A/N: Thank you for the reviews, and thank you to loueze for being my beta!
Enjoy!
Chapter Two
I'm called back to Peeta's studio just four days later. I reread the email he sends me ten times over to make sure I know what I'm required to do, but as the days pass I come to be more overcome with both excitement and anxiety. I try to reassure myself. For my first ever actual shoot, being told that I had done well was high praise. And having that praise come from Peeta is even better- it feels so much more important.
I arrive promptly at nine thirty and he opens the door with an almost timid smile.
"Hey," he greets me, closing the door once I've stepped inside. "How are you?"I can already feel my skin burn under his gaze.
"I'm okay," I tell him, looking away. "You?"
I can feel the tension between the two of us. There are emotions that were never properly dealt with between us and I'm afraid if I try to bring it up, it could jeopardise what could be a good thing for me. I've always hated working at the diner. After high school I wanted to study Biology, but after breaking up with Peeta, everything seemed to go downhill. I couldn't afford tuition and resorted to putting my studies aside until I sorted my expenses out… which never happened.
But by simply allowing people to dress me up and push me in front of a camera, I made four hundred dollars for what honestly was only two hours of actual work. The rest of the time was made up of camera, clothing or lighting changes. If someone had told me six months ago that I would be modelling, I would never have believed them.
"Excited for today," Peeta says, enthusiasm evident in his voice. "Jo and I were talking the other day about all the stuff we've got planned. For the time being it's going to be just clothing lines and such until I'm fully prepared to start my own projects."
"Right," I nod. "So what's happening today?"
"We'll be using different locations… going onto the roof, and further out in the city," he takes my coat from me and smiles. "We'll be incorporating some other models as well. I think it's-"
"When are you planning on the nude shots?" I interrupt. He falters. I scrunch my face up in embarrassment. Jesus Christ, Katniss. Despite my mortification at my blabber mouth, it feels good to finally ask. Ever since I sent that first email inquiring about the job, I've been dubious about the prospect of baring myself. At the start I wasn't nervous; being naked in front of strangers would make it easier to isolate my emotions from the situation. But Peeta isn't a stranger. Far from it. He knows every dip and curve of my body. He knows me on an intimate level. I can pretend as much as I like that it doesn't matter. That it isn't making me feel things I thought I wouldn't feel again.
I walked out because of a childish argument, and have worked hard at trying to forget him. Yet here I am, working under his camera lens. So of course I won't be able to isolate myself, even if I wanted to.
Back when we were a couple, I allowed him to photograph me when we were together. He liked to take snaps of me in what he called a 'natural' state, which often meant photos of me doing menial tasks like washing dishes or reading a book or watching the TV. I always knew that he just liked taking pictures of me, no matter what I was doing. And that included when it was just the two of us.
"Fuck," Peeta gasps, his grip on my hips tightening as I move above him harder. I release a breathy moan, clenching my walls around his cock every time he surges into me, determined to make him come first.
"Can you feel me?" I rasp, rolling my hips forward to stimulate my clit, my hair falling down my back and over my shoulders. I lightly scratch my nails down his chest and his squeezes his eyes shut. "You're so big, Peeta. You feel so good."
His jaw clenches and I throw back my head and move faster, sliding up and down the length of his cock. I call his name, knowing the sound of it falling from my lips will get him off. I don't realise he's taking photos of me until I notice the absence of his hands on my hips, look down, and am met with a camera lens.
"What are you doing?" I ask, panting with the exertion of riding him like this.
"Just – ugh – keep going," he pleads.
I narrow my eyes, faltering slightly, heat blossoming over my cheeks. "This isn't porn, Peeta."
"No," he groans, his eyes dark. "It's art." I bite my lip and run my hands over my breasts, grinding and swirling my hips in figures of eight. The click of the shutter is the only sound except for our heavy breathing.
"Are you close?" I ask a minute later as my stomach begins to tighten. He's stopped taking pictures now and has his head tilted back on the pillow, the pale skin of his neck and the sharp line of his jaw exposed to the ceiling, his hands holding tightly onto my thighs, pulling me down even harder onto him.
"Are you?" he challenges, his voice taking on the whiny tone that tells me he's on the verge of coming.
"Yes," I moan, swiping the camera from where he dropped it on the mattress beside him. "Let go, Peeta. Let go for me."
