Chapter Twenty-Four: Growing Up
"Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending."
—Maria Robinson
Peeta and I are in the car, on our way back into town, and on the surface of things we're interacting normally. He's holding my hand and talking to me as he usually does—saying sweet things that I really don't deserve. Yet there's a noticeable difference between us; a sort of tension in the air. It's not uncomfortable, though. It's more of a nervous anticipation.
I keep having thoughts of where our relationship will eventually lead. Before tonight, my head was full of worries about rather simple things like kissing and going on a first date. Now I have to worry about much bigger things such as the future possibility of having sex, and his offer of moving in with him in November. Everything is happening so suddenly, and I'm not sure how to process it all just yet.
I keep my eyes focused on the scenery going by, but every so often I glance over in his direction. Even in the dark, I can tell his face is still red. He looks over a few times and catches me staring at him, and we both immediately avert our eyes. I know he's still kind of embarrassed about what happened to him earlier. And I'm totally mortified that he's now fully aware of how little I really know about sex. I honestly didn't even realize how limited my knowledge on the subject was before tonight. I've never had a reason to want to know more.
"Thank you," Peeta says, finally breaking the silence between us as he turns into the bakery parking lot.
"For what?" If anything, I should be thanking him for making this night so amazing and unforgettable. Despite the few awkward moments we shared, I couldn't have imagined a better first date… or anyone else I'd rather have spent it with.
I look at him curiously as he takes the keys out of the ignition and turns to me with a shrug.
"You know, for earlier." He smiles shyly and lightly runs his fingers down the length of my hair, his eyes following the movement of his hand as he does so. "For allowing yourself to feel good. For making me feel good, too. For not hiding yourself, and for trusting me. For… everything."
I don't know what to say in return, so I simply nod and chew nervously on my bottom lip. I can't seem to look him in the eye; it just feels as if it would be far too revealing if I did so. My mind keeps replaying the way it felt as his body moved in rhythm with mine, the way his firm, yet gentle hands gripped my hips and brought me closer, and how his lips and tongue indulged my breasts with pleasure I didn't even know my body was capable of.
And although I'm still not quite sure of the specifics of what happened to Peeta, knowing that he'd had such a strong sexual reaction towards me is a little overwhelming. But if I'm being honest with myself, I felt the same way about him while it was happening. Maybe not to the same extent, but I do know that I liked the way it felt, I enjoyed the passion between us, and if he hadn't stopped things, I don't think I would have.
My face flushes deep red and I'm thankful that he can't read my thoughts. I steal another quick glance in his direction and find him studying me intently with a knowing smile on his face. It makes me feel self-conscious, and I abruptly look away again.
Maybe he can read my thoughts.
My breath catches in my chest as leans over and whispers near my ear, "I just want to let you know," his lips lightly graze my earlobe and his breath pleasantly tickles my skin, "that I find you incredibly sexy. You're the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen—"
"I am not—" I start to object. He places a finger against my lips, and pulls back slightly to look me in the eye.
"Yes. You really are," Peeta counters strongly. He cups my chin gently with his index finger and runs a thumb along my bottom lip, looking a bit mesmerized for a moment as he gazes down at my mouth. "And I'd like nothing more than to make you feel just how beautiful you are."
I don't really believe him. There are girls at school that are way prettier than I am, and he'd be blind not to notice them. I know I could never come close to comparing, and that he's simply trying to make me feel good about myself. I would argue the point, but he'd just say more sweet and wonderful things about me and we'd be right back where we started. I shrug my shoulders.
"I… uh. I don't think you're ugly, either."
"That's nice to know," he chuckles, and I can't help but smile at the sound. He catches my eye and smirks. "So… you think I'm pretty hot then, huh?"
"Sure, Peeta. Something like that," I answer with a snort and a roll of my eyes. He laughs again and kisses me on the cheek.
"You're even more adorable when you're all flustered," he mumbles quietly against my skin. I scowl and quickly turn my face back towards his in defiance. "I am not flustered."
