"The two of you are going to have to have dinner by yourselves next time around."
Haymitch and I both stop what we were doing – Haymitch rolling a tumbler back and forth between his hands and me putting plates and glasses back into the cupboard. Both of us stare at Peeta with wide eyes. Since we started having these every-other-night dinners we've only missed out on them when the weather has been too bad. We're all becoming creatures of habit, dr. Aurelius insists that routines are good for us, and hearing Peeta announce a deviation from the routine makes both Haymitch and I uncomfortable.
"Why?" asks Haymitch after a moment of silence.
"Because I have other plans" says Peeta a bit too lightly, probably attempting to sound casual but failing.
"You have other plans?" questions Haymitch.
"Uh-huh."
"Might I ask what those other plans are?"
Peeta pauses for a moment. A smile appears on his face and it seems like he's been trying to hold that smile back for a while. His cheeks turn a light shade of red and I try to remember if I've ever seen him blush before.
"I'm having dinner with somebody else."
My heart sinks to the soles of my shoes and I immediately avert my eyes, busying myself with the plates and glasses. I have a pretty good feeling what he's actually trying to tell us but I vehemently wish not to have to hear it.
"Okay" I manage to say, trying my best to sound like I could care less. "Speaking of dinner, I've decided to start bringing game to the table again. The woods are starting to dry up after the melted snow, the animals are getting fatter and quite frankly I could use the practice after a long winter of hardly ever shooting anything."
"Got a dinner date, boy?" asks Haymitch, completely ignoring my attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"It's a dinner date, yes" says Peeta, still with that small smile on his face.
"Okay, well go have dinner with someone else, then" says Haymitch with a shrug. He rises from his seat at the kitchen table and heads for the sitting room. "It's my turn to provide the food next time anyway."
"I'm sure I won't be missed" says Peeta with a light chuckle. "We're actually going to a restaurant. It's going to be a bit weird but at the same time fun to try it out."
"Uh-huh. Can we still come here and make dinner? Your place smells less than mine or Katniss'."
"Stay away from my house when I'm not here."
Peeta follows Haymitch to the other room while I remain in the kitchen. I take my time putting everything back in the cupboards, grateful to have a few moments to myself so that I can put on my mask of indifference. Peeta is going on a dinner date. At a restaurant. Peeta is actually dating someone, or will be in two days.
I press my lips together, forcing back the tears that burn in my eyes and the sob that threatens to escape my lips. I had almost begun to forget how badly this situation makes me feel. In the weeks that have passed since I first saw Peeta looking at the seamstress I have almost been able to convince myself that I was imagining it, or making a mountain out of a molehill. Peeta hasn't so much as mentioned her to me since that day and there has been no indication that something might be going on between him and some other girl. I gladly chalked it up to me having read the situation wrong before but I'm beginning to realize that there is a significant portion of his life that Peeta doesn't share with me. That realization ought to hurt but right now it can't compare to the jealousy that burns so painfully in my chest.
I know I can't stay in the kitchen forever. I can hear Peeta's and Haymitch's voices from the other room. I should go and join them. If I don't they will start to wonder where I am. All I can do is pray that my face won't betray how devastated I feel.
Slowly, and with a reluctant sigh, I close the door to the kitchen cabinet. I walk from the kitchen to the sitting room, doing my best to seem casual. Haymitch is sitting on the couch and Peeta is in an armchair, his feet pulled up underneath him, his face lit up by a smile as he excitedly gives Haymitch more details about his date.
"… When she smiles she's absolutely lovely" he says. "Her laughter, though, is even better. It's this really contagious, bubbly kind of laughter, you know?"
"Uh-huh" says Haymitch, listening politely but not seeming as excited as Peeta. "So you're going to buy her dinner and tell her jokes all evening?"
"Pretty much" smiles Peeta. "I love being the reason she laughs."
"Comedy was never your strong suit" says Haymitch. He looks over at me. "Both of you, completely lacking of the ability to tell a joke. I'd say you've got your work cut out for you, boy."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence" says Peeta good-naturedly.
"So who is this girl you want to make laugh?" I force myself to ask, taking a seat on the armrest of the couch. As much as it hurts to hear about it I want to know what girl he's got his sights set on. I strongly suspect it's the seamstress but I could be wrong. I'm not sure whether it's better or worse if he's interested in more than one girl. More than one implies that there's nobody in particular and he's just being a typical hormonal eighteen year-old. On the other hand it also means he's interested in several girls yet not in me.
