Chapter 4: You're Wondering What That Was
The following Wednesday, I make my usual rounds trading, but before I go to the bakery, I check the front of the store through the windows. All I see are the aging Mr. Mellark and his wife assisting customers at the register; I can't tell who is in the back. With a sigh, I trudge around to the back loading dock and knock, holding my breath.
When the door opens to reveal Peeta, I don't know if I want to curse or laugh. I try to keep my face impassive, but he smiles at me, the warmth of it throwing me off guard. "Hi—again," I say nervously, fumbling with my game bag to retrieve the squirrel.
"Hi, Katniss," he says softly, and I wonder why he insists on saying my name out loud.
"Is, uh—how's, uh, Marnie?" I ask, mentally kicking myself for my inability to string together a coherent sentence in his presence.
He purses his lips, his eyes a little heavier now. "Better. She's still bedridden, but Barm is taking good care of her."
I nod, pulling the squirrel out and holding it out to him. "And...the baby?" I don't know why I ask, but it seems rude not to.
"He's okay," Peeta replies, taking the game from me. He grins suddenly, the action really lighting up his face, and I am momentarily stunned. "Though, I guess that's to be determined, really."
"What?"
He scratches the dark blonde scruff on his jaw. "Another boy. I feel kind of bad. Pretty soon, this town's going to be overrun by Mellark boys. Everyone must be sick of us by now," he jokes lightly, and I know that isn't true. The Mellark men are well-liked by most people. And if the alternative is anything like his witch of a mother, another boy is much more preferable.
Still, a small smile curves my lips upward. "I highly doubt that," I say, and his grin slips somewhat. He stares at me for a moment, his blue eyes rooting me to that doorstep, and I can scarcely breathe. Suddenly, he blinks and shakes his head.
"Let me get your bread," he says, turning away from me, and I take a deep breath, my eyelids fluttering closed as I try to regain my composure. By the time he returns, I have a better grip on my emotions, and I set my face back into a mask of its usual indifference. When he hands me the bag, however, he hesitates. "I, uh, slipped a little something extra in there."
I scowl, already thrusting the bag back toward him, but he pulls his hands away. "What? I don't need anything extra. That's not the deal," I accuse.
Peeta holds up his hands defensively. "I just thought—I just wanted to give you something different to try. They're cheese buns. It's something new we're trying out here, and I just—I just want your opinion. Just...taste them. I think you'll like them."
I huff, jerking my game bag open. "Fine, then let me give you something else—"
His eyes widen. "No! No, really, Katniss, it's fine. You're doing us a favor, honest," he insists, his hand closing over mine on the paper bag, and he thrusts it back towards me. "Please. Just...let me know how you like them."
I would object more, but the feel of his soft fingers on my knuckles gives me pause. He seems just as startled by the touch, and my eyes flickers between our hands and his surprised face, which mirrors my own. With a great deal of effort, I wrench my hand from his and take a step down. "O-okay, fine," I say shakily, my heart beating uncomfortably hard. Confused, I shuffle in two different directions before righting my course, walking away quickly. I hear him call after me, and despite my better judgment, I glance back. He waves, and I lift my hand in a halfhearted parting gesture.
That night, I eat the cheese buns before Gale can see them. I know he would question their sudden appearance, just as I would, and, for some reason I can't understand, I don't want to tell him. About the cheese buns or about Peeta. The two men do not coexist well in my mind.
But the buns are incredible. When I eat the last bite, the cheese melting on my tongue, I feel oddly empty despite how satisfying they were. I suck the grease and crumbs from my fingers earnestly, already craving more.
The next time I go to trade at the bakery, Barm is back. Despite my twinge of disappointment, I am relieved. Peeta confuses me, and I already have enough stress in my life.
So that Sunday, when Peeta approaches me at my usual spot in the Hob, I stare at him incredulously.
"Hi," he greets me with a small smile as he stops in front of my booth.
I open and close my mouth a few times before my voice catches up with my brain. "What—what are you doing here?" I ask, my eyes darting around the Hob. Has anyone noticed him? Merchants don't do business in the Hob often, unless they are buying alcohol or other contraband items. My cursory survey of the warehouse reveals that no one seems to be watching us, at least.
"Oh, well," he wavers, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I'm not at the bakery now, and I just—I just wanted to see what you thought of the cheese buns. Did you like them?"
I nervously tuck some hair behind my ear, clearing my throat. "Um, yeah. Yes, I did. They were...they were really good."
Peeta smiles again. "Good. That's good. I'm glad. Did, uh, did Gale try them? What did he think?"
I flush in embarrassment, looking around again. "Well, he, uh—no, he didn't. I kinda...I kinda ate them all myself."
He chuckles this time. "That's fine. I mean, that's good. I'm really glad you liked them that much," he says, and I shrug, playing with my braid. We lapse into silence, and he looks as uncomfortable as I feel.
"Did you come here just to ask that?" I blurt, and his eyebrows lift.
"Oh, no, no. I actually came to—to buy from you. A condom, I mean." His cheeks redden, and he visibly swallows. I stare at him in disbelief, my own face growing hot.
"Okay," I finally squeak, shuffling through my supplies. I can't even bring herself to ask him what size he needs; I just grab whatever my hand lands on and shove it at him, muttering the price. He drops some coins in my open palm, cramming the condom into his back pocket.
"Bye," he mumbles, hurrying away quickly. I scrub a hand down my face.
It isn't until Peeta is gone that it strikes me how odd it is that he wanted a condom. If his wife is barren, why would they bother with protection? And why would they even want to use protection if they are trying to conceive? Is Prim mistaken about Analise Mellark's infertility? No, my sister wouldn't make a mistake like that. So, why does Peeta need a condom?
The answer hits me so hard, I nearly fall off my stool. He's sleeping with someone else. Suddenly, I flush with an inexplicable rage, feeling stupid, like I have been duped somehow. Why should I care who he is fucking? I don't. His personal life is none of my business.
But when I see him in the Hob again a week later, I all but growl at him. "I'm not selling you another condom," I spit, and he pulls up short in front of my booth, his mouth dropping open.
"What? Why?"
I fold my arms over my chest. "I'm not going to—to aid you in whatever it is you're doing," I say, and when I realize how loud my voice has gotten, I lower it; there is still an edge when I speak, however. "I'm not going to help you cheat on your wife."
His face pales. "What? Cheat on my—" he stops himself, glancing around in alarm, then he leans closer, practically hissing, "I'm not cheating on my wife. Why the hell—what would make you think I'm cheating on Lissy?"
I blink, dread pooling in my stomach. "I just—I mean...well, I just thought—I mean, I had heard that you two...that she...well, I didn't know why you would need a condom. So I thought you were—with someone else..." Shit.
His face hardens, and his jaw clenches. He is silent for a moment, then he responds in a low, dangerous tone, "I am not cheating on Analise. But you're right; I don't need a condom." He looks away briefly before his eyes flit back to me. "I didn't really come to buy anything from you. I just came to see you. But I fucked up. I'm an idiot." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'll stop bothering you." With that, he walks away, and I stare after him, dumbstruck.
What just happened?
