Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to review, favorite and follow. It means so much to me that you have interest in something that I'm writing, so again thank you.
As always thank you to my Beta, Court81981, and to Scoutchick104, slagheapwhore, and chrissytron for reading through this chapter and giving my self esteem a well needed boost. I love you ladies so much, you have no idea.
I can be reached on tumblr under the username: stacylk.
Chapter Eight
The usual commotion of the classroom carries on around her as she gazes out of the large paned window, giving her a view of the courtyard that both the first and upper schools share. She attempts to ignore the incessant chatter of the apple- cheeked Merchant girl whose seat is next to hers, and every few seconds the metal of her chair leg scrapes against the linoleum floor of the classroom, from the girl bouncing up and down repeatedly in her seat. Katniss can't possibly understand what could cause anyone to become that excited, and she cuts her eyes over to the girl, her nerves already frayed from the high -pitched tone of the Merchant girl's voice. A mass of blonde ringlets comes into view and Katniss has to slightly scoot back enough so that the strands don't land at her mouth; having to sputter and spit the hair free would only inform the girls of her ease dropping. Katniss sets her gaze forward so that the girls will be less likely to suspect her invasion, although she can still see the animated gestures of the Merchant girl as she recounts her story to her friend.
Her name evades Katniss, which isn't surprising since she makes it a habit to appear invisible, and making friends isn't something she goes out of her way to do. She reaches for her braid to weave her fingers through the strands that remain loose. The various conversations seem to run together, prompting her to separate the girl's whining tone from a dozen others; she can almost hear Gale's spill about how all of the Merchants seem to be exact replicas of each other.
She catches the end of the girl's sentence when she's finally able to decipher what she's talking about. "…and then when he put his hands underneath my skirt I thought I was going to die." Katniss feels her cheeks flush and she hopes that the girl who was facing her direction couldn't see her reaction. "I don't know what it is about those Seam boys, but they know how to touch a girl just right." Katniss has to resist the urge to roll her eyes when she hears the girl sniff. "Too bad there's too much coal dust underneath those fingernails to make proper husbands out of them." Her friend snickers before she continues. "And even though he knew what he was doing with the lips underneath my panties, he had no idea what to do about actual kissing."
Katniss could hear the other girl gasp and cluck disapprovingly. "That's just horrible! He should have been at his best since he had the pleasure to be with a Merchant girl." Katniss couldn't stop the sharp laugh that escaped her lips, causing the girls at her side to still; she was positive she had been caught. Ever so slowly she turned her head to the side to face the girls, but they only gave her blank stares before continuing on with their conversation.
The one with the ringlets; gives a deep sigh. "Well you know my theory about kisses? They are never very good the first time; it takes practice." Katniss watches as the girl's friend nods her head in agreement, and suddenly the memory of soft supple lips pressed against hers flashes through her mind.
Katniss turns her head back towards the window as the blush at her cheeks began to spread over the rest of her face and chest. It is difficult for her to think of anything else at that second than of the feel of his hands at her hips and the way he had fisted the material of her dress, causing it to rise. The memory of his bare chest against her body causes a warmth to settle at her waist; Katniss shifts in her seat, but the friction only causes the sensation to increase and she feels a dizziness come over her. It's then that she realizes how unbelievably wrong the Merchant girl is because she has only been kissed once, and just the memory of it is enough to send her falling over out of her desk.
She pulls at her braid in an attempt to bring herself back into the present, discouraged with how easily she lost herself in a silly moment in time. It is true that Peeta is attractive and she can't deny the fact that he has an ability to elicit certain emotions and sensations from her that no one else can, but the reality of the situation is that she didn't have the time or energy to waste on pining after a boy, even one as unique as he is. She forces herself to right in her seat as the teacher finally manages to settle the class down and the commotion from earlier begins to die down. Katniss reaches for her text book, flipping the cover open as she attempts to concentrate on the bold lettering inside, relaying the history of Panem. Normally she would have absentmindedly skimmed over the pages, not interested in the propaganda that the officials preferred to have them learn, but the image of his broad shoulders and firm jaw line is invading her thoughts and she needs something to push him from her mind. Katniss finally feels her pulse slow down, and the memory of their kiss begins to fade into the back of her mind. She is thankful that at least for now she has gained a reprieve from the onslaught of hormonal urges- that is until the smooth baritone of his voice travels to her from the front of the classroom. Katniss rests her face into the palms of her hands as she concludes that she is becoming truly mad, but it isn't until after she hears the rest of the class become quiet suddenly that she lowers her hands and looks to the front of the room.
