Shaken up by Delly's threat, I do the only thing I know how to do in stressful situations. I completely engross myself in my work, sitting down with my calculator and stack of papers and crunching numbers for the day of play. Math has always come easier to me than socializing skills, one of the main reasons I slightly prefer sitting in my office and working instead of dealing with bitchy women like Delly and Johanna.
As I sit on hold with the catering company, I my mind starts to drift to possible solutions to the Delly problem. One thing I was sure of was that I wasn't going to tell Peeta. He is equally if not more stressed out than I am balancing City Council with his election duties that I know he definitely does not need to deal with petty office drama. Part of me wanted to go to Delly and tell her that she couldn't blackmail me like that, but I knew that she would try and sabotage Peeta's campaign and I couldn't do that to him.
I haven't come up with anything by the time I hear a voice on the other end of the phone, drawing my attention back to my work. I spend the whole morning at my desk alone, forgetting it was even lunchtime until I hear a knock at the door. "Come in!" I call, admittedly grateful for the distraction—creating and going over schedules could only be so interesting.
I smile as Peeta sticks his blonde head in, but his bright smile instantly reminds of my current situation and my smile falls from my face. "Hey, I'm about to head over to City Hall but I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me before? The food around here is much better than downtown." His tone was light and friendly, clear that Delly hadn't given him the same speech she'd given me.
I bite my lip, wanting to accept but knowing I can't. "Oh, I have a lot of work to do, I really shouldn't be going out," I offer as a lame excuse.
"We can eat something really quickly in the break room?" He tries again, with a little less enthusiasm.
It makes me sad to see the disappointment on his face as I shake my head once again. "I'm really sorry Peeta, but I'm really behind and I need to get stuff done." I have to stop myself from adding a "maybe next time" to my statement. Without really thinking about it, I realize I've made my decision on what to do myself. Peeta and I can't be friends anymore – the risk is just too great.
Peeta runs his hand through his hair he always does when he's stressed or uncomfortable, finally getting the hint. "Well, alright. See you tomorrow I guess." He leaves the doorway without waiting for me to respond, letting the door slam loudly behind. I groan, holding my hands in my head. It frustrates me to know that Delly is getting exactly what she wants. She's not the first "Delly" I've met – Georgetown l was full of them – spoiled, attractive, rich kids who think they deserve everything in the world and get mad when it's not handed over to them.
I want to spend time thinking about ways to get her back, but the sound of my office phone ringing makes me realize that what I told Peeta wasn't a complete lie, I do have a lot of work to do. I answer it on speaker, picking up my cell phone to send Marvel a quick text to pick me up a chicken avocado sandwich from the deli across the street. "Hello?" I answer into the phone, not bothering to check caller I.D.
A gruff voice answered me. "Ms. Everdeen, my office please? Now?" The sound of Haymitch's voice made me freeze in fear. Had Delly seen Peeta stop by my office and decided I wasn't playing by her rules?
"Uh yes, I will be there in a second," I respond, trying to keep my voice steady before hanging up the phone. I will my breathing to stay even as I walk from my office to his at the end of the long hallway. I pass Delly's cubicle on my way there, grateful that she wasn't there to witness me getting in trouble. My brain comes up with a hundred ways he could fire me before I even arrive in front of the big mahogany doors. I knock, waiting for a response.
"Come in," he says as I let myself in. I want to immediately explain the pictures, and why I was outside of the office with Peeta in a non-professional way, but Haymitch's relaxed position and glass of whiskey tells me he didn't call me in to confront me. "Take a seat and close the door behind you," he said, motioning me to the chair before finishing off his drink.
I hesitantly take a seat, sitting face to face with the man behind this campaign. "Do you need something from me Mr. Abernathy?" I ask, eager to find out the intentions of this meeting. "I can give you a financial update, tell you where we are in terms of spending money and such," I offer.
He doesn't even appear to think my question over before asking me, "Do you want a drink? You're 21 right?"
"Excuse me?" I ask surprised, glancing at the clock above his head. "It's 1 in the afternoon. I've got so much more work to do on the day of play, I couldn't even think of having a drink." I admit to myself that the last part is a lie –a drink sounded perfect, 1 pm or not.
Haymitch shook his head and chuckled at my response. "Never too early for a drink, sweetheart, but I do admire your dedication to your work here. Have you been having any problems adjusting, do you enjoy it here?" He studies me, trying to read my body language the same way I read his.
I was confused why a tispy Haymitch was asking me questions about my work experience, but I answered nonetheless. "This is one of the first jobs that has allowed me to incorporate finance and political science, each day presenting me with a new challenge. To be honest it has been a little stressful, but it's the most fun I've had since college." As the words come out of my mouth, I know they're not lies.
"I'm glad to hear that," he says, mulling my words over. "Well, I just wanted to check in on you. If you ever need some assistance or some alcohol, you know where to find me." His tone, although friendly, told me that he was done talking to me.
Calling a "thank you" behind me, I speed out of his office before he has a chance to change his mind and fire me. I breathe a sigh of relief once I'm outside – no bitch was going to make me lose my job today.
