Peeta leads our group to the exit at the rear of the train car but stops short of the door. Straightening his spine and squares his shoulders, he prepares for the onslaught just beyond the thin metal. I feel my own hands start to tremble and sweat as anxiety wreaks havoc on my body. I desperately want to grab Peeta's hand, but I can't for so many reasons. The cameras are on and we must play our part and I already to a very risky chance in touching him already. Last thing we need is for him to have an episode on the train platform.
Peeta raises his hand to the button that releases the door but pauses to look over his shoulder at me. His gaze is steady and tells me it's all going to be okay. I let out an audible breath and give him a small nod. Plastering on his most winning Capitol smile, he stabs the button and the door slides open. Our party is immediately accosted by a cacophony of sound from the platform. The decibel of the noise and the calling of our names cause my courage to wane and a tingle of panic rise up from the souls of my feet and spreads quickly into my fingertips. Lightheaded, I feel as if I'm about to topple into a full out panic attack when a hand on my elbow pulls me back from the precipice, grounding me. My eyes follow the hand up the arm, to a neck and finally to Haymitch's stoic face. "I've got you," he whispers, locking his elbow with mine. Pulling him in closer, I bask for a moment is the steadfastness his offering. "Thank you," I mouth. He says nothing, just paints a smile on his face and leads me forward.
Within seconds we are out on what appears to be a newly constructed platform and directly in front of us, held back by only a few wooden barricades and a half dozen soldiers, is an undulating throng of reporters and fans calling our names over and over again. My breath catches at the scene, so I clinging to Haymitch's arm like a lifeline.
"Smile and wave," Haymitch instructs through his teeth.
I blink a few times and slowly come out of my daze. Showtime, I think. Lifting my lips in what I hope is a convincing smile, I being to wave.
"See, just like old times," Haymitch says squeezing my arm.
"That's not exactly..." I begin to say but trail off when above the din of noise I hear the trill of a familiar voice. Instantly I go into hunter mode scanning the crowd it's owner.
Giving my arm a tug, Haymitch nods over his right shoulder. "Over there."
Going up on tiptoes, I scan the crowd until I spot a petite woman in a pair of impossibly high, high-heeled shoes. Is that...Effie? my mind sputters. If not for the woman's impeccable posture and schedule board in the crook of her arm, I might not have recognized her. The woman standing mere feet from me in a soft lavender suit, with natural wavy blonde hair in a coiffed bob, couldn't have even served as a shadow to the Capitol escort of my past. It's not that she is out of fashion per se because her suit, with its metallic sheen shimmering in the sun and her perfectly sculpted hair, definitely have a Capitol air to them, it's just that the person I remember preferred the outrageous over sensible and chic. The difference is so jarring I'm beginning to think that I've mistaken this stranger for Effie, that is until I see her look down at her watch and a sour expression lights her face. I nearly laugh aloud. That is a look I know all to well, one reserved for when her schedule is not going as planned. I smile, my first genuine one since exiting the train.
Dropping down off my toes, I whisper to Haymitch, "How long do we have to do this?"
"Not sure. How's Thom holding up?" he asks, his focus never leaving the crowd.
So wrapped up in my own anxiety and Effie I've totally forgotten that Thom is standing next to me. I venture a sideways glance at him and grimace inwardly. He looks petrified. Not a surprise really, it's not like he's ever experienced anything like this before. Reaching over, I gently take his hand in mine. He looks down at me.
"This is nuts," he whispers.
"Yeah, I've never gotten used to it. Just try to relax. Find a few friendly faces in the crowd and focus on them." I suggest. He nods and scans the crowd. I see his shoulders being to relax. "Now wave and smile," I encourage. Thom is just getting the hang of it when I hear Effie's voice over the crowd, "Alright, alright, that's enough," she says sauntering across the stage. The soldiers on duty take this as a cue to push the crowd back another few feet. Our small group turns to greet our escort.
"Effie!" Peeta exclaims, taking the small woman up in a fierce hug. To my surprise, she returns with a similar level of enthusiasm. I'm shocked once again, the Effie I knew two years ago would have never approved of such a public display. "You look amazing," Peeta says over her shoulder.
"You're too sweet," she mummers patting his back affectionally. After a long moment, she pulls out of the hug but doesn't release her hold on his arms. She scans him from head to toe and shakes her head. "Peeta Mellark, how much have you grown since last year? It has to be at least three inches" she exclaims.