He grunts out his agreement and thrusts his hips upwards in a way that makes my legs feel like jelly; once, twice, three times, letting out a long, low groan as he finally comes. Watching him come almost makes me join him. His entire face contorts, his mouth falling open and his eyes scrunching shut. I'll have bruises on my thighs tomorrow. I press the shutter button on the camera as he comes, my own body thrumming at how erotic it feels recording him in fragments through the little screen. When he finally recovers, he runs his hands up and down my thighs and smiles, his gaze already growing sleepy.
"What are you-?" he smirks and I smile down at him even though I'm on the cusp of my own orgasm. "Did you- did you take pictures of me when I came?" I nod, biting my lip, and his cheeks redden slightly before a lazy smile works its way over his face.
He takes the camera and places it on the nightstand before tucking me underneath him with one of his wrestling moves."You haven't come yet, have you?" he murmurs, his lips merely brushing over mine.
"No," I say, tracing his jaw with my tongue. He captures my mouth with his, his tongue sliding along mine, as his hand dips down and a thick finger slides inside of me.
"You're so wet," he whispers, tugging on my bottom lip with his teeth and adding another finger. I squirm, digging my nails into his sides.
"Make me come, please," I beg.
He covers me with wet, open-mouthed kisses down to my chest, capturing one nipple between his teeth and nipping at it gently, before moving on over my stomach to my centre. My thighs lock around his head at the first touch of his tongue to my folds so he presses my legs open as far as they will go against the sheets, and sucks determinedly on my clit, holding me down with one arm. My back arches on the mattress, tugging on his unruly golden curls.
"Peeta!"
It takes no time for me to climax, and by then, Peeta is hard again. He pushes into me without a pause, grinding hard against me until we both come again. He flops down onto the bed beside me, his chest rising and falling dramatically. Post-coital bliss washes over me as I listen to us catching our breath. He snaps another photo.
"So beautiful," he whispers, and I don't know if it's to himself or to me directly, but I curl up beside him and kiss the spot over his heart anyway.
He turned one of the pictures he took of me and one of the pictures I took of him into paintings that complimented each other. I wonder idly if he still has them, or if he rid himself of everything that was related to me. Perhaps he burned them and danced as they were reduced to ashes. I can see why he would, considering what I said to him.
I shake my head. This is business and nothing else. The relationship I used to have with Peeta is over and it won't do well to dwell on it. Even if we built up a new partnership from this work, it would never be the same as it used to be.
"I- I'm sorry," I backtrack, glancing briefly at Peeta. "It's just been on my mind ever since I applied for the job. I didn't even know if I would be accepted and I am still a little nervous about it. I guess I'm worried about it being launched on me."
"That's completely understandable," he says with a reassuring smile, leading the way into the kitchen. It's a clean, stylish room with black marble tops and white cabinets. At the end is a little nook with a couch and TV tucked in the corner.
"I'll tell you what I'm planning for different shoots, of course, but its fine that you feel nervous about it. I know how you feel."
My eyebrows shoot up. Peeta doesn't seem fazed. "You've posed nude before?"
"Once or twice," he shrugs. "Just reference photos. Nothing graphic."
"Oh." I bite my lip and mull that over for a second, wondering who was behind the camera when Peeta was posing naked.
"You want a coffee or something?" he offers, not noticing my thoughtful stare.
"Just a glass of water, please," I say, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder.
"But yeah, I promise not to surprise you," he continues. "I know how much you hate surprises." I blink, taking the glass of water from him.
"Uh… I'm sorry. I just meant-" he flounders, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It's fine." I mumble. Peeta nods.
"Anyway," he clears his throat. "We'll warn you what to expect beforehand so you can be prepared… and that really makes it sound so seedy. It's not going to be…I mean, we're planning on doing a shoot possibly next month on the bed…" he trails off, flushing bright red.
"I think I know what you're trying to say," I tell him, sensing his struggle.
"I don't know why I can't talk today," he apologises. "Johanna can show you some stuff we've done before if you want to get an idea of scope." I gulp down my water, not trusting myself to speak.
"If you want to stop for any reason, at any time, just say. I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything. Just ask any of us." Peeta clears his throat nervously. "You'll be posing with Finnick today - he's an old friend. The camera loves him – he will be super helpful if you want advice from a professional."
"Alright, thank you," I smile at him and pass the glass back.
