Disclaimer: Nothing, sadly.

Thank you for all the reviews (they make me smile), the follows (they make me dance), and for just being the amazing fandom you are!

Happy Readings!

June 20th, 2011; Thursday

Monday night had passed in a blur of lasagna, my mother's coy smile/over joy of seeing Wyatt, and Finnick and Peeta talking as if they had been best friends forever. We laughed, talked, and were thoroughly entertained by Wyatt dancing and shaking to whatever came on the radio that had a good rhythm to it.

After Peeta and Wyatt left, as Finnick and I cleaned the kitchen, my mother sat drinking her tea and asking a hundred questions. All of them revolving around a 'reignited spark' that was literally lighting up her entire house all night.

Basically, my mother gave me her blessing to take Peeta into my old bedroom and have my way with him.

The copious amount of wine I drank from the bottle (that I had taken with me) on our way home. Pf. Priceless.

Tuesday morning had come and gone with a hangover and breakfast at Sae's. The elderly woman had come out from the kitchen, her arms raised high above her head.

She had shoved Finnick all the way against the wall in the booth, grabbed my hand in hers, and took up our morning making me tell her all about New York and if their food was half as good as hers.

It definitely wasn't.

Tuesday afternoon was spent next to the lake. Finnick sat against the old oak tree ("Is this from Wyatt's bedroom?!") and I laid my head over his lap, watching as the leaves glittered green from the heavy sun on top of them.

We talked about our childhood, our jobs, and despite Finnick's better effort, we did not talk about Peeta.

Because as far as I was concerned, I wasn't ready to come to terms with Peeta and my feelings for Peeta.

Instead I had focused on the light breeze that danced across our faces. And the vast and deep lake that had an inner stream that caused the water to gracefully roll from the left side to the right side, singing hush lullabies. I focused on the green grass and the darker green leaves of the oak tree and the spindly trees surrounding us, and how this was something New York (as much as I loved it) could never offer me.

We had spent Wednesday in Pittsburg with Prim and Rory. Despite my more forgiving nature with Peeta, my, normally non-existent, anger with Prim was still seething below my skin. She knew exactly why and though she did try to make amends for the giant secret that was Wyatt, I couldn't find it in me to just excuse it. Even though that was how I operated with Prim. She could do or say anything and I could never, ever stay mad at her.

And maybe it was all the secrets while I was in New York, and even the secret around her engagement with Rory, and just, I don't know.

Finnick quietly reminded me through lunch that the secrets were to protect me, so that I could be happy.

And I understood that. However, the part (the deep seeded part) that lit up around Peeta and felt like a child around my mom's friends, and wanted to smoke and sneak into the abandon school storage building with Gale and Thom, and wanted to grab milkshakes at Sae's with Madge and Prim, that part was angry that Prim hadn't just let me be miserable and forced me home.

And that part was what was making it that much more difficult for me to forgive her.

I knew that was wrong, to hold that over Prim, but here we were.

By the time we had dropped Prim and Rory back home I was able to give her a tight hug. It was enough to pass the message along that I just needed a little more time. Time not spent in Panem.

Apparently my mental health deteriorated in Panem.

The week had gone by in a blur and I was so ready to be home.

"I love your grandfather, he's amazing." Finnick pointed his finger up into the air. "Nothing like my grandfather who is demanding and shrill."

I roll my eyes. We had just left my grandparents at my mother's. They had flown in from Florida for the wedding. We were now heading to the bakery because Finnick had a craving for cookies. Though I feel he has alternative motives.

And it's not like Peeta and I hadn't talked since Monday. We had been texting each other while he was at work, going back and forth about why we both loved and hated our jobs.

It's what old friends did.

The bakery is still stilling at the fork in the road, the rounded square building is still colorful and welcoming. The smell of vanilla, sugar, cinnamon, and butter-cream are wafting through the air as if it were oxygen.