"Her name is Lace" says Peeta, confirming my suspicions. "You've met her, actually."
"Oh?" Somehow I manage to keep my voice steady. "Where?"
"She's a seamstress, the one who's been making clothes for me."
"Oh." I shrug my shoulder and hope to find the right balance in tone so that I sound neither jealous nor mean. "She must not have been laughing at the time because I can't remember a thing about her." Except of course that she was laughing, and that her laughter sounded pearly to me, rather than bubbly.
"Which one of the restaurants did you have in mind?" asks Haymitch, leaning back on the couch and putting his right foot over his left knee. "I hear the seafood one is utter crap. Shockingly, shellfish and dead fish don't hold up all that well when you take four days to get it here from the fishing district."
"I heard" nods Peeta. "Thom had dinner there a couple of weeks ago and ended up with food poisoning. They're going to have to find some better way of preserving the fish or they'll be closed by Midsummer."
With that the conversation thankfully turns to a discussion of the three restaurants in town and whether or not any of them has the potential to stay open for very long. Folks in the districts aren't used to the idea of being able to go out and sit down at a table and have food served. The Capitol had countless restaurants but the closest we ever got in District 12 was the soup Greasy Sae sold at the Hob. I suspect very few people will frequent these establishments since at this point most of the district's citizens are focusing on re-building their homes, putting food on the table each day and, at least some, starting up their own businesses. Spending enough money to feed you and your family for at least a few days on just one meal is luxury few will be interested in.
For the rest of the evening we stay on safe topics, making no further mentioning of Peeta's upcoming date. That doesn't mean it's ever far from my mind. Every time he smiles I wonder if the date is the real reason why. For once I long to go back to my own house where I don't have to fight to hide the horrible pain in my chest but I force myself to stay until Haymitch declares that it's time to leave.
We haven't gotten off Peeta's front porch before he brings up the topic I've been glad to avoid all evening.
"I should've figured there was a girl involved" he smirks. I don't reply, unsure of how to react, but unfortunately for me Haymitch doesn't seem to need me much for this conversation. "He went from being rather down in the dumps to being… well, more like his old self, and it happened fairly fast."
"That could be attributed to anything" I argue.
"Well in this case it's attributed to a girl. Though I admit I am a bit surprised."
"Why is that?"
"He was a romantic one-track-mind for most of his life up until the hijacking" says Haymitch with a shrug. "I guess I wasn't expecting him to get the googly eyes for some other woman quite so soon."
I get that sinking feeling in my chest again and I wonder how I will be able to get some help with my predicament from Haymitch without him figuring out what's really going on. He knows Peeta better than anyone else, perhaps even better than I do, and if I can get his truthful, objective thoughts on what is going on with Peeta and this girl then I might have a better understanding of what I am up against.
Every instinct I have is telling me to fight to win back the heart of the boy I care for so deeply. Every instinct save for one. My instinct to protect myself is screaming at me to not enter a fight like this unless I know I stand at least some fraction of a chance at winning. I have suffered far too many losses as it is. If I fight for Peeta and he rejects me I will not only lose the chance of being loved by him again but I will also lose his friendship and companionship and consequently lose the only real family unit I have left. The thought of that happening is far too frightening to even consider. I need Haymitch to help me figure out whether or not I still stand a chance at winning Peeta's heart but I have to get it without my old mentor figuring out what I'm really feeling.
"Do you think it's good for him?" I blurt out as we walk slowly towards our own houses. "Pursuing a relationship so soon, I mean? Like you said he was in love with me for a long time and they jumbled his brain up pretty good."
"Could be exactly what he needs to get back on track again" argues Haymitch.
"Or it could be what throws him off the rails completely" I retort. I wrap my arms around myself and force myself to sound casual and make Haymitch believe what I say next. "He's going to start dating girls eventually but I worry it will only hurt him to rush into something too fast. Routines are important, you know how adamant Dr. Aurelius is about that. I don't like that he's breaking our dinner routine. Furthermore we know nothing about this girl and having his heart broken or having someone take advantage of him could be… Well it could be devastating for him at this point."
"Obviously this is a great concern of yours" says Haymitch, eyeing me carefully. "It's just a date, sweetheart. I trust the boy to know what tempo he can handle. I'm just grateful that someone has been able to make him more like his old self."
I allow myself the luxury of closing my eyes hard for just a second. Someone is able to make him more like his old self and that someone is not me. I hate that. I hate that so much that words can't describe it. For the moment though I have to hide my true feelings on the matter.
