Chapter 4

Peeta sipped his lager and glanced around the bar. He hadn't really wanted to come out that night, but figured drinking in the company of his brother was better than drinking alone in his apartment.

"This place has the best nachos, I swear," Rye muttered, crunching happily on another nacho-cheese soaked chip. "The cheese is like perfectly melty and I think it's a tad spicy…Peet?"

Peeta was busy, lost in his thoughts. He'd been nearly useless at work that day – so much so that his dad had even noticed.

"Is this about that girl, son?"

"What girl, dad?" he'd tried to play dumb at first, hoping he wouldn't have to rehash the Glimmer catastrophe again.

"You know which girl. Miss long blonde hair, prances in and buys pastries every few weeks. You know."

"Oh, you mean the girl I asked out and then had her ruthlessly shoot me down and call me fat? Yeah dad, this is about her."

"Son…" he dad had sighed, "We're big boned people. You need to accept that and move on. She's pretty and all that, but you'll find someone who appreciates you for you. And when you do…never let her go."

"Peet?"

"Sorry, what?" he asked, turning back to Rye. His brother gave him a weird look before digging back into his nachos.

"If you want some of these, you'd better make it quick. Holy shit, there's like a whole other layer of chips under this layer of cheese…"

Peeta cleared his throat and gripped his glass. He had always enjoyed bars, but they made him a little nervous. Women came to bars to drink and flirt and to pick up guys, but he'd never had such luck. He was always the wingman for his friends or the guy who would buy drinks for girls in hopes he could talk to them. Usually all he got was a slightly creeped out smile and a trite 'thanks' before they scampered off like he had the plague. No, bars had never really been his 'scene'.

He was in a mopey rut, but had no idea how to pull himself out of it. Glimmer had rejected him almost a week ago and he hadn't seen her since. He'd certainly filled the gap of her presence with food, no issue there. His nights had been filled with late night pizza deliveries and a six pack all to himself since that day. It was horrible pattern that he was having a difficult time breaking –not that he would ever know how. He'd even gone to the grocery store that afternoon, completely set on getting all of the crap out of his fridge so that it wouldn't be there to tempt him and try to replace it with healthy food. Instead, he'd stood in the produce section of the town's giant chain-health food store and stared blankly at all of the options. Everything was bright, leafy, and he had no clue what to do with it. It looked like rabbit food that would keep you full for all of five minutes¸ he thought. In the end, he'd replaced his basket at the front of the store and had walked out empty handed and utterly confused on what to do next.

Starve and be miserable, or stay fat and get even more miserable? The only option he'd been able to think of was to invite his just as single brother out for a beer. So far he'd been able to resist the huge, greasy pile of nachos Rye had ordered, but it wasn't easy. The smell of the hot, spicy cheese melting over the crispy chips was making his empty stomach rumble in protest.

This was impossible.

Eager to change the subject, he turned to his brother and tried to ignore the food in front of him.

"Do you think Bran is happy with Delly?" he asked, thinking of his sister in law. Bran had met his wife in college twelve years and about a hundred pounds ago. Peeta loved his oldest brother and knew what a great guy he was from growing up with him, but he'd been pleasantly surprised when he realized Delly had seen that too. Bran was a big guy with an equally big heart, the type who would give someone the shirt off his back or do anything for anyone. Delly clearly recognized that in him – he'd seen the way his sister in law looked at Bran. It was the face of a woman who adored her husband and loved him for who he was on the inside. She'd never made one snide comment about Bran's weight, nor would anyone else's and she never expect his brother to change.

Where Delly's kind heart and loving personality overshadowed a lot of things in their family, it didn't do the same for Peeta's mother. She'd made several comments about Bran's size and how Delly was not exactly skinny herself.

Peeta didn't get it, really. Delly was gorgeous, at least to Peeta. Her pretty pale skin was accented by her bright, crystalline blue eyes and round, rosy cheeks and framed with her light blonde curls. She was one of those people who had a cheerful voice and was always smiling. Bran had even given her the nickname 'Sunshine' and Peeta could see why. Sometimes he thought his older brother was the luckiest guy in the world, and Peeta had loved her like a big sister instantly.

But his mother just didn't see any of that. Instead, it was comments about how round Delly had gotten and how her short height wasn't doing her any favors.

Her insults over the years seemed to echo in his head as he sat and gripped his glass. Delly got the least of it compared to Peeta.

Pudgy. Fatty. Lard butt.

"Do I think Bran is happy with Delly? Hells yes, brother. And why not? She's a doll. Sweet, loves the heck outta him, puts up with mom, cooks like a saint. What's not to love?"

Peeta sighed. "You ever want that?"

Rye blinked. "Of course I do, Peet. Just haven't met the right girl s'all."

Peeta watched his overweight brother shovel another few nachos into his mouth and glance around the bar without a care in the world.