Peeta grins down at her, "Four and a half actually," he informs her. Four and a half inches!? I think. Glancing at him I try to remember him a year ago, better yet, two years ago. Peeta has always been taller than me, even in our first games, but in reality, he was only a boy then. As my mind flips through my mental photographs of him I suddenly find myself surprised by how much he really has changed. Approaching twenty years old, Peeta has gone from having maybe three inches on me to a good seven or eight, he easily could rest his chin on my head. But it's not just his height that's changed. My memory stops on an image of him in the square at our first reaping, his body stocky and strong from years worked in his family bakery, and compare it to the man standing in front of me now. His shoulders are still broad and his arms strong from the hours he spends still baking for the people of Twelve, but I don't know that I wouldn't label him stocky anymore, it seems his upward growth has lengthened his center mass. Unconsciously my eyes make their way to his face. The rounded features my memory has called up are those of his youth, the truth is they gave way to more defined lines and a stronger jaw sometime ago. How on earth didn't I notice these things before now? I wonder in amazement.
"Hey Mockingjay," Haymitch says pulling me from my revelry.
My head snaps up at the code word, "Yeah?" I caution back.
"Just wondering if you think it's hotter here than back home," he says smoothly.
I feel the heat of a blush flood my face. "No, actually I think it's a bit cooler," I return bitingly.
Haymitch smirks and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief. "Here, take this, you're looking a little flushed," he says offering me the folded square of cloth.
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.
"Haymitch Abernathy are you actually sober?" Effie interrupts, ending our standoff.
Putting the hanky back in his pocket, Haymitch clicks his tongue. "I'm never complete sober Ms. Trinket" he laughs.
She gives him a playful swat on the arm before coming up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. "I can't believe I'm about to admit this, but I've actually missed you, you old drunk," she says sweetly.
My eyes open wide at the statement and I glance over at Peeta who laughs quietly and shrugs his shoulders. I guess it's not just her look that has had a bit of an overhaul, I muse.
Stepping back from Haymitch, Effie turns to me. "Hello Katniss dear," she says with a soft smile.
I return the gesture with a smile of my own and envelop her in a hug. "It's good to see you, Effie," I say, surprised by the honesty I find in my own words. Over the time I've known Effie I've grown an affection for her of course, but like my stylists, I viewed those feelings like those I'd have for a pet, but as I stand here I realize something has changed. Perhaps knowing she spent the war as a prisoner of the Capitol because of her affiliation with Peeta and I has softened my heart towards her. Regardless, I am truly happy to see her.
Pulling back, I turn a little in Thom's direction. "Effie let me introduce you to the Mayor of Twelve, Thom Armstead."
"Acting mayor," Thom says shaking hands with Effie. The two are exchanging pleasantries when a scuffle breaks out between a soldier and a Capitol woman with purple hair, pulling our entire group's attention across the platform.
"Let her through she's with me." Effie she calls out, waving the soldier off.
Before I can assess who it is that is joining our entourage, Peeta startles me by sprinting across the platform. "Tova!" he exclaims scooping the girl up in a hug and twirling her about. The word "who" forms on my lips, but no sound leaves my mouth.
"Based on your expression I'm taking it you don't know who that is either?" Haymitch asks quietly.
I shake my no.
"Interesting," he mutters.
His response annoys me more than it should and I want to send an elbow into his ribs but I don't' get the chance because Peeta has turned and is guiding the girl towards us. I quickly paste on a neutral face while I do a quick inventory of the newcomer. The woman is fair skinned, tall with a slender but curvy build. Her most noteworthy feature is her wavy purple waist-length hair. From across the platform, I had assumed it was a wig much like others I've seen in the Capitol, but now that she's closer I can see it is her natural hair just dyed various shades of purple, magenta, and soft pink. The colors and how they fade from darkest near her roots to lightest at the ends remind me of an evening sunset. The look, despite the unnatural colors, is actually quite stunning alongside her green eyes and pretty face. I take a step back suddenly feeling like a dried up fall leaf with my dark features and burn-scarred skin.
"Ah, friends reunited, how lovely," Effie coos as Peeta and Tova step into our small circle, Tova's face a picture of joy.
I focus on the woman's sparkling eyes as the look up at Peeta and I frown a bit at the word friends. Friends? How is it that Peeta has never mentioned this person to me? I know everyone Peeta knows...don't I?
"Katniss, you must know Tova as well," Effie says interrupting my introspection.
"Uh...well..." I stammer.
To my surprise, it's the Tova who comes to my aide. "Actually Ms. Trinket, I've never had the honor of meeting Miss Everdeen, though I dare say, I've heard so much about her I feel like we are already acquainted," she says glancing at me before settling on Peeta's face, a genuine smile on her full lips.