"I suppose you're right, Haymitch" I say. "Time will tell."
"You should be glad, you know" says Haymitch, giving my shoulder a pat before he heads down the path to his front door.
"Why is that?" I ask, stopping to make sure he gets through the door, the way I always do on our walks home from Peeta.
"The boy's got his eye on some new girl. That's what you wanted, right? For the whole romance thing to be taken out of the equation. His feelings for you aren't going to be a problem anymore by the looks of it."
He gives me a wave and goes inside his house. The door closes behind him and the lights come on inside. Through the window I can see Haymitch taking off his outdoor clothes before he stumbles off, in all likelihood in pursuit of alcohol.
Somehow I manage to keep my mind blank while I walk the remaining distance to my own house and head inside. Once the door has closed behind me I close my eyes hard and breathe heavily, trying my best not to let the tears begin to fall.
It's not lost on me, the irony of Haymitch's words. He must think that Peeta's affections for me were such an annoyance and that it kept me from fully accepting his friendship. With Peeta's affections turned elsewhere the problem should be gone. Little does he know that the true nature of Peeta's feelings for me is a bigger problem now than it's ever been before.
It's Saturday evening. I'm sitting in one of the bay windows, a deck of cards in my hands and a ceramic bowl a foot away from my toes. One by one I flick the cards at the bowl, about one in three actually landing where I mean for it to. The grandfather clock by the bookshelf is ticking steadily, almost tauntingly, as if to hammer the point home that I am all by myself with nothing better to do than flick cards at a bowl.
There are a dozen things I could be doing. It's been a beautiful sunny day, perfect for going out into the woods. It's Saturday night and no doubt dozens of programs I could watch on the TV. I have books on the shelf that I haven't read, there's a large pile of laundry that needs to be done and I'm in dire need of some new arrows. I just can't muster the energy or the desire to do any of those things.
Peeta's date was last night. It's all I've been able to think about. Even when I try to distract myself, try telling myself that I don't care and I'm not heartsick and I'm just vexed that I had to eat dinner with Haymitch alone last night, nothing seems to work. All it takes is five minutes and that horrible ache comes back and my mind goes to Peeta and that girl.
How did the date go? Is he with her now? Did he kiss her? If he did, did he feel the thing I felt on the beach? Did she? Did he kiss her the way he kissed me that night? Questions upon questions burn inside me and each one hurts as much as the previous.
The clock strikes eight and I look up from my deck of cards and sigh. I can't bear not knowing what Peeta is doing right now. If he's with her or not. I know I stand no chance of getting a good night's sleep. Last night I slept terribly, tossing and turning and every time I closed my eyes I saw Peeta with that girl.
Acting on an impulse I toss the cards left in my hand towards the bowl and I get down on the floor. Hurriedly I move through the house to the front door, grabbing my jacket on the way out. It's chilly outside tonight with a cold wind blowing, reminding me that it's not summer yet. Luckily I don't have very far to walk. I put one foot in front of the other and get moving before I can do something stupid like rethink this decision. I jog from my house to Peeta's, more to avoid the cold wind than anything else, and I hurry up the steps to his front door and knock firmly.
Shortly thereafter Peeta opens the door, surprise written on his face when he sees me. A smile is on his lips the next second and he steps aside to allow me to enter.
"What are you doing out at this hour?" he asks.
"It's only eight o'clock."
"On a cold and windy night." He closes the door behind me. "Look at you, you're shivering."
"I'm sorry" I say. I feel foolish for having come here but at the same time I can't bear to be anywhere else. "It's just… It's been a bad day. I can tell already that it's going to be a bad night." I hesitate. "Do you mind if I stay here tonight?"
He grabs my jacket and helps me out of it, putting it on a hanger.
"Of course I don't mind. Come on in. I'm just watching TV."
"Thank you" I say, smiling faintly.
"Want a cup of tea?" he asks, leading the way into the kitchen. "Something to warm you up?"
Just being in his presence warms me up quite well but I hate myself for even thinking something so silly. Instead I smile a little and shake my head.
"It was not even a minute long walk over here."
"Sure you don't want a cup?" he asks anyway.
"I'm sure. Thanks."
"Okay, suit yourself. Go have a seat, I'll be right with you."
He opens a cupboard and begins to rummage through it for something. Still with that small smile on my face I walk to the sitting room and take a seat on the comfortable couch. There's a soft, orange blanket thrown over the back of it and I take it and curl up underneath, feeling better already.
