Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.
I had a dream the other night, about how we only get one life,
~Something I need, One Republic
"You're not trading squirrels today are you, Katniss?" he asks leaning over the counter as his turquoise eyes rake up and down my body. I'm filled with nervousness instantly, being around him has always filled me with uncertainty and unleashed a struggle within my mind. When I came in today I'd thought it'd be his dad to greet me since he's always the one to collect my squirrels every Sunday.
I've spent years trying to weave a life around Peeta but somehow I encounter him more than I should. It's not because he's a bad person but because he makes me feel naked and stripped of my mask. He knows that I wasn't always doing well.
I look up and he wears a eye creasing smile even though his hair is unruly and matted to his forehead and he seems to have every reason to be unhappy.
I feel my chest constrict a little, I hadn't seen him in a few months, since school ended.
"Oh no, Peeta. I'm here to order a cake."
"Alright," he pipes seeming slightly shocked, "let's get to it." Strange is the only way to describe standing in the front of the bakery as a customer. I worry that Mrs. Mellark could barrel around the corner at any moment, she's prideful and it's possible she'd usher me out telling me that they do not business with my kind. But I am here not for myself, I am here for Prim and as a favor to Gale. He puts up with me after spending his days at the mines, and that's something I don't always do in return. Maybe he senses my hesitation, and that I do not know where to begin because he gives me a knowing look or maybe a look of realization and he speaks again with his lips curved upward. "What kind of cake are you looking for is it for a special occasion?" he leans forward even more with his eyes glued to me as if I fascinated him, yet I can't find anything remarkable about myself. This must be a merchant thing, they must want to make their customers feel special so they will say good things and come back.
When I reply it is nothing but straightforward, wasting no time. "I am looking for a wedding cake."
It'a instantaneous, his lips falling from their high perch, him leaning away from me. I can't even begin to fathom how he went from the happy baker to the no-nonsense boy with somber eyes within a moment, the only experience I can compare it to was when I shot a buck through the eye and its mate, a doe saw, she froze up wide eyed, a reaction like his. He replies, a strong indifferent tone undertaking his light one. "Wow, you're the last girl I'd expect to get married."
I shrug but I don't provide him with any information, he needs to keep his nose out of it. And I will be the last to the fuel a rumor featuring myself. I remember when Gale told our families about our fresh engagement I had acted excited in front of them for the sake of us, but afterwards I had slammed him against a tree and hissed at him claiming he said too much too fast. He frowned and asked why I wasn't thrilled about getting married, but he didn't understand, it made me feel as if I had been robbed of something personal.
Peeta seems to understand right off the bat that I will say nothing more.
"Well, what flavor were you thinking?"
His hand dives into the pocket of his apron and a notepad materializes, he clicks the back-end of a pen and balances it in his fingers.
Any other customer would know what they have, but coming from the seam I do not. I can only think of a flavor called vanilla, after school on our walk home there was a merchant girl from Prim's class shoving greedy handfuls of cupcake into past her lips and my little sister too kind and shielded to know better bounced right up to her and asked, 'what flavor is that Rosemary?' The girl kindly replied, Primrose looks too much like a merchant to be judged as a seam most of the time.
Peeta realizes this a moment after he's said it, his eyes widen and soften, "I'll list the flavors out to you."
"Okay, thanks." I fold my hands and tuck them together on the counter in front me. He moves with an air of certainty, it's very simple to tell that he knows his way around, and he should, I remember his mom making him work at the tender age of 12. Without a word he vanishes behind a door leading to the back, there's the sound of his father's voice mingling with his but the what they speak of is indistinguishable above the stillness of the bakery. I had waited for the the last customer to leave before I came in, and now, as I look out the window I see night begin to etch its features into the sky.
Peeta returns, the tips of his ears pink as he clutching a small white box of Styrofoam about a minute later, he places them on the counter before me. "These are samples we keep them in hand for occasions like this," he explains before opening the lid and revealing what's inside, an array of miniature cupcakes. They're so sweet the fresh scent invades your nose in an instant, and each are different from one another. There's about six different kinds, one is yellow underneath the icing. I heat up realizing that I can't even put a name to what it is, I know it is called batter before it's cooked but after does that title remain? I decide to steer clear of that whatever the dough beneath the icing is, I don't want to present myself as stupid, when I already am looked at as poor.
