WEEK 1
She hadn't lied to him. At least there was that.
Peeta had woken up at the crack of dawn the next morning for work, sore from what felt like head to toe. He'd taken her advice and done the shower, stretching, and ibuprofen and was glad he had. He couldn't imagine what shape he'd be in had he skipped her advice.
Getting out of bed was the hardest part. In fact, it was damn near impossible. Normally he pulled himself out of bed at least ten minutes before his alarm (his body used to bakers' hours) and shuffled his way to his morning shower.
Currently, the most he could do was lean on his knees on the edge of the bed and scowl across the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom.
Fuck, he realized. I hurt.
And they hadn't even done that much, he recognized. He'd left the gym yesterday with a little swing in his step at having accomplished something so terrifying and surviving it. Hell, he'd been so pleased he'd even been able to step through the front door of the gym that the elation still hadn't worn off hours later. It was a high he would have normally celebrated with food, but….the excitement and drive to please his new coach won over and he'd overcome. The small battle over his stomach was enough to make him feel like he'd already won the war. He'd gone to bed hurting, but feeling accomplished.
Now, standing under the hot spray of the water, he just felt….tired.
And sore.
Can't forget sore.
And he still basically wanted a cupcake or two.
Gotta keep moving. I shouldn't be this tired. No, I'm not tired. This shower is refreshing and I'm not even hungry. Just eat some eggs for breakfast and try not to think about how good they would be topped with cheese. And maybe a side of bacon. Oooh, and hash browns with that awesome ketchup-y salsa stuff in the back of the fridge…damn it.
Suddenly yesterday's accomplishment had seemingly vanished into thin air. Opening his eyes, he stilled under the streams of water. Would the pride and accomplishment always wear off so quickly? Was one day even enough to be proud of? Surely. But still….he paused the motions of running the soap up and over his body, wrinkling his nose. Ulgh, every surface of his stomach and sides felt like jello. Reaching down, he grasped the fatty skin and heaved a sigh. Make that soapy jello. Suddenly, being in the shower naked with his own thoughts wasn't very refreshing.
He felt disgusted.
He glanced at himself in the mirror as he toweled off, something he normally avoided at all cost. It wasn't usually worth the feeling of self-loathing that early in the morning, and it was usually torture enough to have to towel off all of his side rolls and stomach pooch. Despair set in quickly.
Would this be a daily struggle, he wondered? He'd felt amazing after his workout with Katniss. How had it worn off so quickly?
Kpkpkpkp
She focused on the mat in front of her, spraying the liquid on plastic surface in a halfhearted pump. Tuition payment is coming up. Have to write Prim a check. Have to make sure said check doesn't bounce from here to Hong Kong…when did I cook that roast? Is eight days too long to eat meat after it's been cooked? It smelled a little funky last night, but I don't get paid for another four days…is that ramen still in the back of the cabinet? Its pork flavor. I hate that one…
"Earth to Katniss…"
Gale's voice broke her out of her thoughts, causing her to snap her head up.
"What?" she asked a little too sharply.
He barely noticed. He was used to the tone of her voice after so many years of friendship. "You've been cleaning that same spot for ten minutes."
Glancing down, she stopped the circular motion and sat back on her knees.
"Oh."
"Whatcha thinkin bout?"
"Food. Bills," she answered honestly.
The look in his eye was one of understanding, and he would never understand how much she appreciated never seeing so much as a flicker of judgement reflected in his sea colored eyes. Gale was her friend, in good times and bad. And he had certainly seen his share of bad times. She didn't feel shame in front of Gale. They understood each other.
"Get paid Friday."
Her non-committal grunt answered his thoughts.
"You need me to float you some?"
Katniss shook her head. "No, we'll make it."
Gale flopped unceremoniously down on the mat with her, not even bothering to look busy.
"Still though," he shrugged casually. He and Katniss both knew that making a big deal of being short money was not their style, nor was it their favorite topic. They both knew the other was good for a loan if someone was in a tight spot. True to form, he didn't press it. A moment of relief flickered through her gut as he spread out on the mat in front of her.
"Crane here yet?" she asked knowingly, already sensing the answer. There was no way the star employee would be lounging around like that if their boss was in the building.
"No," he grinned, lounging back as if he were on the beach.
She chuckled. Gale could always make her laugh. Especially when times were tough. They'd grown up together, constantly covering each other's asses in everything from grocery bills to permission slips. She'd learned to forge Hazel's signature by the time she was fourteen. Gale had learned to fix the hot water heater in their old house the second day they'd moved in. It was a give and take friendship and it had served them both well over the years.