"It's from all the wedding pastries." I state, taking a deep breath and moving forward. Finnick basically skips behind me, the excitement of fresh cookies almost too much for him.

He's basically a small child.

I open the door to the bakery, allowing the warmth of the ovens and the smell of sweets to engulf me.

"Kit-Kat?" I open my eyes to see Rye Mellark standing behind the counter.

The bakery is basically deserted, save for one or two people dotted along the far wall at the little café tables.

Rye is about an inch taller than Peeta's 5'11" stature. His blonde hair is combed neatly back, showcasing his high cheek bones and dark blue eyes. Though he's taller than Peeta, his younger brother is broader.

"Hey Rye-bear." I smirk.

Rye's smile doubles in size as he jumps the counter and bum-rushes me in a hug. I swing my arms round his neck, laughing as he lifts me and spins me around.

"Oh my god! Katniss!" His breath tickles my neck. He laughs and gives me another tight squeeze, finally letting me down. "Fuckin' A! Look at you! Peeta said you were looking fucking gorgeous, but for Christ's sake!"

I nod my head. "I'm sorry I haven't stopped in sooner, you know the drill." Rye makes a face that states 'not to worry' and shrugs. I turn and grab Finnick's hand. He's staring at Rye with a confused expression. "Rye, this is Finnick Odair, one of my closest friends from New York."

Finnick smiles and puts out a hand. "I'm the platonic date."

Rye is looking at Finnick for a hard moment, before nodding his head. "Hey, Peeta said some great stuff about you, as well; both of you."

There's something off in Rye's comment but I'm suddenly distracted by the kitchen door flying open behind the counter.

"No, no, no." Wyatt's voice floats from behind the counter and the glass bubble tops that display the baked goods.

We all watch as he pushes the little counter door open, standing in bright awe of the three of us. His smile is short lived as the door swings around, pushing him back behind it.

Rye sighs and places a hand over his face. "Kid looks like Peeta but has Mark's good common sense. Come here little man." He goes over to the little door and bends down, bringing Wyatt up with him.

Wyatt looks at us, a sixty-watt smile appearing over his lips.

"Hey mister." Finnick nudges me to the side to give Wyatt a high-five. He laughs at Finnick and then propels himself from his uncle so that he's hanging by Finnick's neck. "A new fan."

"It's because Finnick is a teacher." I shake my head to Rye. "Children love him."

"It's all good, as long as the little man likes me better than Mark, I'm golden." Rye laughs to himself, moving so that he's back behind the counter. He leans over it and gives me the 'Mellark' grin.

"Rye, is Wyatt in here?" Peeta walks out from the kitchen covered in flour. He sees Wyatt dangling from Finnick's neck, babbling in the older man's ear. "You two must think I'm a horrible father, every time you're around I have lost my child."

Finnick chuckles. "It hasn't been every time."

"We came to grab some cookies and bread." I move closer to the counter, leaning against it. Rye gives me a playful smile, moving from his elbows, he gives me a hug, his face digging into the side of my stomach.

It's homage to the old flirtatious game Rye use to play with me to annoy the shit out of Peeta. Besides his raw talent of cussing like a sailor, Rye Mellark was a bit of a class clown. And his favorite joke of all, piss Peeta off as much as possible. This general joke/game/what have you generally revolved around me. Because nothing got to Peeta faster than I did.

I chance a look at Peeta who is eyeing Rye viciously. I guess (the deep part hoped and prayed) that I was still a perfect pawn in the game for Rye.

"What are you doing here so early?" I cross my arms, resting my elbow on Rye's head. It was only about four o'clock.

"My boss left early for a meeting, so I snuck out. I wanted to do a few things for the wedding." Peeta grabs a towel from his side, which was hanging from one of the tied strings of his apron. "I still owe you two dinner."

"I love food." Finnick mumbles. We all look at him. Wyatt is now sitting on his shoulders, trying to grab the lights hanging from the ceiling.

