PEETA
There's no time to stop home and shower after soccer practice. I don't exactly want to be sweaty when I go to the ballet studio and see Katniss - but there's not another choice. I don't want to be late picking them up, either.
I had been looking forward to soccer, hoping it would refocus my mind. Or, at least, get me thinking about something other than the encounter that my mother and I had the other night. It didn't, though. My mind wasn't clear at all. Not while we ran suicides, practiced drils, or played scrimmages.
I'm dying to think about anything else, but I can't. All I can see is the way that she cornered me at the dining room table, peering over my shoulder as I was scrolling through mine and Katniss's texts. She could tell I had been texting a girl, but she didn't know who - and that prompted her to ask why I don't have any guy friends. Was I so pathetic that no boys wanted to hang around me?
I didn't even consider the implications of my answer before I shot it back at her. I started to talk about Finnick and Thresh, about how we've been friends for all of high school, but she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear my voice at all, which I really should understand by now. I'm so stupid. Why I thought she wanted a response, I have no idea.
For some idiotic reason, I keep trying with her. It's not worth it. It never is. But I can't get that through my thick head.
She took my response as an argument and slapped me across the face. One of her long nails caught my cheek and left the scratch that Madge asked about on Saturday, the one that Katniss was concentrating on.
I 'ran into a door.' Great excuse. No one's ever heard that before, I'm sure.
As I'm driving, I reach up to touch it. It's scabbed over now, but stinging from the sweat all over my face. I crank the air up full blast, even though it's barely 60 degrees outside, hoping to dry myself off a little before heading into the studio. I don't want to stick out like the disgusting sore thumb that I am.
I sit in the car for a long moment after I pull into a parking spot and stare at the wheel, going over my mother's words. She had no idea that I have guys I've hung around for four years - so she must be right. I don't matter enough to befriend. No one actually knows me, because what is there to know?
I have plenty of acquaintances, sure. Everyone at school, or mostly everyone, knows of me. But is there a single person who knows my middle name? My favorite color? I don't think so.
It's pathetic. Only pathetic people are islands in the way that I am.
I shake my head to try and clear as I get out of the car and slam the door shut. I run a hand through my damp hair and keep my chin ducked as I make my way into the dance school, then sit with my head in my hands, staring at my feet.
There's too much going on inside. I can't get it straight. I can't think right. Nothing in my brain makes sense.
I stay in that position for a few minutes before getting up and taking a deep breath. I have to center myself before class is over. I can't act like this around them - especially not around Katniss. And I don't want Madge asking me what's wrong, either. She already suspects that things have gotten bad at my house again, and I don't want to give her more fuel for that fire.
I make my way to the observation window, but what I see only makes my stomach sink. Standing right in the middle is Katniss in front of a super tall, muscular guy, who has his hands locked around her small waist. Their teacher counts them off, then he lifts Katniss into the air and effortlessly places her graceful body on his shoulder as she poses - the picture of grace. They both are, really. The two of them make a perfect, attractive pair.
I press my lips together hard and chew on the inside of the bottom one. I have no right to be this jealous - it's not like me and Katniss are together. It's not like we're anything at all. Friends, I guess. But I have no claim over her, nothing like that. I can't get upset over this guy's hands on her.
But I am.
I'm being fucking dumb, but I am upset.
He's her dance partner. That's all. And either way, she's not my girlfriend. That's the end of it.
It really should be that simple, and it would be - if I were any good at controlling my thoughts, which I'm not.
But when that male dancer sets Katniss back on the floor, she's smiling. And not only that, she's looking right at me. She gives me a tiny little wave, keeping her hand low and near her waist, and I give her one back.
It's crazy how fast she can turn my entire mindset around. I'm smiling hard, keeping my eyes on her, as she steals glances over her shoulder at me throughout the rest of class. I don't move from the observation window, because I don't want to miss a single one of those looks.
I've been casually watching Madge dance for years, but her skills are nothing compared to what Katniss can do. Madge would probably be the first to admit that. Even the way Katniss holds her body is impeccable - the slope of her neck, the position of her arms, the length and precision of her legs. She's the most amazing dancer I've ever seen.
