"This is taking forever!"
Katniss wipes at her brow and looks over the thousands of leaves scattered in front of her. They have been working for almost two hours but it feels like they've barely made a dent.
Peeta leans on his rake as he surveys the yard. "Well, it's a big job. You said you have half an acre? And there are a lot of trees back here..."
Katniss shrugs, looking up through the remaining golden maple leaves to where the sun has begun to drop in the sky. "I guess. It just doesn't feel like we're making any progress."
"Sure we are." He waves to the six bags they've already filled. "Besides, it hasn't been so bad hanging out with me, has it?"
Katniss gives him a small smile. "No, it hasn't. Thanks again for offering."
She knows the job would have taken her a lot longer without Peeta there to help. In past years, her neighbor Gale had helped out, but he left for college a few months ago. Since he's been gone, Katniss has found herself overwhelmed by the yard work and general maintenance of the property. It isn't a typical responsibility for a sixteen-year-old girl. But then again, nothing is typical about her life since her dad died.
"Oh, no, I meant it. It's my pleasure." His lips curl up slightly. "Besides, it's nice to have a Saturday off from the bakery. You're much better company than my older brothers. I'm really enjoying myself."
Katniss rolls her eyes. She thinks enjoying himself is a strange way to describe a day of hard labor, but Peeta is always saying things that surprise her.
"Whatever, wacko." She adjusts her rake and tries to focus on the leaves instead of Peeta's steady gaze.
They chat as they work, picking up where they left off, discussing what Peeta likes to call "the deep stuff."
"Okay," he starts. "This is a tough one: favorite pasta shape."
"That's an easy one," she dismisses. "Spaghetti. Hands down."
"Oooh, good choice. I love spaghetti, too, but I like to cut it. None of that fancy twirling. And my mom always gets mad when I do." He scrunches his eyebrows, his voice rising. "What girl is going to want to go on a date to a nice restaurant with someone who cuts their spaghetti like a child?!" he mimics. He shrugs and moves back to raking. "I usually just have ziti instead."
Katniss studies him for a minute. "Well, that's just silly. I always cut my spaghetti."
His blue eyes snap back to hers with a look of awe. "You do?"
"Yeah."
He nods slowly before clearing his throat and moving to grab another leaf bag. "Good to know."
She puts on her gloves and starts picking up the leaves off the ground to load the bag. "Okay, my turn. Favorite school subject."
"Chemistry," he answers without hesitating.
"Really?" It's Chemistry class that shifted their casual acquaintance into a full-fledged friendship. She and Peeta had gone to school together for years, but it wasn't until Ms. Trinket assigned them as lab partners that they had the chance to really get to know one another. It was during Friday's lab that Katniss had mentioned her weekend plans for raking and Peeta had offered to help.
"I would have thought it would have been Home Ec., with all the baking you do."
"Well, it would have been," he explains. "If it weren't for the baby..." He shakes his head and frowns dramatically.
Katniss laughs out loud at the memory of their eighth grade "egg baby" project. "I still can't believe your brother cooked your 'baby'!" she teases.
"Tell me about it!" he agrees. "I earned a reputation as a neglectful parent at fourteen. At least I learned one thing: never let my brothers babysit my future children!"
The two share a genuine laugh together at the memory, her smile making her cheeks ache. Katniss can't help but notice how often that happens when Peeta is around.
"So, Chemistry, huh?" she asks again. "Even with the constant pop quizzes, and Ms. Trinket's weird wigs, and Cato Roberts making stink bombs every other week?"
He smiles and nods. "Yup, even with all of that." He looks up and meets her eye. "Chemistry is honestly the best part of my day."
She flushes a bit under his stare, but doesn't look away. Peeta is the first to break, scratching at the back of his neck and looking at the pile of leaves. "Um, do you think I could get another glass of water? I'm feeling kind of parched all of a sudden."
"Uh, sure." She puts her rake down and grabs his glass. "Of course." She heads into the house and fills his glass with water - no ice, she knows from their conversations this afternoon.
As she gets ready to head back outside, hurried movement catches her eye through the kitchen window. Peeta is frantically grabbing small piles of leaves from each of the bags they have so carefully filled and is spreading them back out across the yard. He takes a little
from each, just enough to be inconspicuous, and then moves on to the next.
Katniss wrenches the door open in a rage and storms out of the house. At the sound,
Peeta quickly grabs his rake and resumes the motions of raking, but he doesn't have her speed or reflexes. He's caught.
She slams his water down on the picnic table and charges toward him, backing him into the nearest maple. He cowers like prey under a hunter's bow, eyes wide and guilty.
"What the hell was that?! You think this is some kind of joke or something? 'Oh, I'll come over Katniss. I'd love to help.' More like help me double my work load!
"No! That's not it!" he protests. "I did want to help!"
"Well you have a funny way of showing it!" she scoffs.
"I just... didn't…want this day to be over so soon." He sighs and she realizes how close she's standing to him when she feels his warm breath on her cheek. But she doesn't move, too enchanted by the sprinkling of freckles fanning across his nose, and the rosy blush moving up his neck.
He lifts his hand up slowly, freezing her in her tracks. Her heart stops as he brushes her cheek ever so slightly, moving back to show her a maple leaf between his fingers. "Sorry, you had a leaf in your hair-"
Surging forward on instinct, she presses her lips to his. His mouth is still parted slightly, and she misses her target a bit in her haste, but his lips are soft and firm under her own. She leans back and watches as his lashes flutter open again, his eyes searching hers for some explanation.
She thinks back to the afternoon, how comfortable she is with him, how at home she feels beside him, how much she didn't want the day to end either. "I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I... wanted to do that all afternoon."
He gives her a smile, shy and sweet and grateful all at once. "Oh, Katniss," he breathes, touching her chin with feather-light fingertips. "Don't be sorry. You have no idea how glad I am that you did."