Once Sage is fast asleep, Peeta scoops her up out of my arms and carried her back to bed. I stare nervously at my clutched hands, wringing in my lap. I can't help that I crossed over some invisible boundary. Before I have the chance to make this evening anymore awkward, I get up, put my shoes on and head for the door.
"Where are you going?" Peeta asks behind me.
"I should get going, it's late."
"Okay." I think I hear a hint of disappointment laced throughout Peeta's voice, but I can't be sure.
"Thanks for comforting Sage. Normally it takes hours of books and checking under the bed and behind doors for her to get back to sleep."
"It's fine. It reminded me of when I used to sing to Prim after our dad died. She'd get these nightmares about the explosion and for years the only way she would sleep was if I sang to her."
My voice goes soft at the memories that make a sudden appearance. I was nine years old when my dad died in a mining explosion that killed thirteen others, including Gale's father. I can still hear my mother's voice when I came home from school that day, telling me about the accident. Little Prim, just three at the time didn't understand why we were both crying and it wasn't until days later did she realize that her father would never walk through the front door, pick her up and swing her around like he used to.
Peeta uses his senses and smiles gently. "Well, don't be surprised if I call you in the middle of the night and demand you drive over here just to get my daughter to get back to sleep."
"It'll have to cost you," I joke.
"Anything," Peeta pretends desperation.
"Keep these delicious dinners to a weekly occurrence and you've got yourself a deal."
"I'll cook you dinner every night," Peeta says with a hint of something I cannot place in his voice.
I bite my lip to fight a smile from forming.
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"Oh Miss. Everdeen, you don't know me at all. I never make promises I don't intend to keep."
"You're right, I don't know you."
"Yeah, but I'd like to change that."
Peeta doesn't let me leave until I take some leftovers home so I have something good to eat for lunch tomorrow. But when I do finally make my way back to the door we share a moment, a lingering silence falls over us as we stare at each other. I'm not sure why but I don't want to be the one that says goodbye first.
I hold out as long as I can before it becomes too much and I have to look down in order to hide the blush rising up my neck to my cheeks. "I'm going to go," I finally announce.
"Okay."
Still we don't move and I let out a nervous laugh, Peeta matches me, running a large hand through his messy mop of hair.
"Look, I'm just going to say it," Peeta begins. "I had a lot of fun tonight for it just being dinner and an old movie and getting interrupted by one of my kids."
"I did too," I agree with him.
"So I'm not going to wait those required three days and instead I'm going to call you tomorrow and ask you if you'd want to do this again sometime."
"I'll probably say yes, but only if you make that cheesecake you were promising."
"Consider it made."
"Then I'm looking forward to your call," I smirk. "Goodnight Peeta."
It's not until I get home and I'm in bed, replaying our conversation, do I groan. I blatantly flirted with Peeta and agreed to another dinner with him. Why would I do that? He's got kids, three kids. Peeta doesn't need any more baggage and I come with two duffel bags and a carry-on full of unneeded shit. I'll do dinner with him, but I'll make it clear that it's purely platonic. It's for his own good anyways.
XxX
It's clear that my own promise to myself for letting Peeta know that we only share a building friendship is failing. It's not even noon yet and I've already talked to Peeta about another dinner Friday night and we've shared a handful of text messages that contain lots of smiley faces. I'm heading down a very dangerous path but I'm ignoring all the signs.
Ten year old Johanna was old, crass and opinionated. It's clear that those traits only intensified the older she got. Johanna has found a way to wiggle herself into the middle of situation with Peeta. She makes a point to put in her two cents about everything, even if I didn't ask for it, which I never do.
"So do his kids call you mom yet?" Johanna asks the moment I step into the lab. I just got back from spending the morning hiking with Gale in the woods, looking for a certain type of plant that has suddenly grown out of control and is killing off the other plants indigenous to this part of the country.
"I've only met one of them."
"Yeah and you sang her a lullaby and chased away the monsters. Why hasn't he proposed yet?"
"Jesus Jo, we had dinner. We're not going to be picking out china patterns anytime soon."
