I wake up with a stiff back and limbs that don't fare much better. I wince a little as I roll over to greet what I find is a cold, empty spot on the mattress beside me. Upon farther inspection, I see that I'm also still wearing the same dress that Portia provided me with for the rally last night.
Actually, now that I think about it, I don't even remember getting home last night, much less getting into bed.
I pull myself into a seated position and lean forward as far as I can to help work out the kinks from my muscles. I'm still situated like this, arms reaching forward with palms spread out flat on the bedspread, when I hear the bathroom door open on the opposite side of the room. I lift my head and catch a quick glimpse of the ring on my finger before I look up at Peeta; it's going to take some getting used to.
A deep blush is brought to my cheeks when I see that the low-slung towel around his hips is the only thing currently covering his body.
His hair is wet from the shower, and hangs in his eyes. Despite his current state of undress, he smiles easily down at me before moving to his dresser to rummage around for clothes. I try to force my eyes not to linger on his back or the little droplets of water on his shoulders, and look away quickly when he turns his head to talk.
"Sorry, I didn't think you'd be awake yet. You slept like a rock last night."
"I must have," I try to make my voice sound normal. Why doesn't it sound normal to me? "I don't even remember the car ride home."
Peeta laughs and turns to face me, clothes in hand.
"Yeah, I wouldn't think so… You fell asleep almost as soon as we got in it." He pauses as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. Again, I find my eyes lingering on the muscles in his stomach and the way they cut into a 'v' shape just beside his hip bones. I feel my blush deepen and throw my face back down onto the bed. "I bet the reporters loved it, though. I had to carry you into the house myself."
"Sorry."
My reply is muffled by the blankets as I refuse to lift my head. I wait until I hear the drawer close, followed by the bathroom door, before sitting back up. I twist my body and place my feet down on the floor. The hardwood is cold and I wince a little as I get out of bed.
When Peeta reappears in the room my back is facing him as I look out the window over the front yard. I'm pleasantly surprised with the lack of Capitol cameramen this morning. I assume the idea of standing outside in the snow for hours isn't a pleasant one, even for them.
"I'm not sure if I got a chance to mention it last night, but that dress… Wow."
His words don't shock me. Peeta is just as good at giving compliments as I am bad at receiving them. It's the careful, warm hand that he places on my still bare back that causes me to jump a little. He pulls it away quickly and I instantly feel guilty over my reaction. I turn to face him, grabbing the hand that hasn't made its way back to his side yet in mine, and send him a small smile. He smiles back, and I feel as if my stomach is tightening into a tiny coil inside me.
For a moment, I forget what I was planning on saying and just stand there. My eyes pass over his wet, wavy bangs, and I bring my hand up to brush them from his forehead without thinking. His smile softens and the coil in my stomach grows even tighter. His thumb brushes over the outside of mine and he tucks some stray hair behind my ear with his free hand. Suddenly aware of just how close we are, I practically spit my next words from my mouth.
"Well, thanks, but I'm pretty sure Portia is the one you should be talking to. She did all the work, after all. She said that it was for you, though. Whatever that meant."
I let go of his hand and move quickly into the bathroom without another word. The air is still thick and warm from his shower, but as soon as the door is closed, I turn the taps back on. I place my back against the wall and slide down its length to sit on the floor. Waiting until I can hear Peeta exit the bedroom, I let out a long, slow breath.
I don't know what's gotten into me. Maybe it's all the acting that we've been doing for the cameras over the past two weeks. I've gotten so used to adoring Peeta for the public eye that it's harder for me to turn it off, maybe?
I think of Portia's words from yesterday. I think of the look in Peeta's eyes last night when he was down on one knee in front of me. I think of how the cameras melted into the background as I had sank to the floor to kiss him. I think of his hand on my back just a moment before and the way that his smile had made me feel. About the way that it makes me feel. I look down at the ring on my finger that he had no time to purchase after we'd planned the proposal.
For a brief moment, I even allow myself to think that a marriage, if it's one to Peeta, might not be as terrible as I've always thought. It might be something worth fighting for all on its own.
