y as

Chapter 6


After a decent (and entertaining) breakfast with Finnick and nap, I decided not to fully waste the day. I showered and shaved before throwing on some clean clothes and heading down to my father's bakery on the off chance that Katniss might show up in search of some baked goods on a beautiful afternoon such as that one. I realized I had high hopes, but I was a man on a mission now: meet Katniss, win her over, and make her mine.

Easier said than done, apparently. If I did manage to see her again, I would have to eventually grow a pair large enough to muster the courage to talk to her and maybe even ask her out. But baby steps. I would at least talk to her first. And it would be more than the stupid, silly banter we'd had in the past. I'd ask her real things this time, I planned.

My father looked up in surprise as I ambled through the front door, the bell chiming to announce my arrival. He was just finishing up with some customers as I ducked below the counter to join him.

"What gives?" he grinned, holding his hands out. "It's your day off."

I shrugged and shook my head, unwilling to let him know I was there in hopes of seeing a girl. "I figure you're gonna retire in what, a year? Only got so much time to learn the trade secrets."

The answering twinkle in his eye let me know he was on to my bullshit as I followed him back to the kitchen. He stuck his hand in the pile of flour on the mixing board in front of him and tipped his face down so that his glasses slid down his nose.

"Well son, this is flour. We use it to make the bread. We mix it with yeast and other things and then roll it into dough…then trot it over to this big machine that mixes it-"

I cut him off with a loud burst of laughter. My old man never failed when it came to getting me to laugh. "Fine, fine, I guess I'm transparent. I came down maybe…hoping that girl would stop by."

"Ah, the girl with the braid. Kathy? Erm…what was it?"

"Katniss," I answered smugly, tossing him a self-assured look. "It's Katniss."

My father pushed his glasses up his slightly sweaty nose and shook his head. "You were out with Finnick last night?"

"Yup."

"You always reach some big epiphany after a night out with that kid. What did he manage talk you into this time?"

I shrugged, trying to look innocent as I hopped up onto the counter by the door to sit. I guess my longtime friend had a history of talking me into things I wouldn't normally do and everyone knew it.

"Just…he thinks I should talk to her if…when I see her again," I answered. "Grow a pair and ask her out."

My father shrugged, his mouth twisting in that way that told me something was slightly amiss.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, Finnick's' pep talk will hopefully last you a few more days. While I agree with him that you should…erm, grow a pair….she was already in today. You missed her, pal."

I felt my insides turnover as my stomach seemed to fall to my feet. I'd missed her? I'd spent all fucking morning talking about how I was going to find her again and somehow get her to like me and I'd missed her?

I slid off the counter where I sat and gave my father a pleading look as he wiped his hands on his apron. His face slipped into a worried look. It was as if he knew how much I already had my heart set on this girl and knew how much it would rip me apart to know that I'd missed another chance to talk to her.

"She was in earlier. She-"

"Wait, how long ago?" I demanded, perking up. Maybe she was close enough to catch? Or follow? Shit, that even sounded creepy in my head.

"About an hour," he replied sadly, shaking his head. He went back to the recipe he was mixing up, his jaw hard. "I'm sorry son. I told her today was your day off and she seemed…"

"What?" I asked quickly, hovering over him as he worked. His hands paused, his thick fingers sinking into the small batch of sticky dough seeping through his open fingers. The normally comforting smell of yeast and flour was slowly making me feel sick.

"She asked what days you worked. I said everyday but today. She seemed disappointed that she'd missed you," he recited, dutifully listing off the facts he knew. I could tell he was trying to disclose as much as he could remember for my benefit, but I still felt slightly sick to my stomach. She'd been here – she'd been here asking about me – and I wasn't here. I'd missed yet another chance. If Finnick ever found out that I'd missed another shot at talking to the girl I'd been babbling about he'd kick my ass in an instant.

"What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything, just that she wanted some bagels and more of that French bread…said she comes to this end of town to visit someone and…." He paused again, seeming to search through the memory in his head for any detail I might want.

While I was still utterly crushed that I'd missed her appearance, I was at least relieved to know that she'd cared even a fraction about me. I mean, would most girls ask about a guy's work schedule if they didn't care about him? Or were at least minutely interested in? She probably only asked because you're the one who tries to push free bread and pastries on her when she's here, my mind chided. No, my illogical side argued back. She hadn't wanted anything for free; she'd insisted on paying that first day when I tried to give her something on the house.

