A/N: So, first I have to apologize to anyone who favorited or followed this. I know it has been FOREVER since I posted the initial chapter for this story. My life took a surprising twist a month after I originally posted and I found out that I was pregnant. Well, that ended up sucking all the brain cells out of my head and I had the worst writers block. Now that my little one is a year old and I feel like I can think again, I wanted to come back to this story. It was never my intention to abandon it and thoughts and ideas for it have popped up over time. I hope there is still interest in it, but even if there isn't, I plan to finish it anyway.
Thank you so much for reading! I apologize for any grammatical mistakes :)
Peeta
The noises of a kitchen were soothing. The clanging of pots and pans, the voices, the rhythmic chopping of knives. He'd always felt strangely calm in a kitchen, even when they were deep in the weeds and the sweat was pouring off of him from concentration and exertion. He was born into a kitchen though and it was all he'd ever known. Maybe a kitchen reminded him of home. That feeling was no different for him on the night that District 12 reopened. The line to get in stretched around the building. People were excited to try the new dining experience and to taste the food of their own local chef.
The kitchen was a frantic swirl of motion. They were in the weeds, very deep in the weeds, but that wasn't all that surprising. The kitchen was new, the staff were new, and everyone was filled with first night jitters. Servers were yelling complaints about returned dishes. Thresh, his sous chef, barked orders down the line. The cooks mumbled their assent with eyes down focusing on the tasks at hand. Peeta looked at the downtrodden faces. They had all wanted to make a spectacular splash on their opening night and customer complaints were slowly eating away at the earlier enthusiasm. He spied Katniss, standing against the wall behind the other servers waiting for her dishes and chewing on her bottom lip. Her eyes darted around the kitchen nervously. He had to do something. He needed to pull this together. This was his kitchen now, his responsibility.
"Alright," he said loudly, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention, "we've got this. The night is still early. Yes, a couple dishes have come back, but you were each hired because you are skilled and talented. Don't let a few mistakes get to your head. Mistakes happen. You can do this. We can do this. Now, let's get it together and make this the best fucking dining experience this town has ever seen!"
He clapped his hands again, sneaking a look over at Katniss. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth making her face light up in the most beautiful way. She carried a worried expression or scowl more often than not and seeing her smile, and knowing that he put that smile there, sent a thrill through him. He hurriedly made a few adjustments with the staff and food preparation and then returned to help expedite the orders out of the kitchen. Katniss made her way towards him and grabbed her finished dishes. A tendril of hair had worked its way out of her braid and fell gently across the side of her face. He yearned to touch it and tuck it behind her ear, gently brushing her cheek. Instead, he ducked his head slightly and let go of the plates watching her walk from the kitchen.
Meeting her again didn't go exactly like he had hoped. He had wanted to seem more confident, well-spoken, funny and charming instead of the terrified, nervous mess he had ended up being. He had talked too much and stared at her too long and then, at the lake he had told her that story of when he first saw her. It had probably been confusing for her. It was confusing for him. The truth was, they hardly knew each other, but he had wished every day since he first met her that he could really know Katniss Everdeen. He'd had some sunny, idealistic picture in his head of how seeing her again would go. He would walk into District 12 and instantly charm her with his wit, his words and his food. She would be as head over heels as he was. Who was he kidding? He knew better. Life wasn't like that. It had twists and turns and unthinkable horrors and, sometimes, if you're lucky, unimaginable bliss. He hadn't found the bliss yet for himself, but he had heard others talk about it. So, he kept hope hidden away in his heart that one day he would find it too.
There was a time, although it seemed like forever ago to him now, when happiness was all that he knew. He was a chubby, joyful boy living in a house filled with sugar, flour, butter and chocolate. He would climb up on his father's lap and place his small hands on his father's large, warm ones, closing his eyes to memorize the feel and movements as his father would knead bread. If he closed his eyes now, he still felt it. Around his fifth birthday, the sounds of laughter and running and little boys playing together on the living room floor were replaced with silence and whispers and fear. He didn't remember why it changed, only that the air in the house became thick and pain became an intimate companion.
