Chapter forty-five: Alive Again
"It's easy to take off your clothes and have sex. People do it all the time. But opening up your soul to someone, letting them into your spirit, thoughts, fears, future, hopes, dreams… that is being naked." —Rob Bell
After a long night of tears, comfort, and kisses from Peeta, I wake the next morning with an apathetic sort of dread at the thought of breaking the news to Prim. I at least vaguely remember our grandparents; seeing how she barely remembers our own father, she likely doesn't have any memory of them at all.
I sit up in bed to see that Peeta is already gone. Quickly, without even stretching or rubbing my eyes, I make my way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to see him and Prim sitting at the table eating breakfast—or maybe lunch, I'm not sure of the time.
Taking a seat beside Prim, I mumble as Peeta stands up, "Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you need as much sleep as you can get," he answers as he brings over a plate and some silverware and places them in front of me.
I shake my head. "Thanks, but I'm really not hungry."
Peeta frowns and furrows his eyebrows in sympathetic concern, but he doesn't say anything.
This makes me feel even worse, knowing he probably got up early to make us breakfast, to make me feel better, but the thought of mixing any food with the sorrow in my stomach makes me want to throw up.
"Not eating isn't going to make things any better," Prim sternly proclaims without looking up from her plate. She shrugs and stabs a piece of sausage with a fork as she adds, "I mean, there's no telling how much longer we'll get to eat Peeta's yummy food. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts."
Immediately, my heart quickens and I narrow my eyes accusingly at Peeta. "So you told her already? I thought we agreed—"
Peeta shakes his head right as Prim asks, "Tell me what?"
I groan, folding my arms on the table and laying my head between them. "It's way too early for this…" I mutter.
"It's almost noon," Prim counters dismissively.
I turn my head to look at her, but I don't even know how to begin. She stares at me with narrowed eyes, waiting for an answer. With pursed lips, she asks curtly, "So… we're leaving then?"
I nod and close my eyes with a heavy sigh. No use skirting around the question.
"When?"
"I don't know. Sometime next week," I reply.
"I, um… I'm going to leave you two to talk," Peeta says, sounding uncomfortable. I sit back and watch helplessly as he stands, leaving his half-eaten plate of food on the table. He gives me one final look as if to say 'good luck' before exiting the kitchen.
I turn to see Prim with her arms crossed, staring at the table with tears in her eyes.
"We're going to Maine to stay with our grandparents—" I begin as brightly as I can, but she cuts me off before I can finish.
"You say that like it's a good thing but we don't even know them!"
"I do, or at least I used to. They were really nice from what I remember—"
"Well, I don't remember them at all," she scoffs. "Whatever. You get what you want, right? You want to leave here. You want to leave Peeta because it scares you that you might actually be happy."
My eyes widen and my mouth drops open at her accusation. I feel like I've just been slapped.
"This wasn't my idea, Prim! I had nothing to do with any of it. Of course I don't want to leave Peeta!"
She shrugs and shakes her head as tears spill down her cheeks. "So what about Mom? What about Buttercup? What about Posy and my other friends; I won't even get to say goodbye to them!"
"Buttercup will come with us and Mr. Mellark said he'd keep us updated on Mom—" I begin to explain, but Prim doesn't want to listen. Before I can even finish my sentence, she pushes her chair back and runs out of the kitchen. As I stand up to follow after her, I hear the door to the hallway bathroom slam shut.
I press my palms against my eyes and take a deep breath to compose myself. I fully expected Prim to be upset by the news, but I didn't think she'd lash out at me about it. Still, I can't let my irritation cloud my judgment. She needs me right now; she's understandably fearful of what will happen when we go. I can't take her misdirected anger personally—no matter how much her words may sting.
I knock on the bathroom door and call her name, but she doesn't answer. I try to turn the knob, but it's locked.
"Prim, please open the door? I know you're scared and worried. You have every right to be. I wish you'd let me talk to you, though. We need each other to get through this…." I knock again, hearing her sniffle on the other side of the door. She still doesn't reply. "You said yourself that this couldn't last. I wish there was something I could do to make everything magically better, but I can't. Leaving here is the only way that can ever happen, even if it's hard… we've been through worse and we'll get through this too."
Minutes pass like this, with me knocking and pleading and receiving no answer. Finally I just sit down and rest my head against the door.
"Fine. I'll just sit here for as long as it takes for you to calm down so we can have a mature conversation. We have to leave whether we want to or not. It wasn't my idea. Taking it out on me isn't going to change anything."
Peeta opens his bedroom door.
"Guessing she didn't take the news well?" he asks hesitantly, glancing from me to the bathroom door.
I shake my head and rub my eyes.
"I have a key for the bathroom if you need it," he offers.
I shake my head again and cross my arms.
"No, she'll open the door when she's ready."
He lingers in the doorway, frowning and looking uncertain of what to say or do next.
"Okay, well… just let me know if I can help."
I nod and ask before he closes the door, "Hey, where's your dad by the way?"
"Said he had important things to take care of. I was half-asleep when he told me he was leaving so I didn't ask. He's been texting to say he's okay, though, and to see how things are here," Peeta answers, shrugging. "I think he's probably just trying to avoid the tense situation he helped create."
"He's just trying to do what's best for us," I reply quietly, not really knowing what else to say.
"Yeah, well, he could've at least said what was going on instead of springing it at the last minute. It would've been nice to have a little more time…" Peeta mutters, shrugging. "Anyways, I'll be in here painting. Holler if you need me?"
I nod and he slowly closes the door. Not even a minute later, I catch myself from falling backwards as Prim finally opens the bathroom door, her face completely red and wet from tears. She opens her mouth to say something, but her lips tremble so she closes it again. As soon as I stand up, she immediately wraps her arms around me in a tight hug.
I embrace her as well and ask quietly, hesitantly, "Are you ready to talk now?"
She nods against my chest, then stands back and wipes her eyes. I kiss the top of her head and bring an arm around her shoulders as we make our way to the living room.
As we sit down on the couch, she says in a shaky voice, "I'm sorry for saying those things."
I shrug.
"I know you're upset. But believe me, the last thing I want to do is leave Peeta."
She stares down at her hands with knitted brows. "Are you going to break up with him?"
"No," I answer strongly. "We're just going to have to be away from each other for a while. It'll be a tough few months, but we'll get through it. You, me, and him… all of this is only temporary. When I turn 18 in May, I'll get custody of you and then we'll all be together and no one will be able to do anything about it. You just need to be strong for me until then, okay?"
I rub her back and rest my head atop of hers.
She nods and remains silent for a moment before asking, "So… what are they like? Our grandparents?"
"Well, I only saw them a few times because they lived so far away, but like I said, I remember them being really nice. Grandma was never in short supply of hugs and kisses and stories. She absolutely adored you, but then again most people do. Grandpa wasn't a man of many words, but his smiles always made me feel happy. You'd always climb into his lap and he'd bounce you on his knee."
She glances at me with a small tearful smile, her eyes distant as if trying to imagine the things I'm telling her.
