Chapter Nineteen: Maybe

"I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of non-feeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out. To learn and think: to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love." —Sylvia Plath

Peeta leans down and picks up a yellow blanket, which I'm guessing had fallen off of him during his night terrors. He hands me one corner and I bring the it up over my chest, tucking it in behind my shoulder. I immediately feel more relaxed with my body being mostly covered. Peeta does the same.

And then I feel his hand fold into mine beneath the cover.

My body begins to shiver, but it has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Peeta turns to me with a small smile on his face, his thumb rubbing the top of my hand. "You're shaking. Are you cold? I can get another blanket."

"No," I reply quickly, shaking my head. "I'm not cold. This is fine. I'm okay." Although, honestly, I feel like my heart might burst it's beating so fast.

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and whispers timidly, "Is this making you uncomfortable?"

I'm silent for a moment. I really don't know how I feel. I'm nervous, that much is apparent. But am I uncomfortable? Do I want Peeta to stop holding my hand? Do I not like it?

"No," I finally answer. "This is all just… new for me." I really don't know how else to explain it. Peeta chuckles quietly and nods his head in understanding.

"I know what you mean. It is for me, too."

I roll my eyes and sigh.

"Yeah, I doubt it. You've had girlfriends before and I'm sure you've at least held their hand. This is hardly new for you." It comes out a little more judgier than I intended. Great, he probably thinks I'm jealous now… which I certainly am not. I'm only stating a fact.

"What are you…?" Peeta seems confused as he turns fully towards me. I look back at him, attempting to keep my face passive. He raises an eyebrow in question. "Who are these girls? I'd really like to meet them."

I don't know how to answer, so I just shrug. I feel stupid for even saying anything. It's none of my business who Peeta has dated or held hands with or even kissed. I find that I don't really want to know, anyway. I don't know why I brought it up in the first place.

"Katniss," he says quietly, "I haven't had a girl interested in me since before my leg was amputated. That happened when I was thirteen. I've never had what you'd call a real girlfriend."

Even though he sounds and appears to be sincere, I find it a little hard to believe that he's never had a girlfriend. He's probably just saying that to make me feel more comfortable and 'normal' for never having a boyfriend before. He's making an attempt to relate to me... but I don't like it. I don't like being lied to.

"Look, you don't have to lie to me, okay? I don't care whether or not—"

"I'm not lying," Peeta states. I look over at him again. He shrugs and glances away from me as if he's embarrassed. "Between school and working here in the evenings, when would I even have time? Plenty of girls feel sorry for me, but not enough to want to date someone without a leg."

"That's not true," I say. "They would, too. I doubt your leg even matters at all—"

"No, they really wouldn't. And it definitely matters, believe me," he replies a bit defensively. "It matters a lot."

"Well, that's their loss, isn't it?" I place my free hand on top of his and give a gentle squeeze with the other, which is still clasped tightly within his. He looks at me in slight surprise and smiles wistfully.

"Is it?"

I meet his searching eyes with mine. "Yes. It is."

And I mean it. Anyone who can't appreciate what a great catch Peeta is, who can't look past the loss of his leg and see how absolutely wonderful he is, well... they don't deserve him anyway. It's totally their loss.

A sudden playful grin curves his lips. "So… their loss, your gain?"

I smile back, rolling my eyes in amusement.

"For someone who's never had a girlfriend, you sure are overly confident," I tease, my voice shaky. I'm not sure how to answer his question. I'm not sure about anything at all.

"Only because I'm overly confident that I want to be with you," Peeta states. He bites his lip and looks down at the blankets where our hands are entwined beneath. "Appearances can be deceiving, you know. I'm not half as confident as you probably think I am. I just don't want to lose whatever slight chance I might have with you."

He takes my free hand in his and brings it to his chest. My eyes widen with confusion and surprise.

"Peeta, what are you—" He places the palm of my hand right in the center of his chest. His hand is warm and soft as he places his palm flat on top of my hand, holding me there against him.

"Do you feel that?" he asks quietly, raising his brows. I feel the vibration of his voice against my palm, but I also feel what I think he's talking about; his heart is racing so fast and hard that I don't understand how he can appear so calm.

My eyes are still wide when I look up at him, nodding slowly in reply.

