It's always a shock to myself when I find my mouth moving for me, regardless of what I really want to say.

"Yeah, alright, but you're paying." My finger points at Johanna, who looks extremely pleased with herself. The disappointment in my voice is evident at least. My body hasn't completely betrayed me.

"And to think I had to beg." Johanna flips her hair over her shoulders, chuckling darkly to herself as she pulls open their shitty $100 fridge they found online, pulling out two Sam Adams. "I can practically see the knots in your shoulders, Kat. It's revolting."

"Wow, thanks Jo. You were always so flattering." I deadpan, taking the open beer from her hand and downing half, letting the bubbles wash over the horrid day I'd had.

Working at a coffee shop whilst trying to finish a degree was something I swore to myself I'd never do. The customers were dreadful, as were the hours, yet here I am, finding myself smashing my alarm clock at 5:15 every morning for this damn job. Johanna swears I should just move to bar work along with her, but I think I'd end up letting my mouth run at the drunk patrons, so I politely decline.

Johanna plonks herself down onto the sofa, flicking the T.V on and begins mindlessly scrolling through the channels, settling on a rom-com that's just starting up. "You could come out with me and find yourself a man to bang the tension out of you, you know."

The sigh that escapes my lips isn't one that surprises me. I'm well practiced with my intolerance for Johanna's stupid solutions to all of my problems. It's as though she thinks she's a trained psych? I shake my head, meaning for it to be unseen but Johanna's eyes narrow menacingly.

Swirling the bottle in her hand, she clicks her tongue twice. The silence is tangible as she studies me.

"Well Kat, looks like we're gonna get you a deep tissue massage followed by a night out with me and the gang."

"Gang? What are you, The Brady Bunch?" I bite back, folding myself down onto the couch next to her, taking another swig of my beer.

"You could say that," Johanna laughs to herself, "all we want is to see you out and enjoying yourself instead of breaking your back every week with study and work. It's like watching a horse dying slowly, not pretty."

The snort that follows is neither pretty or appealing and Johanna gives me a pointed nod, tilting her beer towards me in a salute. Rolling my eyes at her, I get up from the couch, the cushion having dipped so much I have to use my hand to push me up, crossing over to the fridge for another beer.

"You're a catch, brainless."

I pull the hair tie from my braid, letting my hair cascade down my shoulders, shaking my head to loosen the strands, "Do you want another?"

If this conversation continues, I'm gonna need a lot more than beer.

When I turn to pass her the beer, her dark eyes are studying me carefully. I extend my arm to give her the beer, trying my hardest to not drop the facade I was putting across. I wasn't interested in continuing this conversation and Johanna knew that.

"So, when do you think the new neighbours will move in?" I ask, my gaze flickering to hers in the hope that she will engage in the subject change.

"Katniss, we're not talking about the damn neighbours. When was the last time you had sex?" She asks, resting her arm against the back of the couch to support her head, resting her beer on her knee, her body now facing mine.

"Look, I've agreed to this massage, will you please drop it?" Wow, Katniss. Do you want to sound anymore desperate?

"Nope, I'm interested in your love life now, so drink up and tell all."

One thing I regret about moving in with Johanna is her persistence. She seems to weasel everything I try and keep secret out of me, no matter how much I keep to myself and practically bolt to my room when I get home from work or studying. It's as though she thinks I might've met a man whilst pumping out hundreds of coffees on a 4 hour shift or whilst finishing a 5000 word paper. I don't particularly find myself attractive at the best of times, but after a night in the university library, sculling black coffee and shovelling protein bars down my throat I don't consider myself a beauty queen.

I exhale loudly, rubbing my temples with my pointer fingers, "there's not much to my love life and you know that."

She shrugs beside me, pulling the last dregs from her first beer and moving onto the next, "exactly, which is why I wanna know when you last got some."

"Got some? What are we, 12?" my voice is mocking and I mentally high-five myself for keeping up with Johanna regardless of the slight buzz in my head, "it's irrelevant because it was a while ago, so probably doesn't count."

"If it went in, it counts. Tell me. I won't ask again Kat." Her tone is final and I roll my eyes. I'm not surprised at the amount of intimidation Johanna possesses. I'm glad I'm friends with her half the time. It means I won't cop as many insults as someone who doesn't know her.

The amount of sighs coming out of me tonight seems to be a record. I screw my eyes shut and think, trying to remember the last instance of any sexual activity I had.

"Probably March last year?" I answer, although I'm not entirely sure it was even that recent.

"So, over a year." Johanna replies, but her tone isn't as malicious as I expected it to be. Her face is one of reason, her lower lip pouting out in thought. "Well, that's settled then. Massage and then a party. That should dust out the cobwebs, surely."