"Why didn't they come for us then?" Prim asks, her voice wobbly. "If they loved us, didn't they miss us?"
"Mr. Mellark said they tried to find us for a long time but couldn't," I answer, smoothing the wet tendrils of hair back from her face.
"So was it his idea to send us away?" She picks Buttercup up and places him onto her lap.
"I don't think it was initially his idea. It was brought up and he decided it was for the best," I reply. "I agree with him. I really think things will be better for us there. It's not safe here, not while Snow's still free… and we can't stay in this apartment forever. Besides, the longer we stay here, the more it puts Peeta and his dad in danger."
She nods, focusing her attention on petting Buttercup, "I know. It just sucks having to move so far away and having to leave everything and everyone…."
"It won't be forever, Prim. We can come back and visit eventually, maybe not anytime soon… but who knows what the future holds? Gale will still be in contact with us, and by extension Posy… so you'll still be able to keep in touch with some people," I reassure, reaching out and scratching Buttercup on his head. "We have a real chance to start over there, to have a brand new life—a good life, without fear or worry. It'll be different, it might be hard to adjust to, but we'll get through it together."
"Aren't we coming back here, though? When you turn 18? I mean, Peeta has the bakery…"
"I don't know. We'll figure it all out by then."
I'll tell Prim whatever she needs to hear at the moment to ease her mind, but the real answer is that I doubt I'll ever come back to this town again. This transition will be the toughest trial of our relationship; the distance will be rough, of course, but expecting Peeta to drop his life here, to throw away his opportunity of taking over the bakery… it's asking a lot, perhaps too much. But I also don't want to lose him.
Either way we're going to lose, though.
Our conversation eventually leads to exploring the rest of Mom's jewelry box.
Instead of Prim's attention being drawn to the last few articles of jewelry—one of which I notice is a golden bird necklace—she focuses on a stack of photographs. She lifts them from the pile of mementos and I sit next to her as she proceeds to look through them.
On the very top of the stack is a picture of me and Prim, professionally done. I'm around the age of 6 or 7, my hair in two long braids with yellow ribbons tied at the ends to match the sunflowers on my dress. In my lap is Prim, still a baby with blond curlicues and bright blue eyes; she has a single pink little bow atop her head and wears a dress similar to mine, except with pink roses. My arms are clasped protectively around her as we grin happily at the camera, almost as if we're in mid-giggle. Knowing Dad, I can easily imagine him doing something funny off camera to get us to smile so amusedly.
"I remember a big photo of this that used to hang in our living room. We moved and I never saw it again, though. Weird seeing us so young," I comment, flipping the photo over in my hand as Prim moves on to the next photo. On the back it says in pretty cursive, 'my beautiful babies, my reasons for breathing.' A pang shoots through me knowing Mom had written this at one time with a fully functional mind and body. I quickly flip it back over, placing it face-up on the floor beside me as Prim nudges me.
"We all looked so happy…" she whispers as I look down at the photo in her hand. It's a professional photograph of our family, evidently taken the same day as the one prior. Prim sits on Mom's lap and I sit on Dad's, and we all look so content and ordinary; it's strange looking back on a time when we had no cares in the world, cloaked in the loving protection of our parents, knowing nothing of the evils in the world.
I glance over at Prim to see her looking down at the photograph with furrowed brows, concentrating on the details as if she'll remember being there if she tries hard enough.
"Someday we'll be happy like that again," I reply, leaning my head against hers as she finally hands me the photo.
"Mom and Dad won't be, though," she states, gazing down at the next photo. It's from the same day as the other two, only with Mom and Dad. Mom has an arm draped across Dad's chest and is resting her head against his shoulder. He has a hand covering hers and his head rests against the top of hers. They look so young and carefree; blissful and in love. It's strange how such a happy picture can be so sad.
Without saying anything else, Prim hands me the photo and moves on to the next, which is a picture of me and Dad sitting on the porch on a sunny day. I'm sitting beside him, singing along as he strums a guitar; I look to be around 8 or 9. I can remember this day vividly—it was the first of many sing-alongs we'd have on that porch. If I close my eyes, I can almost feel the summer breeze against my cheeks and hear the sound of Dad's lovely baritone voice and the lazy picking of his guitar.
"You look a lot like Dad," Prim states.
I open my eyes and look down at the picture with tears in my eyes. "You resemble him, too."
"Really?" she asks, looking both hopeful and skeptical. "How so?"
I shrug as I take the photo from her, "The shape of your eyes, your nose, your smile; mostly you resemble him in personality—he was kind and gentle. And very hard working. He had an amazing ability to make people smile no matter what."
"I wish I would've gotten to know him as well as you did," Prim sighs. "The way you describe him, he kind of sounds like Peeta."
"Yeah, I guess so…" I reply thoughtfully, "I like to think Dad would approve of us dating if he was still alive."
Prim grins at me. "He already did, remember the video we watched the other day? Actually, he gave Peeta his blessing to marry you—"
I laugh and shake my head. "I can't be sure, but I don't think Dad was being serious, given that we were only 5."
"Still," Prim shrugs and picks up the next picture—Mom and Dad on their wedding day, surrounded by a group of friends and family, "I think you were meant to see that for a reason."
"The reason being that you woke me up and made me watch it," I joke, but my stomach suddenly feels fluttery.
"Hey," Prim points to two people on the right side of Dad, "are those the people who we're going to stay with?"
I take the photo from her to look closer at it and quickly determine it is our grandparents; my father's parents. They're all done up in formal attire, gazing lovingly at my parents with matching grins.
"Yep. That's them," I reply with a nod, handing the photo back to Prim so she can observe it a bit more. A smile curves her lips as she looks down at them.
"They do look really nice," she remarks in a hushed, relieved tone.
We spend the next couple hours looking at old photographs, reminiscing over things we barely remember. Most of the pictures are of Dad and us, school pictures and opening Christmas presents, special moments shared between us as a family. There's also one of Mom and Mr. Mellark when they were in their early teens; we can't help but notice that Mr. Mellark looked almost identical to Peeta when he was younger.
When we reach the end of the stack, we both just kind of sit there in reverent silence, feeling as if we've been sucked out of a bittersweet time-warp.
We continue to look through random bits of memorabilia that mean little to us, but must have meant the world to Mom at one time. I wish she could explain where each piece came from and why. Instead, I only have playbills, guitar picks, and simple, scribbled notes like 'Are we on for 8?' with no indication of the asker. I'm sure most of it was from my dad, though; I imagine everything in this box was a memory of her life with him… and now neither of them are around to cherish any of it. If I hadn't found it, it would've all burnt along with the trailer.
"Do you know how Mom and Dad met?" Prim asks, looking at me curiously.
I nod slowly.
"Have we really never talked about that before?" I ask more as a rhetorical question, shocked that through all the years we've endured hell together, we never found time to discuss simple things like how our parents met. Prim shakes her head, waving her hand expectantly for me to continue.
