A/N: Title comes from the song "2 Heads" by Coleman Hell.
1.
Peeta had been in his new apartment for three days when he realized he hadn't had a home cooked meal since he made his big move. He checked Google and found the nearest Stop & Shop was twenty minutes away.
Of course. The perks of living in a small town.
He ended up at a local store located five minutes from his apartment building. Higher prices for less of a selection. Yeah, he was going to love this small town stuff.
He walked into Capitol Mart and decided it had a big name for such a small place. He made quick work of the handful of aisles, grabbing whatever caught his eye rather than working off a list. At this point, anything was better than another serving of General Tso's Chicken.
He stood in line at the only checkout line that was open and studied the magazine headlines as he waited.
"Shit," the woman in front of him mumbled.
He looked up to find a very pretty brunette staring at the cashier. "Can you try once more, Darius?" she asked. "Maybe it's a mistake."
"I tried three times, Kat. It got declined."
"Katniss?" A young girl with blonde braids looked up at the brunette. They didn't look alike, but Peeta assumed they were somehow related.
"Can you go wait in the car, Prim?"
The blonde hesitated. Katniss gave her a pleading look, so she nodded and exited through the nearby automatic door.
Katniss batted the braid that hung over her shoulder out of her way as she dug through her purse. "I…I only have ten dollars on me."
Her groceries were already packed in several paper bags. The electronic screen displayed the total: $112.45.
"My mother must have paid the rent early," she explained. "I don't get paid for another week. Can't I just…owe you? Maybe?"
"You know I can't do that," Darius said quietly, leaning a little closer. "Cato would have me fired."
She nodded, her cheeks flushed, and took a step backwards. She surveyed the bags of groceries, her empty cart. "Right, okay. Let me just get the milk, bread, and peanut butter."
"Hey, wait," Peeta interrupted. Both the woman and the cashier turned toward him. The woman—Katniss?—looked even more embarrassed now that she realized she had a witness.
Peeta lifted his credit card in the air. "I can pay."
"No, that's really not necessary," Katniss said.
"It's no problem at all." He handed his card to the cashier.
"I said it's not necessary," Katniss snapped. She yanked the card out of Darius's hand and shoved it back into Peeta's. "I'll be fine."
"It's no problem," Peeta said. "You can pay me back if it bothers you that much. We can exchange numbers, and—"
"I don't know what's worse. You taking pity on me, or you thinking this is some kind of meet cute."
"I'm not—"
"Mind your own business!" Katniss dug into the paper bags and pulled out the gallon of milk, loaf of bread, and jar of peanut butter. "Just these, Darius," she said, staring straight ahead.
Darius quickly surveyed the items she selected and winced. "I think with tax it's going to be more than ten dollars."
By this point, Katniss's olive skin had turned a deep shade of red. She swore under her breath and rubbed her forehead. Peeta pulled out his card again.
"Please?" he asked as if she was the one doing him a favor.
She nodded before looking back down at her purse. While Darius charged the $112.45 to Peeta's card, Katniss dug out her cell phone.
"Put your number in," she said.
"I wasn't trying to hit on you," Peeta insisted. "You don't have to pay me back. It's not a big deal."
"Of course it is," Katniss snapped, thrusting her phone at him once more.
Katniss quickly shoved the grocery bags into her cart before taking her phone back from Peeta.
"Thanks," she said, unable to meet his eyes.
"It's no problem," he replied, but she was already walking toward the door.
Monday morning, Peeta woke up at three-thirty AM, long before his alarm was set to go off.
He tossed and turned for over an hour, but his mind kept wandering back to the lesson plans he had carefully constructed over the past couple of weeks.
Despite his best efforts, his brain would not shut off.
After graduating in May, and languishing in the purgatory that is the time between college and a Real Job, Peeta had grown desperate. He had applied for thirty positions, interviewed for ten, but budget cuts and tough competition kept him unemployed. His mother was growing increasingly frustrated with his perceived idleness. She also kept leaving brochures for law school lying on his bed.