The first time his mother struck him, he had been with his middle brother, Rye, and they had gotten too rambunctious, giggling and playing with their toy cars on the bedroom floor. His mother had been napping and they must have awoken her because she stormed into the room, grabbed him by his arm, twisting it painfully behind his back and smacked him open palmed across his face. The force of the blow left him with a bloodied, swollen lip for nearly a week. As the years progressed, she learned how to intensify and perfect the beatings, both verbal and physical, and he learned what to do to incur the least amount of her wrath as possible.
He quickly figured how to compartmentalize his life; the kind of person to be for his mother, for his friends and for people in his professional life. They all required a different version of him and he found that he could migrate between the versions easily. He knew how to be quiet and hidden for his mother, how to be loud, charming and funny for his friends, and how to be aggressive and driven professionally. Each version held pieces of him, but never the entirety of the person he felt like inside, the person he truly wanted to be, the person he had always wanted to show Katniss.
He had her number and he could call or text her, but he didn't. She had been so quiet on their drive back from the lake. He had been self-conscious about sharing the story of how he first saw her, a story he hadn't planned on sharing, so he was silent too. When he dropped her back off at her car, she'd hesitated for just a moment, looking at him and opening her mouth to speak, but then she'd only smiled, thanked him again and left. He'd driven back home with his mother's voice ringing in his head calling him "pathetic" and "weak," growing more agitated by the minute. This wasn't who he was anymore.
He'd spent years working on himself, building his self-confidence, finding things he loved to do and excelling at them, creating and expressing himself like he'd never been able to before. That was, of course, until he'd walked into that bar and saw her face again, those stormy eyes staring straight through him. In that moment, all of the years of work and the life he had struggled and fought to create for himself were gone. He had looked at her and forgotten how to breathe. He'd struggled to keep up with the things Haymitch had been saying and stayed in the kitchen an hour longer than he'd needed too just so he could wrap his mind around everything. Somehow, he had managed to pull it together, at least he could breathe easier knowing that she had liked the food and that the menu would hopefully be a success.
Haymitch had given him a lot of freedom in setting up the kitchen and hiring staff. Peeta knew exactly who he'd need to make sure the kitchen ran like a well-oiled machine; Thresh. He had met Thresh three years ago when they both worked at The Seam, an up and coming restaurant in New Orleans. Thresh was reserved and quiet outside of the kitchen, but inside, he had a presence that commanded respect and he always got the best out of the people around him. He was also an exceptionally good chef and someone Peeta could call a friend. He'd really needed a friend. Being back home was emotionally draining on him and even though Thresh was never one for words, just being around him had put Peeta at ease.
He still dreamed of New Orleans; the music, the people, the food, the fragrant flowers in the courtyard behind his Aunt Effie's double gallery house. The sun setting in Jackson Square. On extremely lucky nights, those beautiful images and sounds would carry him through until morning and he would wake up to a room bathed in sunlight. Those were not typical dreams and he held them close to his heart, like surprise gifts from an old, dear friend. On most nights, he'd close his eyes dreading what would come; the feel of the road rushing up to meet him, blood on his hands and under his fingernails, his shoe lying in a field far ahead of him, the blinding glare of flashing lights, the wail of sirens, the sound of his voice screaming for help. He would jolt awake to a dark room on nights like this, covered in cold sweat as hot tears streaked down his cheeks.
"Hey, Blondie! Come out with us!" Johanna yelled into the kitchen from where she stood behind the empty bar.
Peeta smiled. She had taken to calling him Blondie, but she'd seemed to have a nickname for all of the people that she liked, so he took it as a compliment. It was just after midnight. The restaurant had closed for the night over an hour ago and he had let everyone go home, finishing the prep for the next day himself. They were all exhausted, but triumphant. Despite the rocky start, they had pulled off a great first night service.
"Oh, Blondie," Johanna's singsong voice floated through the kitchen.