I shake my head. I can't afford to think this way. This marriage will be about protecting each other; about protecting Peeta from a life that no one deserves. I move to the mirror and swipe through the steam with my hand so that I can see my reflection. I nod to myself, needing reaffirmation.
Yes, that's what this is all about.
I undress, and then step into the shower, trying not to think about it anymore. As I adjust the temperature, however, I can't shake that feeling in my stomach. I know what it feels like to protect someone that you care about, and I know what it feels like to do something out of necessity.
While what Peeta and I are doing feels like both of these things, there's something else there, too. Something that I don't recognize. Something that scares me.
As I make my way down the stairs, I can hear Peeta speaking with someone on the front porch. Praying that the reporters have not returned, I reach the bottom floor just in time to hear Peeta thank whoever it was, and shut the door behind him. The scent of freshly baked bread makes its way to where I stand from the kitchen and my stomach growls embarrassingly loud. I'm sure that he can hear it, but he doesn't turn around.
"Peeta, who was that?"
His shoulders are hunched and I can just make out the slight tremble in them. He doesn't respond, instead his attention focused on whatever he holds in his hands.
"Peeta, what's wrong? What is it?"
I rush to his side and immediately freeze when I see what's been delivered.
A small bouquet of stark white roses in a deep red vase; nothing too extravagant, but enough to get the point across.
I take the arrangement from Peeta's hands as quickly as possible and set it on a small table beside the door. The overwhelming smell of them turns my stomach, and I know that they must be genetically modified. No ordinary roses have an aroma this strong. Before I can move away, I almost swear that the stench of blood also lingers in the air. I involuntarily gag as I feel Peeta's arm wrap around my waist to pull me away.
Once we've reached a reasonable distance, we just stand there, staring across the room at the flowers. It takes a moment for me to realize that Peeta still holds a small, cream colored envelope in one hand. When he sees me looking at it, he carefully slips a finger underneath the top flap and tears it open. He pulls out a small notecard, much smaller than the envelope itself, and I watch as his eyes move across the few words that have been handwritten on the paper.
"Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. I wish you both much happiness, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
Peeta reads the card aloud, and then passes it to me. There is no signature. There doesn't need to be one.
I cross the room to toss the card and envelope into the fireplace and don't turn back around until the entire thing has gone up in flames. I return to stand at his side and continue to stare at the flowers. Peeta nudges me, and I look up at his face.
"Do you think we should burn them, too?"
"No," I shake my head at him as I move to pick them up. "If we do that, the whole house will probably stink of them. I say we just throw them out back, into the woods. That way, we won't have to look at them."
He nods and follows me as I head to the back door. We've almost reached the edge of the yard when I hear footsteps coming our way. I stiffen and feel Peeta turn a half-second before I do, putting him in between my body and whoever is approaching.
"Peeta? Katniss?"
Prim.
I breathe a sigh of relief and place my hand on his elbow before stepping out from behind Peeta's body. She stands a few feet away with a confused look on her face. She eyes the flowers in my hand and steps forward quickly, her arm stretched out in front of her.
"Oh, how pretty! Who sent you flowers?"
Before her fingers can come in contact with the wretched things, I pull the roses out of her reach. Without another word, I quickly toss them into the trees. I watch as they land just beyond the fence that borders the property line; just beyond view. My aim couldn't have been better.
"Katniss?"
I turn back around at my sister's voice and wave in the direction of the discarded flowers with a dismissive hand.
"Oh, just someone from the Capitol, Prim. Something must have gotten into them during transit, though. There were… bugs," I offer lamely.
My acting may have gotten better over the past six months, but my ability to come up with lies on the spot certainly hasn't. She looks at me as if she doesn't quite believe what I've said, but thankfully doesn't press me on it.
"Okay…" She trails off and looks from me to Peeta. "I just wanted to let you know not to wait on us for dinner tonight. Mrs. Ownsby's son got hurt pretty bad down in the mines this morning so mom and I will be busy tending to him at their house. Haymitch said he was going to stay home and 'enjoy the peace and quiet for once', but between us, I know he's just going to lay around and drink the day away."
