It's Sunday, and Peeta is nowhere to be seen again. Rye and I take a trip to the bookstore to get our books for the spring semester, and we eat lunch at the little café I took shelter in yesterday. I tell him all about Costa Rica, and he tells me everything I've missed.
Joanna is the same spitfire she was when I left. She took an intense school load with her Gender Studies degree last semester so she could coast the rest of her time in school. I don't blame her.
Madge has classes two days a week. She spends the other three working at the local courthouse, which has offered her a full time job once she graduates. I'm happy to hear that she's putting that Criminal Justice education to good use. I even think she'd make a wonderful lawyer one day.
Annie completed her student teaching at the same high school Peeta works at. In fact, the teacher she observed under was one of Peeta's best friends. Now that her time in Mr. Odair's classroom is over, they can officially start seeing each other. It started out as eating lunch together everyday and has evolved into something more. Rye says they're both smitten.
Rye has finished all of this math and chemistry requirements for his biology degree. Like Joanna, he played his cards right. This semester, he will learn about plants, birds, and other biology-related electives. It's a pointless semester for him.
For me, I need to pass all of my classes in order to graduate with the bare minimum amount of credits. I've taken a few of the harder courses during the summer to lighten my load, but there are a few classes I'm worried about this semester. I don't even need good grades in them since I've already been offered a job at a local company that specializes in solar panels and wind turbines, but the straight A student in me will strive for perfection regardless.
The day flies by as we anticipate the first day of our final semester. Before I know it, my alarm is going off for my first class. I bundle myself in layers and a heavy jacket since the weather calls for single digits and snow, two things that the Floridian in me hate. It doesn't help that I've gotten accustomed to 90 degree weather for the last six months.
As I walk the short walk to campus, I quickly realize that I should have taken the bus or not gone at all. The snow is up to my ankles, falling in thick clumps, and it's hard to see in front of me. My two morning classes meet as scheduled, but my afternoon class is cancelled when the university closes down. That rarely happens since Indiana is so used to inches upon inches of snow, but my weather app tells me that we're expecting more and blizzard- like conditions. I can't begin to imagine getting stuck on campus in a few feet of snow, so I head back to the apartment as fast as possible.
The walk back is longer since my middle class is the furthest away. It doesn't help that the snow level hits my upper chins. Twenty minutes later, I'm shaking as I try to put the key in the lock. It takes me a few tries, but I am able to unlock the door and let myself into the warm room. I shed my jacket and boots in hopes of making a run for the shower when I see him.
Sitting with a grey blanket on the couch is Peeta. His intense blue eyes are looking at me with amusement as I hop from one foot to the other in my purple, fuzzy socks. I stop immediately and gape at him. I wasn't expecting him to be home so early.
He lets out a deep laugh and asks, "Cold out there?"
"I hate snow," I tell him with vengeance in my voice. "Did your school get cancelled too?"
Peeta's smile grows, and it makes my stomach do somersaults. "Yes, one of the only perks of being a teacher is getting snow days."
I don't know what he means. It doesn't snow in my end of Florida. The temperatures drop sometimes, but there's no snow. Since coming to Indiana, I've only heard about snow days since they don't occur often in at the college level.
My fingers are beginning to grow numb, but I don't want our conversation to end, so I ask, "Is Rye back?"
"No," he tells me and shakes his head. "He's waiting for them to clear the streets. Dumb ass drove in this weather."
"I'm not one to talk," I say with a shrug, still standing in the doorway like an idiot. "I walked."
Peeta shakes his head at me this time, disappointed. "There's buses for that. One stops at the corner of the street."
"Oh, maybe I'll do that tomorrow," I tell him even though I thought about taking a bus before I left.
"If we're not snowed in..." Peeta trails off. His eyes rack over my body. "Why don't you go warm up? I'm making chili, and I'm more than happy to share some with you."
My jaw drops a little at his suggestion. He wants to share his food with me? "You cook?" I ask and blush as soon as the words leave my mouth.
He lets out that deep laugh again, and his eyes light up. It could rival any famous skyline. "I do. Someone has to feed Rye or else he'll live on take out."
I let out a laugh of my own. It's true. In the last four years, I've never seen Rye bring his lunch. If he does, it's almost always prepacked. That boy could live on fast food. "Okay, I'll be right back."
I grab a towel of of my room and practically run into the shower for two reasons. The first is that I am freezing. My warm blood is not suited for this type of weather. The second is that I want to talk to Peeta more, especially since Rye is not around. I want to see him smile like that again too. I want to hear more about him and his life. I want more of him.
