Katniss proved herself right during their writing time. She literally got nothing done. But, then again, neither did he, both of them content to ask questions and converse about the other, getting to know each other better, all the while their bodies seemed to inch closer together until they were almost touching.
They had started out sitting at least a foot apart on the old, leather couch, Peeta's upper body angled to face Katniss, and she with her right leg folded underneath her left one.
"So, what novel did you pick to write about?" Peeta asked her, and she found herself staring into the clear, blue abyss of his gentle eyes. There was a good possibility she would never find her way out of them, but that might not be such a bad thing. Peeta was one of a kind so far.
"Wuthering Heights," she managed. "You?"
"To Kill a Mockingbird," he said, reaching over to pull the paperback copy from his backpack, holding it up for her to see. A moment of silence followed and Katniss found herself wondering something about him that she'd wanted to know for weeks.
"Peeta, can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Katniss tested, giving Peeta an out if he didn't want to reveal anything too personal about himself.
"Anything," he responded, shrugging his shoulders encouragingly as if he were an open book.
"Why did you miss all those weeks of school?" The sigh Peeta released, and the fact that he glanced down and away from her, told Katniss he may not have been ready to answer that one.
"Well, you did say anything," Katniss half joked, trying to lighten the sudden discomfort she felt. It seemed to fall short, so she tried backtracking. "Seriously, though, you don't have to-"
"No, I want to. No one really knows much about my home life," Peeta said as he sat straight up on the couch. He was silent for a few minutes, picking at a loose thread on the couch before he went on. "My dad was sick for a while. He has a blood disease called Myeloma. It weakens his immune system, and I came home with a cold the Friday before I was absent." Katniss noticed Peeta's face drop. "He ended up with my cold and it turned into pneumonia. He was in the hospital for two weeks and he couldn't work, so my mom made me stay home and fill in for him since it was my fault he got sick."
"Peeta, I'm so sorry," Katniss whispered sympathetically, gently placing a hand on Peeta's bicep. It was the only touching they had done yet, and she was ashamed of her thoughts and how quickly they wandered with the feel of solid muscle and warm skin through the sleeve of his navy blue polo shirt. Silently scolding herself, she let her hand drop to her lap and asked, "But, you don't believe it's your fault, do you?"
"He could have died because of me," Peeta berated himself, leaning over to hide his face in his hands while his elbows rested on his knees. "I could have killed my own father! What kind of son would I be?" Peeta's voice sounded as though it would break if he continued.
"Peeta, listen to me, people get sick all the time, and yes, it's possible that it was your cold germs that he breathed in, but it's also very possible that someone who came into the store gave it to him," Katniss paused to let her words sink in. "Does he always stay inside and never have contact with anyone but you?" she asked.
"No, he's too much of a people person to banish himself to solitude," Peeta answered in a more thoughtful tone.
"Well, then, you can't take all the blame. And I'm pretty sure you didn't get him sick on purpose,"
she finished her argument with a friendly tap to Peeta's shoulder.
The way Peeta looked at her, like he had just won the lottery, made Katniss' stomach drop. His eyes crinkled hopefully at the corners when one side of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin, and his perfectly straight, white teeth glinted just beyond a plump pair of rosy lips.
"No, I guess I didn't," Peeta conceded. "Thank you, Katniss."
"For what?" she asked as she tore her eyes away from his mouth. The way it moved when he spoke was mesmerizing and she was beginning to lose focus on their conversation, wanting to know what his lips would feel like on hers. Would they be soft? Warm? Gentle? They certainly looked inviting.
"For saying something nice about me," he responded, and Katniss had to admonish herself again for her improper thoughts, wondering when Peeta ever heard things that weren't nice about him.
Peeta seemed to open up willingly to Katniss after that, holding nothing back. He told her about his childhood, how his mother had wanted a girl instead of a third boy, and how he had been treated like an unwanted stepchild all of his life because of it. All he ever desired was her love and affection, but he had been unable to earn it, no matter how hard he tried.