Finally, Peeta had been offered a mid-year position as a long-term substitute for high school English. He was guaranteed work until June with the possibility of a permanent position the following year.
He had been in Panem, Vermont for five days, but his apartment was still a mess. Half-open boxes and stacks of textbooks crowded every inch of available space. He had no furniture other than one kitchen chair and a box spring and mattress.
He doubted he'd be able to afford much more any time soon.
His mother had called him an idiot for moving four hours away for a temporary position. She refused to support him financially, but luckily he had a chunk of change saved up from working at a bakery during his time at Yale.
Her reaction was reason enough to take the risk.
Except now he was terrified. What if he was terrible? What if the students hated him? What if he couldn't control them?
What if he failed?
There was no way in hell he was moving back home.
Finally, at five AM, he gave up on falling back asleep. He took a shower, packed his messenger bag, and left the apartment in search of breakfast. Despite running up a bill of over one hundred dollars, he had failed to buy a single breakfast item at the grocery store.
His stomach was in knots, but he was determined to force something down. The last thing he needed was to pass out in front of his class due to low blood sugar.
District Diner was situated halfway between Peeta's apartment building and the high school. It was small and a little rundown (half the letters on the sign were burnt out), but it seemed cozy enough, and he had plenty of time to kill.
There were only two other customers. The girl behind the cash register scowled at him as if his presence was a huge inconvenience. Her nametag read Johanna. With a jab of her pointed chin, she told him to sit wherever.
He picked a booth in the back next to a window. It was still pitch black outside, making it feel like the dead of night rather than an hour before sunrise. He pulled out his binder of lesson plans, prepared to reread them for the ten millionth time, when an empty mug appeared in front of him.
He looked up. The waitress wasn't scowling like the other girl, but she wasn't really smiling either. If anything, she looked bored. She was pretty though with dark hair twisted into a single braid and gray eyes.
She was also the girl from the grocery store.
"Good morning. I'm Katniss. I'll be your server. Would you like a cup of coffee?"
She sounded like a robot, rattling off the standard greeting. She placed a menu in front of him and stifled a yawn behind her hand. She froze then, her gaze finally settling on his face.
"Coffee sounds good," Peeta said.
Her hand dropped to her side, and she nodded. When she returned with the coffee pot, he ordered egg whites and a cup of fresh fruit.
She arched an eyebrow. "Is that all?"
"Yeah." He could have left it at that. Her expression wasn't exactly inviting an explanation.
Still, he blurted out, "I just moved to town, and I 'm starting a new job today. It's my first real post-college job, and I'm too nervous to eat."
"Oh," she said before she walked back to the kitchen.
Well, that was mortifying. It was hard being so far away from all his friends. He had lived in Connecticut his entire life and attended college there. This was his first time living not only alone but also away from everyone he knew. He had no support system. Delly and Finnick had texted him a few times, but he didn't want to confess how nervous he was.
No, he wanted to ramble on about it to a complete stranger who could not care less. Who probably hated him for reminding her of the embarrassment she suffered two days ago.
When Katniss returned, she set down two plates in front of him. One contained his order of egg whites and a pile of fresh fruit. There was a pancake on the other with a whipped cream smiley face.
"Just in case you get hungry," she said. "And for good luck."
She didn't smile or even seem that happy, but he might have fallen in love right then and there.
(Just a little bit.)
When the check arrived, the total was written at the bottom, slashed through with a pen. Three zeroes sat underneath.
When Peeta tried to pay, Johanna told him he was working off an existing tab. The good news was that he still had $102.85 left.
He asked to speak with Katniss, but Johanna insisted she was busy in the kitchen.
He left a $10 tip.
The next day, he arrived at the same time and sat in the same booth.
Katniss greeted him with a frown. "You're back up to your original amount," she said. "You can't tip."
"Uh, is this not a diner? Do you not accept tips here?"
"I owe you money. You can't give me money while I still owe you."
