Chapter 4: First Date
It's the middle of the night in District 12, and yet the entire Square is full, our people awake and going on very little sleep.
Sleep? What's sleep? We've been too anxious and excited to sleep, me especially.
After a grueling two and a half weeks, we are down to the Top Three in the 74th Hunger Games… and incredibly, both of District 12's tributes are still alive.
Every day, beginning with that first day that saw me throw up multiple times before Mother and I had even left the house for the Square, I have arrived in the Square a basket of nerves. Every day, like I need it for oxygen, I have turned to Peeta, my rock, my biggest supporter and practically pleaded with him:
"Please tell me she's going to be all right."
And every day, Peeta has given me a smoldering smile and crooned, soft as velvet, "She's going to be all right."
And somehow, Prim has been. There have been several heart-stopping close calls, to be sure, including when the Careers treed her like a coon and nearly captured her. She barely escaped with her life thanks to her own resourcefulness and a nest of tracker jackers perfectly dropped and deployed. Gale finally found her, along with the little girl from 11, Rue, not long after.
Then there had been the Feast. Prim and Gale had gone to the Cornucopia together, to achieve some poison they had thought might help them kill off some of the other remaining tributes. Prim had been attacked by Clove, but Gale and Thresh had both intervened. With Clove dispatched, Gale had been ready to turn on Thresh, providing a battle many in the Capitol had been waiting for. But Thresh had instead let both of our tributes go.
Now, my sister and my hunting partner are perched on the top of the Cornucopia facing off with Cato, their last enemy. I've kept Peeta's hand in mine, in a vice-like grip, all night, heart vacillating wildly back and forth from my throat to the pits of my stomach.
The last three combatants are now frozen in an eerie tableau, Prim armed with a spear aimed directly at the heart of Cato, who has Gale pinned in a headlock to use him as a human shield.
"Go on, little lady, throw," Cato goads. "Then we both go down and you win."
I watch the cameras capture the flicker of Prim's cerulean eyes as she hesitates.
"Go on…. I'm dead anyway…." Then Cato does something entirely unexpected: he starts to laugh. Bitterly. "I always was, right? I didn't know that till now. That it? – IS THAT WHAT THEY WANT?! HUH?" Prim focuses back on him, and he lets out a curious chuckle. "Nah…. I could still do this… I could still do this… One more kill…" Though Cato seems to be talking himself into it more than anyone. "Bring pride to my district… Not that it matters."
The entire time Cato has been… soliloquizing, Gale has surreptitiously, pointed a finger onto the back of Cato's hand, prompting Prim. She gets the hidden message exactly one second before Cato does.
Suddenly, the tip of the spear is in the back of Cato's palm, and he's howling. Gale almost gets completely loose from the chokehold, but his arms are trapped in an incomplete range of motion, and he and Cato start grappling.
Both strong boys go over the edge of the horn, almost in slow motion, down to where a pack of snarling wolf mutts wait below.
"NO!" Prim's scream is shrill.
I bury myself into Peeta's shirtfront as we listen to the horrible, human death screams of both Cato and Gale. Prim curls up in the fetal position on top of the horn and weeps until all goes quiet and her cries are the only thing that can be heard.
As the dawn breaks, here and in the arena, Prim peers over the edge of the Cornucopia, then slides down to where there are two bloodied lumps lying in the grass. One of them – Cato, I judge by a flash of blonde hair – isn't moving. But the other one is.
Prim kneels down at Gale's side and turns him over a little. My hunting partner is shaking violently, but when he sees Prim healthy and whole, he manages a bloody grin.
"Go home, Primmy," he rasps out the order.
She whimpers and shakes her head, tears rapidly falling. Tears are streaming down my cheeks too. "Not without you."
"Sure you can. Look after your sister. And you'd better get my brother Rory off his ass and ask him out."
We all chuckle tightly as Prim actually blushes. Gale lets out a final breath and grows still. All Prim can do is lightly close his eyelids.
Two cannons belatedly fire.
There is silence for a moment in the District 12 Square. Then, everyone erupts into cheers as Claudius Templesmith announces Primrose Everdeen as the Victor of the 74th Hunger Games.
I launch myself into Peeta's arms and he picks me up and spins me around. And when he sets me down, when I draw back, we hold each other's eyes for only a moment before we both lean in and share a long, slow, sensuous kiss of relief.