He's running his hands through his hair as she reaches for her braid again, twisting the ends around her fingers; she can tell that he's nervous, but she reasons that it may be her own anxiety at seeing. Peeta squares his shoulders as he pushes one of his hands into the pocket of his slacks, and Katniss can't stop her eyes from roaming over his form. She takes her bottom lip in between her teeth as her gaze lands at his forearms, and even from her place at the back she can see his muscles flex, causing the warmth from before to return. Katniss is so lost in watching him that she nearly misses when their teacher's voice raises.
The older man pushes his wire frames up the bridge of his nose. "How is your grandmother? Your grandparents are greatly missed around here; they were truly skilled as bakers. It's just a shame how the bakery has regressed since they stopped operating it."
She can see Peeta's jaw clench as he attempts to remain calm. "I don't know, sir. I don't have any contact with my mother's side of the family, but I'm sure where ever my grandmother is she would appreciate your words."
The older man pats him on the shoulder, his expression heavy with pity. "Well the Lowells were good people even with all the controversy."
Katniss can feel her temper rise as their teacher puts Peeta on the spot with the entire class watching, but she has to remind herself that his feeling are of no concern of hers, yet she can't fight the pain in her chest when his shoulders drop a few inches. When it appears that Peeta isn't going to offer any more information about his personal life or otherwise, the older man points him in the direction of the back of the class, the very direction where Katniss is now seated. She can feel her pulse quicken as he turns into her row and as soon as his stride picks up, so does the commotion of the class room. But unlike earlier when the conversations differed, only one topic is at their lips, or specifically one person: Peeta. She hears the Merchant girl seated beside her comment on how handsome he is, and Katniss has to force herself to ignore the rest of her comment as her temper suddenly rises. She holds onto the edge of her desk, each hand positioned on either side as she chances a glance his way. His blonde hair has fallen down into his eyes, which only makes the blue irises even more apparent and appealing. She gives him a slight smile, but he keeps his eyes forward and she can't stop the pang of pain from his rejection; perhaps she had built up their interactions in her head like some foolish girl.
Katniss is busy scolding herself when she feels the tingle start at her fingers and travel up her hand, her eyes dart to her hand and she can barely make out the edge of his hand before it's gone. She looks back in the direction of where he walked, and as he takes his seat, his eyes are trained on her. Katniss is thankful that the rest of the class is already immersed in something else, and no one is witness to the way he continues to stare at her from two seats back or the way she flexes her fingers, wishing the feeling of his touch to return.
The rest of the day is a series of forgettable moments as Katniss goes through the motions, her mind elsewhere as the memory of his body flush against hers takes over any rational thought that she attempts to form. She sees him periodically in the halls in passing, and it never fails that each time his eyes seek out hers, for that split second the air around her becomes heavy, the static almost electric. And during those brief moments, he is all she can concentrate on, which always results in her running into another body in the crowded hall way or on one occasion when she collides with the double doors leading out to the courtyard. She is always too embarrassed to find him in the crowd to gauge his reaction but if he feels as she does he would be mortified to know that he is the cause of her ridiculous behavior. However, when she allows herself to feel the loss of his stare, the hollow feeling is nearly suffocating, which in return she scolds herself for feeling something so deep for someone she has only known for a short time.
Katniss can't seem to escape him; even if she is able to evade Peeta in the hallway and push back the memories of his strong build and steady lips, he is still the popular topic of conversation throughout the day. She tries to ignore the frivolous gossip as she usually does, as she would in any other situation, but when his name reaches her ears ,she can't stop herself from listening. Although more often than not, she wishes she had minded her own business, since most opinions dismiss him as a cautionary tale, something to snicker at and mock. It is a plethora of perspectives: hormonal Merchant girls that comment on his attractiveness; male classmates that threaten to cause him bodily harm if he attempts to converse with the girls of their choosing; but all of them agree on something , a nickname, as they call him the Other Hawthorne. The name caused her to become furious, eliciting a fury she hadn't felt in quite sometime, which leads her to wonder why it is that she is already so protective over him. She can understand her attraction towards him or even the bizarre fascination she seems to have; he is, after all handsome and he has a way of making her feel caught in the moment, but where is this sense of loyalty coming from, when she has always been so particular about those she fought for?