When the teacher dismisses them and class ends, I watch the male dancer try and talk to Katniss. She pauses for a brief moment, only for a beat or so, before brushing him off and heading towards the door. All the other girls are on the floor, untying the ribbons of their torture shoes, but not Katniss. She didn't even bother taking them off before hurrying out to the lobby.
"Hey," she says, clasping her hands when she stops in front of me.
My negative emotions from before are all but forgotten as Katniss stands in front of me, breathless with twinkling gray eyes.
She looks beautiful. Her face is flushed and she's wearing a light blue leotard with a sheer black skirt tied around her waist, white tights, and those shiny pink shoes. Her nails are still the same blush color as they were the other day.
"Hey," I say, then inwardly roll my eyes at myself. Hey, just hey? That's all I can come up with?
"You came," she says.
There's a sheen of sweat on her neck and collarbones, and when the overhead lighting catches it, it makes her shine like a jewel. I have to remember that - I want to draw it later.
"Yeah," I say. "I had soccer today. Had to drop Madge off and run."
"But you came back," she says, grinning.
"Of course," I say. "I would never stand you guys up. Plus, I'd hate to miss seeing you dance. Or getting lifted ten feet in the air."
"Oh, yeah," Katniss says, rolling her eyes.
Then, Madge comes out of the studio and looks between us for a quick moment, smirking, before making note of Katniss's shoes. "You still have your pointes on, you goof," she says.
Katniss looks down, then up at me with her cheeks painted pink. "Oops," she says. "I better… I better go change."
"Sure," I say.
"Meet you out here in ten?"
"I'm not going anywhere," I say.
She starts down the hall, then steals one last look at me before disappearing into the locker room, eyes bright and lips twisted into a little smile.
Any bad mood that had been lingering is long gone now.
…
As we head to the car, Madge is on one side of me and Katniss is on the other, sweats over her blue leotard, hair still up, comfortable boots on - as always.
"I swear, Miss Effie has it out for me!" Madge says. "Every single time, I get Thom. It's so unfair. Actually, it's sick! She's sick."
"I told you that you could have Gale," Katniss says.
Just a few days ago, she would've stayed quiet while Madge prattled on. But she's coming out of her shell - at least, that's how it seems.
"Yeah, and Miss Effie shot that right down!" Madge says. "Ugh, I know it's because I suck and Thom sucks, too. But Delly sucks way more than I do and she gets Castor!"
"Who drops her at least twice a class," Katniss says.
"True," Madge says. "But I'd almost prefer getting dropped over smelling chicken noodle- Oh, hey Vinny."
Red-haired Lavinia appears beside Madge, carting one of those big dance bags that all the ballerinas have. "Hey," she says. "I totally forgot until just now. Isn't our project for Mr. Boggs due like, tomorrow?"
"Oh, shit!" Madge says, eyes wide. "Oh shit, shit!"
"Yeah, I know," Lavinia says. "If you wanna come home with me, we can try to finish it tonight."
Madge glances at her phone, then sighs. "Yeah, I guess," she says. "Geez! I'll call my dad in the car." She turns to me. "I gotta go do this. I'll see you guys tomorrow, though, okay?"
"Sure," I say.
"Bye, Katniss," Madge says, hitching her bag higher as she heads off with Lavinia. "Sorry for leaving you alone with him!"
I always know when Madge is plotting something, and this is not one of those times. Over anything, she's forgetful - it doesn't surprise me that the project slipped her mind.
But even though the prospect of being alone in my car with Katniss is exciting, it's making me lose my mind with nerves. Not having Madge as the buffer puts us in completely new territory - and I'm not sure how to navigate it.
I've spent time with girls before. You'd think I'd have an easier time of this. But I've never spent time with a girl who I'm so infatuated with. With Katniss, I want to do everything right. I don't want to freak her out or scare her off or come on too strong. But I also don't want her to slip away, either.
There are so many things to balance with a crush like this. It's exhausting.
I glance over and wonder if she's toiling in the same way I am, but I can't read her face. She looks pensive, if anything, but smiles softly when I catch her eye.