The TV is on, showing a cooking show which makes me roll my eyes. Peeta's not even all that fond of cooking, which is surprising to me since he loves to bake. I grab the remote and wonder if he'll mind me checking what's on the other channels. I ought to be a nice house guest and let him continue watching his show, especially if he's going to let me spend the night, but watching some Capitol nitwit explain the intricacies of battering eggs just right does not interest me in the slightest.
"You can change the channel if you want" says Peeta as he comes walking in. "I've missed about five steps in how to make this dish anyway."
"Since when are you eager to find out how to make…" I squint and lean a bit closer, trying to figure out what they are cooking. "Battered eggs and slices of uncommonly large cucumber" I conclude.
"That's squash" chuckles Peeta. He flops down next to me on the couch, holding a pair of bananas and a dark brown plastic tube with glittery sprinkles. "Check this out. I got a package from Effie the other day. For whatever reason she's worrying that I'm not eating enough." He nods at the TV. "Cooking show was her suggestion." He leans over the table and puts the bananas down together with the tube. He grabs one banana and peels it quickly before picking the tube up again. "Among a few other Capitol foods, and I'm using the word food lightly here, she sent me this."
"What is it?" I ask, my curiosity peaked.
"Something that's most certainly not good for you" he replies with a grin. "Here, hold out a finger."
I do as he asks and he unscrews the lid of the tube, squeezing it carefully. A small dab of dark, liquid chocolate ends up on my fingertip and I stick it in my mouth, surprise by how rich the flavour is.
"Wow."
"It's meant to be put on ice-cream" he explains. "I haven't bothered explaining to her that ice-cream is not usually on our grocery lists. Maybe I can recommend it to that new ice-cream parlour though." He grabs the banana again and squirts a dab of chocolate on the fruit. He takes a big bite and grins mischievously. "You should try it with a banana. It's really something else."
He looks so charming with his big grin and his new Capitol treat that it tugs on my heartstrings and I want so badly to be able to turn back the clock to the point in time when I could have told him so without fear of rejection. My right arm rests on the back of the couch and I'm sitting with my right leg bent on the couch, my body angled towards him. I decline the banana he offers me, content to just watch him. He finishes the fruit, applying chocolate sauce before each bite, and then tosses the banana peel on the table. He leans closer to me and I feel my heart start beating faster.
"You have a dab of chocolate on your lip" he says.
He's so close to my face now, eyes on my mouth, and I'm having trouble remembering to breathe. This could be the moment I've been waiting for. All I have to do is lean in and kiss him. It would be so natural. But before I can actually do it he licks his finger and uses it to wipe the chocolate off. He then sits back down and turns his attention to the TV, which is still showing the cooking show.
"Sure you don't want the other banana?" he offers.
"I'm good" I murmur.
"Okay, well let me know if you change your mind. Effie sent me like ten of them and I don't think they will hold up for too long so you really would be doing me a favour by helping me eat them."
In a daze I shift on the couch, sitting with both feet on the ground and my hands on my lap, staring at the television though taking in absolutely nothing of what it's showing while I wait for my heart rate to slow down. I'm part exhilarated from how close he was to me and part painfully disappointed that he didn't press his lips to mine.
Neither one of us speaks for a few minutes. Peeta watches the show, chuckling at some of the slightly absurd moments, and seems completely unaware of how his closeness moments before has affected me. I force myself to watch the TV and not turn my eyes to him every other second. The silence feels strange because Peeta doesn't seem to notice how on edge I am. Finally there's a commercial break and he turns to me.
"I might be skipping on dinner every now and then in the future."
Disappointment fills me to the point where I almost want to cry. How can we go so fast from where we were moments ago to this? How does he have the power to make my emotions run this wild? If this is love I'm not at all sure I like it. I want to be the Katniss I used to be, who never let another person control her emotions like this.
"Oh" I manage. I hark my throat and ask the question I don't want to hear answered. "So last night was…"
"Nice" he finishes and a smile spreads slowly across his face. "Really nice. We're having dinner again on Tuesday."
Tuesday. It couldn't be Monday or Wednesday? It had to be the day he's supposed to have dinner with Haymitch and me?
"I see" I say, gluing my eyes to the TV which hopefully means I won't catch too much of the look on his face right now.
"I'll try to arrange for my evenings with her to be ones when it's not our dinner night" says Peeta, perhaps catching something in the tone of my voice. "Although… If last night was any indication I probably won't be able to make it to dinner with you guys every other night of the week."
I can't stop myself from looking at him.
