December - Part Four
I've been awake for ages by the time Katniss opens her eyes. Her hair is all bird-nest like and there's a pillow crease down one cheek, but she's still the most amazing sight I've ever woken up to on Christmas morning. Even better than the Scalextrics set I got when I was eight.
I can't believe that a week ago I was feeling sour about my parent's rejection, now the thought of not having to go home for Christmas is like a gift in itself. I don't even care that I'm going to spend half the day on my own, because tonight and hopefully tomorrow I'll be spending it with Katniss.
The only downside is that there's a risk that she might end up finding out how stupidly in love with her I'm falling – correction - have fallen. I know that's not what she wants, but at the same time there is no denying that our 'relationship' is changing. The way we act with each other is changing. I've never felt as confident with anyone as I do with her. I know it's because I feel comfortable with her and in turn that has a positive effect on the intensity of my outbursts. And Katniss is different too. I might be reading too much into it and seeing what I want to see, but it feels like she's opening up and I'm getting to see a side of her that I didn't before. The one that's hiding under the outspoken hard exterior, that hints that there might be some underlying vulnerability.
Katniss stretches like a cat, her arms above her head and arches her back with a sleepy groan.
"I'm hungry," she comments.
"You want breakfast? Don't you think you need to leave some room for the two Christmas dinners you're planning to eat today?" I laugh.
She shakes her head. "It's all part of the game plan. I need to stretch my stomach in preparation for later. If I go hungry too long my stomach might shrink and then I'll never fit it all in," she says with complete seriousness, but there is a cheeky glint in her eye.
"You just want me to get up and make breakfast for you, don't you?" I start to get out of bed but she stops me.
"No. I don't want to get up yet."
"That's okay you can stay in bed," I smile.
"I don't want you to get up yet either." She looks embarrassed by her request. I'm sure the Katniss of a month ago would have just ordered me to stay put, pushed me onto my back, straddled me and got what she needed without a hint of embarrassment. Something has definitely changed. I just wish she looked a bit happier about whatever it is.
I kiss her neck and perfect breasts until she does looks a lot happier and then, grabbing a condom, I lie on my back and help guide her onto me. She rides me until the noises she makes tell me she's definitely happy. Afterwards, as she lays with her head on my chest, I think the words I can't tell her. The fear I'm going to blurt them out becomes my enemy until all I can think is, "I love you" and I have to press my fingers to my lips, pinching them together to stop it coming out.
"Are you okay?" She asks with concern, as the stupid tic that has my chin nodding upwards becomes more pronounced. I nod. "Happy Christmas Peeta," she says, kissing beneath my jaw line and then down my neck. I feel my body relax a little but I still don't think I have a hope of getting through the next two days without ruining everything.
.
.
Katniss texts me just as the Queen's speech is starting on TV.
Got Aunt Haze's car will pick you up in 1/2 hour.
I don't think I've felt this worked up about seeing a girl since I went on my first date. I was about 13, just before the Tourette's really kicked in. In those days it just manifested itself as an annoying nervous cough, or at least what everyone thought was a nervous cough. I took Sarah Levin to the cinema, she had this sticky looking lip gloss on that I could smell was strawberry flavoured and made her lips glimmer when the light from the screen caught them. I spent all night worrying about whether I was going to get in a mess and end up smearing it over both our faces when I kissed her. In the end I didn't have to worry. I didn't get to kiss her and I heard that Brian Marvel took her to the cinema the next weekend.
Thing is, this is the closest Katniss and I have been to going on a date and I know the keyed up feeling in my stomach isn't just nerves at the prospect of acting like a complete tool when I meet her friends.
I've laid out a shirt and smart trousers to get dressed into but now I look at the outfit it screams 'trying too hard'. Sure this feels like a date to me, but Katniss doesn't know that. Perhaps I should just stick with the jeans I'm wearing, but as I check my reflection in the mirror I see they have some cake mixture on them from cooking yesterday.
I've tried on two different pairs of jeans and about six shirts by the time Katniss buzzes the intercom. "I'll be right down," I tell her as I grab the bag I've packed. I don't know whether to expect to stay at her's tonight, or whether we'll come back here, but to be on the safe side I've thrown in clean clothes for tomorrow and a toothbrush. The presents for Katniss that she wouldn't let me give her this morning, as mine were still at her house, are also in the bag. There's also a big tin full of mince pies, a cake box containing the roulade and the Christmas pudding so my arms are pretty full. Katniss jumps out of the car when she sees me struggling towards her with the load.
"Jeez Mellark what have you got there? Were you planning on moving in?" she exclaims, taking the boxes from me.
"No," I answer, perhaps a little too defensively, "it's mainly edible."