"The way they told it to me was really romantic, but anyway, the gist of it is…" I reply and let out a breath. "Mom had just started college and was playing the piano for a musical they were putting on that Spring. She'd stayed late in the evenings for a week to practice before the show, and on the very last night, when she was playing through a song, she said she heard 'the most angelic, handsome voice' she'd ever heard singing along. Turned out to be Dad of course. He wasn't even in the play, didn't go to college either; he was only working there as a janitor. They fell in love as soon as they met each other, though. The rest just fell into place."
"That sounds really romantic and sweet. It's just sad how things ended up…" Prim trails off with a shrug, "life just really sucks sometimes."
I nod in agreement, not really knowing what else to say—there's no way I can spin Dad's death and Mom's mental collapse into something positive. It's just like what Prim said… life just really sucks sometimes. I drape an arm around her shoulder, bringing her into a half-hug just as she picks up a key.
"Wonder what this goes to?" she whispers curiously, turning it over in her hand to look for some sort of significance. It's just a small, silver key with a '318' engraved into the top and nothing else. I shrug, wishing I knew the answer.
Before either of us can say anything more, Peeta comes into the living room; he's frowning and his face is red—he obviously just got through crying.
"Sorry to interrupt…" he starts hoarsely, "it's just… I got some news from Dad." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as he sits down on the loveseat.
"What's wrong?" I ask quickly, my stomach twisting.
"He's got the date set for you two to leave," Peeta answers quietly, his voice trembling.
"When?" Prim whispers.
"The day after tomorrow."
The rest of the day goes by slowly, too quickly, and very morosely.
I expected we'd be leaving soon, but not so soon. I figured I'd have at least half a week to prepare myself, and now I have less than 48 hours. Yet here we are, watching TV in complete silence—none of us really knowing what to do or say without breaking down into tears.
I can't let Prim see me cry, not after everything we went through this morning. If I do, she'll see my doubts and fears and they'll be transferred to her all over again. With each tick of the clock, however, I become that much closer to having to leave Peeta and the only thing I feel like doing is crying. It seems like we should be doing everything we can while we can, and yet here we sit, sullen and defeated, uncertain of what to do next.
Peeta is sitting next to me on the couch, his arm around my shoulders and his hand in mine. He brushes his thumb against my knuckles, but says nothing. Every so often I'll hear him sniffle or take in a deep breath, though, and his hand trembles slightly in mine.
I take in the warmth and smell of him, trying to engrain it all into my memory. After all, who knows how many more instances like this we have left. If I'm already grieving the loss of him and he's right beside me, how in the world am I going to say goodbye when I'm actually leaving?
As soon as Mr. Mellark comes through the front door, Peeta jumps up and gives him the angriest glare I've ever seen of him.
"Are you serious?" he exclaims. "The day after tomorrow?"
"The morning after tomorrow, to be exact. The plane leaves at 10:15," Mr. Mellark answers as he hangs up his jacket. "Look, I know it's way sooner than—"
"You think?" Peeta indignantly interrupts.
"I didn't set the date, I'm just relaying what I was told. As of today, their grandparents have sole custody, and of course they want to see their granddaughters as soon as possible. None of this is really in my hands, Peeta," Mr. Mellark explains. "In any case, the sooner they leave the sooner things will be better for them."
"You could've told us what was going on days ago, yet you waited until last night—"
"Peet, I told you as soon as I could have. I didn't know if it was going to work, if they were well-suited to take care of them, but they are. As soon as I was sure my decision was the right one, I told Katniss. I can't help that they have family who are desperate to see them again. Their grandmother was in tears on the phone today... how am I supposed to say 'no, you can't see your long lost grandchildren yet because my son wants a little more time with his girlfriend'…? I couldn't. I'm sorry. It's just the way it has to be. You can be mad at me all you want, but soon you'll see I'm only doing what I think is best," Mr. Mellark states with finality. "Don't be selfish about this, Peeta. You need to think with your brain, not your heart right now."
"You of all people should know what it's like to lose someone you love," Peeta retorts, clenching his jaw and his fists. "You know, I still remember the bird necklace, Dad, and I now know exactly who it belonged to. And where is she now? Who was selfish there? Maybe you should've thought with your head instead of sleeping with a mourning, vulnerable woman and leaving her to—" I tug on Peeta's shirt and shake my head. I don't want Prim knowing anything about that.
"Peeta, you don't know the first thing about what happened there. Nothing. If you want to discuss it, I will. But now is certainly not the time for it," Mr. Mellark replies in a deadly calm voice. "I won't pretend like I don't have my regrets, I have a million of them. There's also a lot that I don't regret—and I don't regret giving these girls a loving home where they can be safe. You'll be 18 next month, you're free to do whatever you want then and I can't stop you. If you love each other enough, distance for a little bit won't mean anything."
"It means everything, actually. It means going to sleep without someone to hold, wanting to kiss someone who isn't there… it's worrying, waiting, and wondering how they are, if they're safe, if they're upset and you can't do a damn thing about it," Peeta replies, his voice trembling. "Talking on the phone isn't the same as seeing their face or holding their hand."
"You're right," Mr. Mellark says as he walks over to us. He shakes his head and shrugs, "you're right, but you're thinking of what you want rather than what they need. Right now, what they need is stability in a place far away from here, where they can have fun and enjoy the rest of their young lives. This town will never give them that, no matter how much you love or hope or want… this town is nothing but misery. Especially to them. And once people know they're still alive, they'll have people rejoicing and they'll have others on the opposite spectrum. These girls didn't just end their abuse, they took down a whole corrupt system with it, Peeta. I want to keep them safe and I'm sure you do too."
Peeta closes his eyes, looking pained as he does so, and nods his agreement.
"We'll be okay," I murmur to him, my cheeks bright red with his dad looking at us, "We'll be fine, Peeta. You got us to safety and now, thanks to you, we'll be even safer. It's not the end of us, though, not by a long shot, at least to me. I'm leaving sooner than we thought, but we should make the best of the time we have left, right? No use arguing over what's already done."
He nods, looking at me with such a sorrowful expression it makes my heart ache. Turning to his dad, he asks, "So can I at least take her on one last date before she leaves?"
"I don't think—" Mr. Mellark hesitantly begins.
"I'll take her out of town, to a movie or something. I'll give her a disguise, whatever… we'll lurk in the shadows. I just want the last hours we spend together to be out of this depressing, little apartment."
"Peeta, I understand you want to spend time with her, but I don't think that's a good idea," Mr. Mellark states, running a hand through his hair.
"It's night, she'll be disguised, and I'll take all the back roads I know," Peeta replies strongly. "She'll be completely safe, I promise."
After much pleading and reasoning with his father, then donning me in some of his clothes and a sock cap to hide my braid beneath, I find myself lying down in the backseat of his car on the way to our 'date'.
"Seriously. Where are we going?" I ask for probably the tenth time.
"You'll see when we get there," Peeta replies vaguely, tossing a quick smile back at me. I sigh and place my arms under my head as I stare up at the roof of his car.
"I feel ridiculous dressed like this. People are going to think I'm a boy."
"That's the point," Peeta states, shrugging. "We shouldn't run into anyone, though. It's just a precaution. In any case, you make a very cute boy."