"Finnick does love food." I state, the tone of my voice harbors shame.

Peeta chuckles, throwing the towel over his shoulder. Rye removes himself from me and turns to grab the cookies from the bubble case.

"You two free tonight? I'll cook." I look over to Finnick, who is looking at Peeta and nodding. Wyatt, either bored or un-amused with the currently situation, flies from Finnick's shoulders. My heart basically drops into my stomach with fear.

It's a waste of fear because Peeta catches his son without so much of a blink of an eye.

Finnick has a hand on his chest, his eyes the size of planets.

Wyatt's giggles are loud and filling the bakery. Peeta and Rye both seem undeterred.

"I am so sorry; I thought I had a firmer grasp on him." Finnick looks like he's going to start crying.

"No, no, it's actually my fault, my oldest brother, Mark, this is a game we play. I'm sorry. I didn't think Wyatt would jump off of you, in the bakery." Peeta gives his son a stern look. "It's more so an outside game."

"You let your son jump off of people?" There is no humor in my voice.

"He doesn't let Wyatt jump off people." Rye gives me a look and the look on my face instantly falls off. "A few months ago we were all in the woods and we were goofing around. Well, Mark put Wyatt on his shoulders and Wyatt began wiggling and fell off Mark. Peeta flew fucking across the table and grabbed Wyatt just before he landed into the grass. Mark kept saying it was a game so Wyatt wouldn't freak the fuck out. And low and behold, the lack of common sense Mark has reared its ugly head. Wyatt really only ever does it when Mark is around." Rye pointed over to Peeta. "Fucking Mark is going to cause an accident one day."

Peeta rolls his eyes. "Well, now I just feel I owe you dinner do causing you both to think I'm a really horrible father."

"No, we don't think that." I state, apologetic. "We're not really use to being around kids."

"I don't know, Katniss, Cameron uses the chandeliers as vines to swing along the dining room. That was an awesome Thanksgiving."

I feel we're straying off topic. I take a deep breath and smile at Peeta.

"We'll be over around seven?"

"Perfect!" Peeta gives me a bright smile. "Thank you."

"For coming to dinner?" I laugh. "It's really our pleasure."

"It's food!" Finnick says. I look over to him and sigh.

Such shame.

"I didn't mean to eat all the cookies." Finnick says for the one millionth time.

"It's not the fact you ate all the cookies. It's the fact you ate all of them with-in an hour." I pull into Peeta's driveway.

"I think you're just mad that I called you out on this littler dinner rendezvous." Finnick sticks his tongue out at me.

I give him a nasty look and then climb out of the car.

I had changed into a long skirt and a lacy tank top that I had planned on wearing to brunch Sunday morning after the wedding. My hair, normally braided, was loose and wavy against my back. I had even put on a speckle of make-up.

The argument of I was trying to impress Peeta had been pretty loud between Finnick and I. I expected to get a scolding from Darla, but she had simply given me a knowing smile.

I suppose my mother wasn't the only one who was hoping for a re-kindle of emotions.

Which, I may say, there would be none.

As I had told Madge, I was not here to disturb the peaceful life that Peeta or Prim, or anyone else had created.

I needed this wedding to be over and done with so I could get back to the city and back into my own life.

"I told you, I just wanted to dress nicely. You're looking snazzy!" I accuse Finnick quietly as we both head to the front door.

"You told me to dress like a decent human being! You're so freakin' stubborn!" The accusing tone is whipped back at me.

I ring the doorbell.

"You're impossible." I'm holding a bottle of wine tightly by the neck.

"I'm impossible? Have you looked into a mirror lately, sweetheart?" Finnick looks on the verge of shoving me into the bushes next to the front door.

"Hey!" Peeta throws open the door, his smile dimming as he stares at Finnick and I. "Is everything ok?"

"Fine." Finnick and I state together, we give each other little glares before I side-step Peeta into the house.