It's a dangerous game, I think to myself. Liking Peeta as a friend and roommate is one thing, but it is a slippery slope to feeling something more. He already has an affect on me that no one else has managed before despite only talking to him twice. He's like a drug, and I've just gotten a taste. For Rye's sake, I can't become an addict.
The water in the shower scorches my skin, but I let it. By the time I step out, I'm red and radiating heat. Steam rolls off my skin as I tiptoe my way back into my room. I brush my hair and braid it down my back. After pulling on the comfiest pair of sweats I own, a fresh pair of fuzzy socks, and an oversized Indiana sweatshirt, I'm ready to see that blond boy again. I find him in the kitchen. He's set one steaming bowl before the seat next to him, and he's already started on his own. Feeling timid, I take the seat next to him.
The chili is heavenly, and I literally moan as I take my first bite. "This is so good!" I tell Peeta in an enthusiastic voice that I almost don't recognize. Its too high pitched for me.
A dark look flashes in Peeta's eyes. My imagination tells me its lust and that he feels the same connection that I do, but I know its all in my head. It probably has to do with the fact that I saw him half naked the first time I met him. "Thanks," he tells me in a warm voice.
Like Rye, Peeta is naturally good looking. He doesn't have to do anything to look like a model in a white t shirt and grey sweat pants. He probably rolled out of bed looking like this. Unlike Rye, Peeta has blond curls where Rye has brown, straight hair. Rye's eyes are hazel, and I can't help but wonder which of the parents they took after. Rye doesn't talk a lot about his family though. I only know about Peeta since he went to the university too.
After eating a while in silence, Peeta speaks up. "So, we share a bathroom, and I know nothing about you. Tell me about yourself."
I scoff and look down at my bowl. "There's not a whole to know about me."
"I don't believe that for a second. Where are you from? What are you studying?"
"Florida. Environmental and sustainability studies," I tell him and meet his questioning gaze. It feels he's quizzing me about my own life.
"That sounds smart," he says before adding, "But why would you leave Florida or Indiana?"
My mouth goes dry and my throat constricts like it does every time someone asks me this question. "Change of scenery," I tell him like I tell everyone else. There was nothing left for me there, I think to myself.
His eyes narrow a fraction like he wants to push me further. I try to keep my face as neutral as I can since I'm already feeling raw and vulnerable in his presence, his affect. He shakes his head a bit and must decide to let it go because he says, "My friend Finnick is from Florida too. Tampa."
My chest relaxes when I realize that his friend is not from the same area as me. Although, it's not surprising since my town is smaller. "Naples," I reply weakly.
"Environmental?" He asks, trying to keep the conversation going. "You must have a lot of classes with Rye."
I nod in agreement. That's how I met Rye. "We did the first few years. Mostly biology and other sciences."
"Are you good at biology?"
"Yes, I love all sciences except for chemistry. I would have failed if Rye and one of our friends didn't help me."
"I wasn't any good at chemistry either," he groans. "That's why I teach English."
"Do you like it? Teaching, I mean."
"I've wanted to do it ever since I was younger. I love literature and the arts." His eyes light up when he mentions his favorite activities, and I find myself wanting to know more.
"Where did you learn to cook?"
He freezes. It's almost not noticeable, but I'm paying a great deal of attention to the man beside me. "Our parents owned a bakery."
"So you can bake?" I ask raising my eyebrows at him. Peeta looks like a jock in every sense of the work. Broad shoulders, impeccable muscles, and a thin body. He doesn't strike me as someone that bakes.
"Yes," is all he says, and I can sense that he wants to drop the subject by the way he drops his eyes.
"Well, look forward to that too," I tell him, letting him decide where the conversation will flow next. Instead, he rises and collects our empty bowls. Then, he motions for me to join him in the living room. He hands me the remote and the blanket he was using earlier, and then he heads to his room to get another blanket and promises to come back.
While he's gone, I turn on a random movie that I have no intentions of watching. The blanket smells like him... fresh, a little woody, and a hint of citrus.
"What's your favorite color?" He asks once he is situated on the couch beside me.
His closeness is making me light headed. "Why?" I ask defensively.
He just laughs and throws his head back a little. "If we're going to be friends, then we better get to know each other more."
I want nothing more than to know everything there is to know about Peeta Mellark, but I don't want him to know things about me. I've always been shy and guarded, keeping the things that mean the most to me to myself. "Who says we're going to be friends?" I tease.