I open my mouth to protest and say that he really shouldn't be behaving in such a way while they're living with him, but Prim puts up a hand to stop me. I'm surprised when she turns to walk away before bothering to speak. It just reminds me of how quickly she's starting to grow up.
"Don't worry. He'll just fall asleep on the couch and stay there 'til morning. It'll be fine."
Peeta actually laughs as we watch Prim make her way back to Haymitch's house. I turn my head toward his and level him with a glare that cuts him off mid-chuckle. He knows better than most how much I love my sister, and how hard it is to see her need me less and less.
"Sorry. She just knows you so well," he offers with a shrug before we turn to re-enter the house. I flick his ear lightly to let him know that he's forgiven and he ducks his head and laughs again.
The smell of roses still lingers in the living room so we make a silent agreement before grabbing the plate of bread Peeta made, along with a jar of apple jelly, to move upstairs to his bedroom. By the time we reach his room, we find that it's started to rain. We sit in silence, me on the floor and Peeta on the edge of the bed, and watch as it starts to come down in sheets against the window pane.
After a while, I take the plate, now empty save for a few crumbs, and place it on a small table near the door. I return to my position on the floor in front of the bed and lean my head back against Peeta's good leg.
"So," I start, not really sure what to say. I pretend that my longer than necessary pause only serves as time for me to stand up and sit beside him on the bed. "A whole day to ourselves."
Peeta turns to look at me and leans over my lap a little to grab my left hand in his.
"Well, we do have a wedding to plan, after all."
His eyebrows move comically up and down and I can't help but break into a smile. Knowing that only so much can be said inside this house, I hold my hand out in front of me to admire the ring. He reaches out and takes the hand in his once more. I look over at him once I realize that he's trembling slightly.
"I suppose you're right."
He holds my gaze for a few seconds before he looks away, swallowing hard and running his free hand through his hair. When he looks back at me, I can see how nervous he really is. Whatever he has to say, he doesn't want anyone to overhear it. His eyes dart to the window, and I turn my head to follow them. The rain is coming down even heavier now, and I know that there's no hope of being able to speak outside.
After a few seconds of thought, I stand up, pulling Peeta off the bed with me. When I walk into the bathroom and start to run the sink, along with the shower, he seems to get the idea. He turns on the hair dryer, and I think back to the day that we'd watched Haymitch as he'd taken the same precautions before coaching us through Peeta's very first interview here in District 12. It seems like years ago.
"I think that should do it," I say, keeping my voice as low as possible despite the precautions already in place.
He nods and sits on the side of the bathtub. I take a seat beside him and lay a hand on his thigh to encourage him to say whatever is on his mind. He places his palm over it and I wonder if he feels the same tingle that I do when our skin comes into contact.
"Katniss, look… I know… I know that this is not what you want. I know the way that marriage makes you feel, how love makes you feel, and I know that you've never wanted it. I just, I wanted to let you know that I understand that, and that I'm sorry."
I sit there, allowing his words to really sink in. I want to tell him that he shouldn't be apologizing for something that he has no real choice in, but I'm too hung up on his use of the word 'love' to speak at all.
Yes, romantic love has always made me feel uneasy. And, yes, I've mostly seen it as a weakness. That was the way that it made me feel, though. Now I'm not really sure what my thoughts on the matter are.
I think of my father and how much he loved my mother. How much he loved me, and how much he loved Prim. Then I think of all of the new things I've learned about him over just these past few days. He loved passionately, but he also fought just as passionately for the things that he believed in. If he could do these things and still be just as much of a hero in my eyes, then what's stopping me from doing the same? It seems that it would make it so much easier seeing that the thing that I love and the thing that I believe in are one in the same.
Even the use of the word 'love' in my own thoughts confuses me.
Suddenly, I become all too aware of the heavy, damp air that surrounds us in the room. I note the way that the mirrors have become fogged and the way the steam in the air has started to curl the edges of Peeta's bangs upward. I can feel the sweat starting to prick at the back of my neck and even though I'd like to blame it on the room's current state, I'm almost positive that the heat is not to blame for my difficulty breathing right now.
