For the record, I loved the movie. I haven't stopped listening to the hanging tree since Saturday and I switched to past tense. I'm just no good at describing in the present tense.
Peeta derailed my plan to put a stop to whatever it was we had. Not because I changed my mind. Even after my talk with Prim I think it is better that I don't pretend that a relationship is possible when it's not.
No, it's because I hadn't seen him in a seven days.
I knew the boy kept baker's hours. Despite being a Victor, he still worked in his family's bakery at least three days this week. Not that I had much room to talk. I was still rising with the sun to hunt in the woods.
Gale could only hunt on Sundays now that he had started working in the mines, but working six days a week and hunting one didn't provide his family with enough food. I didn't have much to show for my efforts because the fence had actually been turned on the first four days. The first time I had tried to shoot a wild pig, I had panicked, flashbacks of shooting Marvel overwhelmed me, and I completely missed. The rabbit and two small squirrels I had managed to shoot went straight to Hazelle, who wouldn't fight me like Gale would if I tried to give them to him.
The only reason I hadn't cornered him at the bakery is because I didn't want to air our issues in front of everyone in the Town. Nobody could know we were breaking up because we still had to maintain the image of star-crossed lovers for Snow.
I eyed the sun, which was just beginning to crest the trees. Seeing it rise on that last day in the arena, all I felt was relief. Peeta and I had made it through the night. Both of us had survived the Hunger Games. We were Victors. Now I would never have to worry about whether there would be a tomorrow.
The Gamemakers had spoiled that sense of relief with their announcement revoking the rule change, but that didn't make the moment any less impactful. The sun was still a sign of hope, much like my dandelions.
I wasn't letting him escape to the bakery today. I crossed the cobblestone street and let myself into Peeta's house. Nobody locked their doors in District Twelve, not even those with belongings worth stealing. The whipping you received when you were caught was enough to keep people from stealing. It would be even worse for Victors, who by virtue of who they were and what they were capable of, any thief would think twice if their life was worth less than a set of china plates.
Peeta's house is an exact mirror of mine, which makes finding the kitchen easy. Soundlessly, I stepped up to the counter in the center of the room, perched atop a stool, and waited. As a hunter, I possessed an enormous amount of patience, but a week was enough to exhaust mine.
I had planned this perfect, choosing to ambush him on a Sunday because it was the one day most everyone in District Twelve bought bread. History classes that detailed the savagery of the Dark Days, before the Capitol, connected it to something called religion.
But it meant that more bread would have to be baked, and that mean Peeta would be helping, because he was too kind to refuse to work on the bakery's busiest day.
I heard Peeta, with his heavy walk, coming before I saw him. He switched on the light and froze when it revealed the room to not be empty.
"Katniss?" His voice was still husky from sleep, and he blinked several times as if to ascertain that I really was sitting at his kitchen counter. "Wha . . . what are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you. You've been avoiding me," I scowled.
Peeta turned away from me. "I didn't think you'd notice."
His delivery was light, like we were making casual conversation. Something about the phrasing tugged at my memory, but I pushed it aside to focus on the blond, who was determined to prepare for his day and not talk to me.
And that more than anything caused my temper to boil over. Peeta was the one that insisted we could make this work if we actually made an effort to communicate, and here he was, actively avoiding me and with nothing to say.
It was all the proof I needed that I had made the right decision in calling off whatever we had. Even Peeta couldn't be bothered to maintain it for a week.
"If you didn't want to be with me you could have said so," I said shortly.
He spun around, eyes wide, and took half a step in my direction. "What? No, I don't want that. What gave you that idea?"
"You did." I was back to scowling at him. "I've been trying to talk to you all week."
Peeta blinked, this time surprised. Then his face lit up with delight. "Really? What about? Are you still having troubles with nightmares?"
Caught off guard by the question, I automatically answered. "Yes."
"Me too," he admitted easily. "It's easier when you're not alone."
I felt heat rising to me face at the reminder of the one night we had slept in the same bed. But that was a moment of weakness. It had been several nights since I had slept properly, and I'd wager it was the same for Peeta. I would have done anything if it meant a full night of sleep.
I knew what he was doing. Peeta was trying to putting the decision on me again, like after the spat we had about letting Effie see us holding hands. He thought he was being considerate, but it was actually making this harder. Just because he was already there, as Haymitch would say, didn't mean that he got to back off until I was.
"I'm fine," I insisted stubbornly. They were just nightmares. Nothing I couldn't handle. I wasn't going to beg Peeta to hold me each night.
His jaw tightened, and suddenly I was reminded that I wasn't the only Victor suffering from nightmares. My nightmares are usually about losing you. Guilt churned in my stomach, but I wasn't going to take what I said back. If Peeta wanted help with his nightmares he should ask and not beat around the bush.
He could admit his love for me for the Capitol and every district to hear, but couldn't ask if I'd sleep with him again to stave off shared demons?