With one final swig of my beer, I give up, shrugging my shoulders with defeat.

"Whatever."

—

The massage parlour is exactly what I thought it would be. It's pristine, which I suppose is a good thing, and lined with pink roses. The woman behind the counter is as chipper as ever, introducing herself as Effie, her pink waves bouncing around her shoulders as she spoke.

"Our masseuses are the best in the business and I can guarantee that!" She titters, her perfectly lined lips over enunciating each word. Her manicured nails tapped across the screen in front of her, checking in both Johanna and herself, both for hour long massages.

"Now ladies, would you like to pay now or after your experience?" She asks, raising one sharp eyebrow at them. I had never put even an ounce of care into the way I looked, regardless of the occasion and especially not for work.

Johanna pulls out her card, handing it to Effie with a flourish and I find myself biting back a giggle. Effie processes the payment and hands the card back to Johanna, then clasps her hands together with a deep inhale.

"Johanna," she says her name like a question, and Johanna nods, stepping forward slightly, "your masseuse is running a little late," the irritating in her voice is evident as she relays this, "Katniss, yours is ready now, if you'd like to follow me. Johanna, please help yourself to tea and a magazine whilst you wait."

Johanna's grin creeps across her face as Effie turns and walks down the hallway towards the room and my stomach flips at the thought of someone touching my body. Johanna practically slaps me on the back as she walks past me to the waiting room and I force my feet to follow Effie.

I'm not even sure why I'm nervous. It's just a massage and it might actually help me, although I would never admit that to Johanna.

She's organised a big night out for us tonight, the drinks beforehand, the club, the underwear I'm wearing. The list goes on. She's been chewing my ear off all morning telling me each detail of the night ahead. Safe to say no studying was done this morning.

I make my way down the hallway, the scent of lavender protruding my senses. The hallway is painted a faint pink finished with paintings of flowers and landscapes, all signed with a tiny 'pm'. I stop in front of the door, glancing to the left where a painting of a lush green forest is hung. The intricate detail of the painting is what draws me in, the light blue brush of the steam twining through the trees. It isn't until Effie clears her throat and smiles tightly at me, gesturing me to continue into the room that I move.

As I look to my masseuse the breath is knocked out of me, and I cover my mouth before the coughing takes over. My eyes are met with blue pools of a colour intermediate between green and violet, as of the sky or sea on a morning.

"Katniss, this is Peeta. Let him know how strong you'd like your experience and he will do the rest." Although Effie is standing right next to me, she sounds distant. All I can focus on is the gorgeous man standing in front of me and the small smile gracing his pink lips.

"I'll leave you to it!" Effie says, clapping her hands together three times before exiting the room, closing the door behind her with a small click.

Without meaning to, I let my eyes wander down Peeta's frame, the strong arms that strain agains the sleeves of his button down polo and the light linen slacks he wears. His hair is tousled gold and hangs loosely across his forehead. His jaw is cut tight and compliment his strong neck.

"Katniss?"

His voice knocks me from my daze, my cheeks immediately flush with embarrassment. How long have I been standing there staring at him like a lunatic?

"S-sorry." I manage to splutter, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. "Could you repeat that?"

Chancing a glance at him, I see look of amusement cross his features. My God is this man attractive.

"I asked how you were." He says, folding his arms across his hard chest. Although he looks strong, his demeaned is soft and welcoming. I find myself wanting to reach out and touch him, and the thought overwhelms me.

Where has all this come from?

"I'm well, thank you." Well? Who am I? My mother?

"Good to hear. Now before we start, I'll need you to remove your garments down to your underwear, sans bra if you are comfortable with it, and lie on the table with the towel over you. There's a little bowl here," he gestures to the small wooden bowl on top of the neatly folded towel on the elevated bed, "where you can place any jewellery. Please tie your hair up comfortably and I will be back in a moment."

I nod, not trusting my voice to crack or squeak in reply and he gives me another breathtaking smile before exiting the room. I look down at the towel and I now understand why Johanna told me to wear something easy to take off.

I start to pull my simple green dress over my head, hanging it onto one of the hooks behind the door and toe off my shoes, placing them neatly next to the old, wooden chair. I look down at the cotton bra and Brazilian cut panties I'd put on and my skin breaks out in goosebumps, the nerves taking over. Why did I choose such a boldly cut pair of panties?

At that moment all I could think of is being naked with this man and I shook the thought from my head with horror.

