AN: Up ahead: Everlark fluff, mostly English with dialogues in Spanish. I'm hoping the context will provide enough information for those of you who don't speak that much Spanish.
Hope you enjoy.
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Peeta squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, he thought stepping into the tiny shop for the very first time.
Rustic wood shelves laden with beeswax products lined the walls.
The soothing colors and the faint smell of honey which lingered in the air relaxed him as he looked around admiring the different types of candles on display.
Slowly, he turned towards the register where a welcoming smile greeted him. "Buenos días," the owner of the smile, said.
Peeta froze in place.
He had been living in Mexico City and studying Spanish intensively for the past three months. He still couldn't handle big groups or long conversations, but he had been to enough markets and shops to know what he was supposed to say in this case.
Still, the words stuck to his tongue, stubbornly refusing to leave his lips as he looked at the girl behind the counter.
She was gorgeous; petite, with long, luscious black hair -which had been woven into a thick braid- and olive skin that contrasted beautifully with her bright gray eyes.
He had noticed her on his first day at the language school. She had been opening the shop at the time, absentmindedly humming to herself while she dealt with the heavy metal curtain covering the entrance.
He had seen her every day since, but he had never been this close to her. He'd never really heard her voice before now.
You can do this, he told himself. Enunciating as clearly as possible, he asked, "Quisiera una vela, por favor."
"¿De qué tamaño?" the girl asked, pointing to the selection of candles behind her back.
Peeta considered her question for a moment. He wasn't buying the candle for himself, it was a present for his sister-in-law, and he wasn't sure which size would be the best.
"Mediana," he finally said. Anticipating the girl's next question, he added, "Cuadrada."
With a quick nod, the girl turned around and pulled one of the medium-sized square candles form the shelf. Carefully, she placed the candle on the counter in front of Peeta. "¿La quieres para regalo?"
"Si, es para mi herma-," With a shake of his head, Peeta corrected himself. "Mi cuñada."
The girl hummed in acknowledgment. Moving to the side, she opened a spacious drawer full of crisp tissue paper. Peeta's eyes lit up at the colorful assortment on display.
"¿Qué color te gusta?" she asked.
"Naranja."
The girl scowled. Pointing to a bright orange sheet, she asked, "¿Este?"
Peeta chuckled. Pointing to the paler shade next to it, he replied, "No, el otro."
With practiced ease, the girl pulled one sheet of the orange tissue paper Peeta wanted out of the drawer and placed it on the counter. Delicately, she set the candle on top.
"¿El listón?" she asked, "¿De qué color lo quieres?"
Repeating her own question back at her, Peeta answered, "¿Qué color te gusta?"
The girl shrugged. "Mi favorito es el verde."
"Okay, verde está bien."
Reaching under the counter, the girl produced a small box. She placed it next to the candle, opened it, and rummaged inside until she found the ribbon she was looking for.
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Settle down, Katniss told herself. She could feel her hands trembling as she returned the box with the ribbons back to its place. You can do this. Just wrap the candle without tearing the paper and talk to him.
Trying her best to keep a steady hand, Katniss began wrapping the candle. She was halfway through the process when her customer spoke again.
"¿Tú las haces?"
Katniss looked up. His ocean blue eyes locked with hers and, for an instant, she forgot how to breathe.
She nodded. Then, realizing that her nod implied she made the candles, she sputtered, "Mi hermana. Ella las hace, yo sólo las vendo."
The boy smiled in understanding, and Katniss turned back to look at the bundle in her hands. Trying to keep the conversation going, she asked, "¿Estás de visita?"
"No, estoy estudiando," he answered.
Katniss nodded. The truth was that she had known that already. She had seen him in the coffee shop across the street enough times to know he was studying at the language academy.
He was handsome, with a chiseled jaw, a mop of blond wavy hair, and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. But what she liked best about him was his smile, bright and sweet. She'd only caught glimpses of it, but it always made her heart race.