We get in the car and it's completely silent. Awkward, too. I feel like an ass - how am I so candid with her over text, yet I can't figure out what to say in person when we're alone? I'm overthinking everything.
But she makes overthinking so easy. She's sitting there being beautiful and I have no idea how to act or what to say.
I clear my throat and start the car, and she runs her hands over her kneecaps as I back out of the parking spot. As I'm concentrating on the road, Katniss turns to look at me and I sense her eyes on my face, and I'm beyond grateful that the scratch is on the side that she can't see.
Then, she turns back towards the windshield and a great idea comes to me. "Here," I say, grabbing my phone and plugging the aux cord in. "We can listen to your playlist."
"Or the one you made," she says quickly.
I dart my eyes over to hers, then quickly look away. "I like yours better," I say, then press the shuffle button.
The first song that plays is 'Ur So Beautiful' by Grace Vanderwaal, and the lyrics have never felt more fitting than at a stoplight, when I covertly study Katniss's profile.
Damn, you're so beautiful
And don't you know it?
Don't you? Don't you?
…
Late that night, I'm in bed with the lights off, buried under the covers, when I finally get a chance to text her.
I didn't dare pull my phone out while I was downstairs, spending forced time with my parents and my brother, Quinn. It was too risky.
SENT, 11:02pm: Hey hope you had a good night. Sorry that car ride was kinda weird…. Lmao I get really nervous around you
I quickly click the screen off and lay the phone face-down on my chest. I don't think I can handle waiting for her typing bubbles to pop up, wondering how she'll respond.
I don't know if I should've told her that she makes me nervous, but it's the truth. It's not a bad thing.
I hope she knows that. Shit, maybe she doesn't. Maybe she thinks she makes me nervous in a negative way.
SENT, 11:03pm: Not in a bad way! Not at all
I hide the phone screen again and close my eyes, heart hammering. I stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, then get up the courage to check to see if she replied.
She did.
RECEIVED, 11:05pm: i make YOU nervous?
SENT, 11:08pm: Um yeah. Most definitely
RECEIVED, 11:08pm: noooooooo no way
SENT, 11:08pm: Yes way!
RECEIVED, 11:09pm: no way, cus youre the one who makes ME nervous
RECEIVED, 11:09pm: lol thats why i get so quiet around you
I make her nervous, too? I had no idea. She's hard to read, but I would've never guessed that I make her nervous. She always seems so calm, cool, and collected.
SENT, 11:10pm: It's kinda easier to admit over text
SENT, 11:10pm: Ya know, when I'm not looking at your pretty face
This time, I don't turn the screen down. I stare at it when her typing bubbles pop up, anticipating what she'll say.
RECEIVED, 11:11pm: i thought you were the pretty one? ;)
She sent a winky face. Oh, god.
SENT, 11:11pm: Nahhh you got me beat, beautiful girl
RECEIVED, 11:12pm: im not so sure about that :P
SENT, 11:12pm: Well I am. As sure as I am that your nails are pink
RECEIVED, 11:12pm: omg you noticed?
SENT, 11:13pm: Of course. Is that your favorite color?
She types, then stops. Then she starts again.
RECEIVED, 11:14pm: i like it a lot. but my favorite color is actually green :) whats yours?
SENT, 11:14pm: Orange
SENT, 11:14pm: But not like super bright orange. Soft, like the sunset
RECEIVED, 11:15pm: now im gonna think about you every time the sun sets :)
My heart is clogging my throat.
RECEIVED, 11:15pm: so now i know that your favorite color is orange… theres so much that you still havent told me. likeeeeee whats your favorite season? your favorite book?
SENT, 11:16pm: Are we playing 21 questions now?
RECEIVED, 11:16pm: whats that? like the guessing game?
SENT, 11:17pm: No, just where you ask the other person questions and they have to answer honestly. Like to get to know each other
RECEIVED, 11:17pm: oh. then sure :) whats your favorite season and favorite book?
SENT, 11:18pm: Hmmm. Spring for the season, and maybe The Perks of Being A Wallflower for the book
RECEIVED, 11:18pm: oh thats a good one :)
RECEIVED, 11:18pm: now what are you gonna ask me?
I think for a long moment, trying to come up with a good question. Not too forward, but not lame either.