Jesus Christ, Katniss. He's not even going to see your boobs. It's a massage and all you've got to do is lie down with a fucking towel over you. Without another thought, I unclip my bra from behind my back and hang it on the back of the door next to my dress. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, a hairstyle that feels quite foreign, I give myself a chance to take in the room around me.

The walls are painted in a mushroom grey. A cabinet is placed at the edge of the small room, an assortment of creams and oils on top. The window is covered by wooden blinds and resting in front of it on a small table is a CD player and an aroma diffuser, a small basket of oils standing next to it. It's small and homey, which sets my body at ease. It's obvious that the room is well kept and decorated with thought. The temperature was perfect which was evident by the small heater tucked into the corner of the room.

Taking a deep breath, I pull the towel from the bed, placing the only jewellery I ever wear into it - a necklace that Prim gave me for my 22nd birthday, and lie face down on the bed.

Putting the towel over my body proved to be somewhat difficult. I bet Johanna didn't have as much trouble as I was. I suppose I look as though I'm trying to wrestle with the damn thing.

I hear a soft knock at the door and I pause, pulling the towel quickly over the top of me, one of my feet sticking out the bottom and freeze.

"Yep!" My voice squeaks and I inwardly groan. I sound like such a moron.

He moves into the room with such stealth I jump in surprise when he wraps a towel around my hair, fingering at the loose strands of hair at the back of my neck and pulling them into the makeshift towel headband he had created. The path of his fingers leave a fiery trail across my neck, the goosebumps forming yet again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Peeta says and I can hear the smile in his voice. "How would your like your massage, Katniss?'

The way my name dances across my lips has a shiver shooting down my back.

"I've never had a massage," I mumble to the floor, "so I guess just do what you usually do and I can let you know?"

God, I feel like an idiot.

"That's not problem at all. Would you like some music on or some soothing sounds?" He asks, now a little further away from me.

I shrug and then realise he might not be looking at me. "Oh, I don't mind. Whatever you think works."

He chuckles softly, the melodic sound sending yet another shiver down my spine. I curse my body for reacting this way and he hasn't even touched me properly yet.

Not 30 seconds later I hear the soft sound of a stream rushing through the woods and I smile, frame relaxing slightly.

"No worries. Just relax. Is there anywhere you'd prefer me to focus on?"

I swallow before I speak this time, hoping it hides any kind of squeak, "My shoulders are a little tense."

"I can see that." He replies, his fingers ghosting over the tops of my shoulders and I can feel my panties becoming damp. My cheeks are slowly turning red and I thank God that he can't see my face now. All I hope is that he doesn't notice my obvious arousal and clench my legs together, trying to hide any trace of it.

"Johanna says the same thing." I mutter, mostly to myself.

Silence falls over the room, apart from the sound of the streams and Peeta rubbing his hands together, the sound becoming thicker.

The electricity in the air has my mind racing. How could I find someone so attractive and have my body betray me so easily. My usual hard barrier has been melted away so easily. I never let anyone have this much of an effect on me.

He rubs his hands together, now near my left leg. He gently lifts the towel, adjusting it so it sits properly on my body and reveals my left leg. He tucks the towel above the lining of my underwear and I feel the dampness seep out of me once again and I clench my teeth with embarrassment.

But all thoughts leave my mind when he touches me.

I flinch, the contact of our skin causing a gasp to fall from my lips.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, his tone confused.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry, you startled me." I lift my head from the bed slightly to answer, blowing a strand of loose hair from my face.

He resumes his actions, placing a warm hand against my leg and begins to spread the massage oil across my calf and the back of my thigh. I continuously tell myself to relax and to ignore the blissful feeling of his soft hands against my legs, but nothing seems to work.

He begins to press his thumbs into my calf, his practiced movements plucking the stress from my mind bit by bit. As he moves towards my inner thigh, his fingers ghost against the lining of my panties and I moan lightly. My eyes fly open with surprise and pray that he didn't hear me. If he does, he pretends not to notice.

With the hardening of my nipples against the soft bed, I tell myself to focus on the sounds coming from the CD player, trying to picture the landscape from which it takes place. It works for a few minutes until Peeta's voice cuts through.

"How's the pressure for you? Not too hard."

"No." This time my voice breaks and I groan.

He laughs quietly and continues, his skilled hands brushing over my legs. As he moves onto my right leg, covering my left leg with the towel, I begin to make lists in my head as a distraction.

First a shopping list, then a list of things I need to do over the weekend and then onto lists of TV shows I'd watched. It finally distracts me enough from Peeta's hands to stop the arousal from building in the pit of my stomach. Although it doesn't leave, just stays the as the same burning desire but slightly muted.