Peeta seems to take my lack of reply as a sign of silent agreement and continues to apologize. His words come out quickly, but he's flustered now, and it shows in his speech pattern.
"I just need you to understand that… that, damn it, this is not how I ever pictured this. This is not the way that I wanted this to… I mean, I would never force you into anything. I'd never force you to do anyth-…"
His words trail off as I pull my hand out from underneath his and turn my body to face him as much as I can. I place one hand at the nape of his neck, my fingers burying themselves into the damp curls. With my other hand, I gently cradle his jaw. His eyes grow wide for a split second before I convince myself to stop thinking and just act.
My eyes flutter closed and when our lips meet, it's tentative and careful. We may have kissed dozens of times, but this is different. It doesn't feel like the very first kiss we had without cameras, for 'practice'. It's also nothing like the kiss on the train before we arrived in 11 that served as a promise.
This kiss is the first that's occurring for no reason other than simple want.
Well, I say simple, but I know that nothing is simple anymore. Not really.
Those thoughts pass through my mind in an instant, but none of them stick. I'm far too lost in the feel of Peeta's lips moving against mine to pay attention to anything else. Without realizing it, I've somehow positioned my body so that I'm even closer to him, sitting on the thigh of his non-prosthetic leg, my chest flush with his. His tongue brushes my lips and I open my mouth to grant it entrance for a few seconds before pulling his bottom lip in between my own.
My right hand has moved from his jawline to his back, and I find myself gripping the fabric of his t-shirt tightly, feeling the muscles flex underneath. His own hands surprise me when I feel them settle on my hips, their digits dipping underneath the shirt that I'm wearing. His fingers feel like fire against the cooler flesh of my lower back and I gasp into his mouth.
I can feel the grin on his lips and am reminded of the night in his bedroom, of how I felt his mouth form a similar expression then. The memory alone is enough to now bring a smile to my face, but I'm surprised to find that essentially reenacting the moment makes it much wider. As soon as he feels the corners of my lips raise against his it's like an entirely different side of him comes out. For the most part, Peeta has been happy to let me take the lead on just how our displays of affection play out.
It's like my smile against his, in this room, alone and knowing that this kiss is just for us, is all the permission that needs.
His fingers are suddenly digging deeper into my sides, bringing me even closer than before. I grip his shirt even tighter, balling the fabric into my palm as I return the new intensity he's brought into our kiss. When we part for air, I'm surprised when I feel Peeta's lips travel from mine down to the curve of my jaw, and then again down to my neck, and finally to the sensitive skin right behind my ear. My mouth drops open at the foreign sensation and I grab him to pull his face back to mine, placing another hot, urgent kiss to his lips.
We pull away again, and I rest my forehead on his. Our breathing is labored, and I focus on the rise and fall of his chest before I look into Peeta's eyes. He looks as unsure of what just happened as I feel. I take a deep breath and then whisper.
"I need you to understand something, too, Peeta. You're right; this isn't what I wanted, or what I thought I wanted, or whatever…" My words trail off and a look of defeat crosses his face, but I place a hand on his cheek as the only way I can think of to somewhat reassure him. "Anyway, I just want to say that if it has to be anyone, I'm glad that it's you…."
I place a soft, simple kiss on his cheek and feel the muscles in it twitch upward into a smile. My lips barely graze his once more before the previous intensity of our embrace returns.
And this is when the tub we're sitting alongside of promptly begins to overflow.
I scramble to stand up, disentangling my limbs from Peeta's. He stands with me, both of our pants already damp from the rising waters, and rushes to turn off the taps. As I turn away from him, suddenly feeling embarrassed from my unexpected display of affection, I feel the heat from my stomach move upward to my face. I turn off the sink faucet along with the blaring of the hair dryer.
I feel Peeta approach me from behind and am thankful for the steam that still fogs up the mirror, glad that he can't see the blush on my cheeks. He places a hand on my waist and uses the other to push my hair off my neck. I can feel his breath, warm against my ear and involuntarily shiver. My grip on the counter in front of me tightens and the feeling of butterflies in my stomach only increases.
He murmurs my name, sending another chill through me. His lips have just barely touched my neck when a loud banging cuts through the air. I stifle a laugh at the groan that comes from Peeta and move to open the bathroom door.