"Good," she grins. "Because I'm not planning on sharing my roulade with anyone."
….
KPOV
Peeta is pretty quiet during the drive to Jo's. It doesn't take us long as the streets are almost deserted, yet I notice it's long enough for the involuntary jerks of Peeta's head to get progressively more pronounced. I insisted Jo pre-warn everyone about Peeta's Tourette's, and whilst I'm fairly certain no one will be intentionally rude, I don't want things to be awkward for him. I know nerves tend to aggravate his condition. I've thought about it a lot, I'm certain that if Peeta's family had been more accepting and understanding from the start, he would be a lot less self-conscious and care a lot less about what people think now.
I park outside Jo's and jump out to get the door for Peeta, as he's got the boxes resting on his knees. "T-thanks," he says with a slight stutter, blinking.
I let myself in with my key and kick off my boots. I see Peeta looking down the corridor, probably expecting to find people, but the ground floor is quiet. Jo's four storey town house has a bit of a strange layout. When she inherited the old building from an uncle she totally gutted it. Now the ground floor holds an office, a utility room and a bedroom rather than the expected kitchen and living space.
"Come on, the kitchen's up here," I tell Peeta. Voices can be heard coming from the large living-dinning room at the top of the stairs. I also hear Peeta behind me blurt, "Fuck!"
"Katniss," Finnick greets me, getting up from the couch where he's been sat with a dark haired girl I don't recognize. I presume she must be the new girl from Jo's work.
"And you must be Peeta," Finn says extending his hand. Peeta blinks hard and his chin juts up as he shakes Finn's hand.
I glare at Finn in warning, but it's not necessary. "And this is Annie Cresta," Finn says, concluding the introductions.
"Hi, I work with Jo at Heavensbee & Templesmith," she smiles, shaking Peeta's hand. "It's nice to meet you at last Katniss," Annie says, turning to me, "Jo talks about you a lot."
She does? I'm surprised, then instantly panicked about what Jo has said about me. What kind of a picture has she painted? Nomadic drifter with crappy jobs, who sleeps with far too many men and never wants to settle down?
"We better drop these off in the kitchen," I say, and quickly steer Peeta away.
Jo has a large knife in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. "Are you the chef?" she asks, pointing the knife at Peeta.
"Fuck!"
"Exactly, thank fuck you're here," Jo responds. "If we want to eat before New Year's I'm going to need some help."
"What do you want us to do?" I ask.
"God not you!" she responds in horror. "I've tasted your cooking. You can go and open another bottle of wine - see if Finnick and Annie need another drink. The wine is in the fridge in the utility room downstairs."
I hesitate, uncertain whether I should leave Peeta with her. "Go on," Jo shoos me impatiently, "I've nearly finished my drink," and then downs half her glass in one mouthful.
I fetch the bottle, refill Finnick and Annie's glasses and go though the motions of swapping pleasantries and stories about Christmas, all the time feeling uneasy that I've left Peeta alone for this long.
When I open the kitchen door, Jo and Peeta are both roaring with laughter. The sleeves of his dark shirt are rolled up and he has a stripy apron tied round his waist. He's chopping up vegetables and Jo is stirring something on the hob.
"At bloody last! I thought I was going to die of thirst," Jo snarks, holding out her glass for me to fill. "I like this one," she states, and I think she means the wine until she continues. "Can I have him when you leave?" Her eyes wander appreciatively over Peeta's physique.
Peeta makes a choking noise, accompanied by a violent jerk of his head and goes red, whilst I glower at Jo. "What?" she says, addressing me with indignant innocence. "It's not like he's going to fit in your backpack when you hit the road again is he?" She raises her eyebrows as if goading me to argue back. But what can I say? Keep your hands off he's mine, bitch! is what I want to say. But it's not true, not if I'm leaving.
"FISH! FUCK!" Peeta exclaims at the same time that the doorbell rings downstairs.
"Get that will you?" Jo says, turning back to whatever it is she is stirring as if making the point that she's too busy. Peeta gives me an apologetic smile, as if it's his friend not mine that's being a pain.
The kitchen door swings wide, slamming into the wall with force, as I storm out the kitchen. Finnick and Annie are laughing in the living room, and it's total paranoia I know, but it feels like it's directed at me.
I stomp down the stairs to the front door. |t's Beetee with the woman he's currently dating. She introduces herself, but she has such a strong eastern European accent that I find it difficult to understand. It sounds like her name is Wireless, though I'm sure that can't be her real name, anymore than Beetee is really called Beetee. Barry Tse simply got abbreviated to his initials when he was a child due to his struggle with pronouncing Rs and the nickname stuck.