During one of times she attempts to escape the barrage of gossip and clipped tones, Katniss decides to take the long way to her Applied Sciences class (which in reality consisted of teaching Seam children about the mines), she walks through the courtyard when she spots him. She debates walking past him without a second's notice, but as she watches him lean against the trunk of the tree in the middle of the yard she can't but notice how secluded he is. She hasn't seen anyone talking to him- about him, yes -but no one actually engages him in normal conversation. She has to remind herself that she is also guilty of watching him for selfish reasons, treating him as some freak that is there for entertaining the masses.
Katniss stills her steps as she stands there watching. Peeta slide the tip of the pencil over the worn stack of papers that he steadies in his palm, the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly as he traps it between his teeth in deep thought. The wind would picks up for a few seconds causing, the curls around his eyes to lift and he scrunches his nose as he shakes his head trying to resituate the strands. The ringing of the final bell echoes through the courtyard, alerting her of her tardiness, but Katniss can't seem to make herself move as she keeps her gaze locked on Peeta.
It is truly fascinating the way he can lose himself in something so simple as pressing lead to paper, but there are moments when he seems so utterly content, a feeling she herself has only felt out in the woods beyond the barrier of the fence. Katniss is aware that watching him is foolish and that she doesn't need the complication of missing a class, but with the absence of any other soul , she feels as though there isn't anywhere more important to be. She debates walking towards him, but before she can force herself to walk, he looks up from his paper, locking eyes with her. Katniss can see the surprise in his wide orbs, until his face relaxes and he gives her a soft smile, raising the hand that holds his pencil in greeting. She stands there frozen; her resolve from before is gone and she turns on her heel to run inside, hoping that her teacher hasn't already alerted a Peacekeeper to her absence.
She slips in the back unnoticed, which isn't that difficult since she prides herself in being as invisible as possible, and it doesn't hurt that as she gets older, the teachers took notice of the Seam children less and less. Most would eventually end up working the mines, and a great amount of the district didn't see the need for education when it came to older Seam children- they had already been given a vocation before they had even been born. So she sits there at the back of the class, her mind wandering back to the image of Peeta standing against the tree, his mind deep in concentration. She occasionally fantasizes about walking up to him and brushing the hair away from his forehead, while allowing her finger tips to linger there.
Later in the evening, Katniss sighs as she walks the distance from her home to the Hawthornes; the sun is beginning to set and the heat has ebbed. She is thankful for the reprieve from the high temperature as she tugs at the tank top that she had changed into after arriving home from school that afternoon. She had decided to spend the time with her sister, but Prim had been too immersed in learning the latest herbal remedies that their mother tasked her with studying. Katniss had been less than willing to spend time bonding with her mother and she felt foolish laying about the house without something constructive to do. When her had suggested she take a walk, Katniss had decided that she was out of any other options and perhaps Hazelle had something she could be tasked with, and although she wouldn't admit it to herself, she was looking forward to catching a glimpse of Peeta.
As she rounds the corner, she sees him on the back porch hunched over the sketch pad from before his hand working furiously against the paper, a pencil gripped between his fingers. Katniss debates whether to turn back home, as a wave of anxiety washes over her but against her better judgment, she picks up her pace, kicking up the dirt around her until she's standing in front of him.
Peeta keeps his head down as he continues to work. "Gale isn't here; he left about an hour ago to help Hazelle deliver some laundry." He stills his hand as he looks up at her; his eyes are a deep blue and she has to reach out to the beam at the steps to steady herself. "But you're welcome to wait." A small smile graces his lips, and she's suddenly grateful for the support. "With me, that is."
Katniss nods silently as she lets go of the beam and lowers herself to the step, sitting down beside him. She catches his eyes trained on her shoulder where the thin strap of her tank top reveals more skin than she's comfortable with. She clears her throat, and his eyes lock with hers as he seems a bit embarrassed. "I was actually just coming to see you."
The small smile from before widens and she's struck by how the simple expression brightens up his face. "Is that right?"
Katniss shrugs as she pushes her braid to her back, and then turns her head to rest her chin on her shoulder. "Maybe."
Peeta chuckles as he looks back to his sketch pad, continuing to work; his hands are now streaked with black smudges, and Katniss can't seem to be but mesmerized by the movements. Her mind begins to drift, wondering what it would feel like if he were able to trace her skin with his fingers, administering the same skill he does when he draws. Her cheeks become warm, and she hopes that Peeta doesn't look over to see how flush her face is.
