Week 5


The thrill of losing six pounds was gone.

It was long gone.

And it had taken every ounce of his self-control with it.

Leaning over, he took a few deep breaths and tried not to visibly pant enough that someone would stop and think he was about to drop over. Well, he might be, but pride kept him from admitting that. By his estimation, he was about five miles from home and had left his cell phone on the couch he'd hastily abandoned almost an hour and a half before. It had started well enough – he'd had a busy day at work, what with spring and all the baby showers and wedding cake orders pouring in. He'd dutifully ate his protein-packed lunch of baked chicken marinara and green beans and had finished the day strong. He'd avoided the delicately frosted blue cupcakes and sparkling wedding cake frosting as best he could.

Then…he'd gone home.

Home was where he struggled. Home was where he got into trouble with his eating. The siren call of his overstuffed sofa and his Tivo que had been too much to bear. Exhausted, he'd made the mistake of flopping down on his couch, kicking off his shoes, and settled in for a long night of holding his couch down and diving into his tv shows. That's when he'd noticed it: since when had TV commercials gotten so focused on food? Ad after ad flashed in front of his eyes, boasting two for one pizza deals, a seafood buffet doused in butter, and an Italian feast fit for any pasta lover. He didn't even have a particularly expensive TV, and yet there all this food was, glowing and glistening and ready for him. His growling stomach had gone from annoying to ravenous the longer he watched. Watching all of that decadent food flash in front of him in HD was doing nothing for his self-control. Hell, if he focused hard enough he could taste some of it. Driven to madness, he'd donned his workout gear and started walking.

Peeta had been so focused on the memory of all those stupid commercials when he realized he was so far from home. He could almost laugh at his own stupidity – almost.

Could be worse, he thought, wiping sweat from his brow. He could be home right now, buried in a two for one pleaser deal with a large fudge brownie. Those were the days, he thought wistfully. Glancing down, he eyed his stomach. He was still hungry. No amount of sweaty walking would take that way.

No amount of walking would take the hunger away, but he had to do this…

Katniss' face flashed in front of his eyes, but he let it dissolve almost before it could tease him. Glimmer had been a lesson to him, a lesson that he couldn't do any of this for some girl. He had to lose this weight and change his lifestyle for himself.

He glanced around the quaint little neighborhood where he now found himself, struck with the weight of his realization. As much as he didn't want to climb on that scale on Sunday and see a number he regretted and let Katniss down, he knew he didn't want to let himself down. Of course her opinion of him was important – she was his trainer, his guide, his expert in navigating this new and scary world of weight loss. He wanted to please her. But….he also knew this journey had to be about him. What he wanted. And he didn't want to feel this way anymore – like he hated himself, avoiding mirrors and the attention of others. That was no way to live.

Thinking back to all the lonely nights on his couch, huddled over a box of takeout, celebrating the fleeting moments of happiness that food could bring, and he realized that what he had been doing wasn't living.

It was existing.

And it had gotten old.

A new life wasn't hiding under a pizza, or in the bottom of a Chinese takeout bin. It was before him and he needed to embrace that.

With a sniff, he straightened up and turned in the direction of home. It would take him over an hour to walk back, but hopefully by then he would be so exhausted he could just shower and collapse into bed.

Putting one foot in front of the other, he slowly began his trek back.

Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpk

Katniss watched Peeta wince slightly as he finished his squat reps. She had him doing a free-form round of workouts today, targeting a different group of muscles each time. They would do short sets of several before moving on to target a different area of his body. For the first time in a while, she realized he was visibly struggling.

"Are you alright?" she finally asked.

Peeta gave her a sheepish look as he struggled to stand upright. "No?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Was that a question?"

"Yes?"

She snorted. "Wanna tell me what happened and why you can barely walk today?" she tried not to frown, but damn it that was just what her face naturally did, so she found herself frowning at him and making his cheeks redden. He was kinda cute when he blushed….

"Don't make fun," he wheezed, wiping his forehead. "I uh…overdid it last night."

"With what?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Yes."

"Walking."

She kept her face neutral as she waited for a further explanation. "Walking?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I uh…didn't want to be home. So I just started walking. Before I knew it um…I was a bit further than I realized. Little too dumb to realize I hadn't really planned it."

"Let me guess – it wasn't exactly a circle?"

"No," he said flatly, shaking his head. "I trekked back and I guess I…overdid it." He searched her face for a few moments, she guessed waiting for her to laugh.

With a shrug, she handed him a medicine ball. No laugh came. "It happens. We've all overdone it, nothing wrong with that as long as you didn't pull anything or sprain anything?"

Peeta felt a rush of appreciation towards his trainer. She hadn't made fun of him.

"No," he breathed, "Just sore."

"Good. Well, it's better than sitting around, right? Just don't overdo it again. Maybe take some Advil tonight and take a hot shower. Stretch before bed, you'll live, yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed, giving her an awkward smile. "Just feel kinda silly."