Katniss hesitantly reached up to touch a crooked, raised scar on Peeta's temple.
"What happened here?" Her voice was a nervous whisper, realizing the action felt more intimate than she had thought it would, as she ran her thumb over the pink mark gently. Switching her gaze from the scar to Peeta's eyes made her belly flare with anxiety. She wasn't sure what the intensity she found in them meant, so she quickly restrained her hands on her lap and apologized for her audacity.
"Don't be sorry," Peeta said, reaching down to twine his fingers through hers. The way their hands melded together perfectly had Katniss almost believing they had been created just to hold each other. "I've never really had someone show me affection, so it just took me by surprise. I like it."
He smiled the adorable, crooked smile that had already become her favorite in the few hours they had spent together, and his cheeks tinged a light pink. He looked so innocent and unsure of himself that it melted Katniss' heart for him. She squeezed his hand in a gesture she hoped would confirm her acceptance of him, since she was terrible with words. It seemed to do the trick as he appeared to exhale the breath he was holding.
After an hour of laughing at the few childhood stories Peeta could remember that were happy, most of them involving his father, Peeta tried to change the subject.
"So I feel like you know everything about me, but I know very little about you." Katniss cringed at his words, having a feeling where he was about to go with them. She wasn't much into sharing about herself. She liked remaining anonymous, in the shadows, a mystery. Attention was decidedly not her goal in life.
"I know you like the outdoors, you bring your lunch to school everyday, you love green, but hate the orange color of Trinkie's hair, and you're a terrible artist whose drawings make me smile more than anything else." She grinned at his truthful words, in complete agreement with the last statement. They alleviated some of the apprehension she felt, but the bloom of hope that he would not get too personal was crushed with his next question.
"Why did you change schools your senior year?" he asked innocently, completely unaware of the territory he was venturing into, and all at once the warmth and lightheartedness she had experienced this afternoon with Peeta turned cool and rigid, like hot wax poured over a cold surface. She felt selfish, thinking about how open Peeta had been with her about everything. He willingly told her things he had never spoken about to any other person, and she couldn't find it in herself to share in that same way. She was a terrible friend. Maybe he would be okay with vague answers and she wouldn't have to divulge the things she didn't want to talk about?
"I just needed a change. You know?" Katniss fiddled with her fingers nervously, and tucked a loose hair behind her ear. Looking everywhere but his face, she decided to try changing the subject.
"I'm so rude! I haven't even offered you anything to drink. Would you like something?"
"Sure, okay," Peeta answered with confusion in his voice. He followed Katniss into the kitchen, leaning over her to pull down two glasses in the cabinet that she was too short to reach. Katniss breathed in the aromatic scent of cinnamon bread and something savory she couldn't quite put her finger on. The sensation was intoxicating and hunger-inducing all at the same time, and her belly rumbled, distracting her for the moment from the different kind of hunger that his nearness brought on. She would have to figure that out later.
"Hungry?" Peeta asked.
"It sure sounds like it," Katniss responded, embarrassed by the noise. "I'm not sure what my Uncle Haymitch will bring home for dinner tonight, but it won't be for at least another hour." Katniss flinched when she realized she had just blurted out information she was sure he would question.
"I can make you something if you like. Can I look in your pantry?" Peeta asked, ignoring her slip up.
"I didn't ask you to come here so you could cook for me," Katniss responded, harsher than she meant. Peeta didn't seem to mind.
"I like to bake. It's what I do, anyway, and it will probably take me less time to make you something to eat than it will take you to put water in our glasses," Peeta said confidently as he folded his arms over his chest and smiled, leaning back onto the counter. Katniss glanced casually toward the still empty cups that had been forgotten about during all the 'nearness' she was focused on.
