not because of you—I can’t stand the idea of you with anyone else.”

“Like you haven’t slept with anyone all this time,” she shot back, rolling her eyes.

“I haven’t.”

Katniss scowled.

“I don’t know what you did to me,” he continued, taking another step toward her. “I can’t think about being with anyone who isn’t you—I can’t be with anyone who isn’t you. Since the first time we slept together—I haven’t touched another woman.”

Katniss stood frozen, mouth slightly open.

“You got me sick, Katniss,” he said, voice low and rough. “You fucked me up.”

That was it, that was all she needed.

She lunged toward him, her mouth crashing against his with anger and overwhelming desire. Peeta responded instantly, hands gripping her waist, dragging her against him. It wasn’t a sweet kiss; it was devastating.

They both knew exactly how this was going to end, but neither of them seemed to care.

Their hands lost in each other’s bodies, as if with every touch they were marking their territory. Katniss needed Peeta with an intensity that burned her insides, a deep hunger that erased everything else. She didn’t care if he was getting married, she didn’t care if someone came in and saw them, nothing mattered at that moment except the need to feel him inside her once more, to claim him as hers.

Katniss raised her hands to her sweater, ready to tear it off in her impatience, but Peeta put a hand on her wrist, stopping her so firmly that it made her gasp. His eyes, dark and full of possession, locked with hers.

“Don't—I’ll do it,” he grunted. His voice vibrated with dominance, with the need to mark her, and Katniss? She gave in instantly.

Peeta crashed his mouth against hers again, kissing her as always and as never before, tongues, teeth clashing, lips bitten, muffled moans, all of it leaving her breathless.

When they finally separated, Katniss felt her skin burning under his gaze. He took the edge of her sweater and quickly slid it over her head, then came the blouse; he didn’t even take the time to unbutton it, he just teared it off with force, revealing her breasts covered by the lace of her bra.

“Lie down on the rug,” he ordered. “I’m going to eat you.”

She obeyed without hesitation, kneeling on the rug, her skin tingling as she felt the fibers rubbing against her knees and Peeta positioning himself behind her. His warm breath brushed her ear, and he placed his hands on her shoulders.

“You’re mine,” he whispered in her ear, unhooking her bra and sliding it down her arms, “only mine.”

He pressed his lips to her neck so hard that she was sure it would leave a mark. The claim flooded her, damping her even more. She wanted to be only his in that moment, to forget everything and give herself to him.

He laid her down on the floor, and her need for him grew until it became painful as she watched him position himself between her legs. When he opened her thighs and buried his head between them, she lost herself.

Peeta devoured her like never before. His lips moved mercilessly over her wetness, tasting her as if it were the first time he had ever done so, as if it were the only thing he had ever eaten in his life. The sounds that came out of her were loud; she didn’t even try to hold them back. Pleasure coursed through her, she felt full by the way his tongue sank into her, the way he sucked her clit. Peeta growled against her, claiming her, holding her close to him. She felt herself melting, about to faint, lost in the passion of being completely eaten by him, possessed.

When he finally pulled away from her center, leaving her gasping on the carpet, a throbbing emptiness filled her. His tongue had been relentless and perfect inside her. And now, with pleasure still boiling in her blood, she looked at him with eyes clouded by desire, by the need for release. She hadn’t come, and she knew he knew she hadn’t, and she knew even more that he had done it on purpose.

Peeta stood up, and without breaking eye contact, quickly removed the rest of his clothes until he was completely naked, his erection throbbing before her. The sight of him, exposed and ready to claim her, sent another wave of heat through her belly, reminding her body cried out to be filled by him once more.

“Turn around, on your knees,” he said.

She positioned herself on her knees, arching her back to expose herself to him. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions: guilt over Peeta’s still non-existent future marriage, selfishness for wanting him all to herself, overwhelmed by everything she felt for him.

He knelt behind her, his hands resting on her ass; before she could process his next move, he leaned back down, his mouth returning to her wetness from behind, and ate her completely, making her scream uncontrollably. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, holding her open for him, she arched further, pressing her face against the fibers of the rug.

“This—you are mine,” he growled against her sex. Every time he sucked her clit, it felt like a mark, feeding her need for him until tears of ecstasy pooled in her eyes. No one had ever devoured her like this, no one would ever make her feel this way.