"I have to warn you though. Finn's a huge flirt."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah. He's been here for a good hour being a nuisance," he rolls his eyes and heads out through the kitchen and into the studio. I hesitate in the doorway. "Ready to go?" Peeta asks.
I take a deep breath."Yeah, I'm ready."
"Today you're modelling dresses. Finn was here yesterday to do a single person shoot because he's so popular, but now we need you two together," Johanna informs me as she winds a lock of my hair around a curling iron.
"Why can't I have single shoot as well?" I ask before I can bite my tongue.
"Because taking you on is a risk, and Finnick is an insurance plan."
"Oh." I furrow my brow. I didn't think taking me on would be an issue. I mean, Peeta doesn't have to book me for anything. Now I think about it, I suppose that letting an unknown be in a shoot that is helping pay for Peeta's life really is a gamble.
Johanna has just finished my hair when a lithe brunette appears. She thanks Johanna for doing my hair and is introduced as Annie, and as she applies make up to my face with gentle strokes of a brush, she complements me on my complexion.
"You have such beautiful colouring," she says softly, leaning back to scrutinise her work. The silver chain around her neck glints, the 'F' hanging on it catching my eye. "I'm so pale. I bet you tan easily as well."
"I hardly ever burn," I say with a laugh. Annie rolls her eyes.
"Now I know why Peeta wanted to shoot you and Finn together," she says, rifling through a seemingly endless table of cosmetics. "You two will look amazing."
I scoff. "I'm pretty sure it's just good makeup."
"Well, not everyone can pull off eyeliner like this," Annie says, handing me a eyes nearly bulge out of my head. I look like a crazy person. The contouring is severe, my lips are stained a deep plum, and my eyes are heavy with feathered false eyelashes. The eyeliner is an extreme cat eye, but loops around my eyelid Lorde 'Royals' style, with glittering gel surrounding it. It looks ridiculous, but makes me feel fierce- like I could kill a then Annie wheels in the rack of dresses I need to wear.
Okay. Now I understand the war paint.
I don't even know how to describe them. All I can think of is that they look like steampunk Disney princess gowns. They're a mix between lace and spikes. My mouth falls open.
"What kind of fashion is this?"
"The crazy kind," Annie laughs. "Just wait here. I need to find Peeta and Jo to work out which outfit you need to wear first."Annie disappears and I stand, making my way over to the rack of dresses. I run my fingertips over them, feeling the silky material, watching the light catch on the gems and sequins. All of them are so beautiful. Insane, but still beautiful, yet not what I would wear for just a trip to the convenience store, for example.
I hate to think how much they are worth. Peeta must be a well-established photographer if he's been tasked with fashion like this. Heck, he's only twenty three – twenty four, now, since I missed his last birthday – and he's already come this far.
"You must be the extraordinaire model Peeta was talking about," a deep voice rumbles from behind me. I whirl around to find a tall, tanned, toned man standing just a few feet away. In nothing but a pair of very tight boxers. I blush and avert my gaze.
"Miss Everdeen," he says, smirking, completely fine with being virtually naked with a stranger. I mean, not that he has anything to be worried about, but still.
"Are you Finnick?" I ask.
He raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing bigger. "So you've heard of me?"
"I've been warned that you're a huge flirt." I deadpan. Finnick laughs.
"I'm taken, and I don't like that insinuation," he says, stepping closer to me.
I can't help it. I glance down, taking in his steel-cut abs, and briefly (pun intended) his boxers. I look up and flush even deeper. Finnick just smiles at me, revealing two rows of ridiculously white teeth. "I model underwear sometimes. For obvious reasons," he purrs.
"Sorry to say, that's not the most impressive junk I've ever seen," I shrug. He lets out a low whistle but doesn't have enough time to formulate to witty response because Peeta, Jo, and Annie appear. Peeta sighs, running his hand through his hair.
"You can't keep running around like this," he says to Finn. "I'm not running a brothel here."
"Oh, but you wish you could be," Finn replies. Annie swats him on the arm and drags him over to dress him in a suit.
"What's the plan for today, boss?" she asks Peeta, pulling a crisp shirt from a hanger.
"Well, the theme of the shoot is 'Fashion of the Future', so we'll be going outside, if the weather holds, possibly onto the roof. I'm got a location in mind, but today I just want to work with what we have around us," he glances down at the iPad in his hand. "Annie, how long will it take to have everything ready?"
