Chapter 23


Peeta's back hit the brick wall as she shoved him, effectively knocking the wind out of him. The gasping breath he took was from Katniss's exhale as she roughly held him against the scratchy surface and kissed him.

Oh fuck she tastes better than anything, he thought as her mouth pushed roughly against his. In his daze, he tried to kiss her back as his heart thudded relentlessly against his chest. The hoppy aftertaste of the beers they'd drunk hung on her lips as she moved her mouth over his again, making a noise between a giggle and a gasp for air. The tingle of her lips on his shot all the way to his toes, making them curl in his shoes. He felt electric for the brief moment, his mind scrambling to calm itself enough to savor it.

Before Peeta could concentrate, she pulled away with a breathless laugh.

"As magnificent as your right hook is, he's eventually going to straighten up and come looking for us," she breathed, another nervous laugh bubbling from her lips.

"Um-"

"Let's go!" she grabbed his hand and took off down the closest alleyway, Peeta still reeling. Peeta's vision blurred as he jogged down the sidewalk with her, the muggy night and pounding heart making it difficult to breathe. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears as they ran, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Katniss didn't slow until they were several blocks away and she had to slow to stumble over the uneven brick sidewalk that signaled they were in the older part of town. He tripped over an old tree root as she yanked him to a stop in front of a large, older looking three story house.

"This is me," she announced, out of breath. The dilapidated looking porch light was dim and swarming with moths as she fumbled in her bag for the key. He followed her inside the front door, trying his best to take everything in.

He was in Katniss' house. He swallowed nervously as she flipped on a few lights around what was a slightly shabby looking but charming boho-styled living room. The centerpiece of the room was an old-looking pale yellow couch adorned with colorful, mismatched pillows. Trailing plants hung next to the old, wide windows, two of which held fans in them to circulate the cool night air.

"Try not to be too impressed," she said dryly, following his gaze around the room. "Old house, no AC, so…fans," she replied awkwardly.

"Katniss, it's fine," he chuckled, his hand moving to his aching jaw. He winced as his fingers touched the throbbing flesh. His facial expression seemed to break her trance.

"Oh, you're going to want ice. Kitchen's this way."

Peeta followed her, weaving around a round, vintage looking ottoman covered in a haphazardly folded pile of laundry. Once through the doorway, he glanced around at the dated little kitchen and smiled faintly as he saw her often-used water bottle sitting on the counter by the sink. He jumped slightly when he turned and she was standing close again, so close he could smell a wisp of her perfume. She didn't normally wear perfume, he realized. Katniss usually smelled fresh, like the mild soap from his childhood, but tonight she smelled…lovely, but in an entirely different way. He couldn't name it, but found himself leaning towards her as the pain in his face was temporarily forgotten.

"So here you are…in my kitchen," she smirked.

"Yes…after punching Cato," he smirked back.

"And…other things," she mused, her cheeks growing slightly pink.

"Yeah…" he said slowly, "other…things."

He licked his lips before he could think about it, remembering the way she'd tasted during her welcomed assault on his mouth.

Katniss looked up at him, her expression expectant. Peeta froze, his mind racing. Had she only kissed him on impulse, or because she was drunk? What did that say about his chances if she only wanted him after she'd had a drink? Or was it just a kiss of gratitude?

He blinked at her, his mouth opening and then closing as his brain raced in circles and temporarily short-circuited at her close proximity. Crap, this is why he sucked with women.

Katniss watched the indecision on his face, her own stomach doing flip after flip. The booze had helped her make the move, sure, but she'd thought once the first kiss was over and out of the way her intentions would become clear and he would….go for it. So far though, he'd allowed her kisses but had yet to make a move himself. The stubborn part of her wanted more.

"I'm sorry about this," she said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek. Peeta blinked owlishly before wincing slightly, the spell between them broken. She watched more color flood to his cheeks, his entire face turning ruddy. Was it the heat, or was it her hand on his face, she wondered?

"You wouldn't happen to know how to piece my face back together, would you?" he joked.

She nodded, taking a hesitant step backwards towards the refrigerator with a conspiring look.

"What are you up to?" he asked slowly, trying not to grin too wide. Shit, that hurt.

"I have a temporary cure for that."