"Why can't you just talk to me, Katniss?" he said, exasperated. "What do I have to do to get you to notice me?"
Disappear, was my first thought. Thankfully, I didn't blurt that out.
"What do you mean, notice you?" I asked. There it was again. His body had stiffened when he said notice.
With an audible sigh, Peeta moved to lean against the counter in front of the sink. I shifted on the stool to face him. "You said it yourself. If not for the Games you would have never noticed me."
It took a minute to recall the words I had said the last time I had spoken to baker. "I never said that," I said confidently.
The blond shrugged. "You might as well. Did you even know my name before I was Reaped?" he demanded.
"Of course I did," I answered, honestly affronted by the accusation. "You saved my life when you burnt that bread for me."
"And that's all I would have ever been. If Prim hadn't been Reap alongside me, you would have never thought of my as anyone but the boy with the bread." Peeta sounded resigned. "I would have died and you wouldn't have felt anything—"
"That's not true," I softly interrupted. Peeta gifted me with a dazed look, as if he couldn't believe I was actually talking about my feelings. "I would feel regret, because I wouldn't have had the chance to thank you for that night. And I'd probably feel guilty and thankful."
"Guilty and thankful?" he echoed, confused.
I tried to shrug it off. "Knowing you, you probably would have died protecting Prim."
His arms were around me in a heartbeat. I unintentionally ended up mimicking my position from the last time he had held like this, as if he could protect me and keep me from falling apart by wrapping me in his arms. My arms came up around his back to clutch at his broad shoulders and my head rested in the curve of his neck. It felt natural and comfortable.
"I would have," he said directly in my ear. "I would have done everything to make sure she came home to you."
"I know," I whispered into his shirt.
"She doesn't deserve to die in the games. No one does," Peeta said.
I looked up at him worried. It wasn't the first time he had mentioned the unfairness and cruelty of the Hunger Game, but it surprised me nonetheless. I don't think even Gale had the courage to say the Games were wrong within the legal boundaries of the district. And it had always scared me when he defamed the Capitol outside the fence. You never knew when the Capitol was watching and our discussions would have been seen as treason.
"We're safe," was all I could say.
For what felt like an eternity, neither of us moved. I would admit, if only in the safety of my own head, that I didn't want to. It was irrational. My worst fear. But I had never felt safer than in Peeta's embrace. All that time spent in the cave, I almost could have ignored the Games and pretend it was just the two of us outside District Twelve.
Gale and I had even found a cave during one venture. We didn't go very far into the mouth when the sound of a large sized animal reached our ears. So we retreated, remembering that spot for future jaunts so that we would know to stay away.
When we finally separated, Peeta rested his forehead against my own. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Distancing myself from you," he answered. Blue eyes bore into mine, begging for understanding and forgiveness.
I didn't have either one for him. Not yet. "Why did you do it?" I asked evenly.
He hesitated. "Because I couldn't stand the idea that you would have never noticed me. I love you, Katniss. And I know that you don't feel the same. I stand by what I said. I'll take whatever you can give me so long as it's honest," Peeta rushed on.
"What do you want from me, Peeta?"
"A second chance."
I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ears, and I cursed it for beating so quickly and so loudly. I owed this boy my life. This boy, who had loved me unconditionally since we were five and the birds outside fell silent to listen to me sing. I couldn't deny him the chance to win my heart.
"Okay. I'll allow it." Staring at his open, earnest expression, I wanted to see where this could go. My feelings, whatever they may be, were stronger than I had thought them.
"I think we should start over. Forget everything," Peeta explained. "We'll just be two normal people that like each other."
"But we're not normal. I'm Seam and your Town," I argue back. It was pointless to pretend that anything in our lives was normal. Seam married Seam and worked the mines. Town married Town.
"So were your parents," was his rebuttal.
I stiffened. "That," I said forcefully, "doesn't help your point. My mother could hardly function after my father died."
"But she loved him enough to give up everything she knew to be with him," he insisted.
"And look where that got her," I laughed lowly. "A dead husband and a child that hates her for making her support the family when it should have been her responsibility."
"And Prim," Peeta reminds me.
Prim, the one bright spot in my life. Pure and innocent. Prim, who thinks I should stop running from my fears and live.
"I would have found the courage to tell you how I felt one on one someday," he continues. "And I would have been so charming that you'd agree to date me," Peeta finishes cheekily. To prove his point, he dipped his head and initiated a long kiss.
"I have to get to the bakery now. Mom's probably pissed. I'll see you later?" he asked, tugging on my braid.
"Do you mind if I stay here tonight?"
"Never."
I felt lighter as I bid Peeta goodbye and snuck out of the fence. This is me, I thought, effortlessly drawing back an arrow as I aimed for a plump bird. I'm the girl that hunts in the woods. Not the Capitol's girl on fire.
It was the real me that was going to give Peeta Mellark the chance he deserved, because it was what I wanted.