Heard about me? From where, the news? War coverage? Games coverage?...Peeta? My questioning eyes go to his without my permission. When our gaze meets I find my answer. She is talking about Peeta. I let my eyes from his to the ground as a feeling of betrayal turns a knot in the pit of my stomach.
"Oh really? Well, I have no doubt you two will be fast friends," bubbles Effie.
"I do hope so," Tova says hopefully.
I do my best to look pleasant, but based on the glare I'm getting from Haymitch I must be failing.
Thankfully Effie turns the attention from me and back to the situation at hand. She does the obligatory introductions for Haymitch and Thom and goes on to explain Tova's presence. "This dear girl will be serving the as stylist to your delegation," Effie's says sounding pleased.
Haymitch snorts. "You mean we all have to share?" he mocks.
"Things aren't like they were before the war Haymitch so yes, you will have to share," she huffs, having either missed or chosen to ignore Haymitch's sarcasm. "Actually, we are very lucky to have such a talented girl focusing on just your team, the rest of the delegates will be sharing only 3 stylists! It took some negotiating with the planning committee, but once I took Tova on as an assistant and she approached them with the idea to redesigning Katniss and Peeta's wardrobe, well, they had to agree that our way was going to save them the most money," she says sounding very proud of herself.
A light goes off in my head at Effie's confession. About 3 weeks ago Peeta and I received a notice requesting that we ship our victory tour formal wear to the Capitol along with some current measurements. The note instructed us to bring our own "downtime" clothing, sleepwear and personal items, but that the Capitol would be providing clothing for any events and tunics for the committee meetings. At the time it seemed odd to me, I couldn't understand why they would want our old clothing, but now it all makes sense. The Capitol is indeed changing. Reusing clothing made a year and a half ago would have never happened before the war, but now, now they are cutting corners, saving money. How fiscally reasonable of them I grumble to myself as I eye our new stylist.
"Wow, you are quite the negotiator Effie," Haymitch says, the sarcasm so thick not even Effie could miss it. Her mouth turns down, her disappointment is palpable. I send my elbow into his ribs. The fact Effie is proud of her efforts and not lamenting the changes is such a gigantic transformation, she doesn't deserve to be ridiculed.
"Don't pay him any attention Effie, he's just hung over," I say shoot Haymitch a warning look.
Thom clears his throat and smiles shyly at Tova and Effie. "Ladies, if you are arranging to make sure I don't look like a fool at these Capitol events, then you are heroes in my book."
This seems to do the trick and Effie perks up a bit. "Well thank you, Thom. You know it not just the clothing we're arranging. Tova and I have also been tasked with arranging for your housing, a chef, and transportation while you are here. Additionally, I have made it my personal responsibility to organizing your daily schedules," she beams. "Speaking of schedules," she continues, glancing down at her watch, "we need to get a move on it. You all must be tired and hungry from your trip." Turning on her heels Effie searches the platform for a moment, then spotting the Captain in charge crosses to speak to him.
With Effie gone, the group falls silent and my mind focuses again on the knot in my stomach. I look over and find Peeta staring at me. The look on his face is one of repentance which causes the knot to tighten. What exactly does he have to be repentant for? I worry.
"I think you are going to really like the place we found for you to stay," Tova ventures, breaking our reticence.
"We won't be in the training center?" Peeta asks.
"Well...no. I think the planning committee thought that would be in bad taste," she replies.
Peeta laughs lightly. "Training center sleeping quarters is in bad taste but they send a tribute train to pick us up?" Peeta asks rhetorically.
The pretty girl's mouth falls open in an o and her hand comes up to cover it. "I...I... don't know what to say," she sputters, her face red. Haymitch laughs loudly at her discomfort and her blush deepens.
Peeta gently places a hand on her shoulder and she leans into his palm. "You don't need to apologize. Outside of a bit of lost sleep, I don't think we are any worse for wear," he soothes. Tova doesn't look totally convinced but seems comforted by Peeta's touch.
"The boy's right. As long as this trip doesn't end with one of us fighting to our deaths in an arena, it really doesn't matter how we got here or where we sleep." Haymitch quips dryly.
Tova's eyes go wide in shock at Haymitch's nonchalant attitude about the reality of our previous visits, and I can't help but silently cheer him. Perhaps I'm finding to much pleasure in her discomfort, what he said isn't untrue. I'm eager to hear her response, but Effie rejoins us, saving Tova from the unpleasant task of smoothing thing over. I embarrassed to admit I'm a little disappointed.