SENT, 11:20pm: Who's your best friend?
RECEIVED, 11:21pm: dont laugh. but probably my little sister
SENT, 11:21pm: Why would I laugh? She seems fun
RECEIVED, 11:22pm: idk. the fact that i dont have any friends my own age or who arent related to me?
SENT, 11:22pm: You have me. And Mads
RECEIVED, 11:23pm: yeah, true
RECEIVED, 11:23: my turn again. hmmm. whats one thing your parents dont understand about you?
My chest tightens as I read those words. The last thing I want to talk about is my parents - but I don't want her to know that. Everyone I know - everyone besides me - is cool with their parents. I don't want her to know there's something wrong with me.
So, I try to play it off cool without lying.
SENT, 11:25pm: They've never really gotten why I do art. It's hard for them to understand
RECEIVED, 11:25pm: whats so hard to understand about that?
RECEIVED, 11:25pm: art is cathartic
SENT, 11:26pm: I don't know. They just don't get it
I switch the subject as fast as I can.
SENT, 11:26pm: My turn. What was your first kiss like?
For a second time, the typing bubble comes up, then disappears. Then shows, then fades. It happens two or three more times before it's finally solid as she writes her response. I'm expecting something long and in-depth due to how long she spent typing, so I'm surprised when the actual reply shows up.
RECEIVED, 11:30pm: i havent had it yet
RECEIVED, 11:30pm: what was yours like?
I think back to when I was 13, when it happened. I was on the school field and Delly Cartwright cornered me and smacked her lips to mine. It embarrassed both of us, and I try not to think about it if I can help it.
Since then, I've kissed a couple other girls. I took Noelle Jacobson to the sophomore year Homecoming dance and kissed her, but there were no sparks. Justice O'Connor and I had a fling last summer, but it didn't lead anywhere - neither of us really wanted it to.
SENT, 11:32pm: Strange. It was with Delly Cartwright. I'd rather not remember it, lmao
RECEIVED, 11:33pm: okay what was your BEST kiss like?
SENT, 11:33pm: I haven't had it yet
There's a pause where I can almost feel her staring at her phone in the way I'm staring at mine. I wish we were together, so I could see the look on her face. But then again, I'm glad we're not - because then I wouldn't have the gumption to say what I type out next.
SENT, 11:35pm: Do you have a crush on someone right now?
My pulse beats hard across my entire body, the blood ready to burst out of my skin. I'm dying to know how she'll answer. Luckily, she doesn't make me wait long.
RECEIVED, 11:35pm: yes
RECEIVED, 11:35pm: do you?
SENT, 11:35pm: Yes
I bite my lip and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. But I can't. This is too exciting.
RECEIVED, 11:36pm: whats she like?
I close my eyes for a long moment, thumbs hovering over the screen, and decide to just go for it.
SENT, 11:37pm: She's super beautiful, an amazing dancer, loves chocolate ice cream. She has the coolest gray eyes, her favorite color is green, and she has no idea how pretty she is. I'm kinda crazy about her
Oh, god. Oh, god. I started typing and I couldn't stop. Is it too much? Is it more than what she expected? More than what she's ready for?
RECEIVED, 11:39pm: i bet shes totally dying and freaking out right now. but i also bet shes not that great…
SENT, 11:39pm: No, she really is :)
SENT, 11:40pm: What's YOUR crush like?
I don't look at the phone while she types. I just can't this time. I wait for a few minutes before lifting it up and taking a peek.
RECEIVED, 11:41pm: hes handsome, some would even say hes pretty :) he plays soccer but he likes to watch me while i dance ballet. he also thinks of my sister even when i forget to. hes sweet and kind and nice and caring and funny
RECEIVED, 11:42pm: also he has great hair :)
We really went there. Without saying it, we both just admitted that we have crushes on each other. I can't believe that she knows.
More than that, I can't believe she likes me back.
SENT, 11:43pm: You're definitely building him up way too much. You're gonna give him an ego
RECEIVED, 11:43pm: nooooooooo :)
I smile at my phone like an idiot, then decide to make one last bold move of the night.
SENT, 11:45pm: On Friday, after ballet, do you want to hang out?