The next morning, I'm woken up by the "Good morning do you want pastries with your coffee" text from Peeta that I've gotten used to in the past three weeks. I type out my usual answer of "Only if they have pumpkin muffins," but stop my disoriented self from hitting send as visions of Delly dance behind my eyelids. I groan, rolling over in bed and deleting the message. I type out "Sorry running late, can't meet," despite knowing that Peeta knows I rarely ever run late.
I drop my phone next to me on the bed, not bothering to look at it as it vibrates with a response from Peeta. I know it's cold to suddenly ignore him like that, but I'm not going to risk his campaign for our newfound friendship. I force myself out of bed to start my routine early – not taking the SEPTA with Peeta means that I have to drive, which is something I've been avoiding doing since being warned by Peeta on my first day.
I skip reading the Philadelphia Inquirer in favor of taking a long shower in the hotel's state of the art bathroom, attempting to organize my thoughts as the hot water rained over me. No matter how many times I try to focus on budgets, scheduling, and spending, my brain can't stop wandering to Peeta, and how it would feel to have his strong arms wrapped around me. What if Delly wasn't completely crazy, and we did really have chemistry? Aside from Madge, he is one of the few people who I've gotten along with so easily in such a short amount of time.
I feel my face heating up as my brain starts to picture what would happen if he was in the shower with me—how I would cling onto his broad shoulders as he held me against the wall, kissing my neck. Only when I hear myself moan out loud do I snap out of my daydream, reminding myself that this is exactly the reason we can't be friends.
I hurry through the rest of my routine, towel drying my wet hair before getting dressed in my usual grey pants and dark colored blouse. Packing my bag, I finally look at Peeta's text from earlier. All it says is "ok," with none of the emojis I had recently showed him how to access on his phone. I sigh before shoving it into my bag along with the rest of my stuff. The more I see him around the office, the harder I know it's going to be. Making sure I have my car keys and room pass, I leave my room, unenthusiastic for the long day ahead of me.
I manage to avoid Peeta for two days before he corners me in the conference room while I'm setting up my laptop for a meeting. I don't even notice him come in until I hear the door close behind him, my eyes instantly locking with his. A surge of guilt rushes over me as I open my mouth. "Oh, hi Peeta," I say, messing around with my flash drive to avoid looking him in the eye.
"Hey, Katniss," he responds, his tone cool. I can't read his expression, but his crossed arms gives me the impression he's not very happy. He walks over to where I'm standing, each step he takes giving me more and more anxiety about what he's going to say. "So, I know this probably isn't the best place or time for this, but I was wondering if I did something to you? You've kind of been brushing me off, and I was wondering if I made you uncomfortable or anything because if so I want to apologize."
I feel my heart melt inside my chest while listening to his words. He truly is one of the nicest guys I've ever met, and I hurts me to brush him off again and say, "No, nothing's wrong. Just busy that's all."
Judging from the skeptical look on his face, he believes my words just as much as I do. "Alright Katniss, I can tell when I'm being blown off. This isn't high school anymore, you don't have to pretend to be my friend." His words hang heavy in the air as his tone shifts from concerned to annoyed. He looks at me expectantly and I open my mouth, wanting to explain, but no words come out. With a sigh, he turns around to walk back to the door.
"Wait," I call, frantic to get him to stop walking. "Ok, listen, I can explain." He doesn't make any moves to get closer to me, but his face tells me that he's willing to listen. I'm not sure where to begin, but the words just fall out of my mouth in a big rush. "Delly saw us together at the flower show and took a picture and threatened to send it to Haymitch and Caesar Flickerman because she thinks that we're too close, and she doesn't like it. I don't know what her deal is, maybe she's had her eyes on you for a while but I don't want to take any chances with this campaign so I think it's best if we stop being friends."
"Is that a joke?" Peeta says, incredulous. When I solemnly shake my head no, he sighs again and rubs this temples. "Jesus fucking Christ," he whispers under his breath, and I can see his anger as he walks back towards me. "This is literally unacceptable, I want her fired." His tone had an air of finality, as if he'd already made up his mind.
"No, no, no don't fire her!" I reluctantly exclaim. Peeta gives me a confused look, waiting for me to explain. "I need her—for right now at least. She's the one organizing the volunteers and creating publicity for the Day of Play this Saturday and I don't need everything falling through." I sigh, biting my lip. "Maybe it's best if we try to be more professional?" Saying that out loud gives me a bad feeling in my stomach that judging from his expression, he feels too.
"You know what? You're right," he admits, but I can hear the reluctance in his voice. "I don't want anyone to think that I have a preference to you or anything just because you're a beautiful woman, or because we grew up in the same town." He slides the first part in casually, the same way he always finds a way to secretly compliment me in our conversations.
I roll my eyes as he flashes me a grin, instantly lightening up the conversation. "Why, Mr. Mellark, that is no way to talk to a coworker! I think I might have to report you to Haymitch!" I joke, inciting a laugh from him that fills the room.
"Well Ms. Everdeen, to avoid further incident, I think I will excuse myself from this conference room. I'll see you later." With that, Peeta nods his head at me one more time before disappearing through the door. I sigh, forgetting all about my presentation. Maybe it was his dimples, or the way his smile fills a room, but I have a feeling that forgetting our friendship might be harder than I thought.
sorry for the short chapter! i hope you guys like it, things will heat up in the following chapters. thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, favorited and followed, it means so much to me.
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