I hear tiny little foot-steps coming from the living room. Wyatt has his arms out, running towards me.

"Oh!" I squat down, placing the bottle down, and opening my arms widely. I can feel the look of disappoint that spreads across my face as Wyatt takes a sharp left and runs into Finnick.

Finnick gives me a cocky look as I stand up and he walks past me towards the kitchen.

"Are you two ok?" Peeta asks as he leans down and grabs the bottle of wine I have forgotten in the short few seconds I was squatted down.

"We're fine. It's the perks of living together." I smooth my skirt. "Did you get everything you wanted done at the bakery?"

"I did, with no help from Rye and Wyatt." Peeta places his hand on my lower back, directing me to follow Finnick. "I'm just so thankful I have tomorrow and Monday off. You know, your mom volunteered to bring Wyatt home Saturday and sleep over with him so I can stay at the hotel with everyone else that night. Instead of driving back for the brunch."

That lady is a trip.

"You're booking a room?"

"I'm going to crash with our cousin Rodney." Peeta shrugs. "Are you and Finnick sharing a room?"

"No, Finnick usually needs his own room after weddings. I've never seen him leave a wedding alone." I roll my eyes. "I feel it's a cheap and disgusting little ritual, but, what am I to say."

Peeta nods his head slowly. I notice that Finnick and Wyatt are not in the kitchen. Peeta's hand moves from my lower back, his body moving into the kitchen to place down the bottle and stir whatever he has in the pot.

"Whatcha making?"

"Lamb stew." My lazy smile makes an appearance over his shoulder and with-in seconds I'm behind him, hands on his waist, my chin resting to see and smell my favorite meal in the world.

"Are you serious?" It smells divine and I can feel the drool pooling at the corner of my mouth.

"I wanted to thank you." He shifts so that he's looking at me, his nose touching my nose.

My stomach drops and there's a pull at the core of my body. I think to myself, all I have to do is nudge my face slightly forward. It would be as easy as it was when we were ten and I thanked him for baking me and Prim cupcakes. Our first kiss, shared on my front porch with a tray of strawberry shortcake cupcakes (because I love strawberry shortcake) between us. My Girl was a predominant movie for Madge and Delly and I had ended up watching it way more times than I had ever wanted too.

I pull away before I can do anything, falling back on my heels. I hadn't even realized I had gone on my tip-toes.

"I remembered it was your favorite." Peeta says; dry swallowing and darting his tongue over his lips.

I nod my head. "It still is. I haven't had it in ages though."

"What? There's no lamb stew in that fancy city of yours?" Peeta nudges me and goes to put the lid on the pot. "You know, after you left I learned how to cook this." He smiles at some random memory. "I was going to make it that Thanksgiving. The first one. The one you missed because you were sick." There's an infliction on the word sick.

"I was sick." I say it passively. I was really sick. Homesick and depression can take a toll on one's body.

Cato had his work cut out for him as my friend. I had always wondered why he had stuck it out as he had.

Peeta gives a curt nod of his head, leaning back to pull the oven open.

"I thought you never open the oven." It's my turn to take a jab at him.

He chuckles, closing the oven door. "Only if you're not a professional."

"You're not a professional." I quip.

"I know more than you do when it comes to this kind of stuff."

Just as I open my mouth, Finnick walks in with Wyatt clenching onto his leg, giggling loudly.

"I seriously love this kid." Finnick looks at Peeta with a large smile on his face. "Can I keep him?"

It's almost eleven, but we're still drinking wine (our second bottle) and laughing at the old table in the corner of Peeta's kitchen. Wyatt had been sleeping for hours, having put up a giant fight with Peeta and myself to actually go to sleep.

I'm pretty sure by the time was all said and done, Peeta was seriously considering giving his son up to Finnick.

"You see, I think it's awesome that you guys knew everyone in your high school." Finnick takes a chug from his wine glass. His cheeks are a rosy pink, a tall-tale sign that he's tipsy.

