Outtake from "For You To Notice Me.'

I promise this will make little to no sense without reading FYTNM first. But hey - it's your world, I just live in it.

And true to FYTNM, there will a flashback. Isn't there always?

2010

She's not going to be able to go. She just has to accept it.

Delly listens as the rain patters on the roof of her old 1993 Geo Tracker. She slowly rests her head against the steering wheel in agony, trying to let the sad reality sink in a little further. The tickets that she had worked so hard to get and pleaded so desperately for are now going to be null and void.

And she loves The Killers.

Once more, she tries to turn the key in the ignition but it's an epic fail. It seems as though the only thing she is going to be looking at tonight is her driveway. There is no one available to call, no money for a cab. She's supposed to be going to the concert with her friend Valerie from dance, but she doesn't have a car either. Disappointment washes over her again and again. She angrily thrusts open her driver's side door, allowing the bitter cold of March to sweep across her face.

She huffs all the way back to her room and takes a seat in front of her computer. What else is she supposed to do on a Saturday night? Just as she goes to instant message her friend, Valerie, thegoodlookingmellark sends her a message.

What are you wearing?

She bitterly tells Mitch to fuck off; her car is a piece of shit and that she isn't in the mood for his shenanigans. He immediately gets the hint and peacefully leaves her to continue her solemnity.

It's not more than twenty minutes later that she hears the sounds coming from her driveway. She peeks through the blinds and finds Mitch under the hood of her car in the pouring rain, banging away at something with a wrench.

Delly immediately heads outside, umbrella and her car keys in hand. She brings the umbrella over to him, using it as a canopy to shield him from the rain. It's probably useless at this point because he is positively drenched, but regardless, he gives her a warm, gracious smile before continuing on.

Ten minutes later, Mitch tells Delly to try and start the car. Once the keys are in the ignition, she turns it over and hears the engine sputter and roar as it usually does. She squeals in excitement from the driver's seat and watches Mitch give her a thumbs-up through the window.

She clasps her hands together as though she is praying and looks up. She mouths the words 'Thank you' to him in the sincerest way possible.

Present

Delly gawks at Mitch as he stands by the cheese tray, carefully picking out the mild cheddar from the white. She chuckles to herself about this, remembering earlier in the evening when she inquired why he was doing such a thing. His response was, "I don't trust cheese that isn't yellow..." She could only roll her eyes, knowing that this is a typical Mitch response - an elusive answer that really doesn't make sense.

He grabs some water on his way back to their table, muttering something under his breath the whole way. She can't help but stare at him as he takes a seat next to her. His dark gray tuxedo is well fitting, seemingly hugging every muscle in his body. As he lowers himself into a chair, his brown fair falls perfectly in place. Delly doesn't miss the details of Mitch's face, noticing that his eyes are much like Peeta's; a pool of ocean blue so easy to become lost in.

"What are you going on about?" Delly asks him.

"This sparkling water. It tastes like fucking shit." The face he makes while ingesting the liquid is priceless. She finds herself laughing at his crudeness.

"Sparkling water is basically soda water, meant to be mixed. It's probably supposed to go with the non-alcoholic sangria they have over there." She points in the direction of the fruity liquid mix that sits on a table next to the water.

Mitch just looks down at the bottle, then back up to Delly.

"Why the hell wouldn't they just put it in there? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Delly shrugs indifferently. She could really give a good God damn about it to be honest. She fleetingly thinks about the quarter pint of Stoli Vanil she had stolen from Aunt Linda's stash fit so well. The sparkling water proved to be a great addition.

"Relax, would you?" She pushes her cup over to Mitch, who smells it just before a smile creeps across his face.

"Where'd you get this?" he asks while beaming his perfect white teeth at her. They are so bright they could be in a fucking commercial.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Well, there are definitely some things I would like to know more."

Mitch raises an eyebrow at her suggestively, but she has become impervious to this. If she had a dollar for every single time he winked at her, referenced her breasts or gazed longingly at her back side, she would have a college fund by now. It's no secret at this point, she gets it. Mitch wants to sleep with her.