"Okay," Peeta replies before kissing the tip of my nose. He rests his forehead against mine, and runs his hands down the length of my arms.
The sun set a few hours ago, and even inside the car, there's a slight autumn chill causing my skin to prickle. It was warm earlier today, and I hadn't thought of bringing a jacket with me. I didn't really notice how cold I was until I felt Peeta's warmth.
"I keep thinking this is a dream and I'm going to wake up. I've wanted this for so long, Katniss. I never thought it'd be possible that you'd ever let me kiss you or date you or touch you…." He places an open-mouthed kiss on the area between my neck and my collarbone, lingering there for a second, and my heart begins to race.
"I never thought you'd want to," I whisper as his hands move from my arms to my waist.
I take in a sudden deep breath as he lifts the hem of my shirt a few inches and places his palm flat on my midriff, letting his fingertips lightly caress the sensitive skin there. A shiver runs throughout my entire body at the contact, but I'm not sure if it's from the cold or from the sudden heat of his touch.
"I never thought you'd want me to," he whispers in reply, kissing his way back up my neck and hovering his mouth only an inch or two away from mine.
"I never thought you'd want me."
"Oh, I want you, Katniss," he assures me. "More than you think."
Before I have time to react or reply, his lips are on mine. I gasp at the abruptness of his actions, and close my eyes tightly as his tongue traces the outline of my bottom lip. I tentatively place my lips around his tongue and slide my own against his, slowly and sensually tasting him and wanting more. I rest my hands on the nape of his neck, bringing him closer, and his hand swiftly moves up to envelop my breast.
"Peeta…" I whisper in a breathless daze, "I… we… we should…."
We should stop what we're doing, I want to say, but I can't get the words out. We're in the bakery parking lot— mere yards from Prim and Mr. Mellark, and who knows who else. We definitely shouldn't be doing this in public.
And yet, I don't want this to end; it feels too unbelievably good. Besides, it's dark and I doubt anyone can see us anyway.
Peeta gently squeezes my breast and runs a thumb over the hardened, sensitive center, causing me to release a small whimper. Our kiss deepens, and for a moment the only things I can think about are his hands touching me, his tongue moving with mine, and the intense throbbing sensation that's back between my legs again.
And then we're both brought back to reality in an instant with a sudden tap on the window and a muffled giggle.
"Prim!" I practically shout as my eyes widen with alarm. I slap Peeta's hand away from my breast, and turn to see my little sister smirking at me. From the mischievous, knowing look on her face, I can tell that she saw everything too. "Oh no…."
"Shit, shit…" Peeta whispers in a panic as he places his face in his hands. "Oh god, Katniss. I'm so sorry."
I take in a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves, and gesture for Prim to get into the car. She looks thoroughly amused at our discomfort as she hops into the backseat with a huge impish grin.
"The date went pretty well, I'm guessing," she remarks with a snort.
I abruptly turn around and send her a death glare, but this only makes her roll her eyes and begin to laugh.
"I…uh… I'm going to go tell Dad I'm driving you both home," Peeta mumbles in a hurry and exits the car before I can even reply. I close my eyes tightly and lean my head back onto the seat, waiting for the awkward comments and questions that are sure to come.
"Sooo…" Prim starts in a sly voice, but I cut her off before she can say anything else.
"Not another word, Prim! I mean it."
She doesn't listen, though.
"You're so totally in love with Peeta," she says, her voice bubbling with suppressed laughter. "I can't believe you let him touch your boobs, Katniss." And whatever resolve she had for the moment is lost as she begins giggling again.
"I didn't!" I lie, though I know she saw it plain as day. My face feels as if it's on fire.
"Yeah, you did! I saw it," she states.
"Prim, I'm serious. I am not going to talk to you about this. Mind your own business, and just… please shut up!"
"Fine. All right. Okay," Prim replies in a teasing tone. "I'll be quiet now, because I don't want Peeta to feel all embarrassed for touching your boobs. But when we get home—"
"Whatever!" I snap, my heart pound rapidly against my chest as I see him approaching the car. "Just be quiet all the way there!"