"No, but there will be patterns. And there will be a house with a picket fence, and you'll pop out another kid, maybe get a dog so the little ones can learn responsibility. The kids will end up calling you mom and Peeta will end up always using the phrase 'I don't know, go ask your mother.' whenever the kids ask him anything."
"Such the psychic," I kid.
"Nah, I just call it like I see it. And you my friend have married with children in a year written all over your face."
"Do not. Peeta and I are just friends."
XxX
Friday comes and by the time I get off work and set into my apartment, I'm a ball of nerves. Peeta and I have talked every day since our last dinner; mostly good morning text messages and asking how our day went when Peeta calls at night. I've developed light bags under my eyes from the late night phone calls. I should feel bad for keeping Peeta up considering he has to be up at five in the morning to start heating the ovens, but I don't.
I change my outfit three times. My first outfit being a dress that I found in the back of my closet, it would be classified as formal so I ditch it for another dress that is more casual only to scrap the dress idea all together and settle for denim shorts and a loose maroon top.
Peeta asked me to come over at half past six this time and I'm running behind, doing slightly above the speed limit the entire way to Peeta's.
"Sorry I'm late!" I announce the second Peeta pulls the door open.
"Only by like five minutes," Peeta glances down at his watch.
The living room floor is cluttered with toys and Peeta attempts to shove them under the coffee table and couch as we pass through onto our way to the kitchen. I can hear children playing somewhere, probably in one of the kids' room.
"I tried getting my parents to take them for the night so dinner could be civilized but that didn't happen," Peeta says.
"That's fine. I think being civil is highly overrated," I grin.
"Hi Katniss Everdeen!" I turn to see Sage running into the kitchen; her blonde hair is in a sad attempted ponytail.
"Hey Sage Mellark, how are you?"
"I'm playing with my brother Jack. Do you want to play with us?"
"What are you playing?"
"Dress up," Sage says at the exact moment the youngest Mellark comes tottering out of the back bedroom. He's wearing a dress, a crown and play eye shadow.
"Sage," Peeta says with a sigh. "What have I told you about putting Jack in your dress up clothes?"
"Not to," Sage mumbles and I have to stifle a laugh.
"Where's Bran?" Peeta asks Sage as he picks up Jack and sets him on the counter top to wipe off the make-up.
"Playing video games. He wouldn't let Jack into their room so that's why Jack was playing with me."
"Brandon!" Peeta calls out his eldest son's full name.
Moments later a miniature Peeta appears in the kitchen. He looks exactly like how I remember Peeta; square face, messy hair, starting to fill out his broad shoulders. "What?"
"You can't lock Jack out of your guy's room or else Sage gets ahold of him and Jack becomes her life sized Barbie doll." Bran huffed but didn't talk back. "Can you set the table, dinner's ready."
Sage insists that she sits next to me as she asks me question after question. Peeta tries to get her to stop and eat her chicken nuggets which I raised an eyebrow at because they came out of the freezer, but she doesn't listen.
"My teacher said that you came from the capitol," Bran says after he silently ate all of his grilled chicken.
"I moved there when I was ten. I was born here though," I answer.
"Why did you move there?"
"Uh, my mom got sick and we had to move in with my uncle."
"My teacher said that your mom went crazy because your dad got blown up and you were put in an orphanage."
"Brandon!" Peeta shouts harshly. "Say you're sorry now."
"I'm sorry," Bran looks down at the sautéed broccoli growing cold on his plate.
"It's okay."
Peeta excuses himself and the children and quickly gets them ready for bed straight after dinner, despite all three of the kids' protests. He's only gone fifteen minutes tops before walking back into the kitchen to retrieve the cheesecake out of the fridge.
Peeta hands me a large piece with drizzled chocolate and caramel on top. With the first bite, I'm in heaven.
"I'm so sorry about the kids. They aren't used to people being over. I mean Finnick and Annie come over a lot but they're basically family," Peeta sighs as he rubs the back of his neck.
"It's fine."
"No it's not. I can't believe Bran actually said that. I took away his Xbox."
"You didn't need to do that. He was just curious, and it's not like what he said wasn't true."