"That's not fair. I accept eating for free, but I have to tip you." Katniss opened her mouth to argue, but he continued on, "If I can't tip you, I'll have to take my business elsewhere. And then how will you pay me back?"
She glared at him. "You're impossible."
"Me? I'm the impossible one?"
"Just don't tip the amount the check is for. That defeats the whole purpose."
"Fine. Just the standard twenty to thirty percent then."
She rolled her eyes and held up the coffee pot. He gladly accepted before ordering an egg white omelet with tomato, ham, and broccoli and a side of hash browns.
When she brought him his order, she asked how his first day went.
"It was great. I didn't pass out," Peeta said.
"That's good, I guess," she replied. "Although that's a pretty low standard to measure your success by."
Peeta laughed and explained that he taught high school, and how despite his education, he wasn't completely sure what he was doing.
"No one knows what they're doing," she said with a shrug. "The good news is that teenagers assume adults do, so they probably won't notice."
"Thanks. That actually makes me feel better."
For the first time since he had met her, she smiled.
Stopping for breakfast every morning before work become routine. He always arrived by five forty-five, always sat in the same booth, and always had Katniss as his waitress.
Every day, he ordered the same meal until Katniss finally stopped offering him the menu. Eventually, she didn't even stop at his booth to ask. She served him his usual minutes after he arrived.
"If you're going to change it up, you'll have to warn me the day before," she had said one day.
He never tried anything else though. He liked the routine.
Sometimes he reviewed his lesson plans for the week. Other days he graded papers. But Katniss always asked him about work. She let him ramble on as long as he liked too. He figured she only asked because she was bored. There were never more than four customers in the diner.
The perks of eating at six in the morning.
One day, she sat down across from him. She rested her cheek on her hand, and asked if Trevor was still disrupting class and whether Mia was finally speaking up.
She asked about his apartment, if he had gotten more furniture.
She asked about Finnick, if Peeta had spoken with him recently.
She asked about his weekends, if he was making any friends.
He had to shove a forkful of egg in his mouth to stop himself from asking her what she did on the weekends.
(He was terrified she had a boyfriend.)
Peeta tried to ask Katniss about her life, but she was very private. He could count all the things he knew about her on one hand:
She hated waitressing.
She was not a people person.
Her favorite color was green.
She had a younger sister named Prim.
That was it. The first two kind of went hand-in-hand, so really, he only knew three things.
"How old are you?" he asked one day as she refilled his coffee cup.
She frowned. "Twenty-three, why?"
"Same age as me."
"O-kay." She waited a beat, but he didn't offer up an explanation, so she disappeared back into the kitchen.
"Do you have any hobbies?" he asked the following day after she slid into the seat across from him.
"Waitressing."
"That's your job. What do you do in your free time?"
She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back. "Why do you want to know?"
"I want to learn a little more about you. Aren't you tired of listening to me go on and on every morning?"
"I like listening to you." She looked away and tugged at her braid. "I mean. You're interesting. Your stories are. They're funny."
"Oh." It was less what she had said and more how she had said it that took him by surprise. She had blurted out the first part without thinking. It had sounded sincere.
She offered him a tight smile and slid out of the booth. "I need to check on my other tables."
(She had one other table. It was a regular named Plutarch who, as far as Peeta could tell, lived on coffee and currently had a full mug.)
"Just one hobby?" Peeta called after her.
She looked over her shoulder. "I like archery."
Well, he certainly hadn't expected that.
On the last Monday in June, months after Katniss's debt was erased and Peeta had started paying for his meal, Peeta walked into the diner, waved at Johanna who scowled back, and sat in his booth.
After nearly six months of coming to the diner every morning, Monday through Friday, it was hard not to consider the booth as his.
A cup of coffee appeared in front of him, and he looked up with a wide smile, prepared to greet his waitress.
(And after six months, she sort of was his waitress, right?)
