Peeta's POV
Delly busies herself relentlessly with preparation for the party. One would think that we resided in the extravagant Capitol of old, not the war-torn though ameliorated shambles of today's District 12. However, I feel accomplished for dreaming up the notion. This should make things final with Delly as well as apparent to the rest of the world, and, among other things, Katniss will still wonder why she ever spurned my affections.
Of course, if Katniss does desire to return to my arms, I can't just erupt and pull her in close. First, I must confirm her emotional stance. Then, I must slowly do away with Delly—and there's no doubt that that alone will be a difficult task, for both of us should it occur in reality. Slowly, slowly. Deliberately. Even now, I am distant, but Delly is oblivious to my apathy. The war has turned everyone bitter save for Delly and her younger brother Justin, despite the dual loss of their parents to the Capitol's destruction. Perhaps she thinks that she must take into account those not blessed with her unfailing optimism.
The worst part is that she is such a kind, kind-hearted person. She thinks that Katniss is some warrior princess angel, and, despite the brutality of the Games and the uproar of the rebellion, that Katniss Everdeen is above sabotage and playing dirty.
Delly is too nice.
The door bursts open and I lay the old cookbook down on the coffee table. Justin is out, as he often is these days, and Delly looks ravishing, cheeks flushed and hair tousled in District 4-esque waves. From her arms spill apricot-colored placemats and sunflower napkin rings and from underneath swings a bag with delicately wrapped pastel orange glass goblets and lace stamped candles.
She sets down her spoils and we embrace casually before she begins to speak. "I got an excellent bargain." Her smile lights up the room. "Justin's with Roper. We both stopped by to see and some of that delicious apple walnut cake, but you weren't there. Anyway, there's a cute new girl from District 7 that Justin's smitten with. Ah, first love. It's a very powerful thing."
Delly's eyes linger on my face and next thing I know, we're kissing. She's pushed up against the counter and I don't know how she got there, really, but there's an animal inside that's taking over before the next time I am fully conscious of what's happening—the next morning, under feathery down and guilt.
We exchange the same damn words again before Delly picks up her crumpled floral sheath and slips it on with a pair of my navy dress socks and a pair of my good Oxfords, since she can't find the rest of her clothes, which are no doubt probably ripped to shreds.
She leaves alone once more and I'm left wondering why.