I look at him, with narrowed eyes, my mind is twisted into a knot, a sample, does he seriously expect me to try these neatly made up cakes free? Samples, in the seam are unheard of, still, they aren't huge in the merchant side either. When I was young and Prim was just a newborn the baker would give me cookies when my father came in to trade, but that is the only free thing I can remember receiving. Well, now that I think of it that wasn't the only thing, there was the dense hearty bread with raisins and nuts, the outsides of it were hardly burnt yet the baker's wife harshly demanded it was no good and deemed that it was only fit for the pigs.
I look up trying to keep my face impassive, I really should have said my thanks years ago when he remembered the event clearly, then I wouldn't be here feeling guilty over something of the past. My mouth feels dry and I try to recall the last time I drank. I begin to wonder if I should just pick the vanilla cake and deny the offer of samples and leave.
But just as the thought enters my mind strings of his voice ring into my ears.
"The most commonly bought is vanilla, you can't really make a wrong choice with that one." His pointed finger directs me to one with a yellow-ish base topped with creamy white waves of frosting. "Usually we cover it with cream cheese icing, which is personally one of my favorites but you can choose any kind of icing you want and it will go well." The baker moves to the next in the box, "chocolate is quite rich and sweet but most like it, this is also very commonly bought."
But before he can continue listing off each beautifully frosted miniature cake I interrupt him very suddenly with the thought that has been smothered into all the corners of my mind since he brought them out. "These can't be samples."
Peeta seems taken a bit back by remark but none the less replies with just reasoning. "Of course they're samples. Take them, I insist, I don't want you the wrong cake for your," he falters, "for your wedding." He says the final word in a slow strangled voice, perhaps he's choked on his own spit. I hate that he's mentioned the wedding again but I am too consumed the oddness of the free offer to worry about setting him straight.
"No," I protest, I look at the half dozen mini cupcakes and I see Prim cradling them in her hands after dinner, frosting specked in the corner of her mouth. I give a vehement shake of my head. "I will pay you for this in squirrels. It's only fair."
His frown deepens. "It's a favor, I don't expect anything in return."
My mind flickers to the graying woman who helps run the bakery, she wouldn't approve of this exchange at all. Peeta would take the blame and I would accept more debt.
I pick my fingers back from the counter and fold my arms. I feel the money pressed into the breast pocket of my dress. "I could pay you in cash if you prefer it." And then I think something that makes sense, sure I won't get a array of flavors for Prim but she doesn't have to know and besides, she'll have the whole wedding cake to pick off of. "It's fine, I'll pass on your offer, I'll just pick a flavor and we can go with that."
"Katniss," he sighs with a mirthless laugh, overall he seems just sad. "It's a gift, just a sample because you've never tried any and don't know the difference. You're very stubborn but-" he closes the lid and shoves them forward to me. "I'm stubborn too and I won't take no for an answer."
I gape at him. Peeta's right, he is stubborn in a irritating yet admirable way.
"I can't." I deny his offer again and reach out to push the box back but all at once he seizes my hands in his own.
"You can," his eyes bore into mine, unrelenting, and I wish I hadn't looked at his eyes because they are soulful and pleading for me to knock my hesitancy off. His hands lie over mine, I've never been so startled in my life, they're warm and large. I've had Gale grab my hand but it's not the same.
"Thank you." I finally give up. Maybe he sees that my gratitude is for more than the cupcakes but I doubt it.
"No trouble at all, come back and let me know when you decide."
I nod.
For dinner we eat a stew Hazel makes from the rabbit Gale brought in. While we're eating he grabs my hand under the table but I shake it off, I don't feel like touching him but he doesn't seem to know it.
We cut the cupcakes in half, we split three between my family and three for Gale's not only since he is the one coming up with the payment for the official cake but because we always share our fortunes. Of course he isn't happy about the cupcakes, we have a brief argument about it. He says it's charity, but I protest and explain that I secretly plan to pay back Peeta with squirrel.
And then Gale says the most absurd thing I've ever heard from his mouth in the years I've known him. "I saw the way he looked at you in high school, I always suspected it, he has a thing for you Katniss."
"You're ridiculous." I scoff at him in total disbelief and walk away immediately ending the bickering. The thought is so preposterous and unrealistic that I don't even bother contemplating or dwelling upon it.
When Prim's eyes widen at her first bite and that's when I'm assured that everything was worth it.
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It's 3:10 here and I have to wake up early so I should make this brief.
Nothing to say other than I love you guys, and I'm grateful some of you came back to read my new story. I can't wait to continue this. :*