I snort, "I'm not really sure how I should feel about that. It does feel good to get out of that apartment for a bit, though."
Sooner than I thought we would, we arrive at our destination. Peeta tells me I can sit up now, and when I do I find we're at the back entrance of the bakery. I look around quickly, feeling like some sort of fugitive on the run. Luckily, though, the back of the bakery is pretty secluded—no one would know we were here just from looking up from the street.
"The town is really quiet tonight, I didn't see anyone out. It's a little before 10 so we should be fine as far as privacy goes," Peeta states. "I know it's not much of a date, taking you here, but I didn't want to take any chances bringing you anywhere you might be recognized. I just thought being alone, anywhere, would be better than being cooped up in that apartment, worrying about everything. At least for a few hours we can forget all that and just enjoy being together."
"It's perfect, Peeta," I reply. "I'm glad you brought me here. I really wanted to see this place one last time before I leave."
He smiles wistfully, then leans back to plant a quick kiss to my lips.
After we enter the bakery, I follow Peeta into the storefront. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, taking in all the delicious scents surrounding me, recalling the first day I came to work here and how overwhelmed and delighted I'd been. It's strange standing here now, knowing this may be the last time I'll get to see it.
"Pick anything and everything you want," Peeta encourages brightly. He begins taking a few things off the shelves and gestures for me to do the same.
"Won't your dad be mad?"
"No. We haven't been open in days. Most of this will be tossed when we reopen anyway. So, really, take anything your heart desires."
Admittedly, I am a little hungry since I haven't ate all day, so I nod and pick a few things out. When I'm done, I walk over to Peeta and ask him if we're going to sit in the dining room to eat.
"No, we're not going to stay down here," he winks. "I have something more romantic in mind. Follow me."
I do so, wondering what exactly he 'has in mind' as we go upstairs. He walks into the bedroom to get a throw blanket, then takes me to the very back of the bakery apartment. I watch in silent curiosity as he pulls down a ladder, then unlatches and opens a hatch that leads to the roof.
"Ladies first," he beckons with a grin. I move forward and gaze up to see the night sky. With a tentative nod, I place my food into Peeta's arms and ascend the ladder. When I reach the roof, Peeta hands me the food and then joins me.
"It's nice up here," I observe. We're fortressed in by brick walls two feet high, and the floor of the roof is smooth cement. A pleasant, cool breeze envelops us under a clear sky full of stars.
"When I was a kid, Dad would take me and my brothers up here on 4th of July to watch all the fireworks in town," he reminisces as he spreads the blanket out in the very center of the roof. "Sorry I couldn't make us dinner or anything, but I figured a dessert picnic beneath the stars would be better than nothing."
"It's wonderful, Peeta," I assure, sitting down on the blanket beside him. "Why didn't you ever take me up here before?"
He shrugs. "Never really thought about it till now. Better late than never, right? Anyways, I better send Dad a quick text to say we're still on the road and we're okay."
I nod, picking up an éclair as he takes his cell out and begins typing. Before we left, Peeta had told his dad that he was taking me to see a movie a few towns over, which I thought was odd but Mr. Mellark seemed to believe. Not until we got into the car did Peeta inform me that we were going somewhere else, and that he'd rather spend the next few hours looking at my face than at a movie screen.
I look up at the sky as I eat and finally take the sock cap off my head. "Hope it's okay? I don't think anyone can see us up here. I'll put it back on before we leave."
Peeta runs his hand slowly down my braid. "Of course it's okay," he winks and grins impishly, "Without the hat, you're now just a very sexy woman wearing my clothes… it's kind of a turn on."
"I think just about everything turns you on, though," I tease, nudging his shoulder with mine.
"Correction, everything about you turns me on," he states. He then leans over and captures my lips with a kiss. I'm not sure which is sweeter, the éclair on my tongue or the taste and touch of his.
When we part, he leans his forehead onto mine, his hand resting gently at the base of my neck as he whispers, "God, I'm going to miss you so much. I hope the months pass like minutes because you'll be on my mind every second you're gone."
"Me too," I reply wistfully. "Maybe you can come and visit before May, though? I mean, not if it's inconvenient; I know you have the bakery and school and everything. I just… I don't want to wait 8 months to see you again."
My heart plummets into my stomach when he doesn't answer. Instead, he leans back and looks up at the sky with tears in his eyes. He takes a deep breath and knits his brows, looking conflicted.
"Nevermind," I dismiss quickly before he can give me an answer I don't want to hear. "It was just a silly thought, but I understand if you'll be too busy—"
"Katniss…" he begins softly. "It's not that at all. 8 months is a long time, it's too long…." He hesitates for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. I nod and remain quiet, hoping this isn't going where I think it's going. "Look, I know you don't want to come back here. I don't want you to, either—"
"Are you breaking up with me?" I blurt.
"No! Not at all," he replies quickly and strongly.
"Then what are you trying to say?" I ask, narrowing my eyes in confusion.
"What I'm saying is," Peeta raises his brows and tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear, "I'll be coming to see you way before May, but… I won't be just visiting. Frankly, this town sucks. Like Dad said earlier, there's nothing but misery here. The only reason I wanted to take over this bakery in the first place is because I didn't think I had other options. It was a safe bet, you know? But then I met you and… I realized I wanted so much more than this. I'm young, I want to live a little. I want to be with you, and I want our future to be decided together. And I know that our future isn't here."
"So you're going to come live in Maine to be with me…?" I ask, hardly believing what I'm hearing. My heart is beating so fast it feels as if it might just explode in my chest. "What about the bakery, though?"
"I'll have to help Dad with the bakery through the holidays and train new people to take over my position, but at the first opportunity, I'm gone," Peeta says with a shrug. "As soon as it's possible I'm moving to be with you."
I turn my body towards his and take his hands in mine. This was the moment I'd been dreading the most, when Peeta would have to choose between me and the bakery. I know it's not an easy thing for him, but he makes it seem like his decision is effortless. I can't help feeling guilty for putting him in this position, or for being elated that he chose me.
"Peeta, I love you and I'm overjoyed that you're willing to take such a drastic step to be with me, but… I also don't want you to feel like you're obligated, like you have to give up your life here—"
"What life here?" Peeta asks with a short bitter laugh. "Katniss, before you, my life consisted of school, work, and painting the life I wanted. To say I was lonely would be an understatement. Basically, after I lost my leg everything went to shit—well, more so than it already was. My friends abandoned me since I met the majority of them through playing sports. I lost my first girlfriend—which wasn't serious in any sense, but it still hurt. My family… well, I've never been particularly close to them anyway, besides my dad—"
"What about your dad?" I ask, entwining our fingers. "How do you think he'll take the news?"
Peeta sighs and shrugs. "I love him, but he'll just have to figure things out before I go. Honestly, the way business is going, he should probably just close the place—but I know he won't. Anyways, he made this decision for all of us and I'm sure he won't be surprised when I tell him what I'm doing. With all the regrets he's stacked up in his lifetime, he can't expect me to start my life in the very same way. I won't lose you, especially for some dying business in a corrupt, sad little town."