"Okay team, we are on the move," Effie says ushering us towards a cleared staircase at the end of the platform.
As I'm about to descend the stairs when Peeta call out to me. "Katniss, wait up," he says in a low voice.
I stop and wait for the other in our group to pass, before looking up at him. His blue eyes are stormy and there is a pleading look on his face. My heart tightens, but I can't even begin to digest this whole Tova thing right now. "Not here," I whisper before turning, I follow the rest of the crowd down the stairs. Behind me, I hear a frustrated sigh and it takes all my self-control to keep myself from turning around to confront him. Who is he to be upset with me? I'm not the one with secret friends. I'm not the one sharing private details of his life with someone he doesn't know.
At the bottom of the stairs, a long black car awaits. Following the others, I quickly climb in and claim a seat by a window. Seeking some privacy to deal with my tumultuous feelings I turn so my body is angled towards the glass, my back to the other passengers. The scenery passes as we make our way through town, but I don't register any of it. My mind is too busy replaying the look on Peeta's face when he spotted Tova across the platform.
"Katniss dear, are you quite alright?" Effie inquires, pulling me back to the present.
I reluctantly pull my gaze from the window and back to the group, but I'm careful to avoid looking directly at Peeta and Tova. "Um...yes, I'm fine," I reply, trying hard to sound at ease.
Effie stares at me a moment, tilting her head. "Are you sure?" she asks.
I force a smile. "I was just...thinking...about this coming week," I return lamely.
She seems to consider my response for a moment before nodding. "So you will come for dinner then?" she asks.
I stare at her blankly, my mind desperately trying to recall the chatter that was going on behind me while I stared out the window. Haymitch chimes in, filling in the blanks for me. "Since the chef who will be cooking for us isn't available until tomorrow, Tova here is cooking us dinner tonight," he tells me.
I look over at Tova, she seems on edge. "That's very kind of you, I hope it hasn't put you out," I say, managing to actually sound sincere.
"No, it's not an inconvenience at all. I actually love to cook," she says looking a little more at ease. "So you'll come for dinner?" she asks, her green eyes sparkling. I look at her and feel an odd sense of deja vu and I start to wonder if I've actually met her before. Maybe briefly during the victory tour? I ponder.
When my answer is not immediately forthcoming, Peeta breaks the awkward silence."Of course, she'll come. We'll all be there," he states.
I blink a few times, tiring to clear the fog. "Yes, of course. Thank you for being willing to host us," I add distractedly.
"Ahhh, here we are," Effie says, peeking out the window over my shoulder. I turn and look out as our car comes to a stop in front of an apartment building. On the front stoop, a small placard reads "City Lights Hotel." While I knew that we weren't staying in the training center, this is not what I expected either.
We climb out of the car and bid Tova a temporary farewell as she is heading home to prepare for our visit in a couple of hours. Once inside, we stop in the entry at a small desk with a sign hanging above it that reads, "Registration". Behind the desk, is a man with bright green hair and fading gold tattoo's over his eyebrows. Offering us a warm smile, the man comes around from behind the desk to greet us. "Welcome, welcome! Ms. Everdeen, Mr. Mellark, Mr. Abernathy," he says shaking each of our hands. Turning to Thom he holds out his hand "Mr. Armstead?" he asks, a broad smile painted across his face. Thom nods and shakes the proffered hand. The man nods and then addresses our entire group in his crisp Capitol accent, "My name is Frederick. I will be serving as your concierge during your stay here City Lights."
Thom, looking confused, glances over at Peeta for clarification, but Peeta, with no answers of offered, shakes his head. "Fredrick, you'll have to forgive us, but we don't have anyone who works as a concierge in district 12," Peeta says diplomatically.
Surprise lights the Capitol man's face, but he taps it down quickly. "Ah, I see. As a concierge, my job is to ensure your stay is as pleasant and as carefree as possible, so if you have any special needs or requests you can simply pick up the telephone and I will arrange to take care of them for you," he explains.
Thoms gives the small man a hearty pat on the back nearly knocking him over. "Wow! Thanks, Fredrick," he booms appreciatively.
Fredrick, in spite of looking the part of a snooty Capitol man, doesn't let Thom's untempered district manners faze him in the least. "Oh, Mr. Armstead, it is my sincere pleasure to serve this team," he says honestly.
Effie glances at her watch and lets out a surprised squeak. "Oh Fredrick, we must get moving if they are to make dinner on time."
