A/N: The song for this chapter is What You Know by Two Door Cinema Club. I severely suggest you all listen to this song if you haven't before because the lyrics are fantastically perfect for this story.
Also, I apologize if there are a bunch of errors in this chapter. I'm super sick right now—so sick that I had to stay home all day. I'm also on a lot of medication, so who knows what sort of things I wrote in this chapter? If you have any issues, PM me, and I'll take care of it.
Chapter 8: What You Know
I'm in a trance. I would stand looking out over the edge of this cliff forever if I could.
Katniss' growling stomach breaks me from my reverie.
"Sorry," she says quietly, "I haven't eaten anything since breakfast this morning, and now it is past two o'clock."
"No, I'm sorry," I pull off my pack and start taking out food, "Here, these are the cheese buns you requested. Along with a few other things I took from the bakery."
She walks over and takes the cheese buns immediately. "I have to see if you were telling the truth when you said you make the best cheese buns."
"Go for it."
As soon as she takes a bite, she moans in pleasure. I try not to get turned on by the noise, but it's proving difficult—so difficult that I have to look away from her face, where her eyes are shut and her head is tipped back in ecstasy.
After a minute, I look back to her and see that she's reaching for a second cheese bun.
Her eyes close again as she takes another bite. "You were right. How could I have doubted you? These are the best things I've tasted in my entire life."
"Thank you," I mumble to my feet, which I just noticed are caked in mud. Inspecting the rest of my clothes, I see that they aren't in a better condition. This must be why she had me bring a spare set of clothes. Katniss' clothes are just as dirty as mine, and she stands slowly chewing the last of her bread as she looks to the forest beyond the cliff.
"Peeta?"
"Hmm?"
"You're a really good baker."
"You implied that before."
"How did you know you wanted to be a baker?"
"Well, I grew up in the bakery; it was my second home. I loved being there because it meant I would be away from- well I could let go of everything there. I liked being able to focus intensely on icing the cakes or cookies. Being at the bakery was my release. I loved it so much, and my dad was always there. He's the best man I've ever known. And I figured that if I could be like him—even just a little with something as simple as occupation—then I would be all right."
"If it means anything to you, I think you're pretty great," Katniss says as she looks over with a sly smile.
"That means a lot to me actually, so thank you," I smile at her, "How did you know you wanted to be a firefighter?"
Her smile falls a bit, and then I realize why. That's almost the exact same question I asked at my party. The question that she didn't want to answer and avoided and I've brought it up again.
I instantly try to backpedal, "Hey, you don't have to answer th-"
"No," she shakes her head and swallows, "I want to."
I wait for her either to start or to back out.
After a minute of collection, she shakes her head and starts speaking with renewed vigor, "It's because of my dad—like you," she glances over at me, "He was a firefighter too. Up in New York. He died in the Twin Towers on 9/11 when I was eleven years old."
She stops and looks in the opposite direction of me while clenching her jaw. I hear her sniffle. I don't know what to say—what to do. I had suspected that her father was dead, but I had no way of knowing that he died on September 11, 2001.
Suddenly she turns back to me with fierce determination in her eyes, "He wasn't even supposed to go in that day," she sniffles again, "Uncle Haymitch was. Dad was covering for him."
She sees the surprise in my eyes and nods her head slowly. "Yeah, that's why he's a drunk. He blames himself and feels guilty every damn day," she pauses and looks away as she mumbles, "He's not the only one."
My feet move me closer without my knowledge. I know she's not a touchy-feely type girl, but I don't think that even Katniss would decline my hug right now.
Her body crumples into mine, and I can feel the sobs wracking through her as I say into her hair, "No, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything to cause that day to happen."
She trembles in my arms, "Yes, I did," she looks up at me with glassy gray eyes and a tear streaked face. "I was in a school play that year. I had the lead part, and we couldn't afford the costume, so Dad needed extra shifts. Haymitch thought he was doing us a favor by taking a sick day, so Dad would be called in for him. He had no idea what would happen."
She stops, and I know she's not done so I wait. When she starts again, her voice is low—so low that I pull her closer in my arms to hear. "The whole thing is so fucked up. I lived in that cabin with my parents until I was two or three with Haymitch next door. Haymitch isn't even really my uncle. He and my dad were best friends when they were kids, and I just called Haymitch my uncle. Then my dad got accepted into a fantastic school in New York because his voice was the most beautiful in the world. We moved up to New York and lived there. Prim was born up there, and my dad really needed a job. But when my dad graduated, and he tried to find a job where he would be singing, he got turned down everywhere because 'his look was all wrong for the part.' Using 'Plan B,' my dad became a firefighter because that's what his father had been, and he already had some training.