"Ten minutes, tops," Annie reports, adjusting Finnick's tie. "I just need to organise the dresses. Jo, can you do Katniss' nails?"
Everyone bustles around me. Peeta disappears only to return a minute later with two large camera bags slung over his shoulders. Annie moves Finnick's suits onto the same rack as my dresses and covers the whole thing with plastic sheeting before wheeling it out of the studio as Peeta holds open the door. Johanna sits me down again and pulls out a set of pre-painted false nails and starts applying them to my cuticles with astonishing speed.
"How do you guys manage?" I ask, watching my own bitten nails being replaced with glossy falsies.
"Manage what?" Johanna asks, holding a cuticle pusher between her teeth as she files my nails down.
"Manage this?" I say. "On America's Next Top Model, they have like a thousand people on site to do everything. And here it's just three people."
"You think us models don't have to work as well?" Finnick scoffs. "Christ, we're like slaves. I can't remember how many times I've been hauled in to hold a reflector disc or some shit on my day off."
"Stop complaining, pretty boy," Johanna scolds. "You're treated like a fucking celebrity," she inspects my nails before releasing my hands. I stare down at my fingers. They've never looked so good. "Peeta likes to work in a small team. We've had big crews before and it's been just a good, but baker boy likes keeping it simple. He still gets amazing shots, though."
"I'm not surprised," I mutter.
Johanna doesn't let me carry anything over fear of me breaking a nail so I end up seated in the back seat of a van with a rack of clothing to my left, boxes and camera supplies in front of me, and Finnick to my right.
"I saw your pictures from the other day," he says as he stares down at his smartphone. "They're good. Good for a first-timer."
"I had Peeta and Johanna telling me what to do," I shrug.
"Learn to take a compliment, girl on fire," he tells me. I narrow my eyes.
"Girl on fire?"
"I think that nickname suites you pretty well. At least I don't call you crazy."
"Who's crazy?" I ask.
Johanna suddenly jumps into the driver's seat and rolls down the window.
"Hurry up, fuckers!" she yells to Peeta and Annie.
Finnick fixes me with a look.
"That makes sense," I say, nodding my head. Johanna revs the engine.
"Alright bossy, calm down," Peeta says as he climbs into the seat beside her. Annie joins Finnick and I in the back and rolls her eyes as Peeta and Jo start bickering. I clutch my bag tightly in my hands.
This is so weird.
The first place we stop at is what looks to me like an old factory covered in graffiti. I don't see the appeal but Peeta looks enthusiastic, and leaps out with his second in command to begin setting things up.
"Finn, get out of the damn car," Annie says, rifling through the dresses. "Katniss needs to get dressed."
"Can't I stay?" he asks, his green eyes glittering. Annie just pushes him towards the door.
It's cramped back here, but Annie makes it work somehow.
"Why don't you just put on the dresses at the studio?" I ask as I wriggle out of my own clothes."They get wrinkled easily," she says, helping me pull the corset part of the dress on and fastening it at the back. Once dressed, I manage to get out of the car without much difficulty, and Annie fixes my hair again, spraying it full of hairspray.
She does the same to Finnick's hair, styling it effortlessly. I think of my standard everyday braid. I could never make someone's hair look that amazing just by running my fingers through it.
"Alright hotshots," Jo calls once Annie deems us acceptable. "Let's get this show on the road."
And so the day passes. At first I feel unsure with Finn, but once his flirtatious outer shell disappears he is a great person to work with. He makes me feel comfortable and has the same dry humour that I have, which gets us in trouble plenty of times with Peeta when we can't stop laughing.
He lifts me effortlessly despite the massive layered lacy contraption I'm in when we have to climb over a wall to reach another shoot location and gives me advice on where to look, where to place my feet, where to place my hands. It's easy to see why he's a model. He has the standard chiselled jaw and high cheekbones, but there's something about him that makes him different. I can't figure out what it is, but he manages to look amazing no matter what he's dressed in.
By lunchtime my feet are aching and my face hurts from having to concentrate on my facial expressions. Peeta announces that we'll continue shooting on the roof of the studio once we've eaten, and we return to Twelve.
I force Annie to let me help her carry something when we arrive, so she tasks me with carrying her makeup box, which turns out to be a lot heavier than I thought it was going to be. My own makeup collection consists of two mascaras, a crusty concealer, and about a thousand chapsticks since I always lose them and have to buy replacements.