"Of course, Ms. Trinket," he states rushing around the desk to retrieve a small yellow envelope. "This way," he says leading us to the elevator. Once inside, he pushes the 15 on the call panel and begins passing out the contents of the envelope, keys. "Ms. Everdeen, Mr. Mellark and Mr. Abernathy, you will be in suite 1501 and Mayor Armstead and Ms. Kensington will be in 1502. Mr. Mayor, you are still expecting your guest on tomorrow's train is that correct?" he asks.
A sweet and soft smile spreads across Thom's face. "Actually Fredrick you need to correct our reservation, it's Mrs. Armstead who will be joining me," Thom beams. "Miss Kensington and I were married last week."
Thom's joy is so infectious, I can't keep a smile from forming on my own mouth. A week ago Peeta, Haymitch and I had received a cryptic dinner request from Thom and Becca, the only instruction was to "bring the bread". Upon arrival we found that the dinner was much more than a meal, we were there to witness their toasting.
Effie's eyes widen comically as the elevator door slides open. "You got... married!" she sputters.
Wagging a finger a Thom, Haymitch laughs, "Oh! You're in trouble now!"
"Haymitch!" Effie says sharply, "Of course he's not in trouble! I just wish I had known is all. I would have prepared better," she laments and begins scribbling frantically in her schedule folder. Haymitch chuckles a the site and steps into the hall.
Thom waves his hands in front of him and shakes his head. "Please Ms. Trinket, don't put yourself to any trouble. Becca and I will be more than fine with whatever you have already arranged." He states following Peeta and I off the elevator.
Effie, still standing in the elevator car, shakes her head and continues to write oblivious to the fact she now is alone in the car. "Adjustments will need to be made," she mutters to herself. We all watch her silently from the hallway, for a moment before Haymitch sighs and steps back in to retrieve her. "The world is not going to collapse if one place card has the wrong name on it, Effie," he says gently guiding her out into the hall.
Letting out a resigned sigh, she looks up at him, "I just want it all to be..."
"Fabulous?" Haymitch finishes for her.
She glares at him but a small smile plays on her lips softens the effect. "Fabulous is what I do," she retorts with a toss of her head. This makes Haymitch laugh, hard.
Rolling her eyes, Effie plucks the key Fredrick had just given Haymitch from his hand and slips it into the lock of the room marked 1501. "Welcome Home," Effie says pushing the doors open in a grand flourish.
We pass through a small foyer into a great room that contains a living room to the right and a dining room to the left. In the living room, there are four overstuffed armchairs in dark green and large brown leather sofa set in a cozy configuration in front of a wide stone fireplace. On the opposite side of the room, the dining room contains a long, delicately carved, mahogany table with seating for at least eight and along the wall is a matching sideboard big enough to hold a feast. The decor of the two rooms is understated by Capitol standards, but I find it warm and inviting.
Walking over to the sofa, I let my hand glide along the back. The leather is supple and soft. "This is beautiful Effie" I smile.
"I'm so glad you like it," she chirps. "Oh, Peeta, you must see the kitchen!" she exclaims. Taking Peeta by the arm, she pulls him through a door on the far side of the dining room. The pair are followed by Frederick and Thom as they investigate our accommodations.
Walking over to a large window I ease back the curtain and look out at the city below.
"Not interested in seeing the kitchen, or are you avoiding something in there?" Haymitch asks, an eyebrow raised.
"Haymitch!" I warn in a low voice.
He chuckles, which irritates me more. "Look here sweetheart, in just under two hours we are going to be sitting around a dinner table with that woman, so I suggest you make time to talk this out with your boy before then or else dinner is going to be awkward as hell."
I have snappy retort on my lips but just then door the to the kitchen opens and the group comes spilling back into the great room.
"Okay, so who's ready to see the rooms?" Effie chirps.
Taking a cleansing breath, I turn from the window to rejoin the group. "I for one would love the chance to get cleaned up before dinner, so please, Effie, lead the way," I say gesturing towards the hallway.
Effie leads us down the hall, the heels of her shoes clicking on the dark wood floors as she goes. Stopping at the first door we come to, Effie pauses a moment, her hand on the knob. "I've given the room assignments a lot of thought, I hope you approve," she says, her voice suddenly very serious. Opening the door with a flourish, she turns to me. "Katniss," she says waving me in.
The room is large but not ostentatious. Like the rest of the apartment, the decor is warm and welcoming with its dark brown furniture and cream-colored linens.