The cool air from the other room hits me like a brick wall, and I realize that my pants are still soaking wet. I groan as this thought hits me, and now it's Peeta's turn to laugh at me. When I look back over my shoulder at him, he's got one hand raised, waving me off as he grabs a pair of pajama pants from his dresser and moving back into the bathroom.
He comes out only a few seconds later, changed. He smiles at me, and then heads out of the room and down the stairs to see who's at the door. I slip into a dry set of pants and return to the bathroom to soak up the water from the floor with a few towels.
I'm just throwing the soaked towels into a hamper when I hear Peeta's uneven footsteps as he makes his way back down the hallway. When I hear the telltale sound of heels clicking on the floor that follow him, I turn my head just in time to see Peeta come through the bedroom door. Effie's bright green wig peaking over his shoulder is flattened in places, no doubt from the rain.
"Good news, Katniss," Peeta starts, his tone conflicting with his words. I know this his sarcasm is lost on the woman standing behind him, though. "Effie has offered to help us with the plans for the wedding. She insists that it's no problem."
I open my mouth, but before I can even get a word out, the heavily accented woman starts to speak.
"And, of course, I'll be staying right downstairs so it'll make the planning a cinch!" She turns on her heel, the clacking noises following her down the hallway. "We'll start at lunch, you two! The sooner the better!"
I turn to look at Peeta, my eyes wide. I open my mouth to speak, only to be interrupted once again. This time, it is the sound of the front door being thrown open roughly, hitting the wall behind it with a loud bang.
Haymitch's voice calls out through the house, inquiring as to why Effie was still in District 12, and not at the fancy schmancy apartment he assumes she has in the Capitol. The slight slur that I hear in his voice is proof that Prim's words from earlier were correct. The fact that he's here at all, though, still proves that even in an inebriated state, he's keeping an eye out for Peeta, so I can't be too angry.
I sigh and shrug my shoulders. We have a lot to talk about, but I know that it will have to wait.
The rain from yesterday has turned the snow that lines the street leading from the Victors' Village into town into a nasty, grey slush. Peeta and I are both careful to avoid the puddles and pileups on our way into town for Peeta's shift at the bakery. I know that he's eager to get back into the routine he had before the tour began.
After an intense 'planning session' with Effie last night, which mainly consisted of her doing all the talking, and us doing all of the nodding, she had announced how highly inappropriate she found our sleeping arrangement. She pointed out that I had my own bedroom and was adamant that I use it until the wedding.
Maybe it was because of how deeply what happened between Peeta and I yesterday scared me. Maybe it was because I was tired of hearing Effie talk, and didn't feel like arguing with her. Either way, I agreed with her almost immediately, which earned me not only my first nod of approval from Miss Trinket, but a raised eyebrow from across the table courtesy of Haymitch.
Peeta hadn't argued with me; something that I attributed to his uncanny ability to simply understand that there are just some things that I have a harder time dealing with. He just grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze to let me know that he was okay with my decision. I assured him that the second he needed me, be it due to a nightmare, or any other reason, my door was open. Hell, he knew that if he really needed me to, I would lay with him long enough to ensure that he fell asleep each night.
The roads are quiet, but as we near town, we begin to pass a few miners. They're all either on their way home from working the night shift, or headed in for the day. I keep my eyes down, careful not to step into any puddles that may soak through my shoes. Getting to sleep without Peeta last night was harder than I had expected, and my mood is already sour enough without wet feet.
I hoped that we would be able to talk about what happened yesterday, away from the threat of cameras and recording devices. We're getting close to the bakery now, and I know that I should've had started talking a long time ago. As we step into the alley leading to back entrance, the voice that I hear call out to me from a few feet away lets me know that's not going to happen.
"So you're really going to do this?"
The question hangs in the air, the owner of the deep voice it's spoken in leaning against the concrete wall of the shop beside the bakery. I look over at Gale, his arms over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles, and have mixed emotions as to how I should respond.