She stood in the door with an impish smile on her face and a glint in her eye. She was petite, but athletically built with short, spikey hair and wide eyes. She ran her bar with authority and the customers loved her snarky attitude. She would take absolutely no shit from anyone and Peeta liked that about her. She walked up behind him and he felt her fingers dancing across his back until they found purchase on his shoulders. She stood on her tiptoes and leaned into his ear.
"The night is young and so are we. Come out with us! All work and no play makes Peeta a dull boy."
"Okay," he chuckled, shaking his head. "But, don't even think about trying to get me drunk and taking advantage of me."
He turned his head towards her, raising his eyebrow, a smirk ghosted across his lips. She threw back her head and laughed loudly, coming around him and hopping up to sit on the workstation. She pulled one of his curls, letting it spring back into shape against the side of his head.
"Oh, don't worry, Blondie. You're not my type," she said, giving his crotch a pointed look and winking. "I like them with a lot less dick and a lot more tits." She waggled her eyebrows at him. "Besides, you definitely couldn't handle me."
This time it was his turn to laugh. "Oh, don't be so sure," he said, eyes glinting mischievously. "I could make a convert out of you yet."
She hopped down from the counter, swatting his ass as she headed out into the dining room. "You wouldn't be the first one to try. Now, come on and let's get the fuck out of here!"
Shouts and applause of approval from the group waiting in the dining room rang through the air. He quickly put away the last of the prep, finished cleaning and pulled off his chef's jacket and sweaty undershirt, thankful that he had thought to put an extra shirt and deodorant in his bag before coming in. He pulled the fresh shirt over his head and headed out the front door.
He was lost. He had grown up in this town and he still didn't have any idea where he was. Johanna had handed him a crudely drawn map on a cocktail napkin with directions printed on the back and then he watched as everyone had gotten into their cars and driven off. He had wondered just exactly where they would be "going out" to because as far as he knew the only bar in town was District 12. His car moved at a crawl down the dark country road. He cursed under his breath and wondered why in the hell these roads never had streetlights when he finally found the lane described in Jo's hastily written directions.
The well-worn grassy lane opened up to a large field. A bonfire burned near the center with cars and trucks circled around it. As Peeta approached, he scanned the field for any sign of a house and saw nothing but trees. As soon as he stepped out of his Jeep, he was nearly knocked to the ground as Jo's body sailed through the air towards him. He caught her easily and she locked her legs around his waist, handing him a plastic cup half filled with beer.
"You made it!" She exclaimed. "We thought we may have had lost you to the deep, dark back roads."
"You almost did," he chuckled. "Where are we anyway?"
"This, my dear, sweet, blonde friend is a field," she smirked. He rolled his eyes laughing and helped her back down to the ground. "This property is owned by somebody famous," she said conspiratorially, "but don't worry, I've made a few friends and we're allowed to be here. This is where all the misfits and weirdos hang out. So, what do you say? Care to join the party?"
She held out her hand and he accepted it, letting her weave him through the parked cars to the crowd gathered around the bonfire. Someone had music blaring out of their car speakers and people moved around him laughing, dancing and drinking. Johanna introduced him to some people and others that worked at District 12 waved in his direction. He saw Thresh and a couple members of his kitchen staff. He lifted the beer in his hands to his lips. The amber liquid sat on his tongue and he savored the taste. He hadn't had a beer since New Orleans. He hadn't had a lot of things since then.
He followed the sound of laughter and saw Katniss with her head thrown back, clutching her sides. He felt his stomach flop. She was so beautiful when she laughed. She was perched in a lawn chair next to Gale Hawthorne.
Great.
He and Gale had never really been friends. Gale was a couple years older and in the same class as his brother, Rye, and they clashed like oil and water. It didn't really surprise Peeta. Rye could be sarcastic and abrasive and if you didn't understand him or his sense of humor it had the effect of rubbing people the wrong way. There was a distinct possibility that Gale thought Peeta was similar, especially when Peeta saw the annoyed expression that briefly flashed across Gale's face as he approached them.