By the time we've gone through all the introductions and everyone has a drink, the doorbell rings again, this time with the arrival of Thresh and his kid sister Rue. By the time I'm free to return to the kitchen I've been gone for what feels like hours.
Peeta and Jo are leaning against the kitchen counter apparently finished with dinner preparations. They are both laughing and drinking something out of mugs that I suspect isn't tea. I feel excluded from their private party and I don't like it.
"I didn't bring Peeta here just so you could make him work in the kitchen," I point out.
"We've finished now," Jo says, raising her mug to me. Her grin seems to taunt me and I glare at her, the smile falls from Peeta's face as he witnesses the exchange.
"It's okay, I don't mind," Peeta says, his eyes blinking hard and his chin jutting up. I feel bad knowing I'm the cause of his discomfort until he adds, "I'm having fun with Jo," and then I feel a lot less guilty.
"Well I don't want you stuck in the kitchen all day, it's not fair." I cringe at how much I sound like a whiney, spoilt child and I quickly bite my lip to prevent an accompanying pout.
"Well, I suppose I should go say hello to my guests," Jo says, eyeing me with tight-lipped amusement as she pushes away from the counter. She tops up both Peeta's and her mugs with whiskey that was hidden behind her. She doesn't offer me any, instead merely raises her eyebrows as if daring me to say something and sashays out of the kitchen.
"Are you all right?" Peeta asks.
I don't answer, taking his mug from him and taking a sip of his whiskey to prevent me from saying what will make me sound even more like a sulky brat. But as soon as I swallow the words come out anyway. "What were you and Jo laughing about?"
"She was telling me about one of the partners at her law firm getting drunk and doing karaoke last night," Peeta responds, frowning at me. I instantly feel pathetic and immature for asking.
Peeta steps closer to me, I think he's going to kiss me but he simply takes his mug from my hands and takes a sip.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asks again. I nod, but I'm not. I'm jealous. Sulky, ridiculous and jealous.
He puts his mug down and places his hands on my waist, about to pull me closer, when the door swings opens and Jo breezes in again. "Empty," she explains, waving her mug. "And all the good stuff is hidden in here." She reaches around Peeta her body unnecessarily close to his to grab the bottle. "Do you want some more?" She asks him.
"Actually I think I better use the bathroom?"
"Upstairs," Jo and I both answer in unison.
"You can wipe that scowl of your face," Jo says, as soon as Peeta leaves the room. "I'm not about to steal your boyfriend."
I open my mouth but she doesn't give me a chance to speak.
"And don't be so obtuse as to argue that that's not what he is. It's obvious that you like him. I can't believe it," she smirks with evil delight. "Katniss Everdeen has finally fallen in love."
My eyes dart to the door but are immediately drawn back to Jo by her sound of disgust. "It's all right no one heard me. Are you really that terrified about him finding out?" She shakes her head and looks at me pityingly, before pouring herself another drink and leaving me alone in the kitchen.
Jo is royally drunk by the time the turkey comes out the oven. As is Beetee, he practically falls asleep in his dinner. Finnick is still on fine form playing to his rapt audience of Annie, who giggles at all his jokes. Jo spills the brandy and nearly sets me on fire instead of the Christmas pudding. No one can understand a word that Wireless says - I think maybe she's from Hungary -and I'm still not sure what her actual name is. Peeta only has two word explosions, one a mild Fish and the other shit-stick, which is then picked up and used by everyone as a general insult for everything from the sprouts that Jo insists we all eat - "Its tradition" - to the rubbish jokes in the crackers. Everyone seems to like Peeta and he seems to like them. I feel a strange mixture of pride and relief.
"They seem to be getting on well," Peeta comments, looking over at Finnick and Annie. They're sharing an oversized armchair in the lounge where we are all now slobbed, our stomachs groaning from over-eating, whilst still being unable to resist helping ourselves to just a few more of the mini-mince pies Peeta brought with him.
"Hmmm,' I hum looking at them. "I hope she knows what she's letting herself in for, Finn is the biggest man-whore going, you'd be hard pushed to find a woman in the Capitol he hasn't slept with. Annie seems far too good for him."
Peeta nods solemnly and thoughtfully. I'm hit by a sudden sick feeling that has nothing to do with the gigantic portion of chocolate and hazelnut roulade I had for dessert. I might as well have been talking about us. Peeta is far too good for me.
Thank you so much to anyone who left a review for the last chapter - it honestly means a lot to get the feedback.
I will try very hard to update again over the Christmas period but I'm going to be away for a few days. If I don't post before I hope everyone has a wonderful Christmas!
D
p.s. only a couple more chapters to go I think.