Seeing him, after all this time without his company, even with the cross tone in his voice, is a relief. I was beginning to think that he would never want to see me again. I should have known that news of my engagement to Peeta would bring him out of hiding. Guilt washes over me at the thought.
Peeta's hand on my shoulder brings my attention back to him. He peers down at me with questioning eyes, and I nod to let him know that everything's okay. He looks from me to Gale before offering me a small smile and entering the bakery. I look back to Gale and realize that the exchange did not go unseen on his part. The fact that there are no cameras following us has also not gone without notice. He raises an eyebrow, but I don't respond to it.
I cross the distance that separates us, and cringe as I feel the icy cold water from a puddle soak through my shoe. I grit my teeth a little, but try not to let my annoyance show too much. When I reach Gale's side, I lean back against the building, mirroring his posture.
I don't speak. I'm unsure of how to start the conversation, and not ready to address his original question. I look up at Gale, noting that he's finally gotten a haircut since the last time I saw him. His grey eyes crinkle up a little at the sides, and the look in them matches the sad smile that he offers me.
"You look different," he finally says. I watch as he stuffs his hands deep into his pockets, the old habit somewhat endearing.
"Apparently, it's called 'beauty base zero'. A lot more painful than it sounds… My skin still feels raw."
"You know that you don't need any of that crap, right?" Gale starts to take a step forward, but thinks better of it. "I guess those idiots from the Capitol are stupider than they look."
As usual, the compliment makes me uncomfortable, so I choose not to respond. I tuck my braid more securely behind my ear and swallow hard.
"Look, Catnip," Gale starts, and I force my eyes up at the familiar nickname that I've gone too long without hearing. "For once, I'm not here to fight you. My… My feelings haven't changed, but I just need to know. I just need to know if what I've been seeing on television is… If it's real, or not."
I know that he's not asking whether or not a wedding will be taking place. I know that's he's not asking if Peeta's words were true. He's pointed out to me several times that it's obvious there is no acting required when it comes to the way Peeta feels about me. I may not have accepted it in the past, but I now believe his words about my best friend to be true.
What Gale needs to know is if my actions are not only real, but also out of love.
Of course I love Peeta, but as I told the boy standing in front of me weeks ago, I love him as well. And while I'm beginning to see the differences that those two cases hold, it's more than a bit daunting for a girl who has never even possessed a simple crush to determine if she's fallen in love.
I'm not sure of how to answer him, so I reply as honestly as I can.
"I don't know, Gale."
He nods his head slowly, and takes his hands out of his pockets. His eyes become glued to the ground below for a moment, and when he finally straightens his frame, he finds my face again. The look in his eyes now is painfully reminiscent of the one I saw in them during an earlier confrontation in this exact same alleyway. My answer may have been ambiguous, but it looks as if it actually gives him some form of clarity.
My heart clenches a tiny bit inside my chest and I watch as he steps forward. He opens his arms a little, and I don't find myself hesitating at all before I step into them. He wraps me in a tight hug, my face pressed against his chest. I breathe in the scent of pine that always lingers on his clothing, and ignore the way that the smell of the mines has managed to mingle with it. I also attempt to disregard the faint trace of oranges that does nothing but brings me back to that day in the woods.
I can feel his lips as they brush the top of my head and am glad that I can't see his face. I'm feeling heavy hearted enough as it is. He lets out a long breath and I close my eyes as his chest rises and falls against me.
"I guess that's all the answer that I needed."
He lets me go and starts to walk off in the opposite direction, passed the bakery and toward the Seam. He slows in front of the bakery's large side window, and I can just barely make out Peeta through the glare that the morning sun's light is just starting to create on the glass. Gale nods his head once, and I see Peeta return the gesture.
He's almost to the end of the alleyway when he turns his torso back in my direction. He lifts one hand into the air and gives me a sort of defeated smile.
"See ya around, Catnip."
I wait until I'm inside, safe in the basement's small, cold bathroom, with the door closed behind me before I allow myself to cry.
Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for the wonderful response you've given to this story! I still can't believe I'm already at 250 reviews! They really help in inspiring me to continue. :) Sorry about the longer than normal wait time for this chapter. I'll try my best to have the next update to you soon!