"There was only, like, five-hundred of us in the whole building." Peeta's voice is slurring just slightly by the end of the sentence.

I raise my glass up, my fingers nimbly around the base of the cup. "There was only, like, a hundred of us graduating in our class our year."

"See, I think that's awesome. There were seven-hundred kids graduating my year. Seven hundred!" Finnick polishes off the rest of his glass.

I feel Peeta's eyes on me; I look over and melt with the blue of his eyes. They're so blue and honest and sweet and shy. I want to undress and dive into them.

I reach my hand over, smoothing his hair back, out of his face. There's an electrical pull, causing my fingers to graze down his neck.

"How did you two even end up together? Katniss told me your mom hated her mom." Finnick leans over and steals my wine glass, causing me to break the moment with Peeta. I know his blue eyes have not left me as his voice tries to steal the moment back.

"My father and Katniss' mother are close friends. So, when we were little, I would go over to Katniss' house so Darla and Claire could watch us and Delly. It was the three of them, Darla, Claire, and my dad, Bobby. Well, on our first day of kindergarten my dad had walked me to the elementary school and stood waiting with me for our teacher. Now, remember, by this time we were already inseparable." I meet back with Peeta's eyes. "Katniss' father was dropping her off; they were standing on the other side of the opening. Katniss was talking her father's ear off.

"My father chuckled as he watched me stare at Katniss. I thought he was going to send me over to them, to play with her, but he didn't, he kept a firm hold on my hand. Instead, he told me a story about how he had liked a girl very much, but she was in love with a man, who would sing and the birds would go silent."

"They did go silent." I say, interrupting Peeta. His eyes light up, excited that I have caught on. I had never heard Peeta tell this story of us. We had always laughed and waved it off, saying we were best friends from little and it just grew.

Or, maybe I had always just waved it off as something that had always been.

"Well, being a very curious five-year old. I asked my father if I knew the lady he had liked so much. I couldn't understand anyone not wanting to be with my father, especially for a man who made birds quiet down. He had chuckled and gestured over to Katniss and her father. Apparently Claire had heard him sing, and was a goner." Peeta breaks eye contact with me. "Imagine how at five I thought it was the stupidest story ever. At least until we got into our classes and I found my seat next to Katniss and behind Delly, and the teacher asked if someone could sing our town's song. Never have you ever seen a hand rise so fast and so high into the air as Katniss'." He looks at Finnick, who it must be said, looked like a small child being brought into a grand adventure. His face was lit up and hanging on every word. "Katniss walked to the front of the class and began singing, and I kid you not, every bird outside stopped singing to listen."

"You're totally making that up." I feel my cheeks burning.

"No, true story." Peeta nods his head; his eyes are back on me. "I knew at that moment I was a goner."

A sharp pain envelops my chest. I do not have a story for Peeta. He was my best friend. My confidant. He was the one I ran too when shit was hitting the fan and the one person who always, always, was the first to know when something exciting had happened to me. He had bailed me out of jail at seventeen for getting caught breaking into the burnt down library a few yards out of town. He had gotten detention for lying for me when I would cut class. He would give me his umbrella to walk home with while he stayed after for wrestling, and then got soaked on his own way home. The kid had gotten phenomena because of this, twice.

He literally lived and breathed for me when we were younger and I just figured it was because we were best friends. I would do anything for him. I had done my fair share of being everything I could for him. Sure, not to the extreme he had done, but, ugh.

And you went and left him. A little voice chastises me.

"That is the sweetest story I have ever heard in my entire life!" Our heads turn slowly to look at Finnick who has tears running down his face. "God-dammit, Katniss!"

I growl.

"Is he ok?" Peeta asks, his voice low. He's afraid to make any sudden movements it seems.

"He gets emotional with wine." My voice is quipped. I'm going to kill him.

"It's been nagging me," I give a side glance to Peeta, sighing as Finnick's face finds the table, his sobs turning into hiccups and then snores. He really cannot handle his wine. "What are you two?"