He watched her rummage through the meager contents of the refrigerator's freezer before producing a frozen bag of peas and a pint of cheap vodka.

"A cure, huh?"

She shrugged letting the freezer door slam shut, "Well, I don't have anything stronger than Tylenol so this will have to suffice."

He accepted the peas and held them to his face, wincing in relief as the frozen cold started numbing his jawline almost immediately.

"Better?"

He nodded. Adrenaline waning, the ache bloomed through his jaw. He was tough, having grown up with older brothers, but there was no denying Cato's fist packed a surmountable force behind it.

"Ah….I…my jaw fucking hurts. It's going to be every color of the rainbow," he groaned.

He watched her hesitate, then slowly move her hand over his as he held the bag of peas to his face. Her steely colored eyes held his and he felt like he couldn't look away, even though so much eye contact was making his insides itch.

She bit her lip as her skin burned against his.

"But…. it's such a pretty jaw, still."

He swallowed the lump in his throat as her hand touched his. While part of him knew she was giving him signals that they were no longer just friends or client and customer, his previous failed attempts with women all seemed to be coming forward. Glimmer's face, a face he hadn't thought of in weeks, was suddenly at the front of his mind.

Her hand dropped from his face. Reaching over, she plucked up the pint of vodka from the counter and motioned back towards the living room.

"Wanna sit?"

He found himself on her couch, sitting just inches away as she unscrewed the cap and tossed it onto the cluttered little coffee table in front of them that was littered with receipts, a struggling succulent, and an opened bag of pistachios.

"Sorry my place isn't….great," she sighed, looking around. "I bet your house is really nice compared to this."

He snorted. "Not yet. I hope it's going to turn out nice, but…"

The silence between them was deafening, which was weird – he'd never struggled to talk to her before this. He'd been a little awkward when they first met, but he generally knew how to talk to people about anything and everything. Katniss passed him the pint of vodka, her toned arm holding it out. He accepted it, taking a long pull of the freezing liquid. Although cheap, it burned pleasantly as it slid down his throat. He adjusted the peas on his jaw and winced again.

"Was that…your first time?"

He looked at her in surprise. "My first? Uh….no, I've kissed girls before, uhm…"

Katniss burst out laughing, the guttural sound making him jump a little as she playfully shoved his shoulder.

"No! You kiss fine, I meant getting into a fight!"

Embarrassment washed over him as she giggled, and he shook his head at how stupid he could be sometimes.

"Oh God, no….I've taken hits from my brothers growing up…just roughhousing and stuff though, nothing every got too serious before my mom would come flying out of the house and pull us off of each other. We never clocked each other like that, lord no."

"I know it's bad, but I keep replaying it in my mind," she admitted, turning on the couch to face him so that one of her legs was touching his.

He laughed. "What? Me getting my face rearranged? Thanks…?"

She laughed again, rolling her eyes at him. "No, the way your fist hit his nose…holy shit. He'll definitely leave you the hell alone now, that's for sure. And I think I'll probably replay the sound of his stupid nose breaking over and over in my mind for the rest of time," she smirked.

"I feel kinda bad. I did hit him hard….

"Don't!" she begged, touching his arm. "He's vile. He actually snapped my ass with a towel once, Peeta. He's perpetually in high school and treats women like dogs. He sucks to work with, trust me."

Peeta, not knowing what else to say, took another gulp of vodka.

"The less you can feel right now, the better," she said with a laugh. He nodded.

"Where's Prim?"

Katniss glanced around the empty room, heaving a sigh. "She's at a friend's house. I didn't know how late I'd be out, so I let her ditch me for the night. We're alone."

Peeta gulped. "Oh."

Katniss watched his side profile as he let the bag of peas drop to his lap. She meant what she'd said earlier – his profile and jawline were still one of the most utterly perfect sights she'd ever seen, and with every pound gone it became more and more pronounced. The urge to touch him again was strong, but Peeta seemed….spooked to be there alone with her. That was the only word that she could think of to describe how he was acting. He wasn't uncomfortable, but she'd expected…well, what had she expected, bringing him back to her house? She'd assumed the invitation was clear as soon as she'd pulled him to the couch and sat so close to him she was practically on his lap. While she hadn't brought a ton of guys home, the few she had knew how to take the hint that she'd wanted to do more than just sit and chat.