She immediately goes silent and I glance back to see what she's doing. She winks and places her thumb and index fingers to her grinning mouth, making a zipping motion with them. I roll my eyes and turn back around with a heavy sigh as Peeta opens the door and sits down. His face is just as red as I imagine mine is.
He doesn't say a word to me or even look in my direction as he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. I know he's mortified at Prim catching him with his hand up my shirt, and he probably thinks I'm upset with him. I'm not, though. I'm just as much at fault as he is.
After a few minutes on the road, I hear Prim in the backseat trying to muffle her snickering as best as she can and doing a poor job of it. I can already tell this is going to be a long, uncomfortable ride home.
I was absolutely right.
The drive home is extremely awkward. I can't even bring myself to look over in Peeta's direction the entire time. Aside from Prim's failed attempts at hiding her amusement at the situation, she luckily stays true to her word and doesn't inquire about anything. I know I'm in for a ton of questions and inevitable teasing from her when we're dropped off, though.
I'm not even sure what's happening between me and Peeta at the moment, and I definitely don't want to explain why I would let him put his hand beneath my shirt, let alone on my breast. The answer is that I have no idea why I would, other than it just felt good, but that's not exactly something suitable to discuss with my eleven-year-old little sister.
About halfway home, I guess Peeta can't take the awkward tension in the car or Prim's random bursts of giggles because he starts talking to her about bakery related things. He asks what his dad had taught her for the night, and this seems to temporarily placate and distract her from our earlier predicament as she eagerly answers all his questions. I don't really pay attention to their conversation, though. I have way too many other things weighing on my mind.
I feel instant panic when Peeta finally begins to turn down our long driveway, and not just because of the embarrassing things that Prim will soon ask me. As humiliating as it'll undoubtedly be, that's really the least of my worries. I feel like I can't breathe because as soon as I see the dark gravel road that leads to hell, the realization hits me that it's time to come back to reality.
This whole evening, despite its mortifying moments, was like a fairytale come true. For once, I felt like someone special; someone wanted, needed, cherished, and normal— if only for a few short hours. And now it's over. Now all the hopes and dreams of normalcy that I pathetically allowed myself to temporarily feel will come crashing down all around me.
I'm immediately filled with dread at the thought that Snow might be home right now, waiting to inflict some cruel punishment upon us for being gone all evening. It would be an ironic end to an evening of feeling alive, to be killed over it.
The car comes to a full stop and I finally look over at Peeta. I can tell that, like me, whatever embarrassment he was feeling from earlier has instantly been replaced with trepidation.
"Katniss, will you please let me drive you—" he immediately begins to ask. I shake my head and release an exasperated sigh.
"You know my answer is always no," I say, cutting him off in an instant. "It's not going to change."
"Oh, just let him, Katniss," Prim pipes up from the backseat, but I ignore her.
"Really, you should take your sister's advice. It's dark and I won't even be able to really see—"
"No!"
"You know I'm not going to judge you," Peeta insists, frowning at me as if I'm disappointing him. "I always feel like the hugest jerk just letting you guys walk home in the dark."
"The dark is really the least of my fears," I answer. I quickly look away from him and open the door. "Come on, Prim. Now."
She sighs loudly and exits the car, knowing it's pointless to argue with me. I start to get out too, but Peeta grabs my hand. "Katniss?"
"What?" I ask, turning back to him. "I'm really sorry about tonight—"
I shake my head and smile in spite of the anxiety I feel.
"Peeta, tonight was the best night of my life and it was all because of you. Please don't apologize for it." This confession instantly brings a smile to his face, too.
He runs his thumb lightly over the top of my hand. "It was the best night of my life, too. I'm just sorry about what happened with Prim." I glance over to see her standing off to the side of the road, grinning and looking impatient to start teasing me. I roll my eyes and turn back to Peeta.
"I'm sorry, too. She's never going to let me live it down."
"And here I thought she was a sweet little angel," he chuckles.
"Don't let her fool you," I reply, shaking my head. "She's been a bit of a demon lately."