"Haymitch missed us, so he came up to visit, and of course, he found himself a lady—one of my mom's friends. They became serious quickly, so he packed up all his stuff in Georgia and moved up to New York with us. Haymitch had been a firefighter down in Georgia, so all he had to do was take a few tests so he could switch all his licenses and certifications to be legal in New York. He ended up getting a job in the same department as my dad.
"I still remember that day—being in school and hearing the news. I started crying on the spot because I knew my dad and the rest of his station would be one of the first people to respond. I ran from my classroom and found Prim. She was only six, so she didn't really get it, but she knew that if I was crying, something bad had happened. My mom came and got us, so we could wait at home for the news together. When we got to our apartment, Haymitch was already waiting for us. We waited in the living room for the phone call in silence. Well, we didn't talk but it was so loud outside. So many sirens and people yelling."
Tears have been flowing continuously down her cheeks during her story. Right now, she's looking into the woods unseeingly. I need to help her.
I reach up with one hand to wipe her tears as the other one stays wrapped around her slender waist. She finally looks up at me with an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry for dumping this on you. I've never done that before—told that to anyone. No one else has made me feel like I wouldn't be judged for sharing."
"I could never judge you for something that isn't your fault. You were given your lot in life; you didn't choose this path."
She buries her head in my chest and squeezes me tightly. "Thank you, Peeta." She looks up and her eyes smile at me, "You've earned quite a few points today."
"Well, I don't plan to stop earning them, so watch out."
She tells me that we should head back to the house, so we gather our stuff and head back to the ATVs.
"Are you okay to drive?" I ask her before we reach them.
"Yeah, I'm good."
I grasp her arm, "Thank you for showing me a place that is so special to you."
She looks at me with a small smile, "I didn't mind sharing it with someone who understands it's magic."
We're both smiling as we drive away.
We park in the shed and walk back to the house in relative silence, only making passing comments to each other. After we break through the trees that lead to her family's cabin, she stops and turns to me.
"We can't go in with our muddy clothes. Prim would have a heart attack. She cleans the place spotless everyday.," she points to my backpack, "We need to change."
I pull out our clothes and to my surprise, Katniss starts pulling her boots off right then and there. "Does she really?" When I hand Katniss her clothes, she nods and sets them on the ground and reaches for her belt.
"What are you doing?" I ask with wide eyes.
"Changing," she says without looking at me, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down her legs.
I try not to stare, but I can't help it. Her legs are long and tan and smooth and muscular and perfect. She's wearing fire engine red, lacy underwear. My eyes flick up to her face once she starts putting her new pair of jeans on, and I almost yelp when I see her staring at me
'p[; with an eyebrow raised.
"Um, sorry," I mutter as I turn away.
She just laughs and asks, "Are you going to let me be a stripper all by myself?"
"Oh! Uh, no," I stumble over the words as I start to take my shirt off.
As I bend down to grab my clean shirt, Katniss' socked feet appear at the edge of my vision. I start when I feel her hand ghost over my shoulders.
She's staring at my shoulders when I look up. "You have so many freckles," she says as she drags her hands over my shoulders.
"Yeah, so do you," I point out as I run a finger over the freckles on her cheekbones and nose—just like I did at the party.
Her eyes drift closed again and she says, "Not as many as you." And it's true. I have freckles covering every inch of my shoulders and some on my back. Even though I was shirtless at my party, she couldn't see them because I was covered in paint.
It's at this point that I realize she's shirtless. Her red, lacy bra matches her panties. I pull my eyes back up to her face to catch her staring at my chest and stomach. Since she's staring at me, I quick peek at her again. Her stomach has the starting of a six-pack, and it's incredibly sexy. I want to reach out and touch it—to feel how hard it is, but I know that would be crossing a line. I had no idea that being a firefighter would put her in such good shape. I can see a few ribs, but it's not because she doesn't eat, it's because she literally has zero body fat.
