Like In The Movies

This is to fulfill the prompt from promptseverlark on Tumblr

College AU.

"I want to be with you, Peeta."

This is my first college AU. I hope you enjoy it!

P.S.

I love the Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins owns everything!

I've been reading the same sentence for the past thirty minutes at the science library, and I still do not have the slightest clue about the nomenclature of naming organic compounds. I should know this, and I do know this from advanced chemistry from senior year at Panem High, but my mind is drawing blanks. Maybe it's the exhaustion of attending a five-hour chemistry lab earlier, or taking up the waitressing job at Sae's last night, OR the very fact that Peeta Mellark is reading Shakespeare's sonnets in front of me. On the exact same table where I could practically play footsies with him if I wanted to. Yep, it's definitely my best friend's fault.

God, the wrinkles of his eyebrows and the gentle squint of his deep blue eyes are mesmerizing. The way his lips slightly move apart and how his chest rises and falls as he silently mouths the words of the poem he is reading are enough for me to forget what I am studying. For the life of me, I cannot determine where to start counting the carbons in a long-chain aliphatic organic compound. This chapter is supposed to be easy peasy. I got an Excellence Award from Senior year for chemistry, for crying out loud, but Peeta is just so darn distracting. The organic molecules just float around my brain, taunting me.

Peeta sighs deeply at the end of the page. I do too, at that exact moment while watching him behind my humongous secondhand textbook. My best friend has been oblivious to my advances in the past week. Well, if you can even call my attempts advances. Since Sunday, I've been touching his hair a lot when he says a funny joke, and I have been bumping his shoulders randomly while we walk around campus. I meant it to be funny and caring, a little touchy too, but I'm so clueless on how to flirt that I'm pretty sure none of it was working. My high school literature teacher, Mr. Abernathy, called me a dead slug before when I couldn't understand a thing about "Lover's Complaint."

Maybe I should make my touches linger? Go beyond just a few seconds of ruffling Peeta's already messy blonde curls and gradually slide my fingers down his cheek before pulling my hand away. It will be just like in the movies. Maybe I should stare into his eyes and talk with a husky voice too? I mean, they seem to work in the romcoms that Peeta loves to watch so much. Hopefully, he will get some sort of hint by then.

Last night, after catching some cheap dinner after my shift at Sae's, I asked him to take a long walk going back to our shared apartment. It was nice strolling the streets with Peeta while he rattled on about Sonnet 71 and other poems that I could never understand. Shakespeare knew the chemistry of life that escaped me; he and I had never been able to see eye to eye in high school. To Shakespeare, I'm probably some artless dismal-dreaming barnacle on the side of an old vessel.

Oh, Katniss, lonely maiden of the Seam,

Out of my sight!

Thou dost infect my eyes!

You are as a candle, the better burnt out.

I am sick when I look on thee.

Nitwit of flirting and romance,

Graveyard of boredom and loss,

Though shall never be kissed.

I have no flourish nor fluff. No beauty nor allure like the other girls on campus. I'm just plain old Katniss Everdeen. A person out to save the world with pure science.

I must admit though, even if I didn't understand a thing that Peeta recited, Shakespeare sounded nice last night. Or shall I say, Peeta sounded very nice reciting Shakespeare under the moonlight last night. It certainly made the extra three blocks of walking with him worth it. I wished the night didn't have to end. But it did.

Peeta taps his index finger on the table and clears his throat, and I'm shaken back to my book. Continuing to pretend that I'm still studying, I flip the page even though nothing has stuck with me yet. Peeta hasn't looked my way at all in the last half hour, so he can't know that I've been observing him all this time. He shifts in his chair and clears his throat again politely. He's been doing that in the past ten minutes, and sometimes I think there might be ants in his pants and throat. Once he's settled, he bites his lower lip, flips to the next page, and keeps reading. I've never seen anyone read with such sexiness in my life. He should be banned from the library if he is to continue studying this way.

I have to stop. I have a long exam in three days, and all I've been doing is oogle my best friend. I have got to get a hold of things.

"I'll just go out for a walk, Peeta," I tell him and close my textbook with a thump. I stuff all my things inside my sling bag in a hurry so as not to bother Peeta for too long.

"You know what? I'll go with you," he says next as he snaps his book shut and then begins fixing his things as well. This is not right because I'm supposed to get away from him, so I can refocus and actually do something academically productive. But he's standing up already and even grabs my thermos for me.

"I could use some fresh air too. Maybe a bite to eat again at Sae's?" he adds.

"Peeta," I say like a whine. I don't know why I did it, but his head pitches up while he fixes his chair under the table and looks at me questioningly. His thoughtful blue eyes are going to be the end of me.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" he asks with genuine concern, and I feel oddly trapped with his kind attention.

And what do I do when I feel trapped?

I run.

I'm going to regret this.

Stupid, I know. Why run away from my best friend? Out of nothing too! But run, I did.

And now, Peeta is running after me.