We both simply look at each other for a moment. We're smiling, though our eyes are full of worries and questions that we don't dare verbalize out loud. I can tell he's wondering what will happen to us when he leaves.
"You know, I really want to kiss you right now."
"You can't."
"I know," Peeta replies, arching an eyebrow as he looks over my shoulder. "Prim's got her eye on us. Just know that I'm mentally kissing you right now," he winks.
I laugh and shake my head in amusement, loving how he can make me feel so lighthearted and normal when I know everything, in reality, is totally opposite. "For what it's worth, Peeta, I'm mentally kissing you back."
"It's worth a lot actually—"
"Katniss, hurry up!" I hear Prim holler impatiently. I sigh and send him one last wistful smile.
"Thanks for everything tonight. Really. I had a wonderful time. The date was… perfect. I guess I'll see you on Monday…."
His face turns serious all of a sudden. "Good night, Katniss. Remember you have the cellphone. Don't ever hesitate to call or send me a text, day or night, anytime. For any reason. I'm always here for you, okay?"
I nod, retrieving a grocery bag full of left-overs that Peeta insisted I take with me. He didn't really have to convince me, though. I had already been feeling sort of guilty that I had a small feast prepared in my honor, and Prim wasn't there to share it. I should have known he'd think of her too, and wouldn't have let all that delicious food go to waste.
I give him one last 'good night' and close the door behind me, feeling instantly deflated that our date has officially come to an end. As his car backs out of the driveway, the comforting warmth I seem to feel when I'm with him quickly precipitates from my body, leaving behind only icy dread in its absence.
"What's in the bag?" Prim asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn to her and frown.
"Food."
"From where?"
"Peeta's house," I answer shyly, somewhat thankful that she's asking me simple questions and not embarrassing ones. "He made dinner for me."
"Awww!" Prim gushes, slightly skipping as we make our way home. "That's so romantic, Katniss! What did he make you?"
"All sorts of things," I smile. "He's a really amazing cook."
"Well, no wonder you let him touch your boobs!" Prim replies with a playful grin. "I'd let a boy touch my boobs, too, if he made me a yummy dinner—"
My eyes widen, and I'm struck speechless for a moment. I then do the only thing I can think of in my temporary shock, and pull quickly, but gently on one of her braids.
"Ow!" she whines, rubbing her head dramatically. "That was mean!"
"You don't even have boobs, Primrose," I scold. "And even if you did, you better not let any boys touch them until you're much, much older! Even then, it should be for a better reason than a nice dinner."
She crosses her arms over her chest and purses her lips.
"I do too have boobs, Katniss! They're just not as big as yours yet. And you're not the boss of me."
"Oh, stop pouting," I tell her. "You're acting like a baby and you look ridiculous."
"You look ridiculous!" she retorts.
"So? Your point?" I ask, sticking my tongue out and crossing my eyes in order to cheer her up. I really don't feel like having an argument with her and ruining the rest of the night. She narrows her eyes at me and a smile comes to her lips, despite her obvious attempt at trying to scowl instead. "And I wasn't trying to be bossy, Prim. I was just saying that if you ever let a boy touch you, it should be for a very good reason."
"So why did you let Peeta touch yours?"
And there's the question I'd been dreading.
I don't really have a particular reason; I have a whole bunch of little reasons that add up. My main reason, though, is that he's him. He's Peeta. I couldn't imagine letting any other boy touch or kiss me the way I let him. I shrug and remain silent, but Prim keeps looking at me for an answer.
In a moment of spontaneity, and because I feel like I have a plethora of energy to disperse, I start running toward the house. I haven't done so in a very long time, at least for the fun of it, and it feels absolutely exhilarating.
"Why are you running?" Prim calls after me, but I only laugh and continue on. I soon hear her footsteps on the gravel, trying to catch up with me, but my legs are a lot longer and she's still quite a way behind me.
I feel a mixture of relief and elation when I don't see Snow's truck anywhere. Deep down I know that the longer he's away, the worse he'll be when he finally comes home, but for now I'm just going to be thankful this amazing night won't be ruined.