Finally, Peeta pulled away and positioned himself completely behind her. She felt the tip of his length brush against her entrance, and a moan escaped her lips before he even moved. Slowly, so slowly it drove her crazy with impatience, Peeta entered her, stretching her until she felt completely full, causing her inner walls to contract around him.

“Do you feel it?” Peeta said, pulling out of her only to thrust hard back in.

“Y-yes,” she gasped, and he began to move more, thrusting at a slow pace, each thrust growing stronger. His hands clung to her hips, pulling her toward him desperately, his grunts echoing around the room.

“Did the others make you feel this way—did you enjoy it as much as this?”

“N-no—no one,” she stammered, her voice broken by the pleasure that coursed through her with every movement of his hips against hers. “No one makes me feel like you do.”

Her words seemed to ignite something in him, because his thrusts became deeper.

His hands explored her back until they rested on her waist, pushing her down so she bended more, then returned to her ass, taking her harder. Katniss pushed back, her body begging for more.

“Peeta—harder,” she begged. “Please.”

She needed to feel him more out of control, more possessed by the same hunger that was consuming her. He listened to her, quickening his pace, his cock burying itself in her again and again until the heat began to build in her insides. Katniss lost herself in it, in the stretching, the rubbing against her sensitive spot, until she exploded.

She clung to the rug as best she could, her body convulsing with the sea of emotions, but even in the midst of that raw moment, sadness washed over her again as a reminder of everything that separated them. He was her refuge and her torment, the only one who could calm the emptiness in her soul while reviving the fire in her body.

Suddenly, he stopped. Katniss frowned, she wanted more of him; but relaxed when he gently rolled her again onto the rug, placing her on her back.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, she saw the change in him: the possessive fury that had burned in his gaze moments before faded, giving way to a deep sadness that mirrored her own. The veil of passion had been torn away, revealing only the pain they both carried silently, trying to drown it out with rough sex.

Peeta positioned himself carefully on top of her and slowly entered her again, this time with a gentleness that filled her in a different way.

Katniss wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. The pleasure was now pure tranquility, flowing through her like waves that touched not only her sex, but every corner of her being. Her hands moved up his back, tracing the tense muscles beneath his skin, seeking to anchor herself to him, to this connection that was the most real thing she had ever felt in her life. In that moment, the love that united them covered everything, transforming suffering into something inevitable.

He leaned toward her, and their lips met again, but this time it was a delicate kiss. Their tongues intertwined fragile as their hips continued to move slowly. Katniss tangled her hands in his hair, drawing him deeper into the union of their mouths. She was glowing passion, and love.

Then he pulled away slightly, his sad eyes fixed on hers.

“I love you, Katniss. I’ll love you for the rest of my life,” Peeta said. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry things turned out this way.”

All the pent up anguish, the vulnerability of her desire, and the fear of losing him forever, overflowed. A tear escaped from her eye, tracing a path down her cheek. It wasn’t just sadness; it was the love, the feeling of longing for a future they couldn’t have.

Peeta reached out his thumb to wipe away the tear, and the touch of his hand made her tremble more than the sex they had. Then he leaned down and kissed the trail of the tear. Katniss closed her eyes, a muffled sob escaping her throat from a deep release, but not for pleasure.

Christmas Eve, two years ago…

Katniss didn’t go back home that Christmas.

Christmas Eve, present day

When they were done, Peeta stood up and pulled a few blankets from the storing room. He dropped down beside her on the rug and wrapped himself in them along with her, skin against skin. Just his arms around her back, their legs tangled, they were exhausted; not just physically, but emotionally. Eventually they fell completely asleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

When they woke up, they didn’t even speak; they reached for each other again. They kissed, touched, clung to one another, and lost themselves for hours. Flesh against flesh, him against her. They were able to take their time to explore, to arouse, to give each other pleasure until every nerve in their bodies begged them to stop.

When hunger finally won, they got up, hair messy and bodies marked by one another, and went to the kitchen. They didn’t even bother serving the food, they reheated what they had made earlier and ate standing by the island, picking directly from the casserole, sharing the same bottle of whiskey they’d been drinking from before.

Katniss leaned against the edge, distractedly chewing a piece of chicken roll when her eyes landed on the box on the counter, her gift. She stared at it silently, feeling sadness begin to flood her again, but she didn’t say anything.