SENT, 11:45pm: We can hang here or at your place, wherever you're more comfortable
SENT, 11:45pm: I just wanna see you :)
I chew the inside of my cheek as I wait for her reply. What if she says no?
What if she says yes?
RECEIVED, 11:46pm: your house would be fun :) i want to. i just have to ask my mom :P
SENT, 11:46pm: Sounds good. I hope she says yes :)
RECEIVED, 11:46pm: same. i think she will
RECEIVED, 11:47pm: cus i wanna see you too :)
…
On Friday, as I wait in the lobby of the dance school, I'm beyond wired.
Last night, when Katniss confirmed our plans, I made sure the entire house was spotless. I'm not sure where we'll be hanging out, so I wanted to make sure all my bases were covered. From my room to the kitchen to the front entryway, it's cleaner than it's ever been.
I don't want to mess this up. My worst fear is hanging out with her only for her to realize that I'm not worth having a crush on at all. I'm just waiting for that shoe to drop - when she realizes I'm not all that great - but I hope it doesn't happen soon. I hope she'll at least give me a chance.
I want this to work out so badly.
I swallow hard when the girls come out of the studio, and Katniss catches my eye. I attempt a smile and she returns the expression, then holds up one finger as she heads down the hall towards the dressing room.
I wipe my hands on my jeans, taking deep breaths to try and calm myself. A few minutes later, Madge hurries out with her bun still in - which is unusual. That tells me she was hurrying to beat Katniss.
"She's so nervous," she says, beaming.
"So am I," I say.
"But she's so excited!" Madge says.
"I am, too," I say.
"You guys are gonna be just fine. You're gonna have a great time."
"You sound like a chaperone right now."
"No chaperones for you guys tonight," she says - a bit suggestively, if I'm not mistaken. But then, her expression turns serious. "Really though, Peeta. I'm rooting for you guys."
"Thanks," I say.
"I know how much you like her," she says. "And from what I can tell, she likes you just as much. So, don't get all in your head about it. Okay?"
Sometimes I think she might know me a little too well.
"I'll try."
"I'm ready," I hear, then peer around Madge to see Katniss coming out. Today, she has on a black leotard under her sweatpants with a baby blue cardigan overtop. Her lips are shiny - is she wearing lip gloss? I think she's wearing lip gloss.
"Cool," I say. "Mads, you have a way to get home, then?"
"Yep," she says, lifting her chin and smiling. "Me and Vinny are going to the movies."
"Sweet," I say, then nod towards the door. "Should we go?" Katniss and I walk out together, and she thanks me when I hold the door. "Here," I say. "Let me take your bag."
"Oh, I got it," she says.
"I know," I say. "You've got those ballet muscles. But I can still take it."
"Oh," she says, one corner of her lips pulling up. "Okay. Sure."
She hands it over and I rest it on my shoulder. As we walk to my car, our pinkies brush a few times - with every other step. But the trip isn't long enough for either of us to do anything about it.
She gets settled in the passenger's seat and I toss her bag in the back. "I thought we could maybe order a pizza," I say, getting behind the wheel.
"Sure," she says. "That sounds good."
As I'm on the phone with the restaurant, I feel Katniss's eyes. She's running her palms up and down her thighs and studying me like she's never seen me before. If this whole ordeal weren't so exciting, that might make me self-conscious. But it doesn't.
After I get off the phone, we head towards the pizza place for pickup. "So…" I begin. "No partners today?"
She snorts and flashes her eyes at me. "No," she says. "No Gale."
"Aw, darn it," I say.
"I know," she says. "Believe me, I love how he puts his hands way too low on my waist."
A red flash of something jolts through me - anger, jealousy, irritation? I'm not sure. But I don't outwardly react. Katniss is being lighthearted. Even if Gale does do that, she doesn't want me freaking out about it, I'm sure.
So, all I say is, "Creep."
I turn on her playlist, much like last time, and 'Delicate' by Taylor Swift comes up.
Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it too soon to do this yet?
'Cause I know that it's delicate
It's all too fitting. So much so that I'm almost tempted to switch the song entirely, but I don't want to make things obvious. I let it play.