Peeta disappears into the in-studio kitchen and makes us lunch. He refuses our offers to help and leaves the four of us to mill around in the studio. I can hear him bustling
around in the kitchen just a few meters away and itch to join him. I've never been a great cook, which meant that for the most, Peeta did all the cooking back at our old apartment while I 'assisted'. Not that I ever complained. I feel a sense of déjà vu having him cooking again.
"Hey, brainless," Johanna says, kicking me with her booted foot."Are you even listening?"
"Yeah… I am, I-" I trail off. "I just…"
"Distracted by something?" she continues, a smirk playing at her mouth. "Or should I say someone?"
"Johanna!" Annie exclaims, slapping her arm.
"What? It's pretty damn obvious you aren't listening to us!" Johanna says. I scowl at her. "Just go and talk to him for Christ's sake. You're driving me insane with that forlorn expression."
"I'm not forlorn," I fire back.
"Really?"
"Really."
"So you aren't going to join him… alright."
"Oh, Johanna. Don't be cruel," Annie says, leaning against Finnick. She gives me an encouraging smile. "Go talk to him, Katniss. We know you want to."
I chew on my lip. Johanna folds her arms over her chest and tilts her head to one side, challenging me. I grit my teeth. She's right and she knows it. She knows I know it. I sigh and stand up."Knew it," Johanna mutters as I turn and leave.
Standing in the doorway of the kitchen is incredibly daunting when your ex is standing there. Despite Johanna's jibes making me feel brave, now I just feel stupid. Why would Peeta want to talk to me? I really do want to talk to him. I've always enjoyed having conversation with him, because he's the kind of person who will just listen when needs be, or will argue a point with equal enthusiasm. I've missed it. I can't deny that.
"Knock, knock," I say to catch his attention. He looks up from the chopping board he's working at and flashes me a smile.
"Katniss, hey. I don't need any help. You go relax with everyone else. You deserve it."
"I was kind of kicked out," I say, stepping into the room and towards where he is. He raises his eyebrows.
"Oh really?"
"Yeah," I shove my hands in my pockets. "What are you making?"
"Nothing special. Just grilled cheese."
My mouth instantly waters. It was a joke between us two that if Peeta's artist career never took off, he would open a bakery/café.
"Knowing you it won't be 'just grilled cheese'," I say, mimicking his voice. "Your grilled cheese recipe is flawless."
"I wouldn't go as far to call it flawless," he laughs, chopping slices of cheese and piling them up on the counter. "But thanks."We lapse into silence and I just watch Peeta cooking. He coats each side of the bread slices with butter and grills them to golden-brown perfection whereas I always burn them.
"Are you sure I can't do anything?" I offer, feeling awkward.
"No, I insist. You're working for me. The least I can do is provide you with lunch."
"But I'm just standing there," I counter. "You're the one who has to actually take the photos and work with everything to get a good outcome."
"It's no trouble," he says, pulling the grilled bread out and loading them with cheese. I move aside so he can retrieve another knife from the drawer behind me, and as he begins slicing tomatoes, I realise what he's making. It's my favourite grilled cheese variation. Avocado and tomato. My stomach rumbles.
I move along the counter and grab an avocado from the fruit bowl on the island. Peeta is still preoccupied with the tomatoes so I cut the avocado open and begin preparing it just like Peeta taught me a good three years ago. I don't think I've eaten avocado in three years.
"Hey, I can do that," he says. I look up to find him watching me. I take a knife and stick it in the stone, twisting and pulling it out intact.
"It's no trouble," I say. He laughs and shakes his head. "You taught me that. How to properly prepare an avocado."
"You remember that?"
"Of course I do. It's a valuable skill to possess."
"I wasn't about to let you carry on with the horrendous method you had before."
"Excuse me," I say, turning to him and waving the knife around. "I did not have a 'horrendous' method."
"Yeah you did," he chuckles, leaning back slightly out of the path of the knife. "You wasted half of the avocado every single time."
"Whatever," I roll my eyes and begin scooping out the avocado for him to spread over all the grilled cheeses he's fall into the old routine we had with ease. I pass him the pepper grinder before he's even reached a hand out for it, and he locates a garlic press for me.
"This kitchen is stocked very well," I note.
"I'm here quite often, so it made sense to stock it up." Peeta shrugs.