When I walk into the trailer, I'm overwhelmed with instant desolation. I'm also hit with the disgusting stench of the toilet bucket. It's dark and I can barely see where I'm going, but I cover my nose with my shirt and make my way to our room. I grab a blanket and head back outside just as Prim finally runs into the front yard, looking highly annoyed.
"Why'd you… you do… that for?" Prim asks, panting heavily as she tries to catch her breath.
"Because you were asking nosy questions." I shrug and place the blanket flat on the ground before sitting down on it.
"What are you… doing now?" She narrows her eyes in confusion and places her hands on her hips.
"Enjoying the night. It's nice to just get out of that stupid trailer once in a while and look at the stars. We don't do it often enough," I casually reply, lying back on the ground and placing my arms beneath my head. She's silent for a moment, and I glance over to find her staring at me as if I've lost my mind. "What?"
"Okay, where's Katniss? What have you done with my big sister?" she asks in a skeptical, accusing tone. "Seriously, what did Peeta do to you?"
"Oh, shut up. He didn't do anything to me."
"You're running and smiling, and you want to look at stars. He did something. Or you both did something," she says, and then I hear her gasp loudly as if a sudden idea has popped into her head. "Did you guys… do it?"
"Do what?"
"It!" Prim repeats in an excited rush. She lowers her voice to a whisper, "You know… sex?"
"No! Geez. The only thing we did was eat and watch a movie," I answer defensively, sitting up. "Not that it's any of your business."
"Well, I was only wondering because you both looked really chummy in the car—"
"Ugh!" I cover my face with my hands, shaking my head as I quickly lay back down. Prim laughs and lies down beside me on the blanket.
"I don't know why you're acting so embarrassed. If Peeta was my boyfriend, I'd be chummy with him too."
I remove my hands from my face and frown deeply as I look over at her. "You seriously worry me sometimes." And it's true. She's not even an official teenager, hasn't even went through puberty yet, and she's already casually talking about sex, boob-touching, and getting chummy with boys.
She grins and sticks her tongue out at me. "You know you wanna marry him and have a bunch of little Peeta babies," she teases. "Awww! And they would be so adorable and I'd be their favorite aunt!"
I snort and roll my eyes at her absurdity. "You'd be their only aunt."
"Oh, I would, would I?" She grins mischievously and wiggles her eyebrows as if I've just confessed something.
"In your dreams, Prim!" I retort, my face burning from her implication.
I've never really thought about having children before; I never considered it a possibility. I still kind of don't. I'm not entirely sure I'd ever want them. What purpose would it serve? What would be the point? I don't really see myself as the motherly type. Besides, it's only a matter of time before Peeta realizes being with me is way more trouble than it's worth.
"I just want you to be happy," Prim replies, her voice quiet and sincere. She takes in a deep breath and gazes up at the sky as if thinking hard about something. "I've never seen you as happy as you are when you're working at the bakery and hanging around Peeta. You smile a whole lot now and you really never used to do that."
"I know." I don't say anything more than that.
"He's really good for you, Katniss."
We're silent for a few minutes. I close my eyes, hearing a whippoorwill in the distance, I feel myself start to relax and doze off.
"You know Mom used to work in the bakery when she was a teenager, too?" Prim asks in a hushed tone all of a sudden. "Mr. Mellark told me a lot about her tonight. They used to be best friends."
"What else did he tell you?" I'm curious to know if he told Prim how they were also in love with each other at one point. I also just want to know more about who she used to be, and how others saw her. She's my mother, but I feel like I barely know her.
"Her favorite color was primrose pink," she answers, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "She had a natural talent for baking. They even changed the sugar cookie recipe to hers since the customers liked it better. He said that she could play the piano very well, her favorite animals were goats because she thought they were so silly, and she enjoyed going to the woods and picking herbs and plants - Mr. Mellark said she could come up with hundreds of uses for them."