We pick up the pizza and Katniss holds it on her lap on the way home. "One time, in my freshman year biology class," I say. "The teacher was talking about how businessmen can experience low sperm count because of the heat from their laptops. You know, how they're constantly on their computers. And Cress Falls raised his hand and asked if he should be worried about his sperm count because it was his job to hold the pizza on his lap every Friday night in the car."
Katniss looks at me, eyebrows raised, then cracks up laughing. "What an idiot," she says.
"Yeah, he's not the brightest," I say. "The teacher just stared at him like… she couldn't believe he made it as far as he did."
The silly story loosens things up between us, and I'm glad. But by the time we get to my house, I'm nervous all over again - wondering what she'll think of where I live.
I've lived here my whole life, so I'm used to it. But looking at it from her perspective, it must seem ostentatious and over-the-top. It's embarrassing, the obscene show of wealth, as we pull up into my long driveway.
Katniss looks out the window at my house that's much too big. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't have to. I already know what she's thinking, and there's nothing I can say to make it better.
Suddenly, I wish we would have gone to her house instead. We probably both would've been more at ease there. But it's too late now.
"Come on in," I say, shutting the door to the garage and opening up the house. "I'll get us some plates."
I avoid the topic of a tour entirely. I don't want to seem like I'm showing off. If I just act like this is a house like any other house, maybe it'll turn into exactly that.
We sit at the counter while we eat, and Katniss makes a face at the ranch dressing when I get it out of the fridge. "Don't tell me you're one of those people," she says.
"What?" I say, then squirt some onto my plate. "Don't hate. It's good."
"That's disgusting!" she says, crinkling her cute nose. "That goes against all the laws of pizza."
I dip the end of a slice in the ranch and take a bite. "Oh, please tell me," I say, "what are the laws of pizza?"
"No ranch," she says. "No salt. And no pineapples."
"Pineapples are the best topping!" I say.
She shakes her head and fake-cringes at me. "I think I might have to go home…" she says, then starts laughing.
We get on the topic of school, which is inevitable. We talk about soccer, about ballet, about her sister. She talks about Prim so fondly - it almost makes me wish I were closer with my brothers. Almost.
"Yeah, she's a little boy crazy right now," Katniss says, shaking her head. "It's a lot."
"Are you?" I ask, testing the waters.
She looks up from her plate, where she's left three crusts behind. "Am I what?"
"Crazy about boys," I say, flushing a little. It was too much. I shouldn't have gone there.
"Oh," she says, then lifts one shoulder. "I don't know… not really."
"Yeah, no," I say, like it had been so stupid to even ask.
"Not boys," she says. "Boys, plural, I mean." She looks down and picks up a piece of crust, breaks it in half, then in half again. "Maybe one boy. I don't know." She lifts her eyes and they're sparkling, which makes my heart start thudding against my ribs like it's trying to break out of my body.
"I know what you mean," I say.
"You're crazy about one boy, too?" she says, holding back a sly smile.
"You're the worst," I groan. "Yeah, that's it. No. You know what I mean… one girl."
We stare at each other for a long moment, and she glances between my eyes and my lips - back and forth, again and again. So, I do the same to her. Her lips are pink and perfect; I've never wanted to kiss someone so badly.
But I'm scared. I shouldn't be, I should fulfill the facade I wear for the world and, for once, be as confident as I seem. But I'm just not.
"Do you wanna watch a movie?" I ask, interrupting the moment.
She clears her throat. "Sure," she says, then politely brings her plate to the sink.
…
We get comfortable in the living room and I pop in Panic Room. Katniss is sitting in the corner of the couch, so I sit on the middle cushion - not too close, not crowding her, but not too far away, either.
A few minutes into the movie, an amazing, tantalizing smell washes over me and I look over to see that she's taken out her bun. She slips the hair tie onto her wrist and finger-combs her hair off of her scalp, giving it some life from how it had been slicked down. "It was starting to hurt," she says.
"Yeah, I bet," I say. "It smells good. Your hair, I mean."
"Oh," she says, her cheeks flushing. "Thanks. It's just shampoo."
"I like it," I say.