"Aren't there women of your own age group that want to have sex with you? Or are teenage girls the only ones dumb enough to fall for your antics?"

He raises a finger to his chin and pretends to scrupulously think over her questions. "You know, I've never really thought about it that much. But now that you mention it, I enjoy women of all age groups - and they usually enjoy me."

Delly tries to resist the urge to roll her eyes, seeing as how only moments prior she had done the exact same thing. She can't help it, though; Mitch seems to elicit these types of responses from her. But at the same time, however, he has an invigorating quality about him. Mitch is like an old shoe that fits well; rough around the edges, but comforting and always there. Perhaps it's the fleeting moments when he is so much like Peeta it's scary, or that he has acquired the qualities of his self-assured father. Either way, Delly feels completely at home with him.

A barrage of teenagers start heading towards the exit of the country club. Delly glances at them before turning her head to the other side of the room where Peeta, Johanna and Katniss are all enjoying themselves. The clock is ticking and the dance will be ending soon.

Almost as if he is reading her mind, the question falls from Mitch's lips. "So, what are we doing after this?"

Delly lets a wry smile creep across her face before answering, "Nothing that concerns you."

"We'll see," he responds arrogantly.

"Mitch," Delly explains carefully while covering his hand with hers. "I know this is hard for you to understand, but there are some women who just aren't interested in seeing you naked."

Her words don't seem to perplex him in the least. "You won't know if you don't try."

"Trust me. I never want to see you naked."

"Never say never. Anything could happen. You could accidentally trip or fall, your mouth landing on my dick in the process. I mean, that's life."

She bursts out laughing. How can she not? His eyes are sparkling so dangerously, and nothing Delly says ever seems to faze him. She could tell him to go leap off a cliff, and he would just continue to grin from ear to ear, carrying on with the constant sexual advances.

They don't notice Johanna until she plops into the seat next to Mitch.

Johanna leans into the table and in a careful volume explains her devised plan. "So, this is what we should do. We tell them that we're going to a hotel party that way they can leave together. Delly, you can just drop me and Mitch off at home, that way Peeta can take Katniss in Mitch's car."

Delly can't help but wonder whether this whole thing is futile. She isn't one hundred percent convinced that Katniss cares about Peeta, and it honestly makes her blood boil. Mitch doesn't miss her face turning beet red, and attempts to relieve Delly's flustered state.

"Dell, do you mind?"

Of course she minds. But she doesn't want to be that person, the one who can't control her emotions or have a handle on things. She maintains a steady glare, staying cool and collected while smiling for her audience.

"Not at all."

Johanna's plan ends up working to perfection.

When they are all standing at the door and bidding each other goodbye, the air is thick. Katniss is hanging on every word Peeta says. Delly's palms nearly bleed from her nails digging into them. All this time, Katniss has never showed him the tiniest inkling of attention. Now all of a sudden she is infatuated? What could she really know about Peeta? Her best friend. Her Peeta.

Delly is practically zoned out, so Mitch links an arm with hers, keeping her grounded. She's glad when the antics are over, and soon enough she's in the car with Johanna and Mitch.

The ride to Johanna's house is silent. Delly turns the music on low just so she doesn't go stir crazy. As she pulls up in front of her house, just before she gets out of the car Johanna speaks, "She's crazy about him, you know. Confused, but crazy..."

After Johanna closes the door, knowing she can speak frankly in front of Mitch, Delly lets it fly. "Well la-dee-fucking da."

"What's your problem?" Mitch asks. "You helped set this whole thing up. You think you'd at least be happy about it."

Delly lets out a long sigh, flamboyantly blowing out her cheeks in the process. "I am, in a way. He would do it for me."

Mitch looks over at her, puzzled. She can barely make out his face in the dark, his features only illuminated when they pass by streetlights.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. Peeta's better at this stuff than I am."

"What stuff?"