Peeta looks at me quizzically. I almost want to tell him about the year between my dad's death and moving to the capitol. I don't though, I've grown to like talking to him too much, and telling him that story would definitely send him running for the hills; friendship terminated.
"Even if it's true or not, still doesn't people the right to invade your personal life."
I shrug, not really up for this conversation, especially with Peeta. He wouldn't get it. He had the perfect life; two healthy and living parents, brothers that showed their love through playful roughhousing, a nice house, friends. Peeta never went to bed hungry or fear that someone might find out how bad their home life really is. Peeta had security, whereas I did not.
Peeta's cell phone rings expectantly and he excuses himself to I'm assuming his bedroom to answer it. I consider leaving, but that would hurt Peeta's feelings and I don't want damage this friendship.
I hear a door open and close, I turn expecting to hear an apology from Peeta but its Bran.
"Hey, I thought you were sleeping," I tell him as he walks over to the couch I'm sitting on.
"Sorry about what I said at dinner," Bran apologizes again; that must be a family trait.
"You've already said sorry, its fine."
"I know but that was when Dad told me to. Now I'm saying it on my own."
"Oh. Well I accept your apology."
Bran takes a seat on the cushion beside me. He seems a lot younger in his mismatched pajamas than he did at dinner when he was setting the table and helping Jack with his chicken nuggets. All his life he's had to play the second parent to his two younger siblings, much like I was to Prim.
"Are you and my dad dating?" I'm taken aback by Bran's blunt question. "Cause he really likes you."
"How do you know that?"
"Did you see him at dinner?" Bran answers my question with a question of his own. "He never acts like that, even when Grandma comes over. He's a nightmare when Grandma visits."
"I didn't notice," I mutter.
"We have a good eye doctor; I'll give you his number."
I laugh loudly and Bran grins. "My dad is going to ask you if you want to go to the park with us on Sunday. You should say yes."
"Hey Bran, what are you doing up?" Peeta asks coming out of his bedroom.
"I'm telling Katniss how horrible we are and that we don't brush our teeth before bed," Bran says sarcastically.
"Honestly Peeta, what kind of children are you raising? I thought you were joking about them being uncivilized but this is downright caveman-like," I kid.
"Come on Brandon, bed time," Peeta smiles.
I watch as he kisses the top of his oldest son's head and mutters 'I love you' before taking a seat on the couch. We are quiet for several moments. It's not an awkward or uncomfortable silence though. It's a comforting one. The kind where you shut your eyes and listen to the even, deep breathing of the only other person in the room. A silence that only feels like seconds but the hands on the clock that hangs on the wall begs to differ.
"When are you going to invite me to the park?" I ask breaking the peacefulness.
"I wasn't sure you'd want to go, after tonight being such a mess."
I look at Peeta quizzically. "Tonight was anything but a mess. I like your kids, they're funny. It's crazy how much of myself I see in Bran. I think he was just sizing me up tonight; it's something I would have done if my mom brought anyone home."
"So if I asked if you wanted to come to the park with us on Sunday would you say yes?"
"Most certainly."
"Well then it's a date."
My smile is bigger than it should be but I can't help myself, everything about Peeta is so infectious. Just his presence alone could make an entire room feel bubbly.
We stay on the couch, talking until after midnight. Talking in person is much better than talking on the phone because Peeta is so expressive and I love to watch how he uses his entire body to talk. Especially when he talks about something Peeta's so passionate about; baking, the bakery, and his kids. I could sit here at listen to him until the sun comes up and not grow bored or even tired.
But we can't because Peeta works on a baker's schedule and needs to get at least a few hours of sleep before getting up in the morning to tend to the bakery downstairs.
My departure is less awkward than last time. We didn't stand there at the front door looking at each other like idiots. Instead the moment I put my shoes back on, Peeta wrapped his arms around me and embraced me in a warm hug. Bodily contact isn't something I'm used to, but it's nice. Peeta has somehow managed to make sugar smell manly and has the ability to be soft yet solid at the same time.
"Text me when you get home so I don't have to worry about you," Peeta murmurs as soon as we part.
"Will do. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Katniss."
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