As the movie progresses, I inch a bit closer to her. And, I can't quite tell at first, but I think she inches closer to me, too. Before I know it, our hands are right next to each other on the cushion.
I take my chance when a jump scare happens and makes her gasp. I turn my head, meet her eyes, then intertwine my fingers with hers all in the same breath.
"Is this okay?" I ask.
She gets comfortable in my grip, situating her fingers and scooting a little closer. Now, we're hip-to-hip with our linked hands resting on my thigh. "Yeah," she says, grinning.
We watch the rest of the movie like that. Even though my hand gets sweaty, I don't make any move to fix it - because if I let go, I'm worried she'll think I'm letting go for good. And I do not want to stop holding her hand.
When the credits roll, Katniss lets out a long sigh. "That was good," she says.
I've seen the movie a few times, but she's right - it is good. "I like it," I say, then curse myself. Duh. Of course I like it. I own it. I picked it.
As I look at her pretty face, I realize that I almost never see Katniss with her hair down. It's not that she's more beautiful like this - she's beautiful all the time - but it's interesting to see a different side of her.
I run my thumb over her delicate knuckles and realize that I've got my eyes on her mouth again. But when I lift them up, I see that she's got her eyes on my mouth, too.
If I breathe wrong, I might just cough up my heart. It's beating that hard in my throat.
She swallows hard and licks her bottom lip, the tip of her tongue showing by just a fraction. Then, she draws that lip between her teeth and chews on it, staring at me like she's trying to communicate without words.
I think I might pick up what she's saying, but I need to make sure.
"Katniss," I say, "can I kiss you?"
Her eyes simultaneously light up and soften when I ask the question. "Yes," she answers, and squeezes my hand tight, like if she doesn't hold on, she might just float away. I know the feeling well.
I move closer, leaning in slowly. I don't close my eyes until the very last second, though, because I want to see her. I want to savor this moment. With her lips parted just slightly and her inky eyelashes gracing her cheeks, she's perfect. A painting. She's everything.
And when I press my mouth to hers, fireworks go off inside my body. The kiss is soft and tentative, but warm and sweet too. We go slow as we test the waters. And I love every second of it.
Her mouth tastes like honey.
When we pull apart, Katniss's eyes are as wide as I'm sure mine are. I don't want to be done - I don't ever want to stop kissing her, and it seems she feels the same way, because she leans back in and tilts her head to the side.
When our lips meet this time, I open my mouth a little and she does the same. I suck on her bottom lip and she gasps through her nose, then rests her free hand on my bicep, curling her fingers around the muscle. Following her lead, I place my free hand on her hip with my thumb on the point of the bone, and she squeezes my arm with approval.
"You're such a good kisser," she says breathlessly, a moment later.
I steal another kiss, a quick one, and she hangs on for a beat longer than I expected - and that makes me smile. "So are you," I say.
"No," she says, eyes cemented on my mouth. "You're way better."
"I beg to differ," I say.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she says, leaning back into the corner of the couch.
"You're a quick learner," I say, gladly getting closer as she pulls me into her space. "Let me show you."
Our linked hands only break so she can rest her grip on my shoulders as I hover halfway over her. I keep my weight off of her body with my hands braced on the arm of the couch behind her, and my feet stay on the floor - I don't want to do too much too fast. This is enough. This is more than enough.
Katniss lets her head fall back and I follow, kissing her languidly and thoroughly. She keeps up, skimming her hands down my sides, then surprises me by running her tongue over my lower lip.
"Is that okay?" she whispers.
"Yeah," I whisper back, then kiss the corner of her jaw. "Better than okay."
Her neck smells so good. Sweet and warm and natural, a scent that no one in the world could mimic. As I press my lips to her throat and close my lips around her pulse point, I drag my tongue over her intoxicating skin and find that she tastes just as good as she smells.
I suck on the side of her neck and feel her whimper more than I hear it. Her throat vibrates and she lets out a shaky exhale, one that comes with a soft little moan.
God, she's driving me crazy.
I suck on that same spot again, realizing that it must be doing something to her. She digs her fingers into my arms and arches her back, which makes her stomach press against mine as she takes a big breath. I keep sucking, putting forth a certain rhythm, and I swear I'm about to make her come with this alone - then the front door comes open.