"I just don't want you to end up resenting me…."
"Never. I could never resent you," Peeta reassures, lifting my chin with a finger to bring my eyes to his. He looks absolutely adamant; any conflict he was facing at the beginning seems to have completely vanished. "If I don't take this chance, if I don't follow my heart… I'll resent myself and probably everything and everyone around me. Not taking a chance at being happy with you is a chance I don't want to take. I can always open up a new bakery somewhere else or sell paintings on the side, hell I'd even sell hotdogs on a sidewalk, but if you want me as much as I want you, if you love me as much as I love you, I won't regret a second of it."
Tears fill my eyes and for a moment I'm at a loss for words. Beaming, I nod and reply, "Of course I do, Peeta."
"Well, then it's settled then," he grins and kisses me again.
Maybe it's the surge of euphoric adrenaline coursing through my veins, but a sudden confidence, a strong yearning overtakes me. Peeta's willing to give up the bakery, leave all he has here, to be with me. I never thought I could be this close to someone, this in love. Peeta is, without a doubt, the one. He's the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, and if somehow I don't… no one will ever be able to fill his shoes. No one would even come close.
So with a determined nod and a deep breath, I unclasp the long necklace I'm wearing—which has thus far been hidden beneath my shirt—and hold my parents' wedding rings in the palm of my trembling hand.
"Prim said if I didn't give you this, I'd be an idiot," I state with a nervous laugh. Peeta chuckles but says nothing; he simply looks at me curiously as I take his hand and slide my dad's ring onto his finger. I then take Mom's ring and slip it onto my own finger.
The rings fit us perfectly, and somehow it doesn't really surprise me. Perhaps Prim was right earlier, about the video and Dad's blessing….
"Well, it fits, but I'd never call you an idiot," Peeta says, holding out his hand to examine the ring. My stomach is twisting and my heart is beating in my ears, and I suddenly find myself too nervous to say the words I need to. Peeta looks up at me, arching a brow. "Where'd you get these anyway?"
"They're my parents' wedding rings," I answer softly, giving him a meaningful look.
"Ah," his eyes widen as he glances from me to the ring, "So this was your—"
"Dad's, yeah. One of the very few things I have left of his." I touch my fingertip to Dad's ring for a moment, then place my hand atop of Peeta's. "And I want you to keep it. I want it to be yours… forever."
"Katniss…." Peeta begins slowly, searching my face with hopeful eyes, "Are you proposing to me?"
I bite my lip, shrugging as a small, timid smile curves my lips. I raise my brows in question, putting my heart in Peeta's hand to crush or to hold. "If I was, would you say yes?"
"Yes," he says in an excited, jubilant rush, while emphatically nodding his head, "In capital letters. Absolutely."
I lace our fingers together and gently squeeze his hand, feeling relief and joy wash over me like summertime rain at the end of a long drought.
"Well, you have your answer then—" I begin, but I don't get to finish before Peeta kisses me with such heartfelt vigor that all I can do is melt into him.
It seems like forever since Peeta and I have been able to touch and kiss each other without inhibition, without being paranoid of being too loud or that someone might walk in on us. This tiny breathing space of freedom coupled with the news of Peeta moving to be with me, that eventually we might even marry each other… it's thrilling and breathtaking and I never want this night to end. I want to make the most of the remaining hours we have together; after all, it'll still be months before we can see each other again.
The food lay forgotten on the cover as I straddle Peeta's lap. His hands slide beneath my shirt to cup and knead my breasts as our lips and tongues move together, fervidly expressing our love through taste and touch. As Peeta begins to move his lower body against mine, I feel a hunger in the pit of my stomach that has nothing to do with food. With a strong, sudden urge to take our relationship even further, I pull back from our kiss and search Peeta's eyes, wondering and trying to see if he feels the same as I do.
"What's wrong?" he asks in concern.
"Nothing's wrong, I was just wondering…" I trail off with a shrug and avoid his eyes, my cheeks reddening at what I was just about to suggest.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and gently tilts my face upward to meet his eyes.
"You were wondering…?" He raises his brows, encouraging me to continue.
"I was wondering... if there was still a bed downstairs…?" I ask quietly, my voice shaky with nerves.
He nods slowly, looking quizzical until a look of realization takes over his face. Grinning mischievously, he replies in a playful innocent tone, "Why? Were you wanting to use it for something?"
"Yes, Peeta. I want to take a nap," I deadpan.
"Hmm. I see," he shrugs, his eyes dancing with mirth, "I thought you were talking about sex for a moment there, but hey, a nap sounds good too…."
I roll my eyes, blushing to my bones, but I can't help smiling.
"Do you want to, though?" I murmur, biting my lip and locking my gaze onto his. "And I'm not talking about a nap, Peeta."
He releases a deep breath, his features turning more serious. "Of course I do, but only if you do. Only if you're absolutely sure—"
"I am," I reply.
Peeta sends a quick text to his dad stating we've made it to the movie theatre, then promptly turns off his phone. With silent anticipation and a fair amount of anxiety, I help him pack up our picnic and we head downstairs.
After placing the picnic contents on the floor outside the bedroom, he takes my hand and we enter the room. I close the door as Peeta turns on a small lamp on the nightstand, tingeing the room with a soft yellow glow just bright enough to let us see what we're doing.
He then turns to me with such a timid yet completely ravishing half-smile that for a moment I forget how to breathe let alone speak. I try my best to smile back but I'm so nervous even my lips are trembling; I finally settle on biting the bottom one to keep it still and offer the best impression of a smile I can muster.
Once he's standing before me, he brings his hands to the sides of my face and brushes his thumbs across my cheekbones. I lock my gaze onto his, searching for any excuse not to go through with this, but I only find a million reasons confirming why I want to. When I look at him I see kindness, hope, love, desire, strength, courage, happiness. Home. In the depths of his blue eyes, I find all the good things I once thought I'd lost forever and everything I have yet to find.
"You okay?" Peeta whispers, raising his brows as he leans his forehead onto mine and slides his hands down my arms, taking my hands in his. "We don't have to do this, you know. It's okay if you want to change your mind. You're leaving, but it's not the end of us. We have the rest of our lives. If you're not ready—"
I bring his hands up to my lips and kiss his knuckles.
"I am. I'm ready. I want this. And it's not because I'm leaving, it's because I want you. It's either now or later; either way, this is going to happen… and I want it to be tonight. I'm just… a little bit nervous."
"Ah, just a little nervous," Peeta repeats. "Well, you're doing way better than me then. I'm a lot nervous." He places my hand against the middle of his chest and covers it with his own. I close my eyes and smile as I feel his heart thumping wildly against my palm; from the sound of my own heart beating in my ears, it seems we're in perfect rhythm with each other. It's a small comfort knowing we're going into this on the same level.
"Okay, I'm a lot nervous too," I admit, "but I'm not scared. I have no doubts about doing this with you; I wouldn't have suggested it if I did." A thought suddenly occurs to me and I lean back to search his face, "Unless you're not ready?"