Except it wasn't Katniss staring down at him. A familiar brunette with a nametag that read Annie held out a menu. He had seen her plenty of times in the morning, but they had only exchanged pleasantries once or twice.
"Good morning!" she chirped. "Do you need to look at this or are you getting your usual?"
"Uh." He took the menu from her. It made sense that other servers here knew his typical order. Everyone knew him by now. But it felt strange to have someone other than Katniss offer it. Sometimes he forgot they weren't the only two people in the diner. "I'll look it over."
"Okay. I'll be back in a few. Take your time."
Peeta watched her go, puzzled. He looked down at the menu, something he hadn't opened since his first week here.
He studied the breakfast spread for about ten seconds before he glanced at the door to the kitchen. He sighed, returned to the menu before promptly looking back up. He craned his neck, scoping out the entire diner. He twisted in the booth to make sure Katniss wasn't behind him, helping another customer.
She wasn't.
When he turned back around, Johanna was sitting across from him with a wicked smile.
Peeta jumped in his seat. "Holy shit!"
"Looking for someone, blondie?"
"No," he said entirely too fast.
"Mmhmm." Johanna tapped her chin. "You mean you're not looking around like a sad, lost puppy for Katniss?"
"Oh, is she not here today?" Peeta fidgeted under her scrutinizing gaze. She made him more nervous than all of his students combined.
(Times ten.)
"Rumor has it you're a high school teacher?"
A spark of excitement ran through him at the thought that Katniss had mentioned him to someone else, even if that someone else was Johanna.
Of course, he was always lugging around piles of papers to grade and giant anthologies of short stories and poetry. It wouldn't be difficult to figure it out.
"I am," he said.
"School's out. Why are you still showing up here at six in the morning?"
"I teach summer school."
(Which was true. Except it didn't start for another week.)
"Right." Johanna patted his hand as if to say, I know you're lying but I'll let you save face and drop it. "Anyway, Katniss doesn't work here anymore. Yesterday was her last day."
"What?" His heart dropped, leaving his chest hollow and aching. He couldn't imagine the entire summer without Katniss let alone the rest of his life. He didn't even know her last name.
Johanna burst out laughing. "Wow, you have got it bad."
"Excuse me?"
"The look on your face when I…I said…" Laughter swallowed up the rest of her words.
"Isn't there some kind of rule against about being rude to customers?"
Johanna sat back and let out a content sigh. "Yeah, probably. Anyway, I was kidding."
He was going to get whiplash from the emotional trauma this woman was putting him through. "About what, exactly?"
"Katniss is on the graveyard shift for the rest of the summer."
"So she still works here?"
"Don't worry, blondie, she wouldn't go anywhere without telling you. Her shift ends at five-thirty. You actually just missed her."
Johanna stood and patted his head. He batted her away. "I guess you'll be back later tonight."
"That's highly unlikely," he called after her.
Peeta came back later that night.
At half past one, the diner was packed. His booth was unavailable and an unfamiliar waitress sat him in the wrong section.
He almost asked for a different seat, but he chickened out at the last second.
He rattled off his usual order to an overly cheerful waiter named Thom and waited.
Maybe Johanna had lied. Maybe Katniss really did quit or she was out sick, and this was all a prank Johanna could laugh at later.
Then, he saw her. She emerged from the kitchen balancing two trays of food. Her braid was loose. A few strands of hair were plastered to her cheek and neck. She looked pissed off, which was something he wasn't used to. Usually she just looked bored.
She delivered the plates to a group of college students packed into the corner booth. They thanked her in loud, boisterous voices.
Peeta received his food a few minutes later. He ate slowly, but he never saw an opportunity to go over to Katniss and say hello. She was much too busy, and looked way too stressed. He ended up leaving later without a word.
The next night, he went to bed shortly after eight, set his alarm for three and arrived at the diner at three-thirty in the morning. Despite the solid seven hours of sleep, he was exhausted, not used to being up at such an odd time.
The diner was nearly deserted. Peeta counted two other occupied tables.