Oh, this just got worst in a hot minute.

"Katniss! Wait up!" he calls, and the librarian shushes him vehemently. "Just wait!" he adds, ignoring the people who have now conveniently found a new distraction in the form of us in this massive library.

"I'm okay, Peeta," I whisper-shout back when I swing the heavy door in front of me. "I just remembered something!"

The many steps down to the sidewalk are like a death trap, but I work my way through them with ease. Staying close to the retaining wall on the left to steady myself, I make it halfway down the fifty or so steps quickly. I give Peeta a glance to see if he's still following me and am not surprised that he is. With his new prosthetic leg though, he's going to fall flat on his face if he continues at his hurried pace.

Shit.

In just a matter of seconds, Peeta's prosthetic leg slips down the smooth concrete, and he slides five steps down. His bum hits the floor, and his book and my thermos tumble down the steps.

"Peeta, oh no!" I scream and turn around, taking two steps at a time to reach him. His fall can't be good, and I'm cursing under my breath for my lack of foresight. Of course, Peeta would follow me when I'm distressed. That's just totally him. He cares about me as his best friend, so I shouldn't have done this to him.

"Are you okay?" I ask when I finally reach him. I take his bag off his back and gather his book and my thermos from the stairs. "Does anything hurt?"

"Yeah, my butt. I hit the floor hard, Everdeen," he says and rubs his bum as if to show his pain. "Why were you in such haste, Katniss?"

"Ummm ...," I start but come up short. I don't want to tell him that he is the reason. I just can't. I'm scared.

"And don't you dare lie to me," he comments as he winces when he shifts to straighten his leg. "So spill, Katniss."

"I told you, I remembered something," I answer and school my features to support my lie.

"Bullshit, that's not true," he says surely. He then wipes his pants clean of dirt and straightens his shirt. I feel overwhelmed and exposed by his accuracy, but I can't possibly confess the truth right now. We're on the library steps, exposed to a crowd of students. It's like having an audience, and I don't do so well when people are watching.

"Okay," Peeta says, defeated when I don't speak. He begins to stand up, slinging his bag on his shoulder. I try to help him up, but he waves me off, looking disappointed and sad. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I'll see you later at the apartment."

"Peeta ...," I coo, trying to reach his hand while I stand up. I hate that I just made him feel this way. He knows something is not right with me. He's not overreacting or being melodramatic. He just knows I'm hiding something. More than I would like to admit, Peeta had always been in tune with my feelings.

"It's okay, Katniss," he suddenly whispers to my surprise, and then he walks away. The hurt look on his face breaks me, and I will my lungs to release air.

"I want to be with you, Peeta," I hastily shout. I get a few spectators stopping midstep, but I blur them out of my vision. I can't think of them right now. My secret is out. My long-time love for my best friend is finally known to him after fourteen years.

"What did you say?" Peeta asks as he steps closer to me. Unexpectedly, he corners me to the vast wall behind me, pinning me with his presence.

Peeta towers over me as he stands so close. I could see the pale and delicate hairs on his forehead and the fine pores of his cherub skin. His boy musk smells like cinnamon and dill, and his breath is warm on my cheeks.

I feel trapped again. But oddly, I don't feel like sprinting at all.

It's nice here.

"Tell me, Katniss," Peeta murmurs with a husky voice that melts me like butter on hot toast. He then delicately runs his hand on my hair, brushing his fingers down my cheek as he settles his hand on my chin. He tilts my head so that my eyes meet his.

I swear this is like in the movies.

"I want to be with you, Peeta," I say softly, transfixed by his blue orbs.

"In what way, Katniss?" he asks eagerly and heaves a deep breath. His intensity confuses my mind, and I become a hot mess.

"I don't know," I whisper and avert his gaze. I want to touch him and comfort him, to tell him I love him as more than just a friend, but I can't. I'm frozen in my spot and my mouth has gone dry.

"Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," Peeta murmurs, and he moves into me.

His lips gently and slowly settle into mine. At first, I don't feel a thing, too stunned to be finally kissed by my best friend. But then he presses his warm lips a little more, and I feel electricity shooting to the tips of my being and hunger growing deep in my belly. I feel a stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. His decisive mouth consumes me as he anchors his left elbow on my shoulder. It feels invigorating to be trapped by him and his touch.

When I softly moan, I hear Peeta's bag drop to the floor then his free hand hugs my waist as my legs begin to buckle. My hand finds his shoulder for support, and instinctually my chest hums with his.

So this is what heaven and hunger feel like.

This kiss makes me want another.

"How's that?" Peeta whispers after he breaks the kiss. I feel empty and filled at the same time. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to lose the mood, and then see how many people are probably looking at us. I just want to stay right here in Peeta's cocoon.

"Can I have one more?" I find myself saying, and run my palms over his white T-shirt all the way up to his neck. "Will you let me?"

"Always," he replies and kisses me again.

- The end -

Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!