His eyes widen for a second before he looks up and tilts his head in mock consideration. "Hmm. Let me think about this. My beautiful, amazing, insanely sexy girlfriend—correction, fiancée—whom I love more than anything is standing before me, offering to get naked and have her way with me… but am I ready? I don't know. You're making things awfully hard on me, Katniss." I roll my eyes at his 'dilemma'. A grin slowly spreads across his face as he assures me, "Trust me, I'm most definitely ready. I'm so ready my jeans are kind of hurting me right now."
I trail my hand down his stomach until my palm rests against the bulge in the front of his pants. He sucks in a quick breath, closing his eyes with a low groan, and though I'm not entirely confident in what I'm doing, a thrill shoots through me at knowing my simple touch can emit such a powerful reaction from him.
"Well, I guess you should take them off then," I murmur as evenly as I can.
He moves closer, circling his arms around my waist as he leans in and begins to kiss my neck. I gasp as his hands move around to cup my backside, giving a quick and playful squeeze as he murmurs near my ear, "Mmm. They're definitely coming off. But it'd be way more romantic if you took them off for me…."
I shiver at his words, partly because the rasp and closeness of his voice against my skin sends a wave of pleasant tingles down my neck, but also because everything is becoming so real between us.
It's strange to think back to when we first kissed, how nervous, excited, and scared I was, how I couldn't believe Peeta Mellark's lips were actually touching mine… hell, I was nervous to even let him see or hold my hands. And now here we are, moments away from becoming lovers. Moments away from being the most intimate and vulnerable we can be with each other; and weirdly enough, I'm less anxious now than when we first kissed. In fact, I'm only nervous now because I'm uncertain of what to expect physically; emotionally and mentally, I couldn't be more sure of what I'm doing, or that I'm doing it with the right person.
As his hands move up beneath the hem of my shirt and he trails lazy kisses down my neck and along my collarbone, I do as he suggested; with trembling, fumbling fingers, I unbutton and unzip his jeans and pull them down his hips a bit, exposing the thick outline straining against the front of his boxers. I rub my palm tentatively against him, eager and curious of his reaction, feeling more empowered with every moan and movement he makes.
After stroking him a few times over the fabric of his boxers, I teasingly slip the tips of my fingers beneath the elastic of his waistband, awaiting his encouragement to go further. He groans deeply against my neck, his voice resonating through my body like ripples on a lake, waking every inch before settling between my legs as a dull, hungry throb.
Gathering my courage, I quickly slip my hand completely into his boxers and wrap my hand around him. I move slowly at first, moving faster with each sigh and groan he makes, wanting him to feel as much pleasure as I possibly can. A moment later, he claims my mouth in an unexpected, but incredibly powerful kiss that leaves me breathless and lightheaded when we finally part.
Looking at me with glassy, lustful eyes and flushed cheeks, he takes a few deep breaths before stepping back and gently removing my hand.
"What? You didn't like it?" I ask quickly, narrowing my eyes in confusion.
He shakes his head, grinning sheepishly as he steps forward again. "The exact opposite. My… uh… self-control has gotten considerably better since we first started dating, but I don't want to push my luck. I want this night to last as long as possible."
"Oh," I reply, feeling awkward all of a sudden. I bite my lip as he wraps his arms around my waist and rests his forehead against mine. Closing my eyes, I ask, "So… what should I do now?"
"Well, you could take your clothes off," he answers, slipping his hands beneath the back of my shirt again. I suck in a quick breath as he presses his warm palms against my back and slowly moves my shirt upward, leaving goosebumps as his fingertips brush my skin and expose it to the slight chill of the room. "Better yet, I'll save you the hassle and take them off for you."
I open my eyes slightly to look down at his lips, which are mere inches from my own and curved into a sexy smirk. My body is trembling and my heart is racing, but not from anxiety anymore—rather, from pure anticipation. My mouth hungers for the sweetness of his and I have to taste him one more time before leaning back and replying with a breathy giggle, "Well I'm not going to stop you. That's a very generous offer."
"I do aim to please," he replies with a wink.
"You always do."
"When it comes to you, I always will," he assures meaningfully, "in all ways."
"I know." I rest my hands on the sides of his stomach. "And I'll always try to do the same for you."
He smiles and kisses the tip of my nose, "You don't have to try, trust me. Just being with you is a pleasure beyond anything I could've ever imagined. Life hasn't been easy, especially lately, but being with you… loving you… it's the most effortless, wonderful thing I've ever experienced. And if it can feel this good when things are so bad, just imagine how it's going to be when things are at their best. We're going to be so happy, Katniss, I promise you, one day we'll—"
I don't know how to reply, don't know how I could even find words adequate enough to express how much I love him, how much I'm thankful to have him in my life, how amazed and overjoyed it makes me to think that one day I'll be his wife, that someday we'll look back on all of this as something that didn't break us but made us stronger.
So instead of words, I bring my arms around his neck and cut him off mid-declaration with a fiery, heartfelt kiss that ends with us both on the bed, with my legs wrapped around his waist. We only part long enough for Peeta to flip onto his back and pull me on top of him.
We gaze at each other for a moment to catch our breath; his face is red and his lips are swollen, his eyes are intense and alight with such desire, such longing—I want to give him everything. More than anything, with every inch of my being, I want him.
I place my hands on the sides of his face, tracing my thumbs over his cheekbones, down his jaw, over his bottom lip, taking in just how lucky I am to be here in this moment with him. I don't want to forget a second of this; for months, these precious moments between us will be what I'll remember when things get tough. He smiles at me and I smile at him, then without a word I lean down and continue our kiss.
This time it's slower, but not any less passionate; it's as if we're both trying to memorize the exact taste, shape, and texture of each other's lips.
Peeta moves his hands up my back, lifting the hem of my shirt, and without a word, I break our kiss long enough to sit up and remove the shirt from my body. Then, knowing what he's really after—and wanting to distract his sight from the scars—I take a step further and also rid my bra. In response, he quickly takes off his own shirt and tosses it behind him. With matching grins of approval, I lean down to kiss him again, but he halts me by placing his hands on my shoulders.
I sit back up and narrow my eyes in confusion.
"What?"
He cups my breasts, squeezes them with his palms, and then releases them to roll his thumbs over my nipples. "Just need a moment to admire," he answers. "Have I ever told you how perfect these are? Because they're perfect."
I want to disagree with him, tell him they're nothing special, but I refrain. Instead I run my hands over his chest and counter with, "Ah, well you have a pretty amazing chest yourself."
He places his hands over my own and nods, replying in a joking manner, "Yeah. I guess it is pretty sexy."
I snort, nodding with a shrug; even if he's kidding I can't really disagree with him—he does have a sexy chest, so I lean down and plant multiple open-mouthed kisses on it. With a soft chuckle, he guides my hands up to his shoulders, then wraps his arms around me as our lips meet once again. This time things are much more intimate—more sensual, with the flesh of my bare chest pressed flat against the warmth of his.