She had never heard him speak, though, and she was surprised by how fluent he was already. Even his accent, unmistakable as it was, had a lovely cadence. She couldn't get enough of it.
Sliding the green ribbon under the package, she asked, "¿En la academia?"
"No. Hoy fue my úlitmo día. Tengo una beca para la Escuela Nacional de Arte."
Katniss's head snapped up, and she gaped at him. "¿En serio, el ENA?" The boy nodded. Katniss noticed his cheeks were turning pink. "¡Yo también!"
The boy's eyes widened. "¿Qué departamento?"
"Música," she said.
The boy nodded. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, and huffed.
Katniss smiled kindly at him, she could almost see the words turning inside his mind as he struggled to come up with his next sentence.
She was about to speak, to tell him she came from a bilingual home and that her English was just as good as her Spanish, but the look of determination on his face stopped her.
He was trying so hard, and he had been doing so well that switching languages at this point would probably feel like a defeat.
It would crush him, Katniss thought. That was the last thing she wanted to do.
With a resigned sigh, the boy finally asked, "¿Qué instrumento?"
Happy to have waited, Katniss asked, "¿Qué instrumento toco?" carefully enunciating the verb at the end of the sentence.
The boy closed his eyes. "Toco, tocas, toca, tocan," he repeated tapping his forehead with each version of the verb. "Siempre la olvido," he whispered.
"La guitarra," Katniss answered, "pero muy mal. Estoy en el programa vocal."
Looking back at her, the boy said, "Cantas."
It wasn't a question, but she nodded all the same. "¿Y tú?"
"Pintura."
"¿Oleo?"
The boy shook his head. "Acuarela."
Katniss took one last look at her work. The balance between the dark green ribbon and the pale orange paper surprised her. He's got an artist's eye, she thought.
Pushing the wrapped candle over to his side of the counter, she said, "Listo."
"Gracias," the boy said. "¿Cuánto es?"
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With a smile, Katniss gave Peeta his credit card back. "Tu tarjeta."
Taking it from her, he said, "Peeta."
Her smile widened. "Peeta," she repeated, perfectly mimicking his pronunciation. It was a soft, sweet sound that settled in his chest and made his heart flutter.
"¿Y tú?" he asked.
"Katniss," she said.
Katniss, he repeated to himself committing it to memory as he absently wondered if it was one of those old pre-Hispanic names his teacher had mentioned, like Citlali or Xochitl.
"Katniss," he tried out loud. "¿Qué significa?"
"Es un tipo de flor, pero no es de aquí."
Peeta nodded. He didn't want to leave, but the transaction was over, and he didn't have an excuse to stay in the store any longer. "Gracias, Katniss," he repeated, lifting his purchase off the counter.
"De nada," she said, her voice suddenly sounding small.
With a sigh, Peeta turned to leave. He had almost made it to the door when a new thought flashed through his mind. Before he had time to second-guess himself, he turned back to the counter and asked, "Hey, Katniss? La fiesta de bienvenida del ENA... ¿Vas a ir?"
Katniss's face lit up. "¿El viernes?"
"Si," Peeta confirmed.
Katniss chewed on her lower lip as she considered Peeta's question. She had never been great with big crowds, and she didn't really know anyone at the new school. Yes, the rational side of her knew that was exactly what the welcome party was for, but she had been planning on skipping it all the same.
But if Peeta was going to be there… "¿Piensas ir?" she asked.
Peeta shrugged. "¿Por qué no?"
Katniss laughed. Why not, indeed. Trying to keep her voice from shaking, she asked, "¿Nos vemos allí?"
Peeta nodded. His eyes, bright and hopeful, found hers. "¿A las 8:00?"
"A las 8:00," she repeated. "Nos vemos en la puerta."
"Okay," Peeta said. Without even thinking, he added, "I'll see you on Friday, Katniss."
From her spot by the cash register, Katniss watched him leave. "See you Friday, Peeta," she whispered quietly to herself.