"Peeta! Oh my god!" Madge jumped out of her seat next to Gale and rushed towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. They had been friends in school and since his father was a prominent business owner and her father was the mayor, they had grown up together. It had been years since he'd seen her last, but she still looked the same as he remembered, all elegant beauty and blonde curls. Actually, he thought she had looked better than his memory. Marriage suited her. She had a stunned expression on her face, but her eyes flashed the briefest glimpse of pain as she looked him over.
"You look really great, Peeta," she said as she cupped his face gently in her hands. "I didn't know what to expect when I heard, especially after what happened to –" She stopped abruptly, wincing slightly and clearing her throat. Panicked, he chanced a side glance at Katniss, but she didn't seem to catch on to what Madge had said.
"You look pretty amazing yourself," he said, desperate to change the subject. "I hear that congratulations are in order!"
She smiled widely at him and it lit up her entire face. "Thank you! I wish you could have been there. It wasn't the same without you and I was really hoping you would be able to make the cake, but your dad did a beautiful job."
He turned and held his hand out in greeting to Gale and caught Katniss' eye with a shy smile. Madge pulled him down into the seat beside Katniss all but commanding him to sit with them. Gale shifted uncomfortably in his chair giving Madge a pointed look which she returned unfazed while mouthing "Don't be an asshole."
"So…Peeta, what have you been up to?" Gale asked while still glaring at Madge. "How's that dickhead brother of yours?"
Madge tried unsuccessfully to discreetly elbow him in the side while faking a cough, but Katniss saw the exchange. Peeta watched as her eyes narrowed and her head turned between his and Gale's faces. Her hand flexed around the cup she was holding. A scowl replaced the toothy grin he had seen on her just moments before. He panicked. His brain reeled trying to figure out a way to break the sudden tension and change the subject. He couldn't believe Gale had brought up his brother because if Madge knew what had happened then Gale surely did too.
Luckily, Johanna's sense timing was impeccable. She sidled up to the group completely ignorant of the growing discomfort and sat on Gale's lap with her legs thrown across Madge's thighs. She laid her head on his chest and gave him her best woeful, doe-eyed expression.
"When are you going to let me have a chance with your beautiful bride?" She crooned and winked at him. "I'd even be willing to let you watch."
He immediately perked up, giving Madge a sidelong glance. She threw back her head in laughter. "Keep dreaming, buddy," she said while playfully tickling Gale's side and then as an afterthought and with a devious glint in her eye, she leaned and kissed Johanna full on the lips.
Katniss' jaw dropped open and Gale sat there stunned with a cheesy smile spreading across his face. People in the crowd whooped and cheered. Peeta chuckled into his beer as he drank another bitter mouthful. Madge pulled back from Johanna's lips and everyone around them broke out in applause. Johanna jumped to her feet dragging Madge with her and pulled her into a friendly hug. The two women laughed lightheartedly, and Johanna kissed Madge on the cheek before pumping her fist in the air in mock celebration. Madge caught Peeta's eye behind Johanna's back and quickly gave him a knowing look. It was then that he realized that she planted the kiss and caused the commotion for him. Relief flooded over him. The previous conversation had all been forgotten now. He relaxed back into his chair bringing his cup back up to his lips and made a mental note to thank Madge later.
The beat of the music and the cacophony of noise from the party still played in his head as he drove away from the hidden field. His hands had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. He had only had three beers, but it had been a while since he had consumed any alcohol, so those beers were enough to lower his guard and fill his body with a pleasantly numb sensation. He had to pay attention to the road. Adrenaline course through his veins. His heart pounded in his chest. He cursed under his breath and flexed his fingers reminding himself that he wasn't drunk, and he could drive.
A quiet snore drifted over from his right. Katniss was slumped in the passenger seat, her cheek pressed against the glass of the window, her eyes closed, small wisps of air escaped her closed lips. Madge and Johanna had pled with Peeta to drive her home when it was obvious that she shouldn't be driving herself. Gale had lifted her up and carried her to Peeta's Jeep when she had refused and tried to get behind the wheel of her own car. That was how he found himself navigating the desolate small-town roads to Katniss Everdeen's apartment at 4AM.