His hands trail up and down my back before finally resting at my hips. Without breaking our kiss, I thread my fingers through his hair and readjust myself so that we can be even closer, positioning my body so that I can feel his hardness between my legs.
My own arousal throbs with the need to be touched, to feel, so I begin to move my body against his. Peeta breaks our kiss with a deep groan and moves his hands to my backside, squeezing and pulling me closer to him as he thrusts up to meet my rhythm, and soon we're stealing frenzied kisses as our bodies move together, seeking pleasure at their own volition.
Both of us breathless and dizzy with desire, Peeta suddenly stops, sits up, and rests his head on my shoulder.
"We need to slow this down a bit or I'll…" he whispers hoarsely, his breathing heavy, "you know. It's hard to control myself with you, and I want to last until…." I nod in understanding and kiss his shoulder as I move off his lap and sit beside him.
"It'd probably be a good idea to take off our shoes anyway," I say, leaning down to untie my laces.
"Yeah, and also maybe our pants too," Peeta adds brightly. I look over at him and laugh as he wiggles his eyebrows.
"That's coming soon," I reply.
"If we keep up like this, I will be too, and I'd rather be in you than in them when it happens," Peeta quips with a wink, then reaches down to untie his shoes as well.
I look at him with wide eyes, temporarily speechless as his words sink in. My heart races as we remove our socks, knowing only a few pieces of cloth are the only things left between us before we finally go through with this. That soon, as Peeta casually pointed out, he'll be inside of me. Of course I knew it was going to happen, but it's now so overwhelmingly inevitable—not that I want to turn back.
No, I want him.
And I know however badly it might hurt, it won't be pointless. It won't be like all the other pain I've had to endure. I just never thought this would happen to me, that I'd ever want to do this with someone. I never dreamed I'd ever have a boyfriend, much less one who loves me and wants to share his life with me, who wants to eventually be my husband….
Peeta looks over at me and intertwines his fingers with mine as he searches my face. His hands are trembling just as much as mine.
Evidently he's feeling something close to what I am because he whispers in a somewhat awed tone, "Are we really going to do this?"
I bite my bottom lip and smile, feeling instantly at ease as I look into his eyes. I nod and answer, "Unless you don't want to."
"Oh, I definitely want to," he replies quickly, "I just… I've dreamt of this happening for so long, but I never thought…" he sucks in a breath and shrugs. "I'm glad it's with you. I only ever wanted it to be with you… and I hope it always will be."
"If you plan on marrying me, it better always be," I joke, grinning and raising my eyebrows as he nods emphatically in reply.
"Always, forever, only with you," he states strongly before leaning over and capturing my lips again. I turn my body towards him and bring my arms around his neck, ready to continue where we left off. He breaks our kiss long enough to add against my lips, "And hopefully quite often."
I laugh softly and whisper, "Let's just focus on tonight for now."
He nods and kisses my lips once more before trailing open-mouthed kisses down my neck. I tilt my head to give him more access, but he doesn't linger long before he finds his real destination—my breasts. I arch my back as he takes one in his mouth, circling and flicking my erect nipple with his tongue, while kneading the other with his palm. My breath becomes heavy, laden with moans of pleasure as his mouth and hands send blissful shivers throughout my body, pooling and increasing the throbbing below until I ache with the need to be touched.
As if sensing this, his hand trails down my abdomen until his fingers reach the top button on my pants. With little effort, without his mouth even leaving my breast for a second, he unbuttons and unzips them and slips his hand beneath the thin fabric of my underwear. I gasp and moan encouragingly as his fingers finally touch me, barely, teasingly. I lean back so that he can move them down further. My pants, however, seem to restrict him from doing so, so I abruptly stand up and shimmy out of my last remaining articles of clothing, knowing this is most definitely the point of no return. This is really going to happen.
Peeta takes my body in with wide, lustful eyes, and as self-conscious as I am about the flaws that cover my skin, he makes me feel beautiful, desirable… alive. When his eyes finally meet mine, my head feels as if it's flying and my stomach feels like it's falling.
It's such an intense feeling that I cross my arms over my chest, close my eyes, and take a deep breath to regain my composure before I start crying or something. It wouldn't be tears from pain or fear or anxiety, either, but from being naked in ways that are beyond physical and knowing Peeta isn't judging me one bit. Rather, he gazes at me in astonishment and wonder, as if I'm some sort of goddess to be worshipped.
"Your turn now," I whisper with a trembling smile.
Peeta nods, then stands up and quickly removes the rest of his clothes, stopping a moment to take his wallet out of his pants and retrieve a shiny blue square package from one of the folds, which I quickly realize is a condom. Biting his lip, he places it on the nightstand and looks at me rather timidly, "Um… what about my prosthetic? Do you mind if I keep it on or….?"
I shrug, "Whatever feels comfortable to you."
He nods, looking relieved, and the next thing I know we're both on the bed again, our hands exploring each other's body as we kiss languidly. I'm lying on my back and Peeta is half beside me, half on top of me when his fingers trail down to find my center again.
He touches me tentatively at first, but as my breath quickens and whimpers of delight escape me, he seems determined to evoke as much pleasure as possible. He whispers in my ear, asking if it feels good to me, if he's touching me right, but I can't find my voice, or rather I can't seem to make it form words.
I answer simply by nodding as he slips his fingers in and out of me, quicker and harder, swallowing my gasps and moans with his kisses.
I can feel the tip of him, hard and hot and wet, moving slowly against my thigh as he begins kissing my neck again; his fingers slow as he whispers lowly into my ear, "Katniss… do you mind if I… can I taste you?"
I suck in a breath and quickly open my eyes, my heart racing a mile a minute. He looks down at me with such intensity, such hunger, that all I can do is nod. It felt amazing when he did it before, even though it took me completely by surprise—to put it mildly. If he wants to do it again, if he enjoyed doing it before… well, why not? He obviously knows more about this stuff than I do.
I close my eyes again as he trails kisses down my neck and my chest, over my stomach and along my thighs. I bite my lip and try to relax as he parts my legs farther and settles between them. My face is flaming, knowing he's looking at and about to taste the most private part of me.
However, all the anxiety and self-consciousness is immediately forgotten as bliss overwhelms every molecule in my body. I can't think, I can only feel… and I couldn't stop the sounds and movements I'm making even if I wanted to. I whimper and arch my back, grabbing fistfuls of sheets as he works his magic below. One of his hands trails up to knead my breast and the other works with his mouth. I cry out as a sudden bomb of ecstasy explodes within me, rippling and waking every nerve ending in my body with a shattering intensity.
As I try to catch my breath and regain my composure, Peeta kisses his way back up my body and settles himself between my legs. I can feel the tip of him only inches from my entrance, poking against my inner thigh.
"Are you ready…?" he whispers near my ear. I nod slowly, unable to find words, but he hesitates and asks once more, "Katniss, are you absolutely positive—?"
I nod again, this time cutting him off with a kiss.
Tasting myself on his lips doesn't disgust me as I thought it would, but instead makes me crave him more. Then again, I'm not thinking much at all at the moment, rather I'm going on pure instinct, wanting us both to feel as amazing as possible, knowing this night is one we'll always remember.