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Peeta looked up onto the night sky and frowned. He still wasn't used to the sight of the bright city lights reflected over the clouds. He missed the stars.
He wasn't complaining, though. How could he? He was standing on a rooftop terrace with a beautiful, bright girl by his side.
Just as promised, Katniss had shown up at 8 o'clock. His heart had almost stopped at the sight of her, breathtaking as ever, in a dark green dress and short denim jacket with her long, dark hair braided to create a crown around her head.
After sharing an awkward hello -he was still getting used to the whole kissing on the cheek when you greet someone situation- they had gone into the building.
His eyes had widened in appreciation at the sight of the main entrance hall. Small paper flags cut with a variety of designs hung from the balconies and banisters. The pretty papers danced in the air, adorning the room with life and color.
At the end of the hall, a long table held four large glass jars which had been filled with liquids of different colors.
"¿Quieres un agua?" Katniss asked pointing towards the drinks. Peeta nodded. Together, they made their way through the crowded room until they reached the table. "¿De cuál?" she asked once they were there.
Peeta looked at the jars and considered his options. He knew that the red drink was made with hibiscus flowers and that the white one was called horchata. He guessed the green one was some sort of lemonade, but he had never seen the brown one before.
"¿De qué es ésta?" he asked the woman who was serving the drinks.
Pointing her large ladle in the direction of the brown water, the woman said, "De tamarindo, güero."
Tamarind? Peeta shook his head. "Una horchata, por favor." Looking at his companion, he asked, "Katniss?"
"Jamaica, por favor."
They spent the next couple of hours touring the school, walking through hallways and looking into classrooms while they talked amongst themselves, too invested in each other to worry about anyone else.
They covered superficial things at first, their scholarships and projects for the upcoming year. But, gradually, they moved on to the deeper stuff.
Like the fact that Peeta's parents weren't happy with his decision to move to Mexico to study art.
"Tienen una panadería," he explained. "Quieren que trabaje allí."
Katniss looked shocked. "Pero eres un artista. ¿Qué harías en una panadería?"
"Decorar los pasteles."
Katniss nodded, carefully considering his words. "Bueno," she said with a half shrug. "Ese puede ser tu plan B. ¿No?"
Peeta sighed. Having a plan B wasn't a bad thing, but going back home to work for his mother sounded more like a plan Z.
He wasn't ready to burden Katniss with the darker details of his life, though, so he swiftly changed the subject.
Later, as they visited the rooms where the sculptors exhibited their pieces, Katniss told him about her sister.
Pride and love shone in her eyes when she spoke about the girl who was four years younger than her and who wanted to become a vet. "También hace las velas que vendo," she explained. "Con lo que ganamos en la tienda podemos vivir en la ciudad."
Curious, he asked about her parents. A look of affectionate wonder painted her features as she explained that Lilian and Dashiell Everdeen were about to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary.
"Llevan años juntos, pero parecen novios," she said.
Peeta hung to her every word, mesmerized by the light in her eyes and intrigued by the story of the adventurous couple who had left their families in the US and moved to Mexico to run a bee farm they had inherited from one of Lilian's uncles.
Eventually, their feet led them to a terrace on the top floor.
A handful of people lounged on love seats spread through the open space, but the terrace was mostly empty and, compared to the rest of the building, it was blissfully quiet.
Katniss reached the railing at the edge of the balcony and smiled. From there, she could see the city, an endless expanse of lights and hectic movement sprawled beneath her feet.
Standing next to her, Peeta closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
He wanted the night to last forever, but he was tired. Keeping up with the conversation for so long was beginning to take its toll. He could already feel the ghost of a headache pressing down on his skull.
A soft buzzing sound brought him out of his thoughts.
"Mi teléfono," Katniss explained digging into her jacket's pocket and pulling out a cellphone.
The picture of a blond girl in pigtails sticking out her tongue flashed on the screen. The caption read "Prim."