I don't say anything as she continues to ramble on about our mother before she was our mother. It's difficult to imagine the lifeless, skeletal shell of a person that's lying in a bed right now as this same lively girl that Prim is describing. It hurts to think of my mother as a teenager, with so many hopes, dreams, and talents, and then realize where she is now and what she's become.
"You know she even won a few beauty pageants? Mr. Mellark said she used to be very beautiful. He… he also said I look just like her when she was my age. I don't think I'm pretty at all, though," she says with a sigh.
"You're very pretty, Prim," I tell her honestly. I don't understand how Prim could think otherwise. I always assumed she knew she was adorable, because she is. "And he's right. Mom used to be beautiful, and you do look quite a bit like her when she was younger."
"I just wish I would have gotten to know her… before." I don't really know what to say to that, so I remain quiet. "Mr. Mellark also said I could have a job at the bakery, too, when I get old enough."
"That's great, Prim!" I reply enthusiastically.
"Yeah, I think I might work there for a while," she says thoughtfully. "I think I might want to be a nurse, though. When I get older. You know, so I can help people like Mom."
I open my eyes and look over at her with a smile. "You can do anything you want to. I think you'd be a wonderful nurse."
She grins back at me, seemingly delighted at my encouragement. She looks away from me with a shrug. "Mom used to be a nurse too, you know. Before she got with Snow."
"Yeah." I already knew this, of course, and I always assumed Prim did as well. "She was a great one, too."
"Isn't it sad?" she asks pensively. "That she helped so many others get better, and yet she can't help herself?"
I nod slowly, unsure of what to say, and then a sudden panic wash over me.
"Prim… you didn't tell Mr. Mellark how Mom is, did you?"
"I might have—"
"You didn't!"
"Calm down," she replies. "I didn't tell him about Snow. I just said she's not well. It's true, Katniss. She's not well at all."
"What if he wants to come see her?" I ask in exasperation. "You shouldn't have said anything!"
"Well, he asked about her! What was I supposed to say? And anyway, what if he wanted her to come see him?" Prim counters, her voice strong and challenging. "What excuse will you come up with then? Because it'd be hard to explain why she wouldn't come see her old friend and the guy who gave you a job. It'd be easier to just explain why he can't come see her… because she isn't well."
I hate to admit it, but Prim has a point. I never really thought of it that way. I just hope that Mr. Mellark doesn't ask for details about why she's not well.
I wake feeling like a block of ice.
I turn to look for Prim and notice she's not beside me anymore. I guess she must have gotten cold and went inside to sleep. I groggily grab the blanket and wrap it around my shoulders as I make my way to our bedroom.
But as my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, I notice that she isn't there.
My eyes widen and my heartbeat quickens. I practically run to Mom's room, though I know it's a longshot because Prim has never once slept in there.
Yet that's exactly where I find her.
Prim has her head resting on Mom's shoulder with an arm draped across her skeletal ribcage, and Mom has both of her arms wrapped around Prim. Mom's head is slightly tilted so that her hollowed cheek rests lightly upon Prim's head.
And in the darkness of the room, with only the faint glow of the moon illuminating the scene before me, it's both beautiful and heartbreaking. Anyone else would see a mother lovingly embracing her young daughter as she sleeps. Yet, I know that isn't the reality of things. I see a young girl clinging desperately to a strand of hope that her mother will become well again and remember her, and a ghost of a woman who is none-the-wiser as she sleeps and starves her way to a certain death.
The dim lighting seems to do well with hiding the many imperfections upon Mom's skin, and from the distance I'm standing, I can almost see her beauty again. I can almost imagine her being young like Prim once, with the world at her fingertips and big dreams about her future. I notice the resemblance between my mom and my little sister, and also the stark contrast of how time and pain can eclipse youth and hope.
I see the bag of leftovers on the floor and a glass of water on the dresser. Prim had evidently taken it upon herself to feed Mom, and get her to drink. It's not an easy task either, even for me, and yet from the empty bowl and half-empty glass, it appears she had been successful.
And it dawns on me that my little sister is growing up right before my eyes.