"You're on," she challenged as she and Peeta reached for the cups at the same time. Peeta had longer arms and so he was able to grab them before she could, placing them back into the cupboard where Katniss couldn't reach, earning a "hey, no fair!" and a poke in the ribs from Katniss.
Peeta quickly went about gathering a few basic ingredients and finding a bowl to mix them in, all while Katniss tried to figure out how to get the cups down in the tiny kitchen. She decided climbing was her quickest option, and deftly clambered up onto the skinny island that took up most of the space in the tiny kitchen.
"Katniss, you're going to hurt yourself," Peeta's voice reprimanded her as she stepped across the aisle onto the counter. There wasn't much space for standing, so she had to be extra careful as she tiptoed over to the cabinet holding the prize she would soon be gloating over. She noticed Peeta watching her with rapt attention.
"You're quite the monkey," he said, kneading the dough he had assembled in record time. His face held something akin to awe, even though his choice of likeness wasn't Katniss' favorite, and his voice reflected the same. Katniss felt a rush of pride at his admiration and realized she held her own toward him.
"You're quite the baker," she praised back. "But, I think I'm going to have water in these two cups before your dough is baked."
"It's quite possible," Peeta acknowledged good-naturedly and she thought he didn't seem to mind losing. Katniss, on the other hand, couldn't stand it. She needed to win. The competitive side of her just wouldn't rest until she did. Taking the last step to the cabinet, her small, usually sure foot slipped out from under her, sending her flailing backwards, reaching for something to hold on to. Nothing materialized and with a yelp and an oompf Katniss found herself splayed over Peeta's arms, her head dangerously close to the edge of the island.
His arms clutched her body tightly to his as if he were afraid to let her go, one hand temptingly close to the underside of her breast, the other suctioned to the top of her thigh, his arm
wound beneath her knees cradling her. They stared in shock at each other for what seemed like ages, their faces mere inches away. The closeness to him was strange, but not unwelcome. Katniss could feel small bursts of air from Peeta's lungs and she could swear she could hear his heart beating double-time. Or was that her own heart?
"I told you you would hurt yourself," Peeta breathed out quietly, as if he were afraid to break the trance they were lost in. She noticed his eyes flit to her lips and back, and she couldn't help but repeat the action with his.
"Hmm-MMM," came a throat clearing so distracting that Peeta almost lost his hold on Katniss, but instead dumped her feet hastily to the floor. Turning toward the sound, Katniss' eyes flashed annoyance.
"What do we have here? I thought I made the rules clear on the first day you moved in, sweetheart. No boyfriends in the house unless I'm home."
"He's not my boyfriend, Uncle Haymitch," Katniss argued, trying to stay calm in an increasingly embarrassing situation. As the words left her mouth she regretted them, even though they were true. Did she really like him that way already? They had just met. It was ridiculous to think this boy could affect her so quickly. But was it so quick? They had been exchanging notes for over six months, so technically it was a long time coming, right? Haymitch's gruff voice rudely interrupted her thought process.
"Well there's a dough handprint in very suspicious place on your shirt that suggests otherwise," he barked, tossing a brown take out bag onto the island and stepping closer to the two of them. Katniss looked down, pulling her shirt away from her body so she could get a better look. Peeta's eyes were focused there as well, and Katniss saw his face turn bright red.
"It's not what it looks like," Peeta defended with a horrified look in his eyes. "She fell and I was just-"
"Just copping a feel of my niece?" Haymitch fired back, and the look of anger in his eyes told Katniss she needed to do something quick to defuse the situation.
"Uncle Haymitch, stop! It's not like that. I was climbing on the cabinets and I slipped. Peeta caught me before I hit my head," she explained sternly, her tone begging him to drop it. "You should be thanking him for saving you a medical bill."
Haymitch's face turned thoughtful. "Well, in that case, welcome to the family," he said bluntly to Peeta. "Don't get her pregnant."