My lips quickly part pliantly under his, blossoming open to greet his tongue like a flower bursting into full bloom. Looping my arms about his neck, I feel my fingers curl into the long strands of Peeta's hair, and I grip him tightly, holding him close and keeping his mouth fused to mine. We deepen the kiss, lost in our own little world.
We finally break apart noisily, shyly. My lashes flutter as I open my eyes from where they had drooped shut.
Lifting my head, I give him a weak smile. "You won."
"The Games? Snow's Roses, no!" Peeta laughs, strained, perhaps thinking that, had things gone differently at the Reaping, he would have been the one who just died. I feel a sharp pain go through my insides as I quickly banish the imagining of it.
"Not that," I correct him quickly. "Our bet. You said that if Prim won the Games, I had to go on a date with you. She's coming home, Peeta. You won."
"Oh!" Peeta's blue eyes widen and he chuckles again, flushing, scratching the back of his neck. "Well… that was a silly bet. We don't… you don't have to go through with… I release you from it."
"Oh, yeah?" I tug his face down so he is a hair's-breadth from me. "Well, I don't release you!" I tenderly take his face in my hands and kiss him again, deeply – a long, slow, amorous kiss that makes him melt into me and kiss me back, making both of us whole.
According to Haymitch, there are places in the Capitol where you can sit down and have a full-fledged meal. The strange word he used to describe this kind of establishment was long when I first heard it, and sounds strange when I roll it off my tongue: restaurant.
Here in Twelve, we have no reason to eat anywhere other than in our own homes, unless you prefer taking a seat against one of the stalls in the Hob, like Greasy Sae and her famous stew. Most Merchant businesses who deal in perishable goods don't have space inside their storefronts for you to sit and enjoy the foodstuffs you have purchased.
The one exception is the candy shop.
There are little tables against the windows where one can sit and enjoy the delights you can buy – peppermint and candy canes, if you can afford them. The inside of the candy shop is colorful, the atmosphere almost unrealisitically happy – I decide that if Delly Cartwright was a building, this is what she would look like.
When Peeta escorts me here after picking me up at my house for our first date, I admit I am a little confused, but also immensely curious as to what he has in mind. I've never been on a date before – so ignorant am I in the ways of romance and courtship that I had to ask Peeta after an intense make-out session behind the bakery just what people do on a date. In an indication of the kind of man he is, Peeta had not held my amorous illiteracy against me.
"Well…. we'll go out someplace, maybe eat something if we can find it, and just talk – about each other." At first blush, it didn't sound any different than what I do – did - with Gale when hunting in the woods, though I was wise not to voice this. "Get to know one another better."
I had smiled at his cuteness. "We already know each other pretty well," I made my best attempt at flirting. Peeta's eyes had danced. "We do indeed."
Now, on this chilly night in late winter, I glance about the candy shop when we enter, smiling graciously as Peeta pulls out my chair for me. Tucking in my skirts, I sit down daintily, still peering around the shop curiously. "What made you decide on this place?"
"I figured we should go somewhere new, since we're starting in on something…. new," Peeta blushes bashfully as he circles the table to sit across from me. My cheeks warm right back. "Don't worry – for our next date, you can take us to the Hob if you want." My lips – along with one of my eyebrows – arch up in amusement at his presumptiveness; noticing, Peeta adorably tries to backpedal. "That is… if you want to go on a second date. I didn't mean to assume…"
"Peeta," I smile winningly. "I think you'd have to work very hard to turn me off from a second date with you."
"Yeah?" he grins at me, pleased. "Well, the first one isn't over yet…. Nice to know that I'm being graded." He straightens himself a little in his seat, as if that will somehow make him more presentable. His conscientiousness is cute, in a way – Peeta is clearly nervous, a side of him I don't often see, and I feel flattered that it is I who is leaving him all flustered.
A woman with whitening blonde hair approaches our table. She is eyeing me guardedly, and it is only then that I remember we are in a Merchant place of business. Seam folk don't often venture out this way, especially not at night, and even more especially not with a Town boy on their arm. I try and stare back as passively as I can while the lady takes our orders. I had spotted something on the menu called a chocolate bar, and request this. Peeta orders something called a fruit tart, and pays the lady in coin.
"Much obliged, Mrs. Donner."
Having brought what little coin I had myself, I try to protest Peeta footing the bill, but he merely shakes his head. "I've been waiting for years to wine and dine the most beautiful lady in all of Twelve. It's my treat." I turn a luminous shade of pink.