I stood in the middle of the kitchen as my father mixed dough, contemplating my own internal argument. Back in high school I could remember girls coming in to flirt with my brothers and get free cupcakes after class. All three of us were subjected to after school jobs at the bakery back then, and it wasn't uncommon for a classmate to come in. Girls would smile and flirt and toss their hair in hopes of getting free sweets, and lord knows it worked on my brothers. But I didn't get that vibe from Katniss. At all.

"Son, she's been in three times in a matter of a couple of weeks. She's coming back. I can tell you're beating yourself up about it…."

"No, dad, I'm not. I'm just…. It sucks that I missed her, that's all. I dunno," I shrugged, shaking my head. I was mainly shaking it at myself for missing her, even though I couldn't have known she would come in to the bakery on my day off. Ambling over to the counter where he worked, I heaved a sigh.

"What are you making now?"

My father shot me another sympathetic look.

"I'm trying to master the pretzel bun. Here, come help me," he insisted, reaching over to a hook beside the door. He tossed me a starched white apron with an expectant look.

"Why are you trying to master the pretzel bun?"

He shrugged. "People seem to like them. Keep seeing ads with them, figure it might be a good thing to sell. People can buy them, make sandwiches. Yuppies love stuff like that, Peet."

I bit back a smile at my father's simplistic marketing tactic and picked up the recipe for the pretzel buns. He'd handwritten it on a piece of scratch paper, the practically illegible slant of my father's handwriting staring up at me from the paper.

"If you make pretzel buns you should do sandwiches," I offered.

He paused, shrugging. "I don't have the room here to do that kind of thing. Always wanted to, but….never the room."

"You wanted to serve more types of food here? I didn't know that."

My father shrugged slightly, kneading the dough against the floured board. "I did, when I was younger," he joked. "I wanted to do fancy soups and sandwiches. Make this place a bakery in the mornings and a café for lunch and dinner. But…that was a long time ago. I'd never have the energy to do that now."

"Dad," I argued, "That's what I've always thought we should do. People would go nuts for something like that if we did it."

"Well, like I said – that was an idea a long time ago. Don't exactly have the energy to do that now that I'm a year away from retiring. I'd have to store meat and cheese and….it would be nice, but just can't manage it," he relented.

Wrinkling my nose, I silently agreed with him. The familiar bakery that my family owned since before I was born was like a second home to me. It was small, quaint, and obscenely outdated. Our ovens were too small, there was hardly any convenient storage, and we only started taking credit and debit cards within the last six months. But, we still did killer business. Most mornings we were almost sold out of almost everything by barely eight. People loved Mellark bread in this town, and I hoped that would never change. I would inherit the business when my father retired, along with all of the coveted family recipes and Mellark Bakery title.

"Maybe you could do it," he suggested. "When this place is yours."

My mouth twitched into a little smile. "Yeah, maybe I could. But for now, I need to learn how to make pretzel buns. One step at a time old man."

He shot me a little sideways grin as he worked, his jaw clenching with the effort he was putting into it. Stepping closer to the counter, I tied the apron around my waist and quickly washed my hands. Letting my eyes skim over the recipe one more time, I offered my two cents.

"You should do an egg wash on these. Bet it would help them brown."

He shot me a surprised look before nodding. "Yeah. Bet it would."

We exchanged a knowing grin. We both loved to tweak and tamper with recipes, never afraid to try something new. I guess some things never changed.

My eyes shifted over to where he mixed the dough by hand, his gnarled fingers working it into submission. The swollen joints of his fingers stuck out against the dough. He had arthritis – bad. Years of mixing dough by hand – over and over and over – had taken its toll on his body. My father had thrown his heart and soul and body into making bread for this town and it showed. His business had thrived and supported our family, but not without a price. The lines on his face and they grey in his hair increased by the year. He didn't have long. Soon, I knew I would be taking over the family business for him. Maybe it wasn't the best time for me to be obsessing over a girl anyway.


AW, poor Peeta! Kicking himself here...Katniss shows up in the next chapter, I promise. I know you guys were like 'well where the heck did she go?' LOL. She's coming back - spoiler alert, haha. But I guess if you've read NIOF you know that.

Stay tuned for more, and remember I'm on Tumblr as Twilightcakes - come play, ask questions, etc.

Thank you for reading and please let me know what you thought! *MUAH*