"Art and cooking. Is this your idea of heaven?" I ask.
He looks up and meets my gaze."I suppose it is," he murmurs, reaching a hand out to brush his thumb over my cheek. "Eyelash," he explains. I blush and he smiles before pulling away to check on the sandwiches, acting as if nothing even happened. I help him tidy up and try to ignore the way my body feels like its thrumming.
Even though we've only actually been around each other for two days after two years apart, it feels like each minute lasts an hour. It's a good thing. I want to soak up his presence. I feel like a cold-blooded animal while Peeta is the sun. This time together has made me feel more alive than I have felt for a long time and to have him voluntarily touch me again feels amazing. I'm pretty sure he felt something too. I glance at him. His ears have turned pink.
"Well, isn't this domestic!" Johanna just has to spoil the moment by barging in. (Not that there really was a 'moment' to begin with, but I can pretend if I want).
"Katniss has been more helpful in about twenty minutes than you have in a good year," Peeta defends, plating up the sandwiches.
"Well she would know how to cook in your kitchen, wouldn't she?" Johanna says, her tone implying that she perhaps knows more than I would've thought. I look down at the floor. That girl doesn't seem to know when to speak and when to shut up.I wonder how much she knows about what Peeta and I used to have. If he told her that I was a decent person, or if he told her what I said to him in the heat of our last argument. I almost hope that he did. At least that way Johanna would know that I can be mean and have a spine. And a brain.
"Just sit down and eat," Peeta says, pushing a plate towards Johannaas she falls into one of the stools pulled up to the island. Annie and Finnick join us and we eat with steady conversation. Finnick complains about his agency boss, and Johanna and Annie argue about whether Finnick should cut his hair or not. Johanna's suggestion of a bowl cut doesn't go down well.
Peeta and I sit next to each other opposite the other three in silence. I'm enjoying my sandwich too much to even bother giving them my two cents.
"Thanks for helping me," Peeta says quietly as the argument across the table reaches it's loudest.
"It's alright," I say, taking a sip of water. I can't imagine that my breath is going to smell that amazing right now.
"I missed that," he continues, picking at the crust of his sandwich. I look down at my empty plate. Peeta has never loved eating crusts. "I missed cooking with you."
My heart races at his words. "Really? Why?"
"You're a great assistant."
"You're only saying that because I can't actually cook," I scowl at him, causing him to chuckle.
"That too."
I eye his plate. "Are you going to eat that crust?"
"I was just going to ask if you wanted it, actually," he says, offering me the plate. As I eat I realise just how intimate this is. Strangers wouldn't do this, but then I don't suppose we're strangers.
"Do you mind giving me your number?" Peeta asks. I almost choke and gulp down some water.
"W-what for?" I splutter.
"Just – just for work purposes," Peeta backtracks, sensing my surprise. "It's better to contact you via text than by email all the time. For emergencies and stuff. I don't have it anymore. I just thought-"
"No!" I exclaim, shaking my head. I don't want him to think I don't want him to have my number. He already looks a little thrown off. "I mean, yes. Yes you can have my work."
I rummage through my bag for my cell, grimacing as I finally pull it out. Peeta has what appears to be an iPhone 6, while I have the same phone I had when we were together, a brick Nokia from the Stone Age. I type my number into his phone and he messages me a smiley face emoticon. I save his profile and when I scroll through all five of my contacts, seeing his name there gives me a kind of rush.
Work commences again after the dirty dishes are loaded into the washer. Annie touches up hair and makeup. Johanna and Peeta haul lighting equipment up to the roof and Finnick and I change outfits.
Okay. This dress is actually mental.
I groan when Annie presents it to me, staring in disbelief. I can barely tell where the arm holes are, let alone how it's meant to look once it's on.
A rich ebony in colour, it starts off with jewels and sequins at the bottom that look like smouldering coal when I move and the skirts swish around my legs. The rest of the dress is made of feathers. They cover the bodice and flow over my shoulders and down my back. I feel a bit like a bird wearing it. A phoenix rising from the ashes. Finnick's suite has similar qualities to compliment it, but looks plain in comparison to this ridiculous garment. Annie has to lace me up at the back and uses numerous bobby pins to attach a feathered headdress to into my hair.
"Am I a bird or am I human?" I ask, wincing at the headdress digs into my scalp.
"I have no idea," she says, her brow furrowed as she adjusts my hair. "Capitol Fashion is known for having weird shoots."