Thom, the waiter from the night before, greeted him at the cash register. "Sit anywhere you like."
"Which one is Katniss's section?"
He saw her then, sitting on a barstool in front of the counter, watching the television mounted in the corner. She turned at the sound of her name. Her wide grin made his sleepiness worth it.
"Hey!" she greeted. She pointed him over to his usual table and followed him over. "What can I get you?"
"It's only been forty-eight hours, and you've already forgotten my order? I thought I was your favorite customer."
"You're my least favorite customer, actually. You know I prefer Mr. Heavensbee."
"Right, the guy who tips a quarter and thinks you should be grateful. How could I forget?"
She smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later, she reappeared and sat across from him.
"So Johanna passed along my message?" she asked.
"She might have mentioned your new shift."
"Sorry I didn't get to tell you. I was supposed to have another week working first shift, but my mom's hours changed earlier than expected."
"Your mom's hours?"
Katniss brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. "She's a nurse at the hospital, and my sister has a part-time job at the library. We all share one car. It's a complicated system."
"Oh. Sounds stressful."
"Yeah." She shrugged. Months ago, she would have looked embarrassed, but she had grown used to him. He liked that she was less self-conscious around him. He still didn't know much about her, but he wanted to learn.
"You know, if there's ever an emergency, or you just need a ride somewhere, you can call me," he said.
Her expression changed, but he couldn't read it. He thought she might refuse, that he had somehow crossed a line. At the same time though, she had looked happy that he showed up to have breakfast with her. It was obvious he wasn't up for work purposes. If that didn't put her off, surely his offer wouldn't.
"Thank you," she said, her voice sincere. "I really appreciate it."
"No problem."
She excused herself and returned with his usual order plus one smiley face pancake. "To celebrate the end of the school year," she said.
She sat with him while he ate, and told him how Prim wanted to be a pediatrician when she grew up and currently volunteered at the hospital where their mother worked, reading stories and doing crafts with the children.
The way Katniss talked about Prim transformed her entire face. Peeta had always thought she was pretty, but she looked beautiful as she described Prim. She glowed with pride.
"She sounds amazing," Peeta said.
Katniss smiled, one of the most beautiful ones she had ever given him. "She is."
This new routine took a bit of getting used to, but Peeta figured if Katniss could make the switch from days to nights just like that, surely he could get his ass out of bed at three AM.
She was more talkative at four in the morning, much more so than she was at six-thirty. She still listened to him, asked him how summer school was going (fine), and if he had made friends yet (did Katniss count?), and what he did in his free time (worry about getting a full-time job). But in the quiet moments, she offered up facts about herself: her love of archery, her desire to move, the people she socialized with outside of work.
It was hard to imagine her out of the black v-neck emblazoned with the District Diner logo that she wore. At first, he couldn't visualize her with a bow and arrow in a bright green field, sitting in a movie theater with a group of friends, or dropping her sister off at the library.
Despite that first run-in at the grocery store, he had yet to see her again outside of the diner.
But slowly, she became more of a real person, someone who existed outside of this one place, a girl with her own life, her own desires, her own pain.
It only made him more certain that he was in love with her.
And it only made him want more.
One night, Katniss made the mistake of asking Peeta about his favorite college class and got an earful about the multiverse theory.
"You're crazy," she said.
"No, listen, the professor was crazy, but he made some valid points." As a sophomore, he had taken a physics class to fulfill one of his science requirements and ended up learning about the idea of parallel universes.
"There are a lot of theories about the multiverse, none of which have been proven," Peeta said. "My favorite is the idea that the universe is infinite. So there are an infinite number of possibilities."
"What do you mean?"
"Like if I rolled a die, in one universe, it'd come up one. In another, it'd come up two."
"And it's like that for everyone?" she asked. "It's kind of hard to wrap your mind around infinite."
Peeta was about to go on when Haymitch, the assistant manager and night cook, came out of the kitchen and told Katniss to go home.