"Figured. I've never seen you here not acting busy."
He only snorted.
"Suck up."
Gale ignored her comment. "Crane's office door was open when I was leaving yesterday. Said your new client left smiling. What's with that?" he waggled his eyebrows at her, clearly hoping to get a rise.
Her stomach flopped. In the shit show that had been the last twenty four hours, she'd almost forgotten about him.
"Oh…that."
"Yes, that. He really gave you a guy to train? I thought he'd change his mind."
"Girls can train just as hard as guys," she wrinkled her nose.
Gale held up his hands in mock defense. "Never said they couldn't! Just surprised is all. Well, you must have not sucked, that's all I'm sayin'."
She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for your vote of confidence, ass," she stood, tossing the stinky towel in the nearby bin of dirty ones. Hands on her hips, she shrugged. "I think Crane only gave him to me because I was standing there. Or he wants to see me fail."
"So don't."
It was always so easy with Gale. He never accepted whiners. Gale was black and white.
"I don't plan to," she frowned. "He's a nice guy. I think he just needs some help."
Gale raised a dark eyebrow. "And?"
"And…." Katniss trailed off, thinking of Peeta's mortified blush and shy gaze. "And I was nice to him so he'll come back today, that's what."
"Well that's a relief," he deadpanned quickly, his face straight but his eyes dancing.
She pelted the bottle of cleaner at him, aiming straight for his nuts. His blocked it, just barely.
"Hey!" he guffawed out, "That was close!"
"Exactly," she growled, turning on her heel. It was going to be a long day.
Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp
The day passed slowly. Two yoga classes and a Body Pump session kept her busy enough, but as the afternoon sun shone through the windows of the gym, she found herself yearning to be off work and free to enjoy the pretty spring day. Prim would be in class that night, but she was hoping to get a start on their garden. The backyard of their rented old house wasn't fancy – a lumpy lawn that usually needed mowing, surrounded by a decaying picket fence. The only adornment was the rickety lawn chair where Haymitch would sometimes sit and have his evening smoke, joined by the coffee can full of cigarette butts beside it. Katniss would have normally thrown a fit at him for smoking so close to the house for fear he'd pass out and drop a lit cigarette on the ground and start a fire, but she'd kept her mouth shut and so far so good. The first summer they'd lived there, he had been in a good enough mood to let her borrow a small rototiller from the city landscaping crew and make a decent sized garden plot. Between Prim's babysitting money and what Katniss could scrape together, they'd had enough to go to the greenhouse and get started on their garden. The extra food had saved them more than once, so she was determined to keep that going.
But the day wasn't over yet. Shuffling to her board of assignments for the day, her eyebrows lifted from their furrowed state.
Katniss – 1 on 1 with Peeta Mellark
She'd almost forgotten. Checking her watch, she frowned again when she realized it was time for him to be there and there was no one in sight. It was early enough in the day that the evening, after work crowd was still an hour or so away and all that was left were retirees and people who likely worked night shifts and wanted to grab a workout before work. Wandering up to the front of the gym, she hovered close enough to see the front door but stayed far enough away so she wouldn't have to actually talk to the vapid front desk girls.
Crane's door was open, she realized. What would he say if she's already lost her client on day two? She needed to look busy. Grabbing a dreaded spray bottle and a fresh towel, she intended to do just that. The door chime buzzing brightly made her look up.
Peeta hurried through the doors, a bag slung over his shoulder. His cheeks were red and his eyes were bright and slightly frantic. They darted around the front lobby for a moment; nervous, full of trepidation, then, he saw her.
She smiled, jumping slightly at his next outburst.
"I'm sorry!" he fumbled, nearly dropping the bag as he made his way over to her. She put on her best smile and tossed the cleaning materials aside. Relief shot through her at the sight of him. She would at least make it one more day at Panem Fitness if Peeta had returned.
Take that, Crane. Miserable SOB…
"What for?"
He recovered with a smile, only to let it falter at her question. "For…being late," he stammered, nearly dropping his bag again. He'd brought the smell of the fresh spring air with him, but it was mixed with something else. The annoying front door chimed behind him but she barely noticed. The inviting smell wafted into her nose and chest and settled within her like only something familiar could. It was soothing.
Bread, she realized. He smells like fresh baked bread.