It takes me a moment to realize that this Mrs. Donner woman has turned back for a moment to keep studying me. Finally, she asks:
"Aren't you the girl who's now neighbors with the Abernathy boy up Victors' Hill?"
Befuddled at the question, I nod. More than this, I'm a little perplexed at this woman referring to a peer of my mother's as a boy. Mrs. Donner tilts her head for a moment as she considers my answer in the affirmative, then sweeps away to get our treats. Soon as she's gone, Peeta procures two loaves of bread from under his jacket and plops them on the tabletop.
"We might as well have something as dinner, since we've gone and ordered dessert first…" He chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Now that I think about it, maybe I should have planned where to take you better…"
"It's fine," I dismiss, smiling weakly. "I can't remember the last time I had dessert anyway."
Peeta starts to laugh, then realizes I wasn't making a joke. He stares at me with a combination of fascination and sympathy, with a dash of embarrassment thrown in at his own lack of tact. I shrug.
"Every once in a while, Daddy might save up enough to bring home an orange, when Prim and I were little. Treats were something rare, to be savored."
Peeta nods slowly. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask me anything," I blink.
"…. Does your mother ever get jealous of you?"
OK, I wasn't expecting him to ask me that, over all the things he could have possibly inquired about. Folding my hands in my lap, I cock my head in bemusement. "What do you mean?"
Peeta seems to be weighing his next words carefully. "It's just that…. I know she was sick… for a long time, when we were younger." He peers at me with admiration. "You probably had to do much of the child-rearing where Prim was concerned."
I purse my lips tightly. "I did," I admit slowly. "It was hard, but I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"
"I guess my point is, I can tell how much you have done for Prim, because I can see how much she adores you," Peeta smiles at me. "You are kind of like a mother to her."
"What's your point?" I ask, trying very hard to keep any impatience out of my voice.
"It's gotten me thinking…." Peeta birdwalks around. "You and I have…. talked before about our different life goals. Our opinions on marriage and family. I know you've said you don't want that, and I respect that, but I can't help but wonder how you can still be so afraid of letting others see your heart when you clearly have done such a wonderful job doting on Prim." He obviously remembers the talk we had in the bakery late that weird night, right before we nearly…. had sex on the counter.
I cock a ruffled eyebrow. "So you think I should reconsider my opinions on family life because of how I've looked after my sister? There are better ways to flatter me."
"No, no, I mean…" Peeta verbally treads water for a minute, looking a little panicked. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he tries again. Bravely, he reaches out to grasp my hand; sparks fly up my arm, and I suck in a breath. "Katty…. I am so thrilled you agreed to go out with me. And maybe we shouldn't be talking about where things might go right now – it's still early – but…. I want to be completely honest with you and tell you my intentions. Where I want this to go: I… I want to marry you someday. I can see us being married."
My heart and my face seem to go to war with each other: while my expression has now morphed into a kind of wince, my heart is actually sighing with yearning delight at the thought of being Peeta's wife in some not-too-distant future. Part of me can't help but be touched by Peeta's compliment, that he thinks we suit each other. And despite his trademark eloquence abandoning him for a time tonight, a tiny bit of me concurs that we do seem to suit each other. He and I are not a conventional couple by any means, but… Peeta understands me, and I understand him.
Lacing my fingers through his, I squeeze his hand, and I think I stun even myself when I ask in a whisper:
"Would you want to have a baby with me?"
His deep blue eyes enlarge at the question. "Nothing would make me happier than to have a child with you," he murmurs, running his thumb over my knuckles. "But if you're still uncomfortable with the idea, I would understand if we never did have a baby. I will always put your needs first."
I feel a pain in my heart at his sweetness, and also at my realization that I don't want him to give up his dreams of fatherhood for me, just because I'm too scared to be a mother. I happen to think Peeta would make an excellent father. I could never be the mother that his child would need, despite what he's told me about how I mother Prim.
In the interim, Mrs. Donner brings back Peeta's fruit tart and my chocolate bar. I take a bite into the treat. The bar is cold and hard, but then the chocolate quickly melts in my mouth and I let out a moan. "Wow…. This is good."
Peeta laughs at my expression. "I'm glad you like it."
I pause for a moment in ravaging my chocolate bar to gaze at him. "OK, my turn to ask questions."
"Go ahead," Peeta grins, folding his arms on the table.