But Peeta isn't just any guy, she reminded herself. He's someone you actually care about. He's special. And he clearly doesn't have a lot of experience with this…

Peeta shifted on the couch, his leg still touching hers. "So, is he going to want to kill me every time he sees me you think?"

Katniss snorted. "Maybe. Cato's….not that complicated. If you would have cowered or backed down from him, that would have made it worse. But since you kicked his ass he's likely over it by now," she chuckled. "He holds a grudge but he's not one to like to be embarrassed."

Peeta smiled wryly, looking over at her with his eyes pleading.

"Please tell me it didn't get past one date with that guy, Katniss."

His words surprised her. Just when she'd begun to think Peeta was maybe not that interested in her, he threw her for a loop. Why would he care if it was more than one date with Cato?

His imploring eyes and innocent hoping finally got to her. She couldn't lie to him.

"It was one short date and very disappointing sex," she heard herself say, her tone hollow. Peeta's eyebrows shot up, but he remained silent. "I was sad, and drunk, and….lonely, I guess. It wasn't a good time in my life, it was…it was right after I'd started working there and nothing was going well for me. I guess I was determined to really hit that rock bottom," she grimaced. "He saw me giving you attention when you first started coming around and…." She heaved a sigh, "It's less about you, and more about me. I blew him off and it grates at him. I think I live rent free in his mind for not falling all over him."

Peeta nodded, still clearly surprised.

"I seem to be full of bad ideas," she added quietly.

He looked at her, sitting next to him looking sad.

"I have to disagree," he said, his voice low and soft. "Everyone makes mistakes, Katniss. It doesn't define you. I mean…I get it. I'm sure he hasn't made things easy for you since then."

"No," she retorted sharply. "So I'm sorry he did that to you," she motioned to his jaw, "And he gives you such a hard time."

"I'm used to it," he sighed. "He's not the first to poke fun at the fat kid, and he's likely not the last."

She frowned. "But….that's not you anymore, Peeta. You've worked so hard and you have to stop thinking of yourself like that."

He paused, glancing at his lap. "I guess…some habits are really hard to break, Katniss."

"I get it….but I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," she replied softly. Peeta swallowed, his eyes moving to meet hers. They flitted to her lips, then back at the rug.

Old habits indeed.

Katniss knew Peeta was still coming to terms with everything – his new body, his weight loss journey, and maybe even things he hadn't shared with her. While he was friendly and personable and smiley and all of those pleasant things, he was still very private and guarded at times. She sighed, rising to stand and swayed slightly, the vodka sitting on top of all her birthday beers in her stomach.

"It's getting late."

He looked up at her in surprise before jumping up from the couch. "You're right, uh….it's really late, um…"

He found himself face to face with her, their bodies just inches away from one another.

"I should-"

"You can st-"

They spoke at the same time, and stopped, their eyes glued to one another. Peeta's were full of surprise.

"You…want me to stay?"

Katniss nodded awkwardly, glancing in the direction of her bedroom. "It's late, and I don't want you walking home alone. If you…" she paused, blowing out a breath, "If you don't want to stay like, with me, I…I get it, but you shouldn't try to make it home. Especially after I pushed all that cheap, lovely vodka on you," she added with an impish smile.

Peeta exhaled, smiling softly. "This couch looks really great, actually."

She nodded. Later, as she lay in her bed with the fan blowing violently from her window, she gazed through her open door at Peeta on her couch. She could just see the outline of him in the dark, through the doorway of her bedroom and across the wide living room of the old house. He'd politely opted to sleep on the couch after quietly admitting he still viewed himself as 'the fat kid', and his awkward looks and shy smiles further convinced her he had very little experience with this…whatever it was between them. While he'd been shy and slow to acknowledge her flirting she knew for certain after their talk on the couch that he wasn't immune to it.

Did she wish he'd opted to join her in her bed? Absolutely. Did she understand why he wouldn't? Not entirely, she realized, but she was beginning to.


Ulgh guys, depression is hard.

I worked very hard to get this chapter out to you and I'm sorry it's been so long. Just know that every time someone left me a review (guest or not) or messaged me about this story, it helped so I truly appreciate you all. I read every word. I'll keep trying. Thanks for reading!