"I chose this room for you because of the attached bathroom it is the only one that includes a tub," Effie tells me. I glance in the bathroom and see a large oval tub in the middle room. I'm struck with the realization that this room, would actually be better for Peeta. He's mentioned to me in the past that a soak in a warm bath often helps when his leg hurts. There is, of course, no way that Effie would have known this so I decided not to mention it and instead decide to offer the use of the tub to Peeta in private.
Turning back into the room, I running a hand over the cream colored comforter as I make over to a large window. Pulling back a long sheer curtain I let out an audible gasp. What I thought was a window is actually a door that opens up to a large private rooftop patio. On the far right, I spot what can only be described as an outdoor living room. Arranged around an outdoor fireplace are large comfortable looking chairs and couches covered in beige and off-white stripes and dotted with bright teal throw pillows. To the left is a swath of bright green grass decorated with potted trees and brightly colored flower beds that give way to paving stones that surround a sparkling aqua pool. This is by far the most opulent part of this apartment.
"Peeta you have to see this," I exclaim, forgetting in my awe the awkwardness between us.
Peeta joins me at the door, stopping just behind me. "Whoa!" he exclaims over my shoulder.
"Effie, this is...amazing!" I breathe out.
"I'm so glad you like it Katniss! Now, come, come, let me show the rest of you to your rooms," she trills, ushering Haymitch and Thom out the door but leaving Peeta and I to staring out at the patio. I hear Peeta shuffle a little behind me and a long intake of air. After a moment he breaks the silence, "Katniss," he mummers. My back tenses at the sound of his voice, I don't move.
"What, you're not even going to look at me? You wouldn't let me explain at the train station and now, what- you're going to give me the silent treatment? You're being irrational," he states, sounding irritated.
My anger flashes and I whip around to face him. "You've been keeping a secret girlfriend for over a year and I'm the one who is being irrational?" I growl, but immediately wish I could edit my word choice.
Peeta's eyes widen and his mouth falls open in surprise. "Katniss she..." he begins but is immediately interpreted by Effie's sing-song voice from down the hall. "Peeta dear, do come join us so I can show you your room," she calls out.
Running a hand through his blonde curls he lets out a frustrated breath. "This isn't..."
"Peeta!" Effie says, her patients clearly dissipating with each second she waits.
"UGHHH!" he growls, glancing back at the door. "I'll be back," he grumbles, before turning and stomping out of my room.
I stand for a moment listening to the chatter down the hall before closing the door and leaning against it. The mixture of simply arriving back in this city and the revelation and subsequent argument with Peeta regarding his covert friendship have drained me. A soft knock at the door rouses me and reveals a porter with my luggage. With my bags deposited, I open the garment bag that contains a few sundresses Cinna made from me for the victory tour. Pulling out a navy knee length one, I hang it from my wrist and make my way to the bathroom for a shower.
I'm towel drying my hair when there is a tentative knock at the door. Peeta, I think. As I flashing back to the uncomfortable conversation from earlier any relaxation I was able to pull from the hot shower quickly fades. I crack the bathroom door and call for him to come in, then quickly pull on a robe and grabbing hairbrushush before padding out into the room. I find Peeta sitting on the bed, back propped against the headboard legs out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.
With no preamble, he launches right into the conversation at hand. "She's not my girlfriend," he states matter of factly.
I sigh and sit down at the end of the bed opposite him. "I shouldn't have said she was, that was catty of me and I had no justification," I apologize.
My admission must take him by surprise because he stammers out an, "O-Okay..."
I look down at my lap and focus on the task of nervously picking at a loose thread on my bathrobe as I work up the courage to move the conversation forward. "How do you know her?" I finally ask, hazarding a look at him.
Peeta clears his throat and gives his response a moment to form before speaking. "I meet Tova at the hospital. She was a volunteer on the ward I lived in while I continued my treatments after the war. At first, we just exchanged small talk, but that quickly turned into chats over her lunch break and eventually she started coming by to visit in her off hours. We just kind of feel into a friendship. I found it completely intriguing that she didn't know my history. Hell, she was the first friend I had made that wasn't a victor in over 2 years! I was able to say and be who I needed to be in the moment without worrying about how my words or actions might be perceived. I just got to be me when I was with her, and that was incredibly freeing," he explained.
My heart sinks a bit. When I was too weak and selfish to think of anything but myself, she was there to help him pick up the pieces of himself, help him put himself back together. I could hardly hate her for that. Swallowing back a lump that tries to form in my throat and resume picking at my robe, "And why haven't you mentioned her? Apparently, you found time to tell her about me, but I didn't even know she existed. Why?" I ask, working hard to keep the accusing tone in my head from tainting my words.