I do a double take. "Wait, Capitol Fashion?!"
"You didn't know?"
"I thought this was going to be for some online boutique for crazy people, not for a huge fashion magazine! I can't be in something like that. No one knows who I am. Why didn't someone else do this?" I can feel myself panicking.
"Because we all believe in you and Capitol Fashion didn't specify who we could use, so Peeta and Johanna decided you'd be good for the job."
"But- but I-" I'm speechless.
Growing up, fashion wasn't a priority. Prim loved it, however, and read magazines like Capitol Fashion all the time. I'd flicked through them once or twice and hadn't seen the appeal of the clothing inside, nor the makeup. Yet here I am, doing exactly what I thought was stupid all those years ago.
This started as a way for me to have a little more cash. That was it. I never thought it would become anything else but now I'm going to be in one of the most popular publications in the country.
"You're going to go far," Finnick interrupts my internal breakdown. "And you have to realise that you wouldn't be here if people didn't think you could do it."
I take a deep breath. I'm okay. I can do this. Why I'm freaked out, even I don't really know. I'm overthinking everything. I'll be fine.
"Okay, I'm sorry," I say with a shake of my head.
"It's alright," Annie smiles, giving my shoulder a pat as we head for the stairwell leading to the roof. Finnick walks ahead and I lift my skirts as we climb.
Peeta and Johanna decided you'd be good for the job, I tell myself.
Peeta decided you'd be good for the job.
I can't believe Peeta thought I was the model he wanted for such an important job. Capitol Fashion is on every newsstand. I've seen the models they have on the front cover. People like Kate Moss and Gisele Bündchen. Insanely respected models who earn millions.
Meanwhile I'm plain old Katniss Everdeen. I don't have what supermodels have. Pretty dresses and carefully applied makeup can't hide that fact. Prim would be more suited for this job, with her big blue eyes, soft golden hair, and elegant nature. I'm not elegant. I'm a mess 90% of the time.
Walking in front of the camera and the lights suddenly feels so much more daunting and my nerves show through pretty quickly. No matter what anyone says to me, I'm wooden and the relative ease I felt just an hour earlier is gone. Peeta calls for a break and I stand there, trying not to hyperventilate. I'm going to ruin this for everyone. The pressure is getting to me now.
"Is something wrong?" Peeta asks. I jump, not aware that he was beside me. "You seem nervous. This morning you were so confident."
"I'm sorry," I gasp, twisting the rings on my fingers around and around. "I didn't know that this was for Capitol Fashion."
"You're feeling under pressure?" he asks, stilling my fidgety hands with his own. I nod. His touch was always able to calm me. He smiles at me in understanding. "Katniss, honestly, you aren't the kind of person to be affected by a magazine. I mean, you always said that fashion was impractical-"
"-and unpredictable." I finish his sentence for him.
"I have no doubts that you're right for this job."
"You're just saying that."
"I'm not."
"You are. To make me feel better. I mean, come on. Look at Finnick and then look at me. I'm not model-material. Not by a long shot."
"Stop putting yourself down." His blue eyes are sincere.
"I'm telling the truth though, aren't I?" I say, my voice breaking. I feel embarrassed. I can't believe I'm reacting like this to something most people would be ecstatic about.
Yes, I'm proud that I could be deemed good enough for this, but at the same time I feel lost. I've never had opportunities like this before. I don't know what to do. This seems like something so much bigger than I can handle, and I can't even be classed at a model yet.
"No, I think you're scared," Peeta says, as if he can read my thoughts. "You really don't need to be. You look beautiful in all the photos we've taken so far, but your nerves are showing through."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask.
"Tell you what?"
"That this was for Capitol Fashion."
"I didn't think you'd care," he furrows his brow. "Normally you wouldn't have."
I stay silent. He's right. But when has this been my normal?
"I believe in you," he says. I look around me. These people aren't trying to make anything hard for me. I'm making this hard for myself.
"If I'm ridiculed for being in this thing, I'm suing you," I whisper. Peeta just laughs. I turn, determination flowing through my veins. After all, my father didn't teach me to take flight. He taught me to fight back. I let Annie reapply my lipstick and march in front of the camera.
"And here I was thinking the girl on fire had been quenched." Finnick laughs as he comes to stand beside me. I shoot him a look and he just laughs harder.
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