She shrugs, not really wanting to continue on with the conversation. He is unraveling her, opening up her raw wounds that she has tried so hard to keep buried. She doesn't want to feel bare and vulnerable.

Delly lets out a thankful exhale as the Mellark household comes into view. She immediately feels guilty upon seeing Mitch's face clearly covered in disappointment.

"You should come in," he says. "Parents are in Pittsburgh for the weekend."

Delly shoots him a glare and shakes her head vigorously.

"Come on, nothing like that. Monopoly?" he suggests.

Delly laughs a little bit. Mitch is no stranger to her likes and dislikes after years of being Peeta's best friend. But Delly is usually the one begging the Mellark boys to play a vicious, cut throat game of Monopoly. She knows that in reality, he has no interest in doing so. Mitch is just throwing out the line, hoping to lure her in.

"Fine," she says hastily before she can change her mind. "But no funny stuff."

Two hours later, the clock reads 2:14 AM. Her buzz is beginning to wear off. Mitch has a majority of the properties and a monopoly, but Delly is trying her best to persuade him into trading Atlantic Avenue.

"I'll give you both of my railroads and two hundred dollars," she offers.

Mitch shakes his head with an evil grin. "No way. You do this every time. If I give you this property, you're just going to build a bunch of hotels and screw me over. It's not happening."

Delly gives him her best puppy dog eyes look, but he doesn't budge.

"What about this one?" Delly holds up Baltic Avenue, the purple property with the cheapest rent on the whole board. Mitch has its match, but shakes his head nevertheless.

"No way."

She juts out her bottom lip and attempts to give him her most convincing, morose face. When this doesn't work, she holds up the rest of her properties, trying to see if any of them will change his mind.

He says no to all.

"Come on! There has got to be something. At this rate, it's going to take me all night to win."

Mitch raises his left eyebrow suggestively. "I'll give it to you in exchange for a kiss," he proposes, half joking.

"No," Delly responds flatly.

"Fine then," Mitch answers in a high pitched voice. She lets out a deep sigh, knowing that if she doesn't get that card, he is going to win. And she hates losing.

She contemplates this momentarily, watching him shift his weight and stealing glances back at her. His blue eyes blaze from a close distance and she wonders if it would be like kissing Peeta. Curiosity gets the best of the situation and she decides to defy her better judgment.

"Fine. Three seconds, no tongue."

Mitch glances up at her, completely confounded. This isn't something he was expecting. Delly watches as he sits up in his chair and straightens himself out. She can't help but notice how handsome he looks with his top two buttons undone, lashes thick, tie loose, hair disheveled. His suit coat had been strewn about on the chair earlier in the night.

"Um, okay," he agrees softly. His confidence is still there, but it seems to have dwindled somewhat. She can't help but find that odd.

Delly's heart begins to stir. She has only kissed two boys before, boys being the keyword. Both of these instances were many moons ago, and will surely be of little or no use to her. They had been sloppy, rushed pecks on the lips with little regard to detail. Mitch is a grown man with years of experience, accustomed to a physical pleasure. She is sure that her lack of knowledge in this area will shine through.

Delly just sits there, staring at him nervously. He realizes that she isn't going to make the first move, so he leans in and presses his lips to hers. What a daunting feeling this is for her; the way his skin radiates warmth, the electricity of his fingertips, the boldness of his lips. Delly finds herself floating adrift, lost in the newness of it all. When Mitch's tongue enters her mouth and starts searching for her own, she finally realizes that she doesn't want it to end. She wants to become immersed in it, to live in it, never letting the flames fizzle.

Delly is consciously aware that she is breaking all of her own rules, but her body seems to be taking precedence over intellectual decision making. His hands never stay still. They find their way to her hair, her back, her legs. His touch is an inexplicable fire. It grasps at the quick of her, catching her in places she never knew and forcing his name to escape softly from her lips.

He's like a fucking sculptor.

Delly's hands begin to creep up the bottom of Mitch's shirt, but he stops them. This forces her to meet his gaze, and the redness in her cheeks becomes very evident. He brings his hand up to her face and kisses her lips.