Before the warmth has a chance to travel down the rest of her body, Katniss tears her eyes away from his hands, deciding to occupy her mind with something else. "I remembered knowing you when we were little." Peeta drops his pencil to his lap as he looks over at her. "Well technically I had a dream about it," Katniss adds, feeling the flush from earlier increase as she realizes what she was implying. "Well not that I dream about you, it's just you changed a lot." Peeta furrows his brow and her pulse quickens. "You had these really round cheeks."
Peeta nods. "Yes, I was a bit chubby."
"You look nice now." Katniss stills, the statement leaving her mouth before her mind can catch up. She begins to panic, but the smile at his lips prompt her to keep still.
Peeta lets out a low laugh. "I remember you too, you know?"
Katniss raises a brow. "Really?"
He nods. "Yes. You're hard to forget."
She turns her face to the side to hide the blush, but faces him when he begins to speak. "Have you heard what they call me?" Katniss attempts to keep her expression indifferent but when she looks into his eyes, she can't keep the emotion from showing. "The Other Hawthorne. I suppose it's a little clever."
Katniss shrugs. "No, I don't think so."
Peeta gives her a small smile. "You're an awful liar, Katniss. But I appreciate the effort."
She ducks her head, ashamed of her inability to make him feel better. "Sorry."
Peeta reaches over, placing his hand on her chin, making her face him. "It's a good thing, Katniss. Too many people lie well; they twist the truth into what they think it should stand for, reflecting their own opinion until the lie is all you really now and everything is so upside down it makes you dizzy."
Katniss closes her eyes, reveling in the feel of his hand at her face as she speaks, "I wanted to kiss you." She opens her eyes slowly to see his on her already. "I didn't do it because I felt sorry for you or something as equally ridiculous. I did it because you made me feel something I've never felt before, and at the time kissing you felt right."
Peeta tilts his head to side as he moves his hand up her face to land at her cheek, she can feel the blush reach her ears. He leans in slowly to kiss her cheek, and the sensation of his lips on her skin is nearly more than she can handle. Katniss watches him closely as his hand lingers at her cheek before placing it beside her thigh. He gives her a small smile as he wraps his fingers over hers and stares ahead, watching the sun set as a myriad of colors brighten the sky. A silence settles between them as they sit on the steps of the porch, only their hands touching as he holds hers in his. And suddenly she realizes the clarity and contentment she's feeling in this particular moment is something she hadn't felt since before her father died.
The weight of his hand on hers is already familiar, and she has to focus her breathing to prevent from gasping when he wraps his fingers around hers. Katniss can feel the initial urge to pull away rising up through her, but it isn't until Peeta gives her hand a gentle squeeze that she allows herself to enjoy the moment. She can see him out of the corner of her eye as he keeps his attention forward, his expression stoic, and she can't help but want to know what's going through his mind. She scolds herself for being so silly like all of the other girls her age who are so preoccupied with boys and what may or may not be going through their hormonal -drenched brains. She chances a glance his way; he's still facing forward and she can't help but appreciate how handsome he is, then suddenly the thought is pushed down by the niggling curiosity if he, like other boys, ever thinks about sex and if the answer is yes than to what degree, and before she can reach the point, her mind is already mulling over the possibility that he has thought of her in that manner.
Katniss can feel the blush rush up her face and out of reflex she moves her hand in his; this causes him to turn to her, his eyes questioning. She can feel the guilt make its way to her gut until she opens her mouth to reassure him, although her tongue feels heavy between her teeth and wanders when she became such a ninny. "My hand was getting sweaty." Katniss ducks her head as she rolls her eyes at her pitiful excuse until she feels composed enough to turn back towards him. "I just need to wipe the sweat off." Peeta watches her slowly as she pulls her hand free, her slender fingers slipping from his and he tries not to seem desperate, when in reality he would like nothing more than to bring her closer to him. A strained silence falls between them as Katniss slides her hand over the material at her thigh, her eyes downcast. He waits for her to stand up from the porch, to leave as quickly as she appeared, but as the seconds go by and she keeps her place, a small smile graces his lips.
Peeta keeps his eyes on her to only glance back over to the sunset for a few seconds. He can see the blush at her cheeks deepen and by the way she wrings the hem of her shirt in her hands, it isn't difficult for him to assume that she is as nervous as he is. Although he can't deny that he loves to watch her squirm a bit, if only for the fact that he seems to affect her in some way, and perhaps she has developed the same fascination for him that he now holds for her. And as pleased as he is to see her defenses be lowered, he doesn't like to see her uncomfortable.