"It's dead here. I gotta send someone home," he explained when Katniss protested. "And you're just talking to your boyfriend."
"This isn't my boyfriend," Katniss said, very careful not to look across the table at Peeta. "This is my best customer."
"That doesn't sound right," Peeta interjected. She glared at him.
"Whatever. But someone needs to go home, and it can't be Clove. She threatened to stab me if I sent her home one more time."
Katniss frowned. "She is kind of crazy."
"Is that what you want? For me to be stabbed in the eye?"
"That's not a fair question," Katniss said. "What if she wants to stab you somewhere else? Like your leg? That doesn't sound as bad."
"Katniss."
"Fine, send me home. You do realize I don't have a car and will be stuck sitting her for another hour anyway? Just without pay."
"I can drive you home," Peeta offered.
"Yeah?" Katniss asked.
"I mean, if it doesn't make you feel uncomfortable or anything," Peeta said.
"No," she said. "I mean, it doesn't."
As they walked out the door together, Peeta thought about how in a parallel universe, Katniss had turned him down. He was glad he wasn't living there.
Katniss talked Peeta into driving her to the tiny airport two towns over. When they arrived, she led him to the giant field adjacent to the airport. She told him she would teach him archery – just without the bow and arrows.
She showed him the proper form. He tried to copy her as she hovered behind him, fixing his elbows and legs.
"You're not doing it right," she said.
"I am, actually. This is a pretend bow made specifically for me. This is how you hold it."
"I'm not letting you touch my bow until you at least have the proper form down."
"The proper form would be a lot easier if I was holding your bow."
She sighed and sat down on the ground. She held up her hand, inviting him to sit beside her.
"What are your hobbies?" she asked.
"Um, teaching. Reading. You."
"I am not a hobby."
"You're right. You're a full-time job."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "What kind of stuff did you do when you were younger? Like in school?"
"Let's see. I attended Choate, which is a ridiculously expensive and elite boarding school."
"No time for sports?" she asked.
"Oh no, you make time for sports and other extracurricular activities. You have to be a well-rounded person in order to get into the college of your choice."
"Of course."
"You know, I think they had archery there."
"And you didn't learn." She clucked her tone in mock disappointment.
"I wrestled all four years."
"Impressive."
"I was also on the debate team and a member of mock trial, the National Honor Society, the literary magazine, and FBLA."
"FBLA?"
"Future Business Leaders of America."
She glanced over at him. "Wow. Did you have time to sleep?"
"I scheduled that in between eating dinner and wrestling."
"Sounds tough."
"I don't want to complain. I had a lot of opportunities that other people don't get. But it was hard. And exhausting. But it got me into Yale."
Her eyes widened. "I didn't know you went to Yale. That's amazing."
He shrugged. "I was an English major. My mother wanted me to go to law school, but I wanted to be a teacher. We fought about it constantly. I don't know what made her change her mind, but here I am."
"What happens if you don't get the job here?"
"And I move back? Probably law school. Probably losing control of my life all over again."
She inched closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "Guess you'll have to stick around here then."
The following week, when Haymitch announced he had to send someone home, Katniss stopped in the middle of rolling silverware, stood up, and grabbed Peeta's hand.
"See you tomorrow!" she called, not bothering to take off her apron.
This time, she talked Peeta into driving them to McDonalds to get a McFlurry.
"Ice cream at four in the morning," Peeta chided. "You're like a little kid."
He pulled into a spot in the empty parking lot. Katniss slipped off her shoes and rested her feet on the dash. Her toenails were a neon green, which for some reason, Peeta found adorable.
"You really don't mind me eating in your car?" Katniss asked, shoving a spoonful into her mouth.
"I think it's too late for that question," he said. "Can I have some?"
"Uh-uh. Don't you know the rules of fast food? You want some, you get some. No sharing."
"But…please?" He pouted at her. She looked ready to stab him with her spoon.
"That's not fair. You look like a damn Disney prince. All sad and charming and handsome."
