I do not own The Hunger Games.
Between the Games
(Takes place between The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, a little while before the Victory Tour)
When the excitement finally dies down, I take Prim to the woods for the first time. She's been to the edge of the fence, but never on the other side.
"This makes me nervous," she mumbles quietly after we cross over. We're still about twenty feet from the fence.
"Do you want to go back?" I ask. She shakes her head. I decide to leave my bow in the hollow tree today, and just spend time with Prim. Not that I need to hunt. We eat plenty of food from the merchants now. I hunt for Gale, but even he has trouble taking my game.
"I just don't want to go to far," Prim says. I nod and we walk in silence for a few minutes.
"How was Mom?" I ask, my voice a little harder than I want it to be.
"I think what you said to her before you left made an impact. She really pulled her weight."
"Good," I say, softer.
On our way back to the fence, Prim sweeps up a bouquet of wild flowers. She smiles.
"For Haymitch." She's taken a liking to him much quicker than I did. In her eyes, he's part of the reason I'm still alive. I help her over the fence and then climb over. We walk through the square toward the Victor's Village. We're passing the bakery when Peeta walks out, carrying a bag full of fresh bread with cheese baked over the top. Even though I'm well fed now, my mouth waters when the smell hits my nose. The hurt registers and disappears in Peeta's eyes before anyone says a word.
It's quiet for a few moments and I'm about to lead Prim away when she says brightly, "Hi, Peeta."
"Hello, Prim. You look very pretty today," he smiles. And she does. She's wearing a new skirt and a bow in her hair. We never had money for new clothes for her; she always wore my hand-me-downs.
"Thank you, Peeta. Oh, is that the bread with cheese on top? Those are Katniss's favorite!" She exclaims. I groan inwardly.
"Really? Here, have one," Peeta takes a loaf from the top and holds it out to me. I stare at it like an idiot. "Or not," Peeta mutters.
"Thank you," Prim says, and takes it on my behalf. She looks at the flowers in her hand, then at me, then at Peeta. "For you," she grins and holds the flowers out to Peeta. He sets down his bag of bread and takes the flowers. He kneels down and hugs Prim without a word. For some reason it makes my cheeks flush and I feel embarrassed. My own sister is nicer to my 'lover' than I am. Peeta's eyes flicker up to meet mine over Prim's shoulder. The hurt is back in his eyes. He whispers something in Prim's ear as they part and she let's out a small laugh.
"Bye, Peeta," I mutter as Prim and I walk away.
As we turn I hear him say softly, "Goodbye, Katniss."
"Why don't you just talk to him?" Prim asks when we're barely out of earshot.
"He doesn't want to talk to me," I mutter. "I wouldn't be surprised if he hates me."
"Why would he hate you? You saved his life."
"You're too young to understand," I sigh.
"No, I'm not. You're just too stubborn." And she's right. I don't want to talk to Peeta because I'm desperately afraid of what he'll say. What if he says he still loves me? What if he says he hates me? Which is worse? I don't know.
"I'll talk to him sometime."
"You're going to wait until the Victory Tour and then it'll be even more awkward than it is now."
"Not possible."
Prim gives me a look I've only seen twice. Once when I threatened to kill her cat, and again when I suggested eating him.
"Fine," I pluck the loaf of bread from her hands and turn on my heel. My heart hammers in my chest as I approach the bakery. Peeta is outside still, talking to another merchant now. I walk up behind him quietly, but I can tell by the way his back stiffens that he hears me. I cough once. He turns.
"Peeta," I say to the ground.
"Hey, Katniss," he says, his voice softer than it should be. I want him to yell at me. Throw something at me. Tell me I'm despicable.
"Thanks for this," I gesture to the bread in my hand.
"You're welcome," he says awkwardly and adjusts the bag of bread on his shoulder. One hand hangs at his side, clutching Prim's flowers.
"What's all the bread for?"
"I like to… well… I sometimes share it with people," he mumbles uncomfortably. I stare at him.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I mean, we're rich now, aren't we? I can afford to give bread away now."
"I do the same thing. Only, I don't bake my own bread," I try to smile but it's just too hard. If I smile, I may start crying if he doesn't smile back.
"I know. I've seen you around." He's really saying I still notice you. And maybe he's saying he still loves me. I don't know. I don't want to know. I just want everything to be easy and uncomplicated. I want Peeta to make a joke, but he doesn't. He just stands there, looking everywhere but at my face.
"Peeta," I mutter. Finally he meets my eyes.
"Yes?"
I don't know what to say. He is still hurting. And it's my fault he's in pain. Why do I even care? He was a stranger before the games. A stranger who saved my life when I was on the brink of starvation, but still a stranger. Yet at this very moment I want nothing more than to run into his arms, tell him it isn't part of the Games and hold him close. Gale crosses my mind and I swallow.
When I don't say anything, Peeta looks away.
"I should go."
"I-" But my voice catches. Peeta glances at me one last time before turning and walking across the square, toward the Seam. I nearly run back to the Victor's Village. I race into my house, up to my room and into my closet where I cry silently, feeling foolish. All I want is Peeta. Just his company. I don't know why I crave it so much. But I do, and nothing will help me get the boy with the bread out of my mind.