"Where are you? Are you with me or him?"

She isn't sure what he is asking, but it seems like a pretty straight forward question. "Well, I'm with you right now..."

Mitch passes along a frustrated glance. "I'm not talking about geographical coordinates, Delly. I'm talking about you. Because it doesn't seem like you're kissing me, but rather someone else. And I'm going to be honest, I don't know if I'm strong enough to say no if you are. I've loved you for a long time..."

This catches her off guard, and it's a topic she didn't think would be broached at any point this evening. It shouldn't surprise her, really. Indeed, she has half-heartedly known all along. It could feasibly be denial that has led to her up to this point. But in reality, it's always been looming. It's been evident in his strained voice, longing glances, and persistent advances.

Delly kisses him this time, really trying to focus. She finds it difficult to do just that because everything he does feels so incredibly good. She can taste hints of sweetness on his lips and smell the sweat from his neck. Even the way his heart beats against her chest unnerves her.

Mitch picks her up by her outer thighs and carries her across the kitchen, through the foyer and into his bedroom. He sets her down on the edge of the bed before turning on the lamp. Unlike Peeta, Mitch's room is very plain and simple. The only thing in it really is a bed, desk and dresser.

"Look at me," he says while leaning over her, bringing her back to reality. He begins pulling his shirt over his head before whispering in her ear, "Stay with me."

Delly closes her eyes, feeling his lips graze the side of her neck, his teeth gently scraping across her skin every so often. The soft hair on the side of his face sends warm, fiery signals across her cheekbones and between her thighs. Fluttering traces of his lips find their way down her clavicle and above her breast, leaving her panting as shivers course through her body.

He adjusts the strings to the back of her dress, peppering kisses over her shoulder blades. When the dress begins to loosen and fall, she tenses. Mitch presses his bare chest against hers and pulls the dress down further. Her response is a blush that creeps across her face as a need rises from deep within her.

"You're perfect," he whispers softly in her ear, planting gentle kisses around her lobe.

She's suddenly glad that he isn't Peeta. How odd this would be if feelings were in question? The amount of trust that is needed, the comfort level that has to be present, it would've all been absent with him. She realizes that the way Mitch undeniably loves her, wants her, makes all the difference in the world.

When his lips cover her breast and his tongue begins to gently patter at her sensitive nipples, she inadvertently encourages him by running her fingers through his hair. He spends ample time tantalizing each area until she is writhing under his touch and her whole body seems to be on fire. She briefly wonders if this is what all of Mitch's other encounters were like. Has he always been this gentle and attentive?

Delly watches the rest of their clothes move to the floor. Somehow in this process, he has managed to make her feel comfortable and completely at ease. She finally glances over to fully look at him. She stares in awe as he pushes her back against the bed and hovers over her, his hands gently stroking her skin.

She isn't quite sure what to do when his head moves downward, her mind filled with a strange mixture of excitement and fear. But when his warm breath hits her and his tongue finds its way between her flaps, everything becomes a haze. His tongue seems to be a pinpoint, with a finite precision of pressure, speed and rhythm. She can only grasp at the sheets in lust. Her toes curl as her heels dig into the mattress, wildly anticipating what seems to be building with haste. A strange heat then takes over, preciously accumulating to something beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.

Just before she is about to reach this place, he stops and hovers her again. She can feel him like stone, pressed against her thigh. His eyes meet hers to ask the question of the hour. She doesn't need to say it as they silently understand one another. And without further ado, he slowly begins to push himself into her. What starts out as painful and hollow turns into a deep, guttural wanting. She finds that she is positioning herself to allow him to go further, to thrust deeper. But he keeps her grounded, not allowing her to leave. His lips reassure her all the way, making sure that nothing hurts while telling her just how wonderful she is. And when she thinks it can't possibly feel any better, he pushes again, taking her to that faraway place. It's past where he left her off before, and the stars shine even more brightly than she'd ever imagined.