At the same time, we look up into each other's eyes. It breaks us from our reverie, and both of our cheeks flush because we've caught each checking the other out. She turns away to pull on a white tank top and a blue flannel shirt on top—unbuttoned—which I also find incredibly sexy because the tank top hugs her every curve and shows off her taut body. I quickly put my shirt and clean jeans on.
"Ready?" she asks, pointing to the back door.
"Yup."
When we walk inside, I hear Prim singing. She's not bad, but I still prefer Katniss' voice. As we walk into the kitchen, I see Prim standing with her back to us and one headphone in her right ear. She's wiping the counter down with a rag, bobbing her head to the music.
Katniss silently catches my attention and puts a hand up, telling me to stay put. I see the mischievous smile on her face, but I don't know what she plans to do.
She creeps over to Prim on silent feet. She makes no noise as she stops behind Prim. Leaning in to the ear that doesn't have a headphone in it, she says in an entirely accurate rendition of Jigsaw's voice, "I want to play a game." Then quickly wraps her arms around Prim's middle and squeezes.
Prim shrieks so loudly that my eardrums might burst. She elbows Katniss in the stomach and whirls around once she is free of Katniss' arms.
"God damn you, Katniss! I was about to punch you in the face! Why do you have to be such a bitch? You know I'm scared of movies like that."
Katniss wheezes a little from being hit in the stomach, but she laughs loudly and says, "I know! Why do you think I took the opportunity?"
"Because you're awful! Playing on people's fears is not nice. And to think that I was going to make you something to eat!"
Katniss straightens up in a second, "'Whoa, let's not get ahead of ourselves. You still know that I'm the best sister ever, and you love cooking for me."
"I'll only make something if you help," Prim says, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at Katniss. Frowns do not suit her usually happy face.
"Fine, fine," Katniss puts her hands up in surrender.
"I'll help," I finally speak up.
"Nonsense, Peeta. You're the guest," Prim says to me when I walk farther into the kitchen.
They start pulling things from pantries and cabinets until they have all the ingredients for spaghetti. I try to help but have my hands slapped away by both sisters. As they start cooking, I walk around the kitchen looking at things.
I see a bunch of different colored Post-it notes stuck to the fridge on top of each other. I assume that they are to-do lists, but upon looking closer, I find that they are song lyrics.
Today's note says, 'Don't tell me I'm a danger to myself.' Underneath the lyrics the song and artist has been written, 'Cuckoo by Adam Lambert.' It has the date in the top left corner, and 'PEE' is written in the bottom right corner.
I pull this one off the fridge and find yesterday's lyrics, 'Heart still beating, but it's not working.' Underneath is, 'Feel Again by OneRepublic.' Again the bottom right corner has 'PEE' written in it.
"Hey, Katniss, what are these?"
She leaves Prim and walks over to me. "Oh, those are our daily lyrics. Every day we put up a new piece of a song that pops out to us. I used to do it all the time, but now that I don't live here, Prim does it for me. I started doing it in high school to cheer Prim up, but now it's her job, and it cheers me up to see them."
"What does the 'PEE' stand for?"
"It's Prim's initials—Primrose Elizabeth Everdeen. If I write one, I put my initials, KME—Katniss Marie Everdeen. We have a drawer full of these." She slides open a drawer to the left the fridge, and I see thousands of colored sticky notes stuffed in the drawer, along with the current pad of sticky notes and a pen.
"Oh wow, that's a lot of paper. Have you kept every single one throughout the years?"
"Yeah, they're like memories. Neither of us could bear to toss out all the good times, so we didn't."
"This is really cool. My family never did anything like this. Hell, we barely ever spoke to each other. My dad and I spoke, but my two brothers were older and didn't want anything to do with me. And my mother- well, she was a witch that no one dared mess with."
Katniss reaches out and squeezes my hand.
"Guys, it's ready. Come on," Prim calls from the other side of the kitchen.
Katniss and I smile at each other and walk over to get a plate of spaghetti. When we're done, Katniss, Prim, and I sit and talk for a while. At one point the two sisters get into a war, trying to tell me the most embarrassing stories of each other from their childhood. They have me laughing so hard that I can't breathe and my stomach hurts as I grasp at it. When I'm able to breathe again, I wipe the tears from my eyes and lean back, trying the stretch out my sore stomach muscles.
My face hurts from smiling so much, but I couldn't think of anywhere I'd rather be than sitting at the table with two gorgeous sisters.
Best first date ever.