He pulled up behind a brick building two blocks from his family's bakery. The building used to belong to hair salon but was now a Chinese take-out restaurant. The neon sign in the storefront glowed Capitol Takeout onto the sidewalk and street. There were several windows located on the second and third floor that he assumed must belong to apartments. After a few minutes of searching he found a large metal door on the side of the building with faded, peeling stickers labeled "Resident." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. The edges of sleep were starting to close in on him. It had been a long stressful day followed by an eventful night. He didn't know how he was still functioning. With the combination of alcohol and exhaustion, he knew he shouldn't drive home. He decided to sleep in his car although he knew that would be severely uncomfortable and a decision he would regret as he was standing in the kitchen again that evening. But, first, he needed to get Katniss up to her apartment.
He whispered her name and gently shook her shoulder, but she didn't move. Speaking louder, he said her name again and brushed the stray locks of hair from her face. She made a muffled sound in the back of her throat and leaned into his hand. She cracked an eyelid, looking at him through a sleep and alcohol induced fog. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly in a smile.
"Hey," she croaked, her voice thick with sleep.
"Hey. You're home. We need to get you upstairs."
She nodded and pulled her body upright weaving slightly. Peeta reached his hand out to steady her and then made the decision that she wasn't in any shape to walk. Exiting the car, he made his way around to the passenger side and easily lifted her into his arms. Even though she was slim, the extra weight coupled with the long hours on his feet had his left knee aching. He would need to wear his brace tomorrow. He briefly wondered if anyone would be able to tell he had it on under his work pants. It didn't matter. He'd never make it through the day without it. So be it if anyone noticed. He would lie if he had to and say it was from an old sports injury. No one would question that.
He willed his tired, aching body forward, through the labeled metal door and up a flight of narrow wooden stairs. He paused at the top and looked down at Katniss waiting for her instructions. Her eyes were shut but he could tell she wasn't sleeping. She pointed down the dimly lit corridor. "Thirteen," she muttered. As he carried her towards the door at the far end of the hall, she reached into the back pocket of her jeans pulling out a set of keys. He deposited her gently on her feet, waiting by the door to make sure she made it inside safely before he returned to his car. She fumbled with the keys finally unlocking the door after a few unsuccessful attempts. She wondered inside leaving the door hanging open. He hesitated unsure whether to close the door for her or leave it open in case she returned to close it herself. Ultimately, he decided to just close the door. She probably didn't realize she had left it open. He stepped inside her apartment reaching for the door handle when he heard her voice from somewhere deeper inside.
"Are you coming or not?"
He stopped dead in his tracks, his fingers still wrapped around the brass knob of the door. His brain was too foggy to figure out a reply. His heart had suddenly started to hammer in his chest.
"Peeta, shut the door and come on," her muffled voice said.
Too perplexed by what was happening and too tired – and honestly still buzzed from the beer - to argue, he softly closed the door and ventured into the apartment. He stood in the small but tidy kitchen with its short countertop and compact appliances waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He heard Katniss sigh heavily and followed the sound into a slightly larger room with an open doorway on his right. The larger room had a worn loveseat, a comfortable looking overstuffed chair and a bookcase with a small TV resting on top. He assumed the doorway to the right must be the bedroom. His palms started to sweat.
His eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness by the time he made it to the bedroom doorway. They followed the trail of discarded clothing until they landed on Katniss' topless form. She was on her back, clothed only in her panties, with her legs dangling over the side of the bed and her elbows propped up behind her to support her upper body. Her head snapped up at his arrival, her eyes finding his. Her dark tresses, free from their normal braid, cascaded down her back. She sat up on the bed and he tried not to look, tried to preserve some modesty for her but he couldn't help himself. She was so beautiful, and he had thought of her like this so many times. He drank in the sight of her. Her small but perfectly shaped breasts. The tautness of her stomach. The curve of her hips. Her lean, muscular legs. He felt the lower half of him stir to life even though he knew this was wrong, knew she was drunk and knew he shouldn't be looking. She reached for him and the narrowness of the room allowed her fingertips to find the belt loops of his pants from the edge of the bed. She pulled him closer. A small voice in his head told him that he needed to stop this. This shouldn't happen, not like this. But, a louder much more insistent voice in his pants let her fingertips guide him until he was flush against her torso. Her hands traveled from his waist and up his chest and he couldn't hold back the sound of pleasure that escaped his throat at her touch. The hands found purchase on his shoulders pulling his face down to hers. Their lips were millimeters apart. His eyes fluttered closed. His hands trembled at his sides.
"Finally," she whispered. "I've been waiting for you."
Those words and the proximity of her body and the feel of her breath against his lips were all it took to crush his resolve. He claimed her mouth, her lips parting easily under his. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through him. He wondered if she could feel it too. He wove his fingers into her hair. She clawed at the hem of his faded t-shirt and they worked together to remove it, barely parting for air as they did. Her hands ran down the length of his back, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and settled on his hips. He felt her fumble with the button on his pants until she had it undone, and the zipper pulled down. She used her feet to guide the pants over his hips while simultaneously bringing him down on top of her until he was flush between her thighs. He could feel how warm and wet she was even through their underwear and he was so hard already that any contact help ease the growing ache and stiffness between his legs. Their mouths broke apart and he buried a moan in her neck bucking against her. She hissed her satisfaction, arching up to meet him. He trailed hot, wet kisses down her neck and across her chest, taking one hard nipple into his mouth and then the other. She cried out when he used his teeth to gently bite down and he couldn't help the smirk that appear on his face knowing that he had done this with Katniss Everdeen and that she had liked it.
He had fantasized about this moment for years never thinking it would actually be a reality, especially after he moved away. When he graduated high school, still never saying more than a handful of words to her, he figured that his chance to know her and be with her in this way were gone. And, yet, here he was, and he could barely believe it. He worked his way down to the band of her panties and the realization of just how far this was going to go gave him pause. He could barely hold a thought in his head. He was operating now completely on want and desire, but he still had the presence of mind to seek out her permission. He had never wanted to do anything that may hurt her and so he looked up meeting her hooded glaze and silently asked her what she wanted to do. She seemed to understand his question almost immediately because she sat up and took his face in her hands. They stared at each other for just a moment, their heavy breaths mingled in the darkness, before her lips descended on his. She kissed him fully and deeply without hesitation and in that moment, he knew her answer.
She pulled him onto the bed, pushing him on his back. She removed his shoes, socks and pulled his pants the rest of the way down his legs. Her hands then moved to his boxers. He pulled in a breath. He wasn't what anyone would call massive, but he was impressive enough and he still wanted her to like what she saw. He sprung free from the cotton confines as she added the boxers to the pile of clothes on the floor. He kept his eyes on hers as she shimmied out of her panties as well and smiled slightly when she hummed her approval at what she saw.
The smile disappeared when he felt her small hand grasp him fully. A moan escaped him as she ran her hands up and down his length. He felt the warm, moist heat of her mouth on him and it took nearly everything his had to keep his hips planted on the bed. She felt impossibly good. He'd needed to concentrate because listening to the quiet moans she emitted as she worked her mouth over him brought him closer and closer to the edge. He'd needed to think of anything other than what was happening but the only thing he could focus on was how desperately he wanted to be inside her.
She must have sensed his desperation or maybe, her desired equaled his, because in the next breath she was there, straddling his hips, poised to fully commit to this act. She hesitated, moving her hand up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. He met her gaze. He could easily get lost is those brilliant silver orbs forever if she would let him. Before he had a chance to register another thought, she positioned him at her entrance and sank down on him fully. They sighed in unison. She was so unbelievably hot and wet and tight that he knew he wouldn't last very long. And, when she began to move on him it was all he could do just to hold on to her. She flattened her chest against his, grinding her hips in such a delicious rhythm that it had him gripping the sheets with one hand while the other clung to her ass. She murmured into his neck, her hands planted at either side of his head.