He removes his hand, running his fingertips over the top of my hand like a feather. I don't move my hand from his chest. I keep feeling his heartbeat thumping faster and harder, and it makes me feel like I'm not so alone in this.

Peeta is just as nervous as I am. This is all new for him too. He's just better at hiding his fear.

"It's like this all the time when you're around. All the time, Katniss. So I don't know about being overly confident—"

For the second time tonight, I act on impulse; I cut him off, kissing him quickly on the lips. I don't know why, only that it feels like the right thing to do.

I swiftly remove my hand from his chest and bring it up to my face to cover my eyes, my cheeks burning.

"Yeah, me neither," I reply, giving an embarrassed wince. "I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm sorry."

I suck in a deep breath as he reaches over and gently removes my hand from my eyes. I reluctantly glance over at him, mortified. He arches an eyebrow and bites his bottom lip to keep from grinning.

"Do you really think I didn't like that? The only thing that would've made it better is if it had lasted longer—"

"I don't do these things, Peeta!" I blurt. "I don't hold hands with boys," I lift our hands up from beneath the cover to make a point, but he doesn't let go, "I don't usually kiss them or go on dates... I just don't do these things."

He smiles, as if amused by my distress, and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "You say you don't do those things, and yet here you are... doing all of them."

"I know!" I reply as if it's obvious, but it's anything but. "I just don't know why…."

"Maybe, just maybe, and I might be completely wrong here, Katniss, but maybe you kind of like me, too? Just a little?" I'm silent for a moment, and then I shrug.

"Maybe?" I answer weakly. "I don't know."

I do know, though. I like him very much; too much. But I also know this could never work out. I don't want to get my hopes up, nor his.

Peeta brushes his fingers up and down my shoulder, and the soothing of his touch makes me realize how tired I actually am. I lean my head back on to his arm and close my eyes. I don't want to think about any of this. I just want to go to sleep and forget it all for now.

"Katniss…." I hear his curious, quiet voice near my ear. "Hmmm?"

"Did I dream it or… did you kiss me earlier?" He seems genuinely perplexed. I open my eyes and look over at him in disbelief.

"Stop playing dumb. You know I did."

"No, I don't mean what happened just now. I mean, when I was sleeping... when I was having the night terror. I could've sworn you kissed me."

I close my eyes again and shrug. "You wouldn't wake up. I had to do something."

"So you did? Even though you had no idea what I'd do? I've been told I can get a little violent when I'm having them…."

I nod and release a long breath. "I didn't really think about it, Peeta. It's not a big deal. Besides, I thought someone was down here hurting you at first. I wasn't really afraid of a bad dream at that point."

He's silent for a moment, then continues, "Wait. You thought someone was down here hurting me, and yet you still came down here to check on me?"

"So what?" I answer quickly. "Like you wouldn't have done the same—"

"I would have, but that's not the point," Peeta interrupts.

I open my eyes and look over at him with drowsy annoyance. "What point are you trying to make?"

"Katniss, I doubt my own brothers would have done that," he says, and there's something noticeably different in his voice. It's contemplative and distant, and… something else I can't quite place.

"Doesn't surprise me. They're kind of jerks."

"Anyone else would've stayed upstairs, out of danger. They would've thought of their own safety first, and I wouldn't have blamed them. So… why didn't you? You could've gotten hurt."

"I don't care about that. I don't care about being hurt. I'm used to it," I reply shakily. I feel oddly defensive, and I'm not sure why. "If you have a point, Peeta, please make it already. I'm really tired."

"You cared enough to risk your life to help me. That's completely new for me." I begin to object, but he continues before I can say anything, "You can downplay it all you want, but if there had been an intruder, they could have had a gun."

"But that didn't happen—"

"It could have."

"It didn't, though."

"And you should never be used to being hurt—"

"Drop it, Peeta," I warn.

"I know you don't like talking about it, but I'm still going to help you. I'm going to get you and your sister away—"

I look at him with wide, panicked eyes. "Please, I'm begging you, don't tell anyone! I promised you I wouldn't say anything about your mom and I haven't. Please don't tell anyone what you know? Not even your dad… especially not him."

He searches my face with a deep frown, but reluctantly nods.

