As we walk through town, hand in hand, I notice, once again, the many sets of eyes that drift from me to Peeta. I tense up. I hate it when people stare. Peeta squeezes my hand gently, reassuring me.

It's been almost a week now since Peeta and I stopped trying to conceal our relationship from everyone, but I'm still not used to people gaping at us as if we're aliens from another planet. I realize that it is a little strange to find someone from the Seam dating someone from town, but it's not unheard of. My mom and dad were from different parts of Twelve; my mom was from town but my dad was a native of the Seam, and their relationship worked out fine. They have both been productive members of society. My dad did hunt illegally, but no one cared about that, just like no one cares that I hunt now; they like the meat we circulate throughout the district. I just don't see why it matters if two people from different parts of the district love each other. Love is love. What's the big deal?

"Okay. Wait here. It should only take a couple of minutes," says Peeta as he leaves me on the front steps of the bakery while he runs in to grab a blanket and some stale bread for our picnic in the Meadow. Ever since his mother took his weekly allowance of baking ingredients, we haven't been able to enjoy fresh bread. It's okay with me, though. Stale bread is better than no bread.

I smile at him in understanding as he rushes inside, sitting on the front steps as I wait for him. People are still staring at me. Annoyed, I find a lone stick on the ground and begin to draw pictures in the dirt to distract myself, wiping the shapes from the dirt after each one. An arrow. Buttercup in stick figure form. A heart. A few seconds later, I hear the door to the bakery open. Peeta must have been sprinting through his house for him to be done so quickly. I turn around, ready to make my way to the Meadow with him, but then I realize that it isn't Peeta who came out of the bakery.

"What are you doing here? You don't belong here, girl." It's Mrs. Mellark. I take a couple steps back as she begins to inch closer to me. I can see the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, evidence of excessive frowning.

"Sorry. I-um-I was just waiting for Peeta, is all," I say, but I immediately regret it. Peeta's name must have sparked some sort of trigger because her eyes and face narrow dangerously as she comes even closer.

"What did you say, girl?" she asks threateningly.

"Nothing. I-"

"Exactly. Nothing. That's what you are. So, you listen to me, and you listen well. You are to stop seeing my boy, ya hear?" she growls.

Confusion is replaced by anger at this woman who has hurt Peeta in more ways than I will probably ever know.

"What?! You can't tell me what to do! Neither are you involved in decisions which involve me and Peeta! You lost those rights when you decided to treat him like dirt rather than your own child!"

Suddenly, she pins me against the brick wall of the bakery, fuming. I realize that all of the people that were staring only a few minutes ago seem to now be oblivious to my current predicament. She digs her fingers into my shoulder and raises her voice.

"How dare you talk to me like that, you filthy scum!" She draws closer to lower her voice to a harsh whisper. Her breath smells sour. "I'm warning you, girl; if you don't stop seeing my son, I will turn you over to the Peacekeepers for illegal activity. Oh yes, I know about your little adventures in the woods, and it would be too easy for me to prove your insubordination. I will make your life a living nightmare," she finishes. At that, she turns on her heel and storms away.

As soon as I hear the door to the bakery clang shut once more, I find myself shocked and paralyzed against the same wall to which I was pinned only a few seconds ago. My mind is rushing with the words of her threat... She wants me to stop seeing Peeta, or she'll turn me in. What would happen to me? To Peeta? I think about this for a few moments - my heartbeat thumping rapidly as I strive to center myself once more - and realize her threat has no weight. I trade with Peacekeepers. If they take me in, it'll mean risking their own necks. At this realization, I take a deep breath and allow myself to relax. It's okay. We're okay.

Suddenly, the door opens again. I spin around expecting that evil woman to come back for more, but it's just Peeta.

"Katniss, are you okay?" He asks, concerned. He must have noticed my defensive reaction.

"Oh. Peeta. It's you. You scared me. I zoned out for a second is all," I say to cover up my response to his arrival.

"Oh. Sorry. It took me a little longer than I expected. The blanket was on the line out back rather than on the shelf in the family room, and I was trying to steer clear of my mother. Luckily, I didn't run into her," he adds. I find his last words almost ironic.

"Yeah. Good thing," I reply. I have no intentions of revealing my encounter with Mrs. Mellark to Peeta. Instead, I smile, as if I wasn't just threatened by his mother, take his hand, and we make our way to the Meadow.

When we get there, Peeta lays the blanket over the grass and the layer of fall's crispy, brown leaves. Then, he begins to look at me in a way that I'm starting to recognize; it's a look that tells me he loves me and that he delights in being with me. It's like a fire ignites in his eyes, flames of love. When he looks at me like this, I forget everything. I forget about Mrs. Mellark and Gale and the Games and my dad and... everything. I'm consumed by him.

He sits down next to the basket of food, and I step closer to sit as near to him as I can manage, so I can nuzzle my head into him. I love the way I feel when I'm with him. I place a soft kiss near his collar bone, and he lifts my chin to do the same-except he keeps going. A trail of Peeta's sweet kisses travels up my neck to my cheek; he stops and looks at me lovingly before planting his lips on mine. I let myself unwind in his love and embrace. I'm safe here.

After a few minutes, we reluctantly decide to begin our picnic of the meager assortment of food we have compiled. In about an hour or two, the temperature will drop significantly, and we'll be forced indoors.

It's moments like these that I wish I could live in forever, but no matter how much I wish it, I know it can't happen. The world keeps spinning, and the clock keeps ticking. For some reason, I can't shake the feeling that things are going to change. Nothing this good lasts forever. I cram those thoughts as far back in my mind as I can and bring myself back to the present, to Peeta and his love.

I smile as I think about the bow and arrows I'm making him. The other day in the woods, I found the perfect wood to begin carving the bow, durable yet flexible. He is doing so well. I am determined to make him the best archer he can be. His walk is getting better and better every day we go into the woods. He is amazing in every way. Each day I realize this truth more and more. There is no one like Peeta Mellark.