When I escorted you home, I knew I needed to say something. It wasn't the right time, in fact it was pretty inopportune. After the chaos at the bar, I felt like a hypocrite, peeling Gale off Haymitch, when I was really the one he should've punched. I walked home with you, remembering what happened the last time we came home together. When I kissed you, my heart skipped a beat. When you kissed me back, it stopped beating altogether. It was so intense, so perfect, I lost myself in the moment. I had imagined kissing you for years, and the real thing was even better. But it all went downhill from there until my heart was in pieces on the floor.
I get up in a hurry, I need to go to work now, even if the simple idea of having to listen to Effie's rants is making my stomach churns.
I'm deep in thoughts all day, thinking about Peeta. Ironically, that makes me a better listener and Effie is pleased with me, not noticing I'm only nodding and scoffing at the appropriate times.
I go straight home after work, my heart heavy with anticipation. I bite my bottom lip in disappointment when I see there's still no sign of him. Finn is there though, apparently oblivious anything is wrong. I start pouring myself some water when I hear him talk on the phone. My whole body stiffens, I'm pretty sure the glimpse of voice I just heard belongs to Peeta.
Finn hangs up after a minute and I almost want to scream at him. Didn't he notice his brother is missing? My lips tighten and I try to speak nonchalantly when I ask: "How's Peeta?"
"Fine, why?" he asks, biting into an apple.
"Hmpf, no reason, he just didn't come home last night." Or the night before, I add in my head.
Finn eyes me suspiciously: "He didn't tell you he's visiting our Dad?"
"Yes, of course, I completely forgot," I add cautiously, trying to keep face.
He seems to buy it and his frown melts. I'm thankful that Finn is not Haymitch right now. Haymitch would have seen right through my shit. The wheels are turning quickly in my head, trying to figure out if Peeta told Finn the truth about going to his father's. Probably. I'm immensely relieved all of the sudden. I would never admit to it to a breathing soul, but I was entertaining the terrible possibility that he was with Delly.
"He'll be back tonight, he has to cater tomorrow morning. Well, I'm going to the movies with Annie, want to join us?" Finns offers.
"No thanks, I have something to do for work tonight," I lie.
I take a quick shower. I braid and un-braid my hair about ten times, nervous. I wait for him for hours. All for nothing because he doesn't show. Around midnight, I cringe at the thought that I drove Peeta out of his home. I need to leave tomorrow. I pack a couple of essentials, enough to last me until the week-end when I guess I can come back for the rest. My chest feels hollow, I didn't want this to happen. Things would be better, simpler, if Peeta didn't have feelings for me. He would be here with me right now, cheering me up. I basically invaded his life, his home; my friends are his friends, really; and I hurt him.
I'm lying awake in bed long after midnight, when I hear the faint thud of the front door opening. My whole body tenses up and I sit on my bed, listening intently. I know it has to be Peeta, but I almost don't dare to hope. I know I'm right when I hear his bedroom door open and close.
My heart is beating fast in my chest. Peeta's here, he's back. I'm both happy and angry that he would sneak in like that at this hour, clearly avoiding me. At once I know I need to confront him about his behaviour. Sure, I didn't have the best reaction when he said he loved me, but he didn't really give me an opportunity to explain, vanishing like he did. Maybe the space he gave me did me good, gave me time to think, but I don't like that I didn't have any say in the matter.
I look at my bag at the foot of the bed. Its presence reminds me I was about to run too. I can't be too hard on him.
I've been thinking about what I'm going to say all day but now that he's here, I don't know where to begin. I hesitate, should I wait until tomorrow? It's pretty late, but I congratulate myself for not drinking tonight, at least I'm sober.
I get up quietly and make my way towards his room. I can't wait until tomorrow.
My stomach is all in knots. What if he's pissed at me? What if he tells me to fuck off? I would in his position.
I nervously bite my lips, frozen in place outside of his bedroom door, noticing I'm only wearing my long Snoopy shirt that barely covers my ass. I play with the hem of it a little, knowing I want to go in, despite it all, suddenly realizing just how much.
My heartbeat is echoing in my throat.
My feelings, however inopportune, are real. My guilt has done a good job of choking them, but at the dead of night, standing outside the room of the boy you like, it's harder to lie to yourself.
I like Peeta. The admission makes my heart scream in relief. My heart is swelling in my chest, pressing me on the edge of that cliff again. Urging me to take the fall. My mind is saying it's too soon, too messy, pleading me to wait until the morning and play it safe.