"I hate being late, it's just…rude," he explained, the faint blush returning to his cheeks.
She hoped he didn't notice her extra inhale as she plastered her best smile on her face and tilted her head. Of course he would smell like bread – he'd told her only yesterday his family owned a bakery.
"You came back."
The smile faltered again, and she cringed at the tone of surprise in her voice. His lips opened and closed, his warm eyes going dull.
"I….yeah."
Fuck, I am so awkward. I am just awkward, awkward…fuck…she thought.
"No, no…I'm…I'm not surprised you're back because…shit, oh! Sorry…I shouldn't have said that, I….I am just not the best trainer. Remember yesterday how I told you that you were my first one on one client?" she cringed, "Well, I'm surprised my….awkwardness and just…personality didn't scare you off."
The hurt look in his eyes instantly faded, replaced instead with almost instant forgiveness.
"Oh, well…no, of course not. I said I would be back, so…here I am. You didn't do too much damage," he offered shyly, scratching the back of his head. "How has your day been?"
She stopped, surprise registering on her face.
"My day?"
He nodded. "Going okay so far?"
He looked….interested. She closed her mouth, then opened it again as she tried to find words. A halfhearted smile was all she could manage.
"Fine….Well, let's get started."
Kpkpkpkpkpkp
True to her word, Katniss didn't make him step on a scale or take more humiliating pictures.
"We save that for Sundays," she promised him with a tiny smile as she increased his treadmill speed. They'd returned to the small room off to the side again to start, doing stretches as the afternoon sunlight shone through the windows. It hadn't been sunny the day before, and somehow the bright light made the place less daunting. Between the cheery lighting and Katniss' tank top, this was shaping up to be an alright afternoon. He almost hadn't minded his body screaming at him for half an hour as she helped him bend and stretch and breathe through the pain.
"Let's just adjust this…"
Peeta averted his eyes as she leaned over him and adjusted the incline. Her breast brushed against his elbow and he bit his lip to try to keep from blushing. It was rude and crude of him to ogle her in her work uniform – a quick glance around the room confirmed that Katniss wasn't decked out in the form fitting uniform of Panem Fitness on her own volition. While the styles varied, every employee, male and female appear to have to don the tight fitting, spandex-y looking uniform of the business.
However, she seemed to manage to make it look the best.
Don't be that guy, he chided himself. Guys probably gawk her all day in that thing. How could they not? She's flawless. Perfect skin, fit, chocolate hair, and those eyes….how is it fair that some people are born so utterly gorgeous? That should be illegal. Or they should at least have to pass some sort of niceness test. Yeah, that's it. If you're nice, you get to be pretty. If you have a heart of gold, you get to look like you belong on a runway or something. That would be nice…
His thoughts drifted as he walked, the treadmill rumbling as it changed inclines and speeds. A flittering feeling of shame wove through him as he realized he was actually getting tired and slightly out of breath. They'd barely done more than stretch and walk! Refusing to let himself be humiliated, he dug deeper and kept walking. What else could he do? It would be nothing short of excruciatingly humiliating to have to stop now or tell her he was tired.
Katniss watched his gait, marking his session down on her clip board. She was monitoring his heart rate and how stressed his body appeared to be, taking careful notes. He was starting to sweat, but that was normal. He also looked slightly uncomfortable as the treadmill continued to fluctuate inclines and speeds every few minutes, but it wasn't time to quit just yet.
Don't give up, she silently chanted, chewing the eraser on her pencil. This might be easier if they talked, she realized. Cringe. She'd never been good at making conversation with people she'd just met. Prim and Gale were used to her biting remarks and sarcasm followed by silence; Peeta wouldn't know how to handle her. So far his personality seemed to be quite Brady-ish and that was never good for Katniss.
"So….did you work today?" she finally asked, trying not to sound forced.
Peeta nodded, flashing a shy grin. "I did."
"That would explain the cinnamon," she muttered, more under her breath than aloud.
"What?"
"Oh," it was her turn to look embarrassed. "I said…that explains the cinnamon smell."
"Oh, sorry," he said slowly, his cheeks turning that ruddy color again. She immediately felt like an ass again. That was twice in one session her lack of social skills and conversation had somewhat insulted Peeta, who was currently looking like he wanted to collapse into himself and disappear.
Crap.
"No, it…smells…nice," she offered awkwardly. "I mean, at least you get to hang out in a bakery all day and not a sweaty gym."