"Why's that?"

"I just….got a few miles from home before I even really realized what had happened. How dumb is that? Wandering off like some idiot?" he laughed nervously again, shaking his head at himself.

Ignoring his comment, she motioned for them to stand back to back. "Twist to one side, grab it from me, twist the other side, hand it back. Thirty reps…ready?"

"Ready," he mumbled. They started the exercise and Peeta seemed too tired to really be as stiff as he normally was when she touched him. It hadn't escaped her that he tended to tense and stutter anytime she so much as brushed his arm. If it lasted longer than a split second, he would blush too. Katniss smiled to herself. It was endearing. He wasn't the guy that copped a cheap feel and felt boastful about it. That warmed her cold heart, somehow.

"Twenty nine…and…thirty. Take a breath, drink some water," she coached.

"So….care if I ask what made you walk so far?"

He shrugged. "I….my place just reminds me of food, as weird as that is. Memories of just doing…" he gulped in nervousness at admitting this in front of Katniss, "nothing. Just eating, and sitting, and hating it. A night it's just hard sometimes not to fall backwards into bad habits, so….I just didn't want to be there."

"That makes sense. I've heard of places and people triggering bad habits. That's not anything unheard of," she assured him. His admission felt like it was difficult, and she ached a little for his candor. That couldn't be easy for him to admit to her.

"So are you staying on track then? With Annie's plan?"

He nodded earnestly before taking a long drag from his water bottle. He didn't seem like the type of person who would lie, she realized. Her eyes focused in on him. It was rude to stare, but she couldn't help following a bead of sweat as it rolled down his neck. Down the path of his neck, past his Adam's apple, and down into his t-shirt it went. Blinking stupidly, she quickly looked away. Why was it that when some men sweat, it smelled like the underside of a damp dumpster, but when Peeta sweat, it smelled like a manly mixture of spice and cinnamon? It didn't seem fair. She smirked to herself as they started another set.

"Yes, I am. It's hard sometimes….I'm still hungry, and I caved last week. I had a cupcake at work."

"I still say you have an iron will to work in a bakery and attempt a diet. If I worked there, I'd fantasize about sneaking back into work after everyone left for the day and just eating myself stupid on those cinnamon rolls. I feel like you'd find me the next day, collapsed on top of a heap of bread, dead from gorging myself on icing," she muttered.

Peeta snorted, grabbing the ball from her to twist. "But what a way to go. Think of the obituary."

"Right?" she laughed. "That's about thirty. We forgot to count."

"Would it help if I told you it felt like fifty?" he joked.

She laughed again, letting the medicine ball drop to the mat with a thud. "I guess. Now I have cinnamon rolls on the brain. How do you do it? Not eat all day?"

He shrugged. "I guess I kinda used to, ya know? But it didn't lead to good things…"

"I guess. But I still say you have amazing will power to be around all that food and not eat it all day long. I wouldn't beat myself up over a cupcake. Once you get to a certain point, I think a cheat day is allowed."

"Annie said that yea," he panted. "She wants me closer to my goal weight though. That's more for when you're at target and maintaining I guess."

"Makes sense," she nodded. "Do you want to weigh?"

"Now?" he asked, his head whipping up.

"Yeah, it's been a week since your last one. Why not?"

"Uhm…."

He blushed harder and stammered a few times, but didn't really fight her on it. Following obediently, she hopped up the stairs to the weighing station and readied her clipboard for his next weigh.

"It's not….it's not the execution block you know," she laughed at her own attempt to crack a joke. She couldn't help it though. Peeta looked like he'd just been invited to witness his own untimely death when she brought up the scale. Was he really that anxious about it? Should she not joke?

"I know, I just…."

"You've been here four times a week, you've stuck to Annie's plan…what's the worst that could happen?"

He gave her a sheepish look before stepping onto the scale. No answer came. Instead, she realized he was focusing on looking anywhere but at the scale.

Letting her eyes drift to the digital display, she quickly did the math and felt her face brighten. "Five pounds down. That's eleven total in five weeks. We call that 'not too shabby' in my business," she grinned, urging him off the scale and towards the blue backdrop.

Peeta seemed momentarily distracted from the horror of getting his progress pictures taken by her words. "Five?"

"Five."

He was quiet, she realized. "What's wrong?"

"Does that seem like a lot to you? Or not much?"

She snorted, pulling out the camera. "Uh, yeah. Next time you're at the grocery store, go the meat section. Pick up an eleven pound turkey and think about your body no longer having to haul that around. Then come talk to me, okay?"

She watched him think a moment before chuckling to himself. "Yeah, okay."

Kpkpkpkpkpkpk

Short update! I know, but I wanted to let you all I was still alive. Summer weather and these long days have me outside on my back deck allll the time, so my apologies. Any mistakes are my own, and I've had some wine this evening, soo... ; )

Love you all, thank you for following this story on it's journey!