What woman would want us at this weight though? We're nice guys, but girls have such high standards….

"I just…I want that, Rye. I want a wife, and…and maybe kids."

His brother clapped him on the back, shrugging. "You'll get there. You're a cool dude, bro. You were a little weird as a kid, but I dunno, you turned out alright. You'll meet that girl," Rye grinned.

Peeta glanced around the bar and winced. Everyone around him suddenly seemed younger, thinner, and more attractive than he could have ever hoped to be. Where did that leave someone like him? Pushing thirty, overweight, and inexperienced? He didn't really have a ton to offer a prospective date... Not compared to this crowd, anyway, he thought. How did people get so thin? Not just thin – good-looking? He shifted in his seat. He'd been uncomfortable before, but could never remember feeling this uncomfortable in his own skin. He wanted to talk to someone about it, but suddenly Rye didn't seem like the right person. What could he say to his older brother that would make him understand the poisonous thoughts swirling around his mind?

I hate who I am. I hate the way I look. I don't feel like this body matches the person I am on the inside. I avoid mirrors.

I hate my life.

Peeta inhaled deeply, suddenly not very thirsty or hungry. That last thought had been a reoccurring theme lately. It was scary.

"You think I'd get a nice girl with this body?"

Rye glanced up from his nachos, chewing thoughtfully. "You want my honest opinion?"

Peeta nodded.

Rye shrugged nonchalantly and wiped his hands on one of the flimsy napkins. "If you meet the right girl, it shouldn't matter what you look like. She wouldn't care."

"Yeah but…they do. When's the last time you saw me out on a date?"

"When's the last time you asked someone on a date?" Rye countered.

"The…well the thought of taking a girl home and….you know…I just can't. It…the thought of doing that makes me sick."

"You don't wanna?" Rye frowned, pausing. An awkward beat passed before he spoke. "You uh….you like guys, Peet?"

"What?" Peeta jolted upwards, his eyes wide. "That is not at all what I was trying to say here, Jesus…"

"It's fine if you do man, I don't….it's cool-"

"-No, you're…I don't think you get what I'm saying. I asked out Glimmer and I just…part of me thought about what would have happened had she said yes. If… I took her home and we…if it got to the point where we…"

"Oh!" his brother's face lit up with understanding. "You'd have to get naked."

"Yes."

Rye thought a moment more, wiping his hands on the already frayed napkin. "I don't think the girl you marry should care what you look like naked. I don't think whoever you end up with should give two shits about what size your clothes are."

"But how do you find a girl who will even take you seriously if you don't…if you're this size? I've always been the friend, Rye. No girl wants a guy like me."

His older brother leaned back in his chair. Surprise and shock were painted on his face.

"Peeta, this doesn't sound like you, man. Are you still upset about that Glimmer girl? Don't be. Not wife material, Peet."

Peeta snorted. "Who said I'm looking for a wife, Rye? I'm just looking for someone to-"he stopped himself, lowering his voice. "I just want to cross that main bridge if you know when I mean."

Rye gave him a skeptical look. His older brother had been a little more outgoing in college and didn't have the same virgin-y problem that Peeta had. He'd played football for state and had a few more opportunities than his little brother, so to speak. He hadn't gotten much action since his college football days, but it was at least experience, Peeta realized. It would have been humiliating to have to tell someone like Glimmer, who could probably have any guy she wanted, that he was a virgin.

A fat virgin.

Peeta's eyes were drawn to the guy drinking a few tables down. Even in his jeans and faded white t-shirt, one could tell he was built. Slim waist, a thick, defined chest, and corded muscled arms that flexed every time he lifted his beer mug. He sighed and drained the rest of his drink. It would take him a hundred years to get a body like that. How do guys even get that buff? Do they just eat plain chicken and broccoli all day?

Rye followed his gaze and the two of them watched as discretely as possible as another man walked up to Buff Guy's table. If Peeta had thought Buff Guy number One was built, he had almost nothing on Buff Guy number Two. This man was model-esque in the face with defined cheek bones and crystalline eyes, but he too was trim and fit looking. His muscles were leaner and more defined and Peeta pretty much thought he was going to be sick.

He turned his attention back to Rye. "What would you give to look like that?"

His brother snorted. "Looks like a lotta work, Peet. Plus, you don't know – could be steroids or something like that. No tellin' what they did to look like that. Besides – they might be miserable and hate themselves."

Peeta stared down into his empty mug. What if I already am miserable and practically hate myself? He wondered. As much as he loathed to admit it, he had hit rock bottom. His thoughts were buzzed but clear as he realized it. He didn't want to be the fat guy anymore, or the lonely guy, or the sidekick, or any other lame, self-deprecating term he'd always associated with himself.

It was definitely time for a change.