He nodded good naturedly, the expression on his face replaced with relief. "It's not bad. I mean, I do like working there. My dad does most of the baking, like, cakes and stuff. I decorate them, I uh…always kinda been artsy, erm….and then I bake our famous sourdough loaf. Yeah, it's not bad. I don't mind it most days I guess," he grinned.
It was clear he was passionate about baking, she realized.
"How could you not? Surrounded by what I can only imagine to be food heaven. So cakes and bread. What other sort of things do you make there?"
"You've never been?" He asked, his tone surprised. She looked up in surprise to find his eyes bright as he walked, darting between watching his steps and her face. He looked genuinely shocked she'd never been.
"Uh…no?"
"Mellark & Sons Bakery? Wow. I thought everyone in town had been at least once. We're kinda known for our sourdough loaf. And the five herb loaf, oh, and cinnamon rolls. I was uh…mixing dough for that before I came. Hence the erm…cinnamon," he blushed again. "You've really never been in?"
She shrugged, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. How could she explain to him that visiting trendy bakeries wasn't high on her list? She didn't really want to divulge the fact that she and Prim had to shop at the bargain grocery store and had for years. It was trendy to do it now, but theirs was more of a necessity. She was used to bread that tasted like cardboard and was likely a few days from the expiration date. The idea of spending her hard earned money on frivolous things like decorated cakes and fancy loaves of herb bread was foreign a foreign concept. Her stomach gave an interested gurgle at the thought of everything Peeta had just described.
"No, I haven't. But maybe I will."
Peeta smirked as he walked, glancing over at her. He seemed to have been distracted from his workout by talking to her, so she kept it up. She found he was pleasantly chatty once she got him rolling. He was a constant stream of conversation and questions, mostly about her, which she craftily diverted each time with minimal information. Her life was nothing she wanted to really talk about or dwell on these days. Nothing brought the mood down like hearing about her crappy rented house or stacks of bills to pay. Instead, she watched him walk and asked him about his work at the bakery, which she found he was more than happy to discuss. All the while she noted the way his blond hair seemed to curl on the ends when he sweat and how the sky blue color of his eyes was both warm yet striking at the same time.
"We do small time wedding cakes, and now we do coffee and all of that. In the summer, we make awesome fruit tartes and whoopie pies."
"What's a whoopie pie?"
He laughed. "Basically two devil's food fudge cookies with this stuff we called fluff in the middle. It's heavy whipping cream that's been mixed and beaten and had confectioners' sugar added to it until it's light and fluffy, then frozen. You can eat like four of them in one sitting. Well…maybe not everyone," he admitted, "I mean, you get why I'm fat now, right?" he chuckled.
Katniss shook her head. "You're not…don't say that," she snapped, her voice sharper than she'd intended.
Peeta sobered almost instantly. Reaching over, she switched off the machine and let him slow into an eventual stop. "What? I mean…you see me, right?"
The gym bustled around them, but that was all forgotten as she stood in front of the treadmill and looked at him. The entire time he'd been talking, she hadn't once looked at his physical form. His stories about baking and hearing him talk about the bakery had drawn her in. His voice had been deep and soft as he'd described his work that was about a hundred times more interesting than hearing about some yuppie office job or worse, what all the guys spoke of at work – body building and protein shakes. A person could only take so much of that before getting completely sick of it. Peeta was interesting to talk to. And kind. And while she didn't want to talk about herself, she was flattered he'd asked and sounded genuinely interested. She couldn't remember the last time anyone but Gale or Prim had asked her about her day.
"If you're going to do this, you can't talk about yourself like that," she muttered, motioning to the mats again. The towel she'd been holding was thrust into his hands, and he gingerly wiped his brow. Peeta was a bit confused – he'd only told the truth. It was a truth he'd heard many times: he was fat. He was fat and that was clear as day. Why had that upset her?
The mood between them had shifted. His stupid mouth was of course to blame. Why couldn't he do anything right? Disappointment surged through him as he watched her face turn dark as she began stretching. He followed suit, the air between them somehow cold and still despite the muggy gym. They'd been talking and laughing as he walked, the conversation easy between them. How he'd managed to talk to a girl so beautiful for so long was still beyond his grasp, but Katniss was easy to talk to. Until he'd opened his stupid mouth with that self-deprecating comment. Usually when he said things like that people just agreed because it was a fact – he was out of shape and heavy. No one denied it, himself included. Why had she reacted like that?
The hopeless feeling he was used to returned, but this time it was for a completely different reason.