The reckless and impulsive thing to do would be to enter his room right now, because everything could blow up. I could damage our relationship even further by saying the wrong thing.
Fuck it!
I take a deep breath before going in and closing the door behind me. He's lying in bed, eyes closed. His bedside light is still open, casting a soft orange glow on his face. His jaw tightens at the sound of my intrusion, and his eyes are unreadable when they open to meet mine.
"Katniss? What are you doing in here?" he asks, his voice more edgy than I ever heard it.
I never go into his room. Never. He stands up and grabs his pyjama pants from his drawer, putting them on hastily, clearly embarrassed. He's reaching for a shirt when I close the distance between us.
I try to grab the shirt from him, I don't know why really, but in his nervousness he drops it and I end up grabbing his wrist. He looks down at my hand in surprise. His skin is both soft and hard underneath my fingertips. He looks at me intently, his blue eyes darker than usual. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes. His expression is cryptic, I don't know what he's thinking and I don't like it. I'm at a loss for words.
Without giving myself time to chicken out, I lean into him and kiss him lightly on the mouth. He groans in response, leaning into the kiss for a second before pushing me away, his hands on my shoulders. Not violently, just enough so our mouths aren't touching.
"Katniss, what are you doing?"
What am I doing? I don't know. I'm annoyed now, why does he want to talk?
"I'm kissing you, I think it's pretty clear," I huff at him, frustrated.
I want you. I want to fall. Please say you feel the same.
He chuckles softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. I feel incredibly self-conscious and vulnerable all of the sudden. After all, I am sneaking into his room in the middle of the night in basically just my underwear. I can't look at him anymore. I feel my cheeks redden and burn at the humiliation. I'm just a stupid girl, of course he doesn't want to kiss me; I laughed at him.
"Is it the Katniss way of saying 'I'm sorry'?" He teases, a glint of mischief in his voice but without malice.
"Humph, I— I guess," I mumble, dying of embarrassment.
I'm about to run away when I feel his arms wrap around me, finally. He pulls me into his strong embrace, encircling me with his warmth. I melt against him, his body hard against mine, making my stomach flutter.
"I like it," he declares softly into my ear.
He pulls back from the hug and I almost whimper in protest before he puts his hand on the side of my neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind my ear.
He pulls me in for a kiss and I moan in approval. His mouth is hot and pliant against mine. Our lips softly explore every groove, every crevasse, making my whole body tremble under the intimacy of the moment. It's so different from our first kiss, it's sweeter, less desperate and free from the guilt and anguish. Our tongues dance together slowly, as we find our rhythm, getting accustomed to each other. It's so new, so confusing. My heart is practically falling out of my chest.
I finally break the spell, coming up for air.
He speaks first. "Were you up waiting for me?" he whispers, resting his forehead on mine.
"You were avoiding me." I say nervously, trying not to sound too accusatory, thinking how awkward this is.
"I was," he admits with a frown.
"Why did you leave?" I ask.
"I couldn't stay here, not while— not after—" he struggles to find the words.
"I broke up with Gale," I whisper, needing him to know, hiding my face in his neck. My voice breaks pronouncing the name and I can feel tears threatening to fall again. Damn tears. I never used to be such a girl. Peeta hugs me tighter, caressing my back softly to comfort me. He doesn't utter a word. I guess he can't really say he's sorry. I get it. It's way better than my reaction to his break up. Wow, that must have sucked for him, in retrospect. I close my eyes, breathing him in. He smells like flour again, probably spent the evening preparing stuff for tomorrow. I missed him so much these last 2 days.
"God, it's so late, I have to go to work in four hours," I say, spotting the time on his alarm clock.
"Yeah, me too. We should try to sleep."
I begrudgingly loosen my hold on him. "Yeah, we should," I answer but I don't take a step to leave.
He grabs my hand in his and squeeze it. "I promise I'll come straight home tomorrow night, if you want to talk some more," he offers sweetly.
We haven't talked yet, not really, but I don't feel as wretched as I did earlier, that's for sure. "Yeah okay, I'll see you tomorrow."
I make my way back to my room, an alien feeling tingling under my skin. I'm pretty sure I did something wrong again but I can't bring myself to feel bad about it. In fact, I'm pretty happy. I lie down, thinking how Peeta is right there, on the other side of the wall. We are practically sleeping next to each other. I never thought of it that way and touch the wall lightly.
"Good night Katniss," Peeta's voice says through the wall.
I smile, he must have been thinking the same thing. We never talked through the wall before. "Night, Peeta."