"What do you mean?" I stand up and move to get a glass of water for Finnick.

"I mean, did you two date?" Peeta is tiptoeing around his own securities.

"Uh, no. The long and short of it is, Cato and Finnick have known each other for ages, and Cato thought Finnick and I would hit it off. Well, Finnick and I get along like a house on fire, but it's nothing more than really close friends. There was never any kind of spark."

I place the glass down next to Finnick and lean down, whispering something in his ear. His head flies up as I make my way back to my seat.

"Where? Where is Scarlett Johansson? I love you!" He looks around before turning and giving me a deathly stare.

"Whoops," I shrug and finish my glass of wine, ignoring Peeta's utterly confused expression and Finnick's angry eyes. "My mistake."

June 21st, 2011; Friday

Delly is giving me a smile as she sips her cup of tea. The bridal party had just returned from the hotel we would all be at tomorrow through Sunday in New Castle. They had done the rehearsal, had lunch, and came back pumped for the wedding tomorrow afternoon.

Despite our mothers being best friends and us growing up together and the many, many, forced play dates, Delly and I were not that close.

Yes, she was very close to Madge and Peeta, but I had always found her just a little, mmm, like I may hit her.

"So, are you sure there is no one special in your life, Katniss?" See, less than five minutes alone and I was going to hit her. Pregnant or not.

"I assure you, Delly, there is no one special in New York. I'm actually very focused in advancing in my career." Part of me is thankful that Cato and my boss are not here to listen to this. They would be on the ground crying in laughter.

I was as focused on advancing my career as a dog is focused on learning Spanish.

And even that isn't fair because I'm sure there were lots of dogs who would love the opportunity.

"You know, Peeta is very happy with Wyatt." That fucking tone.

"You know, Delly, I don't really care who is happy or not happy. I'm here to celebrate a wedding. It's a shame you couldn't wear the other dress that the other bride's maids are wearing." My tone and eyes are lethal.

"I am pregnant, Katniss." Her cheeks are reddening.

"Uh huh, that's the reason."

"You're such a bitch."

"I have to make sure I keep up with you."

"I see you two are getting along swimmingly." Madge gives us a smile as she sits down at the table.

Delly gives me a stink eye, in which I give a smile and a shrug. She's actually not a bad person, by any means. In all honesty, I am the bad person between the two of us. She's caring, compassionate, and sweet.

There was just something between the two us that we had never gotten past.

"You girls want cupcakes or brownies?" We all look to see Peeta popping his head out into the patio.

"Brownies," Delly smiles over to him, causing my fist to clench.

Peeta smiles and pops his head back in.

Delly turns and smirks over to me. The urge to begin screaming that she's married and happy and about to have a child with Thom dances on my tongue so fast and rhythmically, I bite down.

I'm pretty sure I taste blood.

Old jealousies die hard.

I am a twenty-eight year old who abandoned her family, boyfriend, and hometown so I wouldn't be stuck in Panem forever. This is unacceptable. Even if Delly Cartwright was a twat.

"I'm sorry, Delly. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said anything." Her eyes are wide, as are Madge's. "I know it's a little late, but I'm sorry for everything from way back when and whatever. I'm really happy that you found Thom and the baby. You deserve it."

Five minutes pass after my apology and all Madge and Delly can do is stare at me.

"I brought out some cookies while we wait for the—what happened?" Peeta's voice is dry as he sees Madge and Delly staring at me.

"Katniss just apologized to Delly, for everything that has every happened between them." Madge is the one that speaks.

Peeta sucks his lips in and looks from them to me. The back of his hand finds my forehead.

I swipe it off of me. "I'm fine. We have a wedding tomorrow, there shouldn't be any bad blood." Or, at the very least, the appearance of bad blood.

I look at Peeta to see his lips in a full smile. His hand twitches to move to my face, an old habit when he felt I had done him proud.