I pull away from Katniss like she's made of fire and, in the next second, I'm met with the icy stare of my mother. I thought she and my dad were going to be out late - that's what they told me this morning. They're early. It's not even 10.
"What the hell is going on here?" my mother spits.
My stomach sinks and I break out in a cold sweat. These are two halves of my world that I never wanted to collide - ever. Ever.
"I… We were just…"
"Being inappropriate on my couch?" she says, squinting. She looks at Katniss for an extended moment - too hard, too long. "Are you an Everdeen girl?" she barks.
Katniss tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Yes, ma'am," she says.
My mother doesn't even acknowledge the fact that Katniss answered her. Instead, she looks at me and says, "Get her out of here. Take her home. Now."
I scramble up from the couch and Katniss follows close behind. We don't speak as we put our shoes on, and I keep my shoulders hunched by my ears. If all my muscles stay tense, Katniss won't be able to tell that I'm shaking.
We get in the car and Katniss wrings her hands all the way to her house. I want to say something - but what is there to say? There's no explanation for my mother's behavior, no excuse. Katniss was never supposed to see that.
We pull onto her street and, before we reach her house, Katniss says, "Here is good."
I shoot her a confused look. "I don't mind taking you all the way," I say.
"This is better," she insists. I stop the car and she looks guilty. "I… My mom thinks I'm with Madge. If she sees you…" She sighs. "I mean, any boy. If she sees…"
"No, I get it," I say. "Yeah."
We sit there for a few minutes, neither of us knowing how to fill the silence. I finally work up the courage to acknowledge what happened - because I know I'll feel ten times worse if I ignore it.
"Sorry about my mom," I say. "Really. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," Katniss says quickly.
"She ruined things. I'd been having a really nice night with you."
She relaxes and leans towards me, then takes my hand where it rests on the console. "I still had a nice night with you," she says, and I melt.
"Yeah?" I say, looking right into her eyes.
She nods, and I close the small space between us and hold her face with one hand. Then, I press my lips to hers in a long, wet kiss. We don't separate for a long time, both of us breathing each other's air, and when we do finally pull apart, we don't go far. I stroke her cheekbone with my thumb and she sneaks another kiss - a quick one.
"I wish I could freeze this moment right here, right now, and live in it forever," I say, and I truly mean it. I don't want to go home. Not only because I don't want to face my mother, but because I don't want to be apart from Katniss. Not now, or ever again.
"Okay," she says.
"Then you'll allow it?" I ask. Now, instead of stroking her cheek, I move to stroke her bottom lip with my thumb. It's plush and supple, and she lets me pull it down a little before smiling around my finger.
"I'll allow it," she says, then kisses me again.
We spend quite a while in my car, kissing each other senseless. A few minutes before 11, when her looming curfew forces us to stop, my lips feel bruised and swollen and hers are extra pink.
"I'll text you," she says.
"Not if I text you first," I say, holding onto her hand until I absolutely have to let go.
I watch her until she slips inside her house. Only when she completely disappears from view do I remember what I have to go home to.
…
My entire body is made of lead as I walk through the side door. I move as quickly as I can, hoping to make it up to my room unscathed, and by the time I'm on the stairs I almost think I've made it. But then I hear her voice.
"If you bring that dirty slut to this house again," my mother says from behind me. "Or if you see her at all, you will regret it. I promise you. Do you hear me?"
I freeze and grip the railing tight. There's nothing to do but agree. Even if I don't plan on obeying, it would be a death wish to go against her with the mood she's in.
"Yes," I say.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I hear you. I won't bring Katniss here again."
"No, you won't see that little whore at all," she says. "Honestly. Slumming it with an Everdeen. You disgust me."
I stay rooted in place until I hear her walk away, then head to the safety of my room. I lock the door and sit against my bed, then dig around underneath it for the X-Acto knife. I find it, close my fingers around the handle, and I've just lifted up my shirt to release some of this tension when my phone buzzes from my pocket.
It's Katniss.
RECEIVED, 11:19pm: cant stop thinking about you 3
I drop the knife to text her back.