"Uncle Haymitch!" Katniss hollered to him as he walked away. She couldn't look Peeta in the eyes, and it seemed he was in the same frame of mind, his gaze directed downward and his hands firmly pushed inside his pockets.
"It's probably time for me to go," he said, all humor from earlier evaporated. "I don't want to get you in trouble."
"Don't worry about him. I'm not in trouble. And you haven't finished your bread thingy," Katniss whined as she pleaded with him to stay. She hadn't realized how lonely she was in this house, day after day, with no one to talk to except for her uncle who was rarely home, and when he was, he was either drunk or on his way there. She pretty much took care of him instead of the other way around, having to watch him waste away his existence with alcohol night after night. Katniss had lost count of the times she had tucked him into bed, removing his smelly socks and jeans, cleaned up empty liquor bottles that had found their way to his bedroom floor, some of them broken into razor sharp fragments.
She didn't blame him, though. If she were old enough to purchase liquor she would probably be
destined for the same fate, having been through the trauma of losing the same family her uncle had lost, and the reason Katniss was here, under his guardianship. Thinking about it made her mood turn dour, and Katniss didn't want to hint at her past while Peeta was still around, so she pushed the memories aside, knowing they would haunt her soon enough.
"Come on, please? This dough smells so much better than whatever's in that bag." Peeta cracked a weary smile at her and rubbed his forearm in thought.
"Are you sure? I mean, he seemed pretty upset," he questioned.
"It's fine. Besides, I'm a terrible cook, so this will all be burned beyond recognition if you leave it to me to finish." Peeta laughed at her attempt to persuade him and Katniss felt relieved that the tension from earlier might be gone. If her Uncle Haymitch couldn't run him off, then Peeta had the potential to be around for a while, and Katniss liked things that were stable and consistent.
"Okay, I'll stay. I'll finish the bread, but then I really do have to get home and start writing this paper. You've been a little, uh, distracting this afternoon," Peeta said bashfully as he began separating the dough that had been resting since Katniss fell off the counter. Katniss was surprised at the admission and despite her best effort to ignore it and move on, she found her mouth open and questioning before she could stop it.
"What do you mean, I'm distracting?"
"Well, you already know I think you're beautiful," Peeta looked straight into her eyes when he spoke, and Katniss tried not to grimace in his face. She was worse with compliments than she was with words. The sweeter the words, the more shriveled her response. She just hoped she didn't hurt Peeta's feelings with the awkward looks that were bound to cross her face.
"I really liked holding your hand, so that was pretty distracting. Then when I wasn't holding your hand, all I could think about was holding your hand," Katniss was surprised when she laughed, actually laughed, at his compliment, and it seemed to ease some nervousness on his part.
"And then there's this outline on your body I keep staring at and thinking, 'that's my handprint. My hand has been there'," he grinned and concentrated on heating the oven and covering the dough as Katniss laughed even harder. Peeta seemed to have a way of saying things that, had someone else said them, would have made her run for cover. Katniss couldn't doubt that there was something between them that felt like more than friendship, but she had never been much into dating, so she wasn't sure what those feelings meant.
The rolls were still too hot to eat when Peeta packed up his things, planning to take his leave. They smelled heavenly and looked even better, and she could hardly wait to inhale them. Peeta stopped at the door to say goodbye, and Katniss was surprised at the emotions washing over her in waves when the door clicked closed behind him. She was somewhat settled that he promised to text her as soon as he got home, but he apparently couldn't wait so he texted her from the front porch, mere seconds after closing the door.
See you tomorrow?
She grinned from ear to ear, then her eyes narrowed at the message that followed, remembering she had never filled the glasses with water.
By the way, I win.
To continue or not to continue? Please let me know! I have trouble finding stopping points with my stories. I hope you liked this update! Thank you for reading, reviewing, etc. I appreciate it! And thanks to the most awesomest of betas and friends - titania522. This was written and beta'd in less than 10 hours, so I think we make a good team. :) Pbg