Peeta is quiet for several long seconds before he quietly responds, "I don't know."
I look up at him, my brow knit together. "You've been home a year Peeta. Have the two of you been in contact with each other since you got home?" I ask.
He nods once. "Yes. A little," he admits sheepishly.
I raise my eyebrows silently demanding clarification.
"Occasional letters and a couple of phone calls," he confesses.
"Well then, it isn't like you forgot she existed, is it? I'm going to need something more than "I don't know," I say feeling irritation claw its way up my back muscles.
I know I've hit a never when I see him cross his arms over his chest, but when he speaks his words remain calm and collected. "Katniss, in the first three months I was home I think we probably had a total of 10 conversations, and half of those were me trying to convince you to eat. Between that dynamic and my own struggles to remain sane, please trust me when I say that the last thing I was worried about was bringing you up to speed on my social life," he states evenly.
"Okay...I can see what you mean, those first months were...terrible, but come on Peeta," I draw out.
Pushing off the headboard to sit more upright, he lets out a long breath like he's been holding it. "Yeah, I know, there's been plenty of time since then," he concedes. "I guess, at first it felt...weird, I couldn't figure out a way to bring it up. Then time just kept passing by and it seemed to get harder and harder to find the right time or situation to mention it. After a while, Tova and I's correspondence kinda petered out a bit and I guess I just figured that since she was not likely to turn up in 12 I could..."
"Just keep her a secret?" I interject.
Peeta shakes his head vehemently at me. "No, I never intended for it to be a secret," he beseeches.
Chewing on my lip, I let all he's said percolate. Finally, I look up at him and give him a small nod.
"I am sorry Katniss. I can imagine how I might feel if the situation were reversed," he offers.
"I'm glad she was there for you when you needed a friend," I mummer softly.
"If you give her a chance, she might be one to you as well," he suggests.
Picking the brush up off the bed I being pulling through my damp hair as I ruminate on the idea. "I think it's going to feel...odd, maybe. She seems to know things about me, but outside the fact that she's the first person I've ever met who can actually pull off purple hair, I know nothing about her."
"So you you don't like not feeling in control of the situation," Peeta states.
I shrug, "Yeah...I guess."
"How about you just start with a nice dinner and see where it goes from there," he suggests, "and save the pressure of becoming besties for another night?"
I smirk at him, but nod in agreement.
"Are we okay?" he asks, his tone gentel.
I nervously pick at the bristles of my hairbrush, my mind spinning. Say yes. You don't want to drive a wedge between the two of you over this, do you? This wasn't a malicious act, just tell him it's okay. "Of course we're fine," I reassure him, but even as I do my mind pushes my doubts to the surface If everything is so hunky-dory then why is your guts still in knots over this?
Peeta dips his head and settles his blue eyes on me before reaching over and gently taking the hairbrush from fidgeting hands. "You're going to pull out all the bristles if you keep that up," he says holding it up so I can see the spots where I have yanked the bristles clean out of the brush. Placing the brush on the bed, his slides hesitantly across the blankets towards me. He's careful not to touch me, but be is close enough that the warmth from his body leaches across the void to touch me. "Don't be nervous about dinner, okay. Most of the time will probably be filled with Effie admonishing Haymitch for his dining manners so I don't think you will be required to make much small talk, " he teases, his voice deep with faux conspiracy.
The room suddenly feels very small and incredibly warm, so warm in fact I find it hard to think. I suddenly feel the need for more space so I can breath, and I stand up abruptly. Peeta looks up at me with a peculiar expression on his face and I start to feel foolish for jumping up. "I...I need to get dressed," I bluster, attempting to cover my behavior with a plausible excuse. Peeta continues looking at me strangely, and I feel my face begin to flush. "So..." I draw out, gesturing towards the door. Still, he doesn't move. "So you need to go," I say gesturing at my robe.
With this, he seems to snap out of his trance and his stillness immediately becomes movement. Quickly scooting off the bed he heads for the door but stops short of the exit to look back at me, a serious expression on his face. "You're my family Katniss. Nothing and no one can ever change that, you know that right?" he asks.
Family? Are we a family? I wonder, the concept bouncing around my head. "Family," I say trying the word out.
"That's right! Means you can't get rid of me...or Haymitch," he grins. I raise a skeptical eyebrow at him and he laughs. "Hey, every family has a crazy uncle," he smirks.
This breaks the last bit of tension and I chuckle. "Go on, get out," I say waving him out of the room.