Apologies were a big thing for me. Obviously.

"Wow, I guess the city has done you very well, Katniss." Delly says as she lowers her tea and her eyes. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and nod my head.

"Thanks, Dell."

"You're welcome."

"Where's Finnick?" Peeta interjects before I have a chance to verbal assault Delly.

"He got a call from the school and they were having a phone meeting upstairs." I lean back in my chair. "When are you and Gale going to start on the family?" Madge's face lit up and I feel my insides begin to churn. "Oh, god, you're pregnant."

Her and Delly squeal. Peeta, who had moved to sit on the other side of me, laughs but rolls his eyes none the less.

"I haven't told anyone except you three. It's still very early." She's literally glowing in her seat.

"That's, wow, congrats." I force myself to smile.

So, I am, officially, the last one in the group to have a child. Not the last to be married, but, let's be honest, Peeta has more of a chance of getting that first. I'm suddenly sick to my stomach and I don't even know why.

I never wanted the family and the marriage, the little hum-drum life that came with living in Panem.

I have exactly what I had wanted all along.

I think of Prim's ring glittering from the light of the ceiling fan. I look at Delly's swollen belly, her smile jumping off her face as she holds on to Madge's arm, talking about raising their children as best friends. Madge's face is blushing and swollen with pride at the news that she was carrying Gale's baby. And Wyatt, I mean, he was the apple of Peeta's eye.

My eyes dart over to meet Peeta's. As always, he's completely in tuned with my emotions. His hand finds mine under the table.

We would have been married by now.

It's not what you wanted.

With a baby.

It's not what you wanted.

Maybe two babies.

It's not what you wanted.

I would have been a bridesmaid and the god-mother and everything I had promised to be.

But, you left.

I feel the tears pooling in my eyes.

"Hey, look at these gorgeous ladies." Finnick saunters outside, giving Delly and Madge a smile. He looks at me and I can tell by the shift of his eyes that he knows I'm not ok.

Even though the reasons I'm not ok are completely, and utterly, asinine.

He sucks in his smile and moves so he's next to me. "Would you guys be terrible upset if I steal this little gemstone away? I have clove on hold upstairs and she needs to ask Katniss about some details for our upcoming trip to the Catskills."

He plucks me out of the seat, Peeta's hand letting go of mine before anyone can notice. I force another smile on my face, excusing myself.

We get up to his room and just as he shuts the door my face is buried in his chest.

"What happened?"

"I got exactly what I wanted."

And then, I cry hysterically.

June 22st, 2011; Saturday

"Where are we?" I look up at a glass building.

It was nine o'clock in the morning. Finnick had woken me up early and had driven us to New Castle. He had passed the hotel where Madge and Gale would be getting married.

"Clove and Johanna have a surprise for you." He nudges me into the building.

"Where are we?" I ask, walking into the sleek and shiny salon. It was like being in the city and being dragged to get Clove's hair done.

"Well, they decided that you need to look completely gorgeous tonight, so they booked you a day at the spa, where they'll do some beauty treatments, your hair, your make up, the whole ring around for the wedding at five." Finnick is giving me a bright smile.

"Beauty treatments?" I raise an eyebrow. After the night I had crying incoherently and having nightmares that sprang me awake every other hour, I was in no mood for this shit.

I go to snatch my phone from my back pocket to call Clove, only to remember it's in my overnight bag in the trunk.

"It will be fun!" Finnick smiles.

"Katniss Everdeen?" I turn around to come face to face with a skinny man. His hair is combed up into a stylish Mohawk. Actually, everything about him is stylish.

"I'm Katniss."

He gives me a smile. "Perfect! Just in time for the waxing?"

"The what?" I give a look to Finnick as the stylish man grabs my elbow. Finnick has his thumbs up. "I'll kill all three of you!"

The stylish man laughs. "You're feisty, I like!"

Little does he know.