"Wow," Peeta said. "Were you trying to insult me and just failed spectacularly, or was all that on purpose?"
"Shut up," she said, taking another bite. "You're not getting my dessert."
As soon as she had another scoop on her spoon, he grabbed her wrist. She yelped and tried to pull away while simultaneously not spilling the ice cream. Peeta lunged forward. The spoon scraped the side of his face before finally, he managed to get it in his mouth.
"Delicious," he said, sitting back. "Thank you."
Katniss stared at him, wide-eyed. Then her entire expression changed. She dropped the spoon into the cup of ice cream and leaned toward him.
"You owe me a bite of ice cream," she said.
"What are you talking about? You have an entire cup right there."
She grabbed the side of his face and moved closer. His heart hammered against his rib cage, an uncomfortable knocking he was certain she could hear.
She took his top lip into her mouth, sucking the ice cream that remained there, before trailing her tongue to the corner of his lips up his cheek. She sat back, a satisfied look on her face. She picked up her ice cream and resumed eating.
"Okay, now we're even."
It was another few minutes before Peeta could find words. In the end, he let her eat her ice cream in silence.
The weird part was, the silence between them was comfortable, easy, like her kissing him was something she did every day.
(Now there was a thought.)
When they pulled up outside her house, Katniss made no move to get out, so he turned the car off.
"I never thanked you, you know. Or apologized. About our first meeting," she said.
"The grocery store?"
"Yeah. I was incredibly rude, and I'm sorry. I know you were just trying to help."
"Not so fast. The truth it, I was trying to do something nice in order to score good karma for myself. So really, it was all about me."
He caught her smile out of the corner of his eye. They looked at each other then, maybe for a beat too long.
"We're not poor," she said. "Not exactly. Just sometimes everything adds up, and there's not enough to go around."
"Well, if you ever get sick of peanut butter sandwiches, I can always make you something at my house."
"Is that an official invitation?" she asked. Her gaze flickered to his lips before meeting his eyes once more.
"Definitely."
She smiled at him. "Okay. When I want something other than diner food or a peanut butter sandwich, I'll text you. And you'll…what? Cook for me?"
"This may surprise you, but I can cook just fine, thanks."
"Mmm," she hummed. "I guess we'll see."
Her hand landed on the door handle, but she hesitated.
"Peeta?"
"Yeah?"
"Maybe you should start ordering something new at the diner," she said. "Change it up."
"Would you be okay with that?" he asked. "I don't want to change everything on you."
"I'm good with that. Promise."
He kissed her then. She tasted like vanilla ice cream, the perfect treat on a hot summer day. Her fingertips were sticky as they found the back of his neck, but he was too lost in her lips to care.
He tried to pull her closer, but the emergency brake blocked them, so he settled for leaning forward as far as he could, one hand on her face, the other bracing himself against the brake.
"You taste good," she sighed, her mouth following the same path it took earlier, up his cheek until she reached his ear. "I've been wondering what you taste like."
It was too dark in the car to make out much of her face, but he felt the intensity of her stare.
"C'mere," he whispered, and she kissed him again.
The next night, he ordered a cheeseburger and French fries.
"Something different?" she asked.
"Just trying to shake things up," he said.
The first week of August, right after summer school finished, Peeta simultaneously received some of the worst news of his life and came down with the flu.
(He blamed Glimmer—not for the news but for the flu—the girl who always sat in the front row, smiling at him, or leaning over his desk, giving him an ample view of her so-not-legal chest. She had been achy and tired the last couple of days. And she had hugged him goodbye.)
It wiped him out. For two days, he remained in bed, getting up only to use the bathroom and heat up a bowl of soup. He subsisted on broth and crackers and was absolutely miserable.
On the third day, as he began to feel somewhat better, a phone call woke him at six AM. He sat up in bed way too fast, the dizziness giving way to an awful pounding in his head. He fumbled for his cell phone, and answered without checking the number.
"Hello?"
"Peeta?"
It took him a minute to place the voice. She sounded different on the phone.