After dinner, they went back to the living room, settled again onto the rug, wrapping themselves in the blankets already carrying their scent and every rest of their bodies. They were as one once again. Their bodies moved in harmony, peace and pleasure flowing between them, until they burst out.

When they were done, she stayed there, naked, her cheek resting on her arm as she watched the rise and fall of his chest. She didn’t want to break the moment, but she also knew she couldn’t let it stretch on forever.

“The book… your gift,” she said without fully looking at him, her eyes tracing the rhythmic rise of his bare chest. “Was it your way of softening the news?”

She saw his body tense just slightly, until he let out a smile. But it wasn’t one of the ones he used to give her, it was sad.

“No,” he said quietly. “I’ve had it for two years. I just couldn’t give it to you last year—I forgot.”

Katniss pressed her lips together, holding back something she no longer knew if it was words or tears, and with a quiet sigh, she pushed herself up from the floor. Peeta propped himself up on his forearms, brows furrowed as he watched her walk toward her suitcase, still where she’d dropped it when she arrived. She knelt carefully and unzipped it.

She searched through the neatly folded clothes until she found a large envelope. She held it in her hands for a few seconds before returning to Peeta, who watched her closely, still not understanding.

She knelt in front of him and extended the envelope.

“It’s your gift,” she said softly. “Open it.”

Peeta’s eyes lit up for a moment, and he sat all the way up on the floor. He gently lifted the flap of the envelope and pulled out a thick stack of heavy pages. The title was printed at the top of the first sheet:

Untitled Love Story by Katniss Everdeen

Peeta looked up at her, confused. Katniss held his gaze for only a second before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and lowering her eyes.

“I’ve been working on it for the last few years,” she said with a shy smile. “I quit, I picked it back up, I hated it—I loved it again, I rewrote it a thousand times. But I finally finished it. I tried something different this time… a new genre.”

Peeta kept staring at her, still not fully grasping it. Katniss tilted her head gently and nodded toward the pages.

“Go to the next one.”

Peeta turned the page with his fingers, and when he saw what was written there, he went completely still.

This book is dedicated to my old friend, Peeta Mellark You changed my life—it will always lead to you in my hometown

Christmas Eve, one year ago…

Making the most of her short visit home for the holidays, Katniss had decided to spend the rest of the night doing something she’d been putting off for weeks: opening her accumulated fan mail. She prepared a mug of hot chocolate, curled up under a pile of blankets, and began opening the envelopes one by one.

Although the process might have seemed tedious to others, she enjoyed it. She was always moved by the dedication her readers poured into their letters. They wrote to her from everywhere; some sent playlists, or writing pieces inspired by her words. They always managed to bring a smile to her face.

Everything was going perfectly until her entire body froze at the words written on the next envelope.

TO Katniss Everdeen 2302 Marigold Ave. – Los Ángeles, CA

FROM Peeta Mellark 156 Jefferson Circle – Washington, DC

She bolted upright in bed and began pacing back and forth across her childhood bedroom.

“What the fuck… ” she whispered.

She didn’t know what to do, whether to open it or throw it away. She looked again at the top of the envelope, desperately searching for the postmark date. When she found it, her blood ran cold: October 10, two months ago.

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes tightly. Forcing herself to sit at the edge of the bed, she clasped her hands together. Despite the cold, her palms were sweating uncontrollably. She didn’t know if she was ready to read whatever Peeta had chosen to write after so much silence between them; but she also knew she couldn’t not read it.

She carefully tore open the envelope and slid a piece of folder paper. She unfolded the page with trembling fingers, and finally lowered her gaze to read.

Dear Katniss:

All year… all these almost two years without you, I’ve been in torment. I miss you more than you, me or anyone could ever imagine. My life feels empty without you. Every single day, you’re the only thing on my mind. You’re everywhere, I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe, all I do is think about you.

Whenever I see a woman with black hair and olive skin, someone who even slightly resembles you… my insides twist so hard I feel I’ll get a heart attack, wishing with everything I have that it’s actually you standing in front of me, only to be crushed the moment I realize it’s not. Just like when I pushed you out of my life. I know I handled everything wrong, I know I acted impulsively. But I need you to understand, spending the rest of my life with you didn’t sound bad at all.