His thumb pressed into the heel of my foot and begins to move in small circles, the pressure easing the pain from the countless shifts at the cafe and I sigh with content. I shove my hands under my legs, feeling awkward with them dangling at my sides.

Johanna might have been right. Massages do actually help.

Once Peeta finishes up on my right leg, he covers it with the towel and applies a small amount of pressure to it, probably to soak off the oil that he'd spread across them and slowly reveals my back, tucking the towel into my underwear and bringing it down slightly.

"Is this okay with you?" He asks softly, his voice kind and careful. I nod quickly, loving the feeling of his fingers tickling the top of my ass. I can't help but notice that they linger, longer than probably necessary and I frown to myself.

I hear Peeta rub his hands together once again and start spread the oil over my back. He's standing just above my head, his hands palming against my lower back, rolling his fingers through the tight knots and crevices. I exhale, trying to ignore the small pit of hope that he would let his fingers drag lower to my ass.

Fucking hell, I was getting wet again. By the end of this massage I was probably going to have to throw these panties out.

I mentally cursed myself for letting my mind run wild with thoughts of Peeta and his skilled hands. My body was betraying me and probably would continue to unless I resumed my list making.

"Your shoulders are really tense." He mumbles above me, his fingers dancing across my shoulders as they ease out the knots. His knuckles circle on my upper back, rhythmically moving back and forth.

"That's work for ya." Shut up, Katniss.

He continues the healing ministrations on my back and I find my eyes rolling back with pleasure, the stress slowly ebbing from them.

The last time I'd been physical with anyone was with Marvel Jones. He was starting out at university with me and followed me around at the welcome party that had been thrown for us. I'd let him kiss me behind the staircase but left the party without saying goodbye, having to take Madge home for being too drunk.

It wasn't until Madge and Annie had invited us all out that he tried again, kissing the breath out of me before taking me home and throwing me onto his bed. I mean, I was into it, but the fact that Marvel wasn't too giving and finished so quickly that I couldn't even believe it had happened. I'd mumbled awkwardly that I was leaving and quickly dashed out the door, walking down his street before calling myself a taxi.

I never spoke to him again. And since, I'd been with no one.

But having Peeta's hands caressing every part of my body and rubbing away all my stresses was the biggest turn on yet.

Oh for fucks sake, Katniss, it's his job! He does this everyday and I'm sure he has many fans.

The moan that escapes my mouth this time is louder and I gasp.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me." Fuck. I could shrivel up and die right here. I momentarily contemplate bolting from the room.

"It's fine, it's good to know that it feels good for you. I like knowing you're enjoying it. Means I'm doing my job properly." His response does very little for the humiliation I feel.

"Okay." I mumble in a small voice, my heart racing and I wonder if he can feel it.

"I like making you feel good."

My breathing stills at this and I find heat rushing to my core, my stomach erupting with butterflies. My hands clench against my sides and I shudder out a breath, the tension in the room becoming tangible by the second.

If Peeta notices, again, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he asks me to turn over so he can continue on my front.

My stomach drops at the though, my grey cotton panties would be clearly soaked and darker than the rest of the material. As he peels the towel from my back, holding in front of his face so he can't watch me awkwardly roll onto my back, I steal a glance at my panties and my body goes cold. They're practically black.

Far out. I might as well have a sign attached to my forehead saying 'I AM ATTRACTED TO YOU'.

I throw an arm across my front to cover my chest and look to him, biting my lower lip with anticipation.

"All good?" he asks, and I grunt out a response as he lays the towel over my body. Lying on my back I feel all the more exposed. I'm facing him now and the hardened buds of my nipples protruding against the towel. He walks behind the bed, fetching a small piece of cloth from the cabinet.

He moves to stand over me, and smiles before covering my eyes with the lavender scented mask and my sight is taken.

I take another deep breath, hoping to calm my racing heart and for my legs to stop clamping together deliciously.

He begins on my legs again, covering them with the eucalyptus oil, the smell assaulting my senses. His hands are quick, moving with ease along the front of my legs, brushing against the inners of my thighs briefly, causing my lip to quicker. I hear his breath hitch and can practically feel his eyes burning a hole through my underwear. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down on it to stop any noise escaping my lips.

The rush of fear tumbles through my mind, hoping he hasn't noticed my damp arousal.

The tips of his fingers brush against the seam of my pants and my chest juts forward. That can't be an accident. He must know how wet I am.

His fingers brush against me again and this time my teeth can't contain the yelp that escapes me. My breath is shallow as he moves back down to my feet, taking his time rubbing his thumbs expertly against my toes.

"Everything alright?" I can hear the smirk in his voice. Fuck. He knows exactly what he's doing.