With an apologetic look in Peeta's direction, Katniss answered the call. "¡Hola Patito!" she said. "¿Qué pasó?"
Trying to give her some privacy, Peeta looked away.
The conversation wasn't very long, just a series of short "sís" and "nos" followed by a quick, "Yo también. Hasta mañana Patito," and a short sigh.
"Perdón," Katniss said slipping the phone back into her pocket. "Mi hermana siempre me avisa cuando llega a la casa."
Nodding to show he'd heard, Peeta turned to look at Katniss once more.
His exhaustion turned to surprise when he found her scowling at him with her pretty lips pressed together in a pout.
He was about to ask her what was wrong when she spoke. "Estas cansado."
Relief washed over him. She's just worried, he realized.
Reaching for his arm, she gave him a gentle squeeze. "¿Quieres que hablemos en inglés un ratito?"
Touched by her suggestion, Peeta smiled.
From what she'd told him that night, he knew speaking in English was probably not a problem for her. He had a sneaking suspicion that she'd stuck to Spanish merely to humor him, but he liked hearing her speak. He loved the sound of her "rs," and the way she corrected him whenever he made a mistake using a gentle, kind voice.
Besides, this was his life now. He only had one more week left before school started and he had to get used to speaking Spanish full time. He couldn't ask people to adjust to him just because he couldn't be bothered to make an effort.
Still, at the rate things were going, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer.
We could always call it a night, he thought. His chest constricted at the idea, an instant reminder that he wasn't ready for the night to end yet.
In a soft whisper, he asked, "¿No te importa?"
Katniss's face lit up. "¡Claro que no! Llevamos toda la noche hablando en español. Te mereces un descanso."
Peeta pressed his lips together. Everything in him wanted to say yes, but he was too stubborn to relent.
Sensing his conflict, Katniss said, "Es tarde. Si prefieres lo dejamos para otro día."
"No!" he blurted out.
An amused chortle escaped her lips. Looking straight into his eyes, she said, "You're doing great, Peeta. I'm really impressed. En serio."
He blinked, adjusting to the sound of her voice in the new language. Shyly, he asked, "¿Si?"
"¡Claro! You've only been here for three months, and you haven't said a single word in English all night! That's impressive."
Her words of praise wrapped around his heart filling him with joy and warmth. "Gracias, Katniss."
"De nada," she said. Letting go of his arm, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the railing in front of them. "Me gusta oírte hablar en español," she mused. "Tienes un acento muy tierno."
"¿Tierno?" he asked as he moved to mimic her posture.
Keeping her eyes trained on her hands, she explained, "Yeah, it means 'cute.'"
Peeta's eyes snapped open. Cute, huh? Slowly, he turned to look at her. They were so close he could see the soft blush painting her cheeks, hear her shallow breaths.
She was the most intriguing creature he'd ever met -gorgeous, funny, smart- and for some reason, she seemed to be interested in him.
Swallowing past his anxiety, he finally caved in and said, "I think you're beautiful, Katniss."
Katniss gasped. In the stillness of the night, he could hear her holding her breath.
A heartbeat later, she sighed, closing her eyes for an instant. "Thank you," she whispered.
"You're welcome," he said softly, bumping his arm against hers.
With a playful smile, she bumped back.
Clearing her throat, she said, "Soooo, you were telling me about your sister-in-law. The one you bought the candle for?"
"Right," Peeta said focusing back on their previous conversation. "Her name's Delly. She was my best friend growing up."
She turned to look at him, gray eyes bright as stars twinkling over the city lights. "Did you know she liked your brother?"
"I did," he admitted. "What I didn't know was that Rye liked her too."
"Oh, wow!" Katniss exclaimed bringing a hand to her lips.
One day I'll kiss them, Peeta thought.
Smiling, he looked away. The day would come. For now, he was happy to wait.
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AN: You can also find me on Tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!
The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.