"You can't spare three or four nights a week for us?" I ask, though I honestly don't care too much about how much time he allots to Haymitch right now.
"I don't know" he says with a shrug. The commercial break is over and he turns his attention back to the television. "I could be getting way ahead of myself here. We've only been on the one date, but it was a good date."
I say nothing, biting back the hurt inside. Why, why did this have to happen? Why did some trollop of a seamstress have to come and turn his head, making him care about dinners with her more than he cares about his dinners with Haymitch and me? It's not just about my own jealousy. It's a disruption to the routine and it worries me, for my own sake as well as for Peeta's and Haymitch's. I think to myself that I ought to voice this concern but I don't know how to phrase it so that it doesn't come out wrong.
Suddenly the phone rings and startles me. Peeta turns away from the television, looking towards the kitchen where he's got the nearest phone. He gets up and heads for the kitchen and I hear his voice answer and then sound excited. It's probably her, calling to interfere with this night too. Jealousy and pettiness fills me and when my eyes land on the tube of chocolate sauce I reach forward and grab it. Tilting my head back I get the lid off and point the tube straight at my mouth, treating myself to a big mouthful of chocolate sauce. It tastes good and actually makes me feel a little less crappy but at the same time I feel ashamed of myself and I quickly screw the cork back on and put the tube back exactly the way it was, wiping my mouth with the back of my other hand.
A few minutes later Peeta comes back and takes a seat beside me.
"That was Effie" he says, sounding a bit irritated. "Called to make sure I was doing okay. I didn't realize that writing her a letter would activate some form of need she apparently has to escort someone. It felt weird, like she thinks she's my surrogate mother or something." He snorts. "My own mother thought I could do fine in a big house all by myself at age sixteen. I definitely don't need a replacement mother at this age."
I look at him and wonder if there's anything I can say to make him feel better. He sighs, furrows his brow, crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the couch, his good mood completely gone. I realize I can't think of a single thing to say so I stay silent, pretending to watch the cooking show. When the show is blissfully over ten minutes later Peeta turns to me.
"I'm sorry" he says. "I don't mean to sound like such a brat. She just gets a little… Effie, sometimes, you know?"
"She cares about you, Peeta" I say. "You're…" My cheeks flush a bit as I realize that what I'm about to say is incredibly cheesy but I can't help myself. "You're important to her. There's a distance between you now that wasn't there before and-"
"She was barely in my life before" Peeta points out.
I can't believe I'm sitting here talking about my own feelings disguised as interpretations of Effie Trinket's behaviour. Sometimes I really don't like what feeling this way about someone turns me into.
"Nonetheless" I say. "She loves you, you know. She's just not good at showing it. If she wants to shower you with this kind of attention then let her. Where's the harm?"
"No I know" says Peeta, offering me a faint smile. "I shouldn't complain. It just gets on my nerves sometimes, that's all."
"You know, I can understand how she feels" I say, feeling my pulse quicken and a knot tighten in my stomach as I brace myself to test the waters.
"Oh?" He sounds surprised.
"I care about you, too" I say, too bashful to use any stronger words at the moment. My hand finds Peeta's and I lightly caress the back of his hand with my thumb. "I mean I… I like you. So much. I like knowing you're okay and I can understand that Effie feels that way too, albeit in a more… overbearing escort kind of way."
I know I must be blushing but I don't care. Peeta is looking at me with a new intensity in his eyes and a warm smile on his lips. It's impossible for me not to return that smile. I can't recall that I ever knew before how good it feels to smile with someone this way.
"I care so much about you, too, Katniss" says Peeta with warmth.
"You do?" I ask, by now convinced that my cheeks must be flaming red.
"Of course I do." He reaches out his hand and gently brushes my cheek with the back of his fingers. "You don't know how glad I am that we can have this type of relationship now."
"What kind of relationship is that?" I ask, awaiting his answer with bated breath.
"Real, genuine friendship. Unhindered by my jealousy of Gale and your… well, for lack of a better word, inability to reciprocate my feelings. You're my best friend, a little bit like Delly was when we were kids but on a much deeper level."
I avert my eyes, biting my bottom lip and focusing on taking slow, even breaths. Was I completely crazy or did we have a moment of understanding before he opened his mouth and effectively friend-zoned me? I know I didn't spell out my feelings for him in exact terms but surely he must be able to read it on my face right now?
Giving him the best fake smile I can muster, which admittedly is rather half-assed, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. He nods and reaches for the remote while I get up and leave the room on slightly unstable legs. Once I reach the bathroom I lock the door behind me and grab the sink with both hands, staring at myself in the mirror, trying to force myself to stop trembling.