Peeta runs his hands through his hair, trying to seem indifferent when in reality he wants to pull her close and marvel in the feel of her body. He shakes his head, trying to quell the normal hormones that seem to increase when she is close. He takes in a deep breath until speaking the first thought to enter his mind. "What's your favorite color?"
Katniss's hands still as she turns to him, completely dumbfounded and taken aback by his question. "Excuse me?"
Peeta feigns a smile trying to seem relaxed while he mentally kicks himself for asking such an asinine question. "Well your favorite color says a lot about who you are. And since I'd like to be your friend-" He nearly chokes on the word. "I would like to know you."
Katniss furrows her brow as she scooted closer to him, clearly intrigued. "How would my favorite color tell you anything about me?"
Peeta opens his mouth to speak as he tries not to lose himself in her proximity. "Well if you like pink than it can mean you're demure." He watches her scrunch her face and can't miss the way the freckles at her nose blend together, so instead of leaning forward and kissing each mark, he laughed at her expression. "Alright so clearly you're not a pink person, but there's others… like blue can mean loyalty, or how purple can be insanity."
Katniss absorbs his explanation before narrowing her eyes. "Did you just make that all up?"
Peeta expression becomes serious for a second until he begins to laugh. "Every bit of it." Katniss nudges him with her shoulder as he continues to laugh. He attempts to compose himself while she keeps her body even closer to his than before and he once again has to remind himself to act normal. "So what is your favorite color?"
Katniss breathes in deeply as she narrowed her eyes. "Green." She holds out her hand to silence him. "And I know what you're going say, that it's typical for the girl who spends most of her time illegally in the forest to have her favorite color be green."
Peeta shakes his head. "No, I was going to say that to love a color so rich and nurturing must mean that you share the same characteristics." Katniss regards him closely. "And nothing about you is typical, Katniss."
She ducks her head, the warmth from earlier returning. "So, what's your favorite color?"
"Orange." Katniss looks over to him, her brow quirked, as Peeta merely smiles at her confusion. "I'm serious, but not the bright obnoxious shade. It's the one that you'd find in a sunset, warm and golden." He directs her attention to the sky. "It's miraculous that so many brilliant colors can exist at one time in the same place, and for those moments something beautiful is there for us to watch. It's a reminder that things like hope and love can be possible."
Katniss searches his face before settling on his eyes to hold his gaze. "Do you really believe in those things?"
Peeta glances down to her lips until traveling back up to her questioning eyes. "I want to. I just figure that if I pretend to than eventually I'll actually believe it."
Katniss shakes her head. "There's too much shit in this world for those things to exist."
A small smile graces his lips. "That's why we need those things. Through all the pain and grief we need something to look forward to."
She narrows her eyes. "You're very strange, Peeta."
Peeta places his hand behind her as he turns his body into hers while reaching up with the other to place it at her cheek. The mirth in his eyes from earlier is now gone as he looks at her intensely. "And you're very beautiful and resilient, Katniss." And without much thought, as he runs on instinct primarily, Peeta lowers his face to hers. He waits for the eventual moment when she pulls away from him, angry at his forwardness, but when she leans closer to him, waiting for him to take the extra step, he crashes his lips to hers.
Katniss reaches out to grab hold of his collar, pulling him in closer as he surrounds her with his strong body; she can feel the arm behind her flex and shake slightly as their lips stay pressed together. She opens her mouth, giving him access before her rational mind can convince her that this entire situation is trouble. The feel of his tongue pressing into hers brings her out of her thoughts as she's thrown into an abyss of sensations that roll over and through her body, leaving behind a warmth that causes her thighs to clench. She can feel Peeta tangle his fingers in the strands of her hair that have escaped her braid; he lightly tugs it; which earns a moan to escape from her throat that only seems to spurn him now. His lips are firm and supple at the same time, and the feel of them is so much more pleasant and delicious than they had been when she had first kissed him. Because it's different this time- she's not kissing him on some sort of whim. She's kissing him because there's a good chance she has actual feelings for the boy who makes her want to feel. She may very well love the boy who appreciates sunsets for the promise that they hold even if he doesn't yet understand it himself. She loves him because he wants to have faith in a faithless world. She may love, Peeta Mellark.
A/N:Thank you for reading! I have put all of my other stories on Hiatus while I finish this one, I'm hoping only a few chapters remain and that all of you will remain to stick by this story until the end. Also, for those of you that like to listen to music that I use to write this fic. I have posted a playlist on my profile. And for those that feel that the story is dragging a bit i promise that this chapter is the start of some major events.
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