"…. W-why did you fall in love with me?"
Peeta beams. "Because I heard you sing. It was our first day of school, we were in music assembly, and the teacher asked who knew the Valley Song. Your hand shot straight up, and you sat up on a stool and sang it for our entire grade. I remember, as I was listening to you, every bird outside the window fell silent."
"Oh, please," I say, laughing. "They did not."
"No, it happened," Peeta insists. "And right then, I knew… I was a goner. I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you so many times after that."
"Without success," I smile softly.
"Yeah, without success. I thought – still think – you're so beautiful, and strong, and fierce. And you might try and hide it, but I know you love people."
"Maybe," I smirk. "Not many people, though – trust me, it's a short list."
"That's all right. I'm just thrilled to be on it – assuming I am, of course," Peeta winks.
I duck my head shyly, smiling. "You are," I assure him. A pause, and then, I state: "I know you love everybody. Seems like every person in our grade wants to be your friend." A thought strikes me, and I lift my head, my expression dipping into wary no-nonsense. "Be honest with me," I tell him, even though I already know he will be. "Has there been…. anyone else? Is there anyone I should be…. jealous of?" My face burns red-hot. "Delly Cartwright, for example."
Peeta's face now sags in absolute confusion. "Delly Cartwright?"
"You kissed her the morning of our very first Reaping – very passionately, I might add. I saw you." I play with my half-eaten chocolate bar a little bit. "I think…. I was jealous. Even then."
I feel Peeta's warm hand close over mine. "You had no reason to be," he croons. "Delly and I have only ever been friends. We've played together since we were babies; she's practically my sister. I think she and I both looked at that Reaping Kiss as a joke; we laughed about it for months afterward. You don't have anything to fear from her, or Madge, or anyone else: I've only ever loved you."
My eyes swim with tears at this, still stunned at how Peeta could want someone like me. We freeze like that for I'm not sure how long, gazing into each other's eyes. I run my tongue over my lips in thought; meanwhile, Mrs. Donner returns with our receipt. Peeta nods to her his thanks, then stands and offers me his hand. Smiling happily, I slowly and bravely take it.
Our hands remain clasped like that the whole walk home. Peeta lets me off at my front porch in Victors' Village.
"So: did I earn that second date in the Hob?"
In answer, I silently loop my arms about his neck and push my lips against his in a gentle goodnight kiss.
This kiss is chaste and sweet, yet I still feel a fire burning through me. Heat pools in my belly and I am very reluctant for this feeling of his lips on mine to end. When I finally do pull away, very reluctantly, Peeta cups my face in his hands and tilts my head back.
"Can I kiss you again?"
"May I kiss you again?" I half-whisper, half-gasp, my eyes still lidded from want.
"May I….?"
"Yes, always," I breathe, not letting him finish before I'm diving back in for another.
Peeta's lips descend on mine faster, and I feel his strong arms encircle my waist, pulling me closer. I press myself tighter to him as my lover crowds me into the doorframe. I flower my lips open for him, upper and lower parting like rosebud petals as his tongue licks its way into my eager mouth.
I can feel Peeta's excitement for me brushing up against the inside of my thigh, and I boldly swivel my hips a little along this evidence of his desire. I feel Peeta moan into my mouth and he kisses me even more fiercely, and I kiss him back, moaning right along with him.
"Mmmmm….. Hmmmm….."
Even more than the sloppy kiss we shared in the Bakery after Gale's wedding, even more than the kiss I consider to be our first right after Peeta was whipped, I feel it is this kiss that once again changes everything for me. Brings more clarity to the picture Peeta and I have been painting in our romancing of each other. This is the first kiss that makes me want – no, need – another.
I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.
I deepen the kiss languorously, my hands reaching up to frame and caress Peeta's face until finally, after what seems like hours, we break apart softly. My eyes are shining as I peer at him, touching him, stroking him, already missing his lips and wanting them back along mine where they belong, but I know I must resist. We both need to sleep after all…. Though how much sleep I'll get after a…. wonderful date like this is up for debate.
"Goodnight," I whisper.
Peeta kisses me one last time, very gently, and I melt into it with a sigh, whining a little when he lets me go.
"Sleep well, sweetheart."
I keep my eyes on him until the last, staggering into my house dreamily and collapsing on my bed, my heart and head spinning.
I am asleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow, dreaming of my handsome baker's son.