As she worked him faster, he could feel as her walls began to tighten around him and he fought to delay the orgasm he could feel building in himself. He was very close to the brink and knew that soon there would be no holding back. He felt her hot breaths tickle the hairs on the nape of his neck as she moved her mouth to his ear.
"Peeta," she whimpered. "Please."
He knew she was close now. He dropped the sheets still firmly in his grasp and moved his hand down to where they were joined. His fingers moved in tight circles on her center. She sighed her approval against his cheek before placing her hands on his chest and sitting up on him fully. He continued his ministrations until he felt her walls clamp down around him. He gripped her thigh. He was there too, and his mind scrambled desperately trying to decide what he should do, but before he could decide it was already too late. He fell over the edge with her, thrusting up into her until they were both spent.
They collapsed together on the bed. He ran his fingers through her hair as his heart rate slowed and his breathing returned to normal. It was in that moment that the panic began to set in. What had he done? He had never slept with someone unprotected before. He had gotten too carried away too quickly. To make matters worse he had finished inside her without asking if it was something she wanted him to do. He was mortified at his own inability to use his brain. The realization must have had dawned on her too because her once pliant body stiffened in his arms.
"Katniss…I…I'm sorry," he stammered. "I wasn't thinking, and it was all so intense, and I didn't mean…"
She silenced him with the touch of her fingers to his lips and then she planted a soft kiss to the side of his mouth before raising her head to meet his worried eyes. He could see the confusion and apprehension etched on her face. She seemed as stunned by what had happened as he was.
"It's ok," she said. "I'm on birth control and I trust you."
He could hear a nervous undertone to her words, but he had asked her to trust him and although he wasn't thinking of this scenario or of any kind of intimate relationship with her at the time, he was glad that she did. He watched as she removed herself from him and climbed off the bed. She grabbed a robe that was hanging from a door adjacent to the one he had used to enter the room, pulled it on, and turned to give him a shy smile before she exited the room. A light flickered on outside the bedroom bathing the small living room in its glow. He could just make out the smooth white tile of a bathroom floor before she disappeared inside and closed the door behind her.
He laid there for a moment, a chill settled on his skin without the warmth of her body heat. He brought his hands to his face and roughly scrubbed at his eyes. His mind raced through the events of the day and he felt completely and utterly drained. He'd never pictured the day ending up like this and now so many questions hung in the air. They were too daunting to contemplate in the wee hours of the morning that he found himself in, so he knew that for the time being he had to let them go. He sat up, pulled his clothes from the floor and began to get himself dressed. She emerged dressed in a t-shirt and cotton shorts just a few minutes later.
"You're welcome to use it if you need to," she said, pointing towards the bathroom.
He stood, clad only in boxers and pulled his shirt over his head. "No, it's ok I should probably, um…," he looked in the direction of her front door, "go?"
He phrased it as a question, his inflection nervously going up on the last word because he honestly didn't know what she wanted or what was happening between them. He wasn't bold enough to assume she wanted him to stay or that he'd had a right to stay, but there was a pull deep within his gut, a desire to crawl into the bed and wrap his arms around her, to cradle her against him until they were both asleep. He stood there awkwardly for a beat, watching as different emotions passed over her stormy eyes. He took her silence as an answer, picked up his pants, socks and shoes and moved towards the open doorway. Her slender fingers wrapped around his wrist. He stopped and turned to look at her, the expression on her face softened as she took his hand fully in hers.
"Stay."
That was all he needed to hear. He returned the clothing in his arms to the floor and let her lead him back to the bed. They crawled under the covers together, and, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she laid her head on his chest. He felt the beat of his heart hitch for just a moment. He wrapped his arms around her and she squirmed even closer to him. She smelled of lavender and the trees. The scent was intoxicatingly soothing. He let that, the warmth of her body pressed against his and the rhythmic sounds of her breath lull him to sleep.