"I haven't, and if you really don't want me to I won't. But Katniss… this," he brings his hand from my shoulder, to my neck, and runs his fingertips lightly over the bandage covering my cut, "can't continue. Why doesn't your mom just leave him? Why doesn't she protect you?"

"She can't," I whisper.

"Why?"

"It's a long story. But the short version is that he's driven her crazy, and now she doesn't even know who Prim and I even are—"

"If Dad knew—" Peeta begins heatedly.

"You're not telling him! Promise me."

"But Katniss—"

"Promise me, Peeta."

"I promise, okay? But he really loved her, you know," he states. "The way he still talks about her, I wouldn't doubt that he still does."

I look at him in confusion. It's late and I'm tired, and I have no idea what he's talking about at all. He's not making sense.

"What are you—"

"My dad," Peeta explains, raising his eyebrows, "was in love with your mom. And she loved him, too, a long time ago."

I sit up quickly, suddenly wide awake. I don't believe him. I can't believe him. Mom never said anything about Mr. Mellark before. I roll my eyes and look away.

"You're lying."

"I'm not. I wouldn't go asking about it; it's kind of a touchy subject, but it's true. They probably would've been married if it wasn't for my mom—"

"Wait," I glance at him again with curiosity. "Let me get this straight. The girl your dad was in love with, the girl you told me about in your story the other day, that was my mom? Why didn't you tell me? Don't you think that was worth mentioning?"

"I wasn't sure it was my place to tell," Peeta answers, not meeting my eyes. "I probably shouldn't have even told you just now, but under the circumstances…."

"Are you serious? You didn't think I should know?"

"What does it matter?" he asks, shrugging. "They loved each other, waited too long to say anything, and married the wrong people. And now look where they are. It's not exactly a happy ending."

"My mom," I reply a little icily, "didn't make a mistake when she married my dad! My dad was wonderful to her and to us—"

"I didn't mean your dad," Peeta reassures quickly, his eyes widening. "My dad has nothing but nice things to say about him. He was really happy your mom married him, couldn't have imagined a better man to be with her. Your mom really loved your dad. No one is denying that at all. I'm talking about now. You can't tell me our parents are happy now."

I sigh heavily and nod, because I know he's right. This new information is a lot for my mind to take in, and I don't know how to process it yet. I was only twelve when my mom's mind started slipping. She didn't exactly have heart-to-hearts with me about her love interests prior to my dad when I was that age. Why would she?

"My dad heard she'd gotten remarried after your dad died. And then you started showing up at our doorstep a few years ago, selling things. He knew something was wrong, but wasn't sure—"

"He never mentioned her," I interrupt. "Never asked about her."

"He probably didn't know what to say. I'm sure there's a good reason why. Besides, you've never really been the talkative type."

"Whatever, Peeta. I'm talking to you now. Quite a bit, I might add."

"Yeah, that's true. Which kind of surprises the hell out of me, to be honest," he replies, a warm smile curving his lips. He brings me closer to him with his arm, giving me a half-hug.

"Well, you never talked to me before either," I counter.

"And I'm sorry about that," Peeta says, then takes me by surprise by leaning down and placing a quick kiss to my shoulder before resting his chin on it. "We're talking now, though, and I hope we talk a lot more in the future. I'd love to talk to you forever..."

His voice is so low and near to my skin, my body gives an involuntary shiver and I suck in a deep breath.

"Are you cold?" he asks. "Seriously, I can turn up the heat or—"

"It's not that," I mumble. "Your voice just makes me ticklish when you're so close."

"Really?" Peeta gives a small laugh. "I'll have to remember that. I had no idea my voice made you tremble."

"Peeta!" I shake my head and jab him lightly with my elbow. "That's kind of an inappropriate thing to say, especially given the serious things we've been talking about."

"I don't think so," he replies, running his fingertips down my arm. "It might be a little selfish to say, but I'm glad our parents didn't marry. We wouldn't exist. And if we did, we'd be siblings… and it'd be kind of weird to be in love with my sister—"

My eyes widen, and I go stiff in his arms. He must have grasped the gravity of his words, because he gives a slight coughing sound before he continues. "I mean… Oh god, too soon. Wrong choice of words. It's late and… please ignore what I just said, okay?"