During those first months without you, I was as angry as I was shattered, blaming you for something that was entirely my fault. Something I started, something I never should’ve done in the first place. After taking a long look at myself, I realized just how wrong I was and how much of an idiot I’d been. I never meant to tell you not to come back into my life. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that life without you is not life.

So imagine how I felt when I finally gathered the courage to call you, only to find out you’d changed your number. And despite being a best selling author now, you still refuse to have social media.

I waited for a while, until I couldn’t anymore and I flew to Los Angeles; that was in February. I stood outside your house for eighteen hours. You never came out, or maybe you never got home, I don’t know. I only left when someone nearby recognized me and I panicked. After all, I still had to protect my public image.

Forgive me for everything I did and everything I didn’t do. And believe me, even though I’m writing this, I’m asking for your forgiveness on my knees. It doesn’t matter how many times I apologize, or how many times you forgive me… it won’t erase how sorry I am, how foolish I’ve been, or how deeply in love with you I am.

I’m lost. I don’t know the kind of person I am without you, I only know the kind I am when I’m with you, and that’s the version I’ll always prefer. Despite our differences, our conflicts, the distance… no matter what, I’m always going to love you. Thank you for everything: for supporting me, for being there for me, for letting me into your life. You are the woman in my life, you made me the man I am today.

I’ll always remember you as the girl in pajamas and a watch more expensive than the entire supermarket combined, standing in the snack aisle trying to reach for those disgusting chips.

P.S. Stop releasing books. I’ll run out of money for buying every existing version of your creations. Kidding, you’re amazing. Never waste that talent. Do it forever, and I’ll keep being right there.

Love, Peeta

Katniss’s face was a sea of tears. She couldn’t even process what she had just read; the words moved and returned, slipping through her mind before she could grasp them. Her heart was lodged in her throat, pounding so hard it hurt to breathe.

She read the letter again. And again, and again. She didn’t know how many times she did it or when exactly she started sobbing so hard; the only evidence was the paper, completely soaked, some of the words blurred by the humidity of her tears.

Each read tore her apart even more.

She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to hold back the sound breaking from her throat, but it didn’t work. Thank God she was alone in the house.

Her whole body shook. She felt she was about to collapse right there, on the floor of her childhood bedroom, surrounded by memories that suddenly felt absurd and insignificant compared to the weight of what she held in her hands.

As much as it split her in two, as much as she wanted to tear the letter apart and pretend she had never received it… she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop reading it, and she couldn’t get out of her head what she was about to do.

It was a long shot, but she had to try.

Katniss threw her coat over her pajamas and grabbed her purse. She got into her mother’s car and started driving. As she moved through the empty streets, she tried to steady her breathing, to convince herself she wasn’t about to embarrass herself. That if he wasn’t there, or if someone else was with him, at least she would’ve tried. But she couldn’t think too much about it, because every time she did, she felt like she was going to throw up from the fear.

The drive was both short and eternal. By the time she reached Lake Grove, her hands barely responded, cramped from tension. She parked crookedly and stepped out on trembling legs, and despite that, she ran with everything she had, stumbling several times over the stone path; everything inside her was a mix of adrenaline and desperation.

In front of the door, she forced herself to take a deep breath, and then she knocked; once, twice, ten, a thousand, as many times as it took. She pounded on the door like her life depended on it. Just when her mind was about to stop her, the door opened.

A disheveled, sleepy Peeta stood on the other side, wearing a wrinkled shirt and swollen eyes. But the moment he saw her, it was as if someone had poured a jug of espresso shots down his throat; his entire body came awake, his expression shifting completely.

They looked at each other for a fraction of a second, and then Katniss threw herself at him without saying a single word. Her lips crashed into his with the hunger only he could ignite in her.

With one foot, Peeta shut the door behind them.

They made love all night, without pause, in every position imaginable, in every corner of the house that had witnessed them grow closer and fall apart.

Katniss couldn’t get enough; she never would. His body, his breath, his very being… no matter how many times they came together, she would want him again, once more, always belonging to him.

When their bodies finally gave out, they retreated beneath the sheets. The same sheets where, years ago, they had first discovered each other. They talked for hours, avoiding anything that might shatter the fragile peace between them. Naked, sweaty, tangled together… there was no better definition for fullness than that moment.