Fuck it. I might as well enjoy it.

"Yeah." My voice is breathy and I hardly recognise the sound. It's one I've never made and I cringe. I'm thankful that I can't see Peeta's face to hinder the small amount of courage I've mustered up.

As he moves onto my other leg, his fingers don't venture near my panties and I'm unsure wether or not I'm glad.

When he moves up to my chest, bringing the towel down to just above my pert nipples, I feel the flush spread across my collarbones.

The spread of oil and then movement of his fingers stays professional. Brushing across the tops of my breasts respectfully, keeping well away from my nipples, straining through the towel desperately.

When his fingers ghost of my neck, I shiver, regardless of the warm temperature of the room. My jaw drops open slightly as he gently caresses the sides of my neck. With a final flourish of his fingers, his hands leave me and suddenly it's as though a bucket of water has been thrown over the top of my head.

He returns a moment later to press a hot towel to the bottoms of my feet, rubbing the oil from them with a gentle swipe. He unties the towel from around my hair, brushing the loose strands with his fingers and I find that his hands linger slightly on the sides of my face. Then his voice cuts through the sound of waves in the room.

"I'm all done. I'll leave you for a moment. Feel free to lie there as long as you desire and get dressed when you're ready. Would you like a glass of water."

I nod, the realisation of how dry my throat was washing over me.

Once the door clicks shut, I sit bolt upright, the mask landing on my lap with a soft thud. My chest heaves as I feel the embarrassment flow from my head to my toes, a cold shiver running through me.

How could I let someone have so much of an effect on me?

I kick the towel off me, standing up quickly and smacking a hand to my forehead as it spins. Rushing to grab my dress and bra from the back of the door, I shove my bra back on and pull my dress over my head. I glance into the mirror beside the door and groan. I look as though I've just had sex. My cheeks are flushed a deep pink and my lips are swollen from my constant biting of them.

Pulling my hair free, I brush a hand through it and pull it to the side, nervously twisting a finger through it. Unsure of what to do with myself, I awkwardly perch myself on the end of the bed, folding and unfolding my fingers in my lap.

The soft knock comes again from the door and I perk up, sitting a little taller against the bed and look to Peeta's opal eyes, protruding into mine. He's holding a tray laden with water and what seems to be a scroll. The heart wrenching smile is back and I feel my heart flutter.

"Here." He hands me the glass of water and I gulp it back, thankful that my gaze is averted momentarily. As I finish the last drop of water and hand the glass back to him, I find his eyes watching me carefully. His expression is one I find hard to read, it's a mix of curiosity and longing.

I clear my throat and point towards the small bun on the tray, "what's that?"

He shakes his head and looks at the tray, "oh, it's a cheese bun. I make them for the clients. Some of the treatments take a while and I can imagine they can get hungry."

"Very thoughtful of you." I reply, accepting the bun in my hand, finding it's slightly warm and the dough soft to the touch. "A man of many talents."

He laughs softly and I find it becoming my favourite sound. I take a bite of the bun and the groan that rumbles its way out of my body is embarrassingly loud. The cheese is stringy inside and oozes from the bun.

"This is amazing." I mutter, devouring the rest of the bun embarrassingly fast. He smiles, a slight flush gracing his cheeks.

"Thanks, I'm glad you like them." The silence that falls becomes intense as his eyes bore into mine. My breath hitches as he runs his tongue across his lower lip, his gaze falling to my swollen one.

I shake my head, cutting through our gaze and standing up quickly. "Thank you Peeta. You might've cured me."

He shrugs, reaching his arm to scratch the back of his head, "it's one of my many talents."

The chortle that comes next has me reaching for the handle, bolting out the door in front of him and racing to the front of the salon, where Johanna is waiting, hands on her hips.

"Fuck, you look a little flushed." She says loudly and I glare at her, trying to silence her with a look but her eyes begin to widen with realisation.

"Oh my god, did you get a happy ending?!" I honestly think the people across the street would be able to hear her.

"Johanna, shut your damn mouth." I bite through clenched teeth, my gaze looking to the door, "let's just get out of here."

"OH! And he's hot!" Johanna's eyes are locked on something behind me, and I whirl around to see Peeta standing there with the same embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

I throw Peeta an apologetic look and turn to Johanna, my hand clamping down onto her arm as I drag her from the salon towards the door but that doesn't stop her from yelling at Peeta over my shoulders.

"You should meet us at The Hob tonight! Then you could show Katniss a real happy ending!"

It's safe to say, I was practically erupting with anger by the time we got into the car and Johanna just grinned at me menacingly, putting the car into drive and racing us home to get ready for her big night out.

tbc.