"Get it together" I mumble to myself. I need to calm down or he will see that I am upset and I cannot handle that. Not in the wake of what just transpired.
After everything we've been through together Peeta must be able to tell what I was trying to get through to him moments ago. Yes I know it's cowardly to expect him to read between the lines like that but I have to tread very carefully with this or I might risk losing him altogether. As it is, I can only think of two explanations for what transpired.
One is that Peeta simply didn't pick up on my intentions. Maybe I was too subtle after all and it all came across as just an affirmation of friendship. I can accept that. All that means is that I have to be more obvious the next time. What worries me is the possibility that he's too busy thinking about Lace to notice the signs I'm trying to send him.
The other option is that he did in fact see what I was trying to convey and that he gave me my answer as subtly as he could. The more I think about it the more I become convinced that he did in fact just give me the brush-off. I should be thrilled that he's nearly as invested in keeping me in his life as I am in keeping him in mine but that seems almost insignificant in light of the crushing fact that if he did understand that my feelings for him are more than friendly he doesn't reciprocate.
I stare at myself in the mirror and hate the fact that I am such a coward. Really, what's wrong with me? I ought to just go out there and tell him straight out that I can't stop thinking about him and I want a chance at a real relationship with him and tonight I want to sleep in his bed, in his arms, and I don't ever want to spend a night, or day, without him. I should remind him that even though he's got a thing for this girl Lace it can't measure up to everything he and I have meant to each other and the bond that we share. I am his first love and if he loved me for over ten years then he must still have some feelings for me. I should kiss him and try to make him feel the way our kisses in the second arena made me feel. I ought to do all of that and if he turns me down then we can deal with the fallout but if he gives me the chance we could have something far beyond anything I, we, have ever experienced before.
The problem is that the odds seem horribly not in my favour.
I think of how uncomfortable Peeta's references to his love for me used to make me feel and how strange it felt to be kissed by him at first. I picture Peeta feeling uncomfortable knowing that I'm in love with him and not wanting to feel my lips against his and the thought of it breaks my heart.
Sighing heavily at my own cowardice and longing back to the good old days when I wasn't sure what I felt or who I felt it for I splash my face with cold water and dry off on Peeta's guest towel. I head back to the sitting room where Peeta is watching a documentary on the oh so fascinating creature that is the mosquito. When he hears me coming he cranes his neck and looks at me over his shoulder.
"Sure you don't want a banana?" he says.
"I'm sure" I say, surprised at how steady my voice sounds. I sit back down on the couch, this time with a bit more space between myself and Peeta. "You should use them in your baking."
"That's a good idea" he nods, a touch of excitement in his voice. "I can still spare one for my best buddy, though."
His smile is relaxed but I can't muster up the energy to return it. I sit beside him and watch television until he begins to yawn and suggests we call it a night. Declining his offer of a mug of hot milk before bed I walk towards the downstairs bedroom, assuring Peeta that I can get the sheets for the bed on my own.
When I crawl between the sheets I curl up on a foetal position and sigh heavily, feeling hopelessness and jealousy and sadness wearing me down. The sheets smell of Peeta's favourite fabric softener, vanilla-orchid, and the comfortable t-shirt I'm wearing is one of his old ones but for the first time I don't feel any better sleeping here than I do in my own bed in my own house. I can hear Peeta moving around upstairs and I wonder what he's thinking and who he's thinking of, and if he really wants me to be here.
I have a nightmare that night, dreaming that I confess my true feelings to Peeta and he reacts by looking very uncomfortable and then suddenly Lace Bomull is there beside him, pregnant and glowing with happiness. The rest of the dream consists mostly of Peeta disappearing and me trying to find him but Lace constantly showing up to block my path or take him away once I find him.
I wake up with a gasp and a shudder, sitting myself up to catch my breath, feeling terrible and wondering how I came to this place. How in the world did I end up in unrequited love with the boy who loved me from age five?
Letting myself fall back against the mattress I clutch the comforter, staring at the ceiling in my loneliness. I feel a strong urge to get out of bed, put my clothes on and head back home but I know I have to be here in the morning or Peeta will wonder. What I want to do the most is go up the stairs and seek comfort in Peeta's arms but I'm afraid to. If he was giving me the brush-off tonight I don't want to make him uncomfortable by crawling into bed with him. I can't risk doing anything that might drive us apart.
I just don't know how to do anything that will bring us closer together.