He fakes a hurt expression and says, "We do share a bathroom, so why not share our deepest, darkest secrets?" There most be something in my expression that tells him to back off because he quickly adds, "Or we can start with our favorite colors. Mine's orange."
My face scrunches in response. "Like Rye's tennis shoes?" They're an ugly, neon color that hurts my eyes early in the morning.
He chuckles. "No, more muted. Like the sunset."
I muse it over for a second and decide that I need to take a closer look at the next sunset. "Green. Like the woods."
"Rye mentioned that you were in Costa Rica recently?" He asks, and I have no problem telling him about my adventures in the rainforest.
We talk for hours, but it feels like minutes. It honestly feels like we're old friends getting reacquainted. It's a feeling that I could get used to. At some point, we begin drinking beer and laugh over stories about Rye. We're buzzed by the time Rye walks through the door. His eyes narrow at our close proximity, and he probably wonders why we're sitting on the couch together instead of on either of the two recliners in the room. His cold body temperature makes him forget it as he rushes off to get warm without a word.
"Do you have any siblings?" He asks after we finish laughing at Rye.
My smile fades fast, and a thousand memories flash before my eyes of a blonde preteen with a bright future. "A sister. Her name was Prim."
When I don't offer anything else, Peeta asks, "Was?"
I nod at him and study the wrapper of my beer bottle with a great deal of intensity. "Her and my father died in a car accident when I was sixteen."
"Oh, Katniss," Peeta murmurs and slides closer to place a comforting hand on my back. "Rye never told me."
The spot where his hand rubs my back is warm and tingly. It almost gives me enough courage to tell him the entire story, but I settle for something less sinister. "I had a swim meet about an hour away. They came to watch and..." I trail off, remembering my own sorrow when I found out what had happened on the drive home.
"It's not your fault," he tells me, and I've heard the words a thousand times in a thousand different ways by a thousand different people. It has never made a difference.
"I know," I tell him, and I really do. But it doesn't in make the feeling go away. "My mother was never mom of the year, but she really shut down after their deaths. She could go to work as a nurse and function, but she was a zombie at home. I had to fend for myself in high school. I forged her name on every document. When I graduated, I was offered numerous scholarships, but Indiana was the furthest away. I needed to get away."
I turn my head and look into Peeta's blue eyes that are closer than they have ever been. His face is practically right next to mine. Tears blur his face, but I blink them away and tell him, "I've never told anyone that."
He gives me a warm smile and moves his hand to wrap an arm around my shoulder. He gives me a squeeze. "Your secret is safe with me." Then his smile turns into a greedy grin. "See, I told you you'd tell me your deepest, darkest secrets."
It's almost true. There's something about Peeta that makes me want to spill my guts to him. I want to trust him in a way that I've never trusted anyone before. I want him to know me, the real me, even if that means scaring him away. That Katniss isn't always the most pleasant person on the planet, and I know that the nightmares will plague me tonight.
"Your turn," I tell him, trying to steer the conversation away from me before I can tell him more of my life story.
"Hmm," he muses. To my disappointment, he pulls his arm back to himself. "I had a lousy mother too. She believed in physical punishment, and my father was too afraid of her to step up and be a father. It's no secret that she always wanted a girl. Rye and I were painful reminders of her failure."
My jaw drops a little. Rye hardly talks about his family, including Peeta. I had no idea. "I'm so sorry, Peeta." My parents were big on physical punishments. There was time outs and privileges revoked, but no spankings or slaps.
"Don't be," he shrugs nonchalantly. "We survived. When I graduated from high school, I picked a college that was far enough away for freedom but close enough in case Rye needed me. I didn't expect for him to follow me here," he says as he rolls his eyes with brotherly love.
"I'm glad you two have such a great bond. My sister was my best friend, even at twelve. I think we would've been like you guys."
Peeta laughs at this, but his smile gives him away. "We clash sometimes, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Don't tell him I said that."
Silence falls between us, and we have silly grins on our faces. Again, I'm aware of the his closeness to me. It's more obvious when he glances down at my lips. Does he want to kiss me?
I get my answer when he begins to lean in a little, and my heart flutters at the thought. I'm surprised when I find myself wanting him to kiss me. His lips are almost touching mine when the sound of a creaking door breaks the spell. Peeta pulls back and composes himself just in time for Rye to enter the room and plop down into the beige recliner. I'm still breathless at the almost kiss and can only hope that my cheeks are not flushed at the thought of Peeta returning my feelings.