"Okay, okay! I'll see you in a bit," he says then disappears down the hall.
I stare at the vacant door for a second then turn and head into the bathroom. The process of getting dressed and applying a little make-up goes by in a robotic blur, my mind instead focused on the exchange that just took place between Peeta and I. I replay the conversations, analyze his words, and look for meaning in his expressions. After many trips through my thoughts, two words float to the surface of my consciousness: Friend and Family. The two words tug uncomfortably at the now seemingly permanent lump in the pit of my stomach as I try to sort through the jumble of feelings they dredge up. I've never been good with feelings, identifying them or coping with them. The deep dark place I feel into when Prim died, proved just how very much like my mother I can be. I spent months nearly catatonic so I didn't have to acknowledge the pain and heartache. If it hadn't been for Peeta's reassuring presence I might still be sitting on my couch staring blankly at the fireplace. But Peeta, who in spite of his own demons and our history, had been there, my touchstone with reality, my shelter when I finally began to come to grips with my losses. Is he my Family? My Friend? I ask myself, but almost instantly answer, He is both and neither at the same time. I breathe deeply and put all of my energy into pinpointing the feelings this realization has stirred up in me. Is this Nervousness? No, this unpleasant tightness is something more. Anxiety? I wonder. Tova's image suddenly comes to mind. Peeta is friends with Tova, but our relationship is not like the one he described having with her. We're different. Does Tova view their relationship the same way Peeta described? The way I caught her looking him today, is that friendship? No, it's how Peeta used to look at you... back when he was in love with you, my subconscious whispers. My heart speeds up in my chest and my hands go clammy. Now, this is anxiety. I realize.
A loud knock at my bedroom startles me and I blink a few times, finding my own pale face looking back at me from the bathroom mirror.
I hear the door in the other room open, "Hope you're decent," Haymitch calls out.
"I'll be right out," I say quickly pinching my cheeks in an attempt to return some color to them.
A soft rap on the bathroom door tells me my time for privacy is over. Pulling open the door, I glare a Haymitch. "You really have serious boundary issues don't you?" I demand rhetorically as I push past him into the bedroom.
He shrugs noncommittally. "You set things right with the boy?" He asks, leaning against the door jam as I gather the shawl I plan to use to cover my fire-scarred arms.
"We've spoken," I respond, draping the soft blue and cream paisley shawl over my shoulders. Haymitch grunts and I bristle. "It's fine," I grumble sitting down on the bed to put on a pair of sandals.
He regards me closely for a second, "Yeah, then why do you look like you're about to throw up?" he asks.
I take a moment to gather myself before looking up from my task of attaching the delicate brown sandals to my feet. "Haymitch, have you looked out the window? Do you remember the last time we were here?" I ask, trying to sound outraged. "I hate this damn place, so forgive me for looking a little peaked!"
He eyes me with suspicion. "And dinner is going to be a pleasant experience?" he needles, an eyebrow raised.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Peeta asks, having appeared behind him in the doorway. Haymitch startles and he whips around. A snide remark has just begun to form on his lips when we hear the front door open and the sound of heels on hardwood.
"Team, are we ready to go?" Effie chirps from the living room.
"Yes, we're coming," I blurt out, happy for the interruption.
Peeta steps back, a smirk on his face, and gestures grandly for Haymitch to pass. Haymitch's eyes flick between Peeta and me for a second before he gives up and passes by Peeta with a grunt. Peeta chuckles as he watches him descend down the hall before turning back to me. His blue eyes give me a quick once over and his amused face softens to an easy smile. "You look lovely," he says.
With my burn-scarred skin, I feel anything but pretty. Trapped in his gaze I self-conscientiously tug on thin fabric around my shoulders, trying to cover every inch of the ugly skin.
Closing the gap between us in a few quick strides, Peeta looms over me. "Stop fidgeting," he urges softly. I hazard a look up at him. "You look lovely," he says again, his voice full of sincerity.
I feel my face warm in blush at the kindness of his words. "Thanks," I say quietly.
"Peeta, Katniss, we must be going," Effie calls from the living room, her tone taking on the higher pitch associated with lateness.
Peeta lips turn up in an amused grin, "We better go before only dogs can hear her," he chuckles.
His warm laugh is like a balm to my chapped emotions and I feel my shoulders relax. He's right here, he isn't leaving you, my mind whispers in relief. The thought surprises me, but I don't have time to reflect on it because Peeta is waiting for me to pass out the room and towards our awaiting dinner party.