"Katniss?" He pushed himself out of bed, slowly this time. "Are you okay? Do you need a ride?"
"No, I'm fine. I was just…worried."
"Worried?"
"You haven't been here in three days, and I was just…concerned."
"I'm sorry. I'm sick. I've been in bed for the past few days." He sunk back into the mattress, curled up around his cell phone. "I didn't mean to make you worry."
"It's okay. It's not like you have to come in or anything. I just…got used to it, I guess. Are you feeling better?"
"I'm getting there. I'll probably be in this weekend."
"Okay," she said. Was it his imagination or did she sound disappointed? "Take your time. You have school starting soon."
Right. The school year. The school year during which he had no job lined up. He had been up against two other people for a permanent position as an English teacher, but he hadn't gotten it.
That had been the great news he received the last day of summer school.
He had applied for several other positions nearby just in case this happened, but so far he hadn't heard anything.
If he didn't get something soon, he was afraid he'd have to move back to Connecticut and abandon his dream of being a teacher. He had no doubt his mother would force him into law school.
And worse than returning to his childhood home, his mother's "I told you so's" following him like a shadow, was the idea of leaving Katniss behind.
"Peeta?"
"Sorry. Drugs are making me space out. I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Sure. Feel better."
Later that afternoon, his phone woke him again. This time, it was a text message from Katniss asking for his address. Without thinking much of it, he gave it to her before falling back asleep.
He wasn't sure how much time passed between the text message and the knock on his door, but it felt like seconds. He dragged himself out of bed, his comforter wrapped around him, and opened the door.
Katniss stood there, dressed in denim shorts and a green tank top. She carried a bag of groceries.
"You look awful," she greeted him.
"I'm not wearing a shirt," he said. "Or pants."
"I can see that. You can get dressed if that'll make you more comfortable."
He blinked. The drugs were making him groggy. Also, he was possibly hallucinating.
"Can I come in?" she asked.
"Sure." He stepped out of the way and shut the door behind her.
She walked right into his kitchen as if she had been there a million times before. She set the groceries on the counter, checked the refrigerator, and clucked her tongue.
"Just as I suspected. Not much food." She looked over at him where he still lingered near the closed door. "Peeta, sit down. You look ready to pass out."
She put a hand on either side of him, her hands sinking into the comforter, and led him to the couch. She stood over him and smiled.
"So what do you want? Omelets or pancakes?"
"Uh…"
"Say pancakes. I'm in the mood."
"Pancakes," Peeta said immediately. "That sounds perfect."
After lunch, she made him wait on the couch while she changed his sheets. She brought the linens and the comforter he wrapped himself in down to the basement to wash. When she came back up, she found him in bed wearing pajama pants, covered in a throw blanket.
"Can I?" she asked, lifting the edge of the blanket.
He nodded and she slipped underneath.
"Feeling better?"
"Yes and no," he answered. "I think…I think I'm going to be moving soon."
"Bigger place?" she asked, looking hopeful.
"Something like that."
She sat up, letting the blanket slip down her body. "You didn't get the job."
"No."
"Have you tried anywhere else nearby?"
"I've tried everywhere in a twenty mile radius," he said. "The odds just aren't in my favor."
"So you're going back to Connecticut?" she asked.
He groaned and pulled the covers over his head.
"Yes," he said.
Gently, she picked up the blanket, so she could see his face. She didn't ask, what happens now? She didn't ask, what does this mean for us? Because she already knew. He could tell from her expression.
"Maybe you'll find something there. Something that'll make you happy."
He reached up to touch her face, thinking of what awaited him: an overbearing mother, a parade of girls for him to choose from, law school.
But those weren't the reasons his chest hurt. Those weren't why he said, "No, I don't think so."
She lay back down beside him. Eventually, they fell asleep, Katniss's head resting against his chest, his arm curled protectively over her. As the hours passed, they parted in their sleep, as if the distance was already growing between them. As if he was already gone.