She looked at him, touched him, and couldn’t believe she had him in front of her again. That he was hers, that he was making her his over and over; not just with his body. She’d spent two years without him, without feeling him, without hearing him, without seeing that part of herself that only existed when she was with him.

Morning arrived sooner than either of them wanted. Still sore and tight hearted, Katniss opened her eyes to the faint dawn light slipping through the curtains. There was no need for an alarm; they both knew their time was up.

Katniss had to return to California.

She thought maybe this year the goodbye wouldn’t hurt as much. But she was wrong; because that night, she had accepted a truth she had buried for years: that she didn’t want to be with anyone but him. That no matter how much time passed, no matter where life took her, no matter how many books she wrote, she would always end up back here, in this house, with him. Always him.

When the moment came to leave, Peeta cupped her face in both hands and kissed her one last time.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.

Katniss felt heaven crack open inside her chest. Of course she wanted to say it too, to scream it if necessary. But before she could give him the answer she wanted to, she had to tame the storm still raging inside her. Because as much as she loved him with every corner of herself, she still didn’t know what to do with all of it.

So she simply looked at him, swallowed the knot in her throat, and said: “I know.”

Christmas, present day

From the moment she met him, Peeta had been an intriguing mystery to her.

For years she believed he was the one confusing her; that it was his way of speaking, the intensity of his gaze, his persistence… but she was wrong. With time, with distance, with every reunion and every goodbye kiss, Katniss began to unravel that mystery. Until she reached the most obvious conclusion of all: the mystery wasn’t exactly him, it was her.

He was transparent and emotionally open. She on the other hand, was a wall; painted with fears carefully trained into her by herself since childhood. She spent years asking herself why Peeta was the way he was, when the real question should have been why she couldn’t be more like him.

From a very young age she had hidden behind that wall, built out of control, single minded focus, and distance; from her home, from everyone around her, because she thought it would help her get where she most wanted to go. Ando that wall protected her, yes, but also left her alone. All it ever did was push her farther not only from others, but from herself. Home stopped feeling like home; she didn’t belong here or there.

Could Katniss leave her life in California for Peeta? Yes. She knew exactly what she would lost, it would cost, what it would mean, but she also knew what she would gain.

Could Peeta leave his life here for her? Yes, maybe; but he wouldn’t. Not because he didn’t love her —she had no doubt about that— but because he still had so much left to build. If there was something she understood after everything they shared yesterday, it was that it still wasn’t their time.

Just as she had managed to fulfill so many of her own goals, he was still in the middle of pursuing his. She didn’t want to stop him. On the contrary, she wanted to watch him reach everything he set out to do, watch him transform his world in his own way. Because if there was anyone in the entire country with the heart and the conviction to make a real change, it was him. And with all the ache pulling at her chest, she accepted that she would not be walking beside him on that path.

Peeta was the most extraordinary person she had ever known. She admired so many things about him; but above all, she admired his determination. The way he never strayed from his path, not even while loving her the way she knew he did. He always knew what he wanted and where he was going, just like her.

And that similarity between them was, ironically, the root of their conflict. Because they loved each other, but neither was willing to abandon their own dreams, and following those dreams would only pull them farther apart.

Katniss had never tried to drag Peeta into her world, had never asked him to stop for her; something he had asked of her before, proving that Peeta still didn’t fully understand her, or himself, she bet. Yes, he knew her, he loved her more than anything, but he hadn’t peeled back all the layers of the onion yet.

She wasn’t an expert on the subject either, there’s stuff she’d only realized herself the past year. But she couldn’t guide him, there are things a person can only learn on their own. She had already gone through it as much as it hurt; he still had to get there. He still needed to figure himself out; discover who he was without her, reach his goals, make more mistakes, fall and learn how to get back up.

He still had a long way to go. In a way, he did make progress, he even beat her at something: ending things first. Katniss came to Lake Grove that Christmas with the intention of ending it for good, for his sake as much as for her own.

Peeta would get there someday, she knew he would; and when he did, then maybe…

But not now.

Until then, she would hold on to the memories. The good ones, and the painful ones too, because they were what had brought her here.

When she was about to step into the car that would take her back to the airport, Katniss turned toward him one last time. She looked into his eyes, took his face in her hands, and kissed him with every bit of certainty she had left inside her.

“I love you,” she said when she pulled away.

Peeta looked at her, his eyes heavy with sadness, and replied: “I know.”

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