I nod quickly, feeling relieved that it was just a slip of the tongue. I mean, obviously he's not in love with me, but it was still shocking to hear. I play along to ease his embarrassment, "What did you just say? I seem to have temporary amnesia."

He gives a short, quiet laugh, and we both relax into each other's embrace again.

"Anyways, wouldn't it be a sweet twist of fate if their son and daughter ended up together? At least it'd be somewhat of a happy ending."

I yawn and shrug, "I'm guessing you mean us, right?"

"No, Katniss," Peeta deadpans, "I'm obviously talking about Prim and Proja—" I jab him with my elbow again and he laughs, "I totally deserved that."

"Yes, you did!"

He leans in next to my ear and murmurs, "You know, you're incredibly sexy when you're all feisty."

I bite my lip and turn to him. He doesn't bother to lean back, though, so our faces are close… too close. I look at his eyes at first, but they seem so… knowing, so I quickly look down at his mouth. I attempt to tell him in a stern voice, but it comes out shaky, "Peeta, you're getting awfully brave—"

But I don't get to finish because he decides to take his bravery to a whole new level and kiss me. And in the darkness of the bakery dining room, feeling safe beneath the blanket enveloping us, I guess I feel slightly brave myself... so I kiss him back.

It's shy and uncertain at first, as our mouths attempt to find a steady rhythm. I close my eyes tightly and try not to think. I don't want to think anymore; I just want to feel. Is that so bad? I just want to feel normal. I want to feel good.

I want to kiss Peeta.

My hand finds its way to his chest again, where I place my palm in the very center. I feel his heart beating rapidly, and this seems to put me at ease. At least I know he's feeling just as nervous as I am about this. His hand moves up the back of my neck and gently buries itself into my hair.

He finally releases my other hand, which feels cold from the loss. He brings it to my face, running his thumb over my jaw and cheekbone, then pulls me closer. My own hand finds its way to his neck, where I let my fingertips dance within the curlicues at his nape.

Our kiss eventually becomes deeper, slower, and more relaxed. Our lips linger on each other's and then push together in an attempt for closeness, but it still doesn't seem to be close enough. I open my mouth to start to say something, to tell him we should probably stop, but he just kisses me before I can get the words out. Our kisses take on a whole different feeling after that; before it was only lips meeting, but now it's our whole mouths.

My whole body is shaking, my heart is beating like crazy, and my head is somewhere in the clouds… but for the first time, I feel… real. I feel hopeful. I feel desirable.

I feel alive.

And it scares me to death.

When I get home I'm probably going to be dead anyway. Might as well enjoy this.

Peeta is the first to pull away from the kiss. His lips look slightly swollen, and mine feel the same.

"Is this really happening?" he whispers slowly in awe.

I nod, but I can't seem to find my voice to say it aloud.

"We should probably sleep now," I mumble.

He nods, but looks like he wants to ask something, though he looks uncertain about it.

"What?"

"Katniss?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you please be my girlfriend?" Peeta asks quickly, hopefully. "I'd be good to you. And you can't deny from our kisses that we have something—"

"Peeta…" I hesitate. My eyes dart around the room. I don't know how to answer. I know he's telling the truth, but I don't know if I'm ready for it. I'm not sure if I can handle it, or how it will change things.

"Look, I know you're a very private person. You don't want people knowing your business, and I'm fine with that. I won't tell anyone, not even my dad, if that's what you want. Even if it's just between us, it's okay. I mean, the way things are going, we're probably going to keep doing this kissing thing… and it'd just be nice to make it official. Nothing will change really. If you need more time, I understand too," he reasons.

I'm silent for a moment, my heart racing and my mind reeling.

"No kissing in front of Prim?" I whisper, closing my eyes.

"If that's what you want," Peeta replies. "If that's what it takes."

"Fine," I shrug, my stomach in knots. "I guess."

"Really? You will?" he asks in surprise. I nod and shrug, my stomach filling with dread. "You won't regret this, Katniss. I promise. I just want to make you happy."

I clear my throat and attempt to joke, "Well, I guess we don't have to do the whole date thing, now."

"Oh, no. We're still doing the date thing," he replies.