He grabs the blue package off the nightstand, opens it, and quickly rolls the condom on, then moves back between my legs. I trail my hands tentatively down his sides and rest them on his hips, pulling him closer.
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath as I feel him position himself below.
Just when I think he's about to thrust himself inside me, however, he sits up against the headboard and flips me up onto his lap with one swift movement.
My legs straddle his thighs until he bends his knees behind me for balance, causing my entire body to suddenly shift forward. With a kiss to his neck and collarbone, I place my hands on his shoulders and lean back slightly to look down at his face.
Before I can ask why he moved us into this position, he answers softly, "I thought it'd be easier this way. I've heard the first time can hurt a bit for a woman, so… I want you to take as much as you can, at your own pace, okay? I want you to be in complete control of this," he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and winks as a roguish half-smile curves his lips, "at least at first."
I nod, bringing both of my hands to the sides of his face. I smile as I gaze into his eyes, seeing the same nervousness, excitement, lust, and love in them as I'm sure reflect in my own. This is the moment before the moment that'll change our relationship forever. I know it'll make it even harder to leave him, but at least I'll have this moment to take with me and cherish; not only for the months we'll be apart, but for as long as I live. This is a first for both of us and it's not a small step to take, yet it surprises me how comfortable I am, how natural this feels. Everything just feels… right.
I kiss him again and murmur, "I love you, Peeta. Thank you."
"I love you, too… but why are you thanking me?"
"For making me feel alive again."
He smiles against my lips and lets out a small chuckle, "It's just an orgasm, Katniss… I promise you there's much more where that came from."
I snort and sit back with a roll of my eyes, "That's not what I meant, but yeah, that was nice too. What I meant was…" I shrug, not knowing how to put the gravity of what I feel into the right words.
Peeta's expression softens a bit as he traces his fingertips up and down my back. "I know what you meant, Katniss. You make me feel the exact same way."
I smile in reply, and with one final kiss to gather my courage, I decide it's now or never.
I wrap my hand around him and stroke a few times, my confidence rising as he sucks in a breath and rolls his head back with a deep moan. I close my eyes, preparing myself for whatever I'm about to endure.
Then, with one hand on his shoulder to maintain leverage, I lift my body up and guide him to my center. Holding my breath, I take the final step and slowly lower myself onto him. I cry out, feeling an unpleasant pinch as I take him completely within me.
I hold back my tears and begin to move, trying to create a rhythm, hoping to find pleasure through the pain. It feels too tight, too full… it's uncomfortable, but it's incredible. To be connected to Peeta in such a way, it's more than purely physical; it's everything. It's exhilarating.
Hearing Peeta groan loudly, I stop and quickly open my eyes to look at him. His eyes are squeezed shut, his brows are furrowed, and his body is completely tensed; I can't tell if he's experiencing pain or pleasure.
"Are you okay?" I whisper in concern.
He nods quickly, opening his eyes and releasing a deep breath he'd evidently been holding.
"God, yes, I'm fantastic… just trying to keep things under control." He suddenly frowns and brings his hand to my face to wipe away a tear. I have no idea when I starting crying or why. I've experienced pain far worse than this before and never shed a tear. Besides, the pain has mostly subsided now anyway. "How are you feeling? If it hurts too bad, we can stop—"
I shake my head, "No. I'm fine. It's just… overwhelming, I guess. More than I thought it would be." His frown only deepens at my reply and he looks hesitant, so I quickly reassure, "In a good way. I don't know why I'm crying, but it's not because I'm sad or in pain."
"You're sure—" Peeta begins, but I cut him off with a kiss and begin to move again, slowly, ardently, taking in the feeling of him inside of me as the pain fades like an echo. Peeta's hands move from my hips to cup my backside and his lips move from mine to plant kisses along my neck, but I notice he's still not moving at all, as if he's afraid he might hurt me.
"Move with me," I murmur into his ear. "Please?"
He nods and releases a ragged breath as he tentatively begins to move his body with mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and capture his lips in a heady, spirited kiss. This seems to melt Peeta's reservations because he begins moving faster, and in turn I move faster to meet his pace.
It feels different now—less cautious, more liberating. The increasing friction as we move against each other, the sound of our bodies meeting quicker and harder, our moans and sighs and groans filling the room, our breath heavy on each other's lips and skin, kissing each other anywhere we can… it's intoxicating. Being this way with him, this uninhibited and impassioned, I never want it to end.
But it does.
With one final, loud groan, Peeta thrusts as deep inside of me as he can. Afterwards, he rolls his head back and stares up at the ceiling with heavy-lidded eyes as he catches his breath, a smile of pure contentment spreading across his completely red, sweaty face. Between breaths, he comments hoarsely, "That… was amazing… you're amazing…."
"It was just an orgasm, Peeta," I tease playfully, using his own words against him. He looks at me with raised eyebrows and laughs such a hearty, euphoric laugh that I can't help but laugh too.
After a moment, we fall into a peaceful, reverent silence as we simply gaze at each other. Right now, everything is perfect, everything is beautiful between us. I don't want it to end; I want to pause time and live in this moment for as long as possible. I know when we leave this room, real life will throw rocks at us and force us to carry them on our shoulders.
Every second that passes is a second closer to having to part.
"I want to memorize everything about this moment, from the wisps of hair falling from your braid to the flame of your cheeks, to the incredibly sexy smolder in your eyes—"
"Oh my God, Peeta," I close my eyes and place a hand over them, my cheeks burning brighter if it's even possible, "my eyes are not smoldering."
He gently removes my hand and shakes his head, grinning. "Nope, they're definitely smoldering. Just like everything else about you. You're hot, Katniss. You're just going to have to accept it."
I'm about to disagree, but Peeta kisses me before I can. As we part, I reluctantly move off of him.
"Hey, are you okay?" Peeta says quickly in concern. I look at him in confusion and nod; aside from an empty, dull, throbbing ache and the uncomfortable sticky wetness between my legs and on my thighs, I feel fine.
"Yeah, I'm great," I reply with a shaky smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, grab my t-shirt from the end of the bed, and quickly put it on. "I, um… I'm just going to use the bathroom to clean up, okay?"
Peeta nods, chewing on his bottom lip as if in deep thought about something, then scoots to the edge of the bed. He stands up, facing away from me, takes the condom off, and then tosses it in the waste-basket.
"Take all the time you need. I'll need to change the bedclothes and take out the trash before we head back anyway."
I enter the bathroom, find a blue washcloth, wet it and sit on the toilet to wipe away the wetness below. No sooner than I sit down, however, it's as if a tidal wave of emotion drowns me; I can't stop crying. It's exactly how it was when we were having sex—I don't know why it's happening. I don't regret what we did. In fact, I couldn't be happier.
Then it occurs to me that it's probably just because I'll be leaving so soon, but as I think this a fresh wave of sobs hit me and it's a totally different feeling.
Maybe I'm just crying because of everything—not solely for loss or sadness, not dread, not because of happiness and hope; it's just everything.