I'm sorry it's been a few days since I've posted anything. My little sister was playing in a softball tournament and my best friend turned eighteen the other day, so we went down south and stayed in a cabin for a couple days. This summer has been so cool because I have my license (finally) so I've been able to really do whatever as long as my parents are okay with it! But band camp starts in thirteen days. :/
"Prim!" I say quickly. I unwrap my legs from Peeta's waist and Peeta lets go of me quickly. But Prim knows what she saw. Her eyebrows are raised and she looks utterly shocked.
"Hey," Prim says. "Mom told me to drop off some of the herbs I picked in the Meadow."
"Thanks!" I say, my voice high-pitched and embarrassed. Peeta stands awkwardly next to the wall.
"I didn't mean to interrupt anything," she says, looking from me to Peeta uncomfortably. "I guess I'll see you later."
"Wait," I say. "Peeta, this is my sister, Prim. Prim, you know Peeta."
"Yeah," Prim says. "Hi, Peeta."
"Hey, Prim," Peeta says, waving strangely at her.
"Okay," Prim says. "I'm going to go." With that, she races out the door. Peeta and I stand in silence for a moment before we both start laughing.
"Did you see her face?" I say. "Oh my God, she was so embarrassed!"
"She was embarrassed?" Peeta says. "That was horrible!"
"She's going to go back and tell my mother, you know," I say.
"What a great first impression," he mutters, returning to my cupboards. The moment's past. I'm glad and upset about that. Part of me wanted to know what it would be like with Peeta, but I know that I'd regret it. We really should wait. It's the right thing to do. But since when do I care what's right and what's wrong?
It takes almost four hours for Peeta to finish my cupboards. By the time we leave my house, it's already seven and I'm starving. It takes him a half an hour to make some of the wild turkey (for which he gave me four loaves of bread and a few more kisses) and it's delicious. When we've finished eating, it's almost nine.
"What do you want to do?" he asks when we finish the dishes.
"I don't care," I shrug. "What do you want to do?"
"I don't care, either," he says. "We could go to the mall."
"The mall?" I ask, crinkling my nose. I've never been one for shopping.
"Yeah, I have to pick up a few things, anyway," Peeta says. "I'll buy you ice-cream."
"Oh, if I get ice-cream I'll go," I tease. He laughs and grabs my hand and we walk down to his car. The drive to the mall isn't long. When we go in, I see a few people I remember from school and I'm instantly uncomfortable. This is why I avoid big spaces like the mall, movie theaters, restaurants, on Saturday nights. I never liked them to begin with, and all they ever did was judge me because of where I came from and what I did when I was seventeen. Some say hello to Peeta and completely ignore me.
"They're idiots," Peeta tells me when they walk away. They're all town-folk, from Peeta's neck of the woods. Peeta Mellark being seen with a Seam girl can't be good news for anyone, especially when his mother finds out. She's always hated the Seam. I don't know why, but she has something against us. "They're not even close to as happy with their lives as you are with yours."
"What makes you think I'm happy with my life?" I counter.
"Because I'm your boyfriend," he teases. "Duh."
"Ha, ha," I say.
"Because you have the coolest daughter in the world," Peeta says. "Because your little sister and your mother are within spitting distance of you. Because you don't care what other people think. I'd be happy if I had your life."
"I am happy," I say. "But things could've turned out better."
"Everything could be better," Peeta says. "C'mon, I need to go in here." We walk inside a cooking supplies store and he purchases a couple whisks, two spatulas, and a rolling pin. "The rolling pin I have at the bakery is the same one my father used," he tells me. "It's not rolling things properly."
"It's not rolling things properly?" I repeat.
He laughs. "Shut up."
He takes me to an ice cream shop and orders two vanilla cones. We eat them on the way out to his car. "Well, that wasted a half an hour," Peeta says. "I know where we should go next."
"Where?" I say.
"The woods."
After fifteen minutes of arguing, he finally talks me into taking him into the woods. An hour later, he's standing in the woods, observing everything. "So this is the woods," he says.
"This is the woods," I say.
"This is amazing," he says. "I've never been in anything like this before. I'm jealous that you get to come out here every day."
"It's not every day," I say. "Most days, though."
"I could stay out here forever," Peeta says. "Out here, I can actually be free. In there, in the town, I have to act like someone I'm not. Here . . . with you, I can be me."
I blush. "I want to show you something," I reply. "Follow me." He follows me for a long time through the woods. It's a hard hike, but he doesn't complain. Finally, we arrive at my little sanctuary.
The lake.
"Wow," he says. "This is . . . beautiful."
"My father showed me this," I say softly. "He taught me to swim here. I come here when I need to get away. I've never shown anyone this before."
"Not even Gale?" Peeta asks, a slight edge to his voice.
"Not even Gale," I say.
"Thank you for showing this to me," he says softly. "It's amazing."
The sun finishes its descent just a little while later. The days are long in July. We sit by the lake for a long time and I tell him about my father. I've never spoken so openly about him before – but I really trust Peeta. He doesn't press or ask questions. He just lets me talk.
"He sounds like a great man," Peeta says. "I wish I could've known him."
"He was a great man," I say. "He would've liked you."
Peeta smiles. "Yeah?"
"You're not like them, Peeta," I say, referring to the other town people. "You're different. You're the only one of them that's even remotely sufferable. Besides Madge."
"I don't want to be like them," Peeta says softly. "They're not happy. They don't marry who they love, they marry based on stature. I refuse to do that. If I love someone, I'm going to be there for her whenever she needs me. I'm all in or all out."
"Are you all in or all out with me?" I ask.
"All in," he says, not even bothering to think. "You?"
"All in," I reply.
He smiles widely. "I'm really happy to hear you say that, Katniss." He pauses for a moment. "Will you teach me how to swim?"
"You don't know how to swim?" I ask.
"No," he says. "I've never even seen something like this before. Only in pictures."
"C'mon, then," I say, standing up and pulling him to his feet. "It's really, really easy."
"Just don't let me drown, okay?"
"Never," I reply.
We stand on the edge of the lake. "The best way to learn," I begin, "Is to just jump right in." Then, I push him in. I know the water is only four and a half feet deep here, but Peeta doesn't. He falls in and when we resurfaces, he's splashing around.
"Why would you do that?" he asks, but I'm laughing too hard to respond. I jump in beside him and pat his shoulder teasingly.
"You're going to be fine," I say.
"That was really cruel," he says, but I know he's trying not to laugh.
"C'mon," I say, beckoning him to follow me out further. He does tentatively.
"I don't know if I can trust you now," he teases, but I just splash him. When we reach a point where it's too deep for me to walk, I show him how to tread water. He does so easily.
"As long as you can do that, you'll never drown," I tell him.
"You're a very good teacher," he tells me.
"You haven't even learned the swimming part of it yet," I say.
"Well, let's get to it, then," he says. I show him the simple arm movements and then I demonstrate. It takes him about ten minutes to be able to do it successfully. I show him how to float, as well.
"That's it?" he asks when I tell him we're done. "That was way too easy."
"It takes time to get good at it, though," I say.
"You'll have to bring me back here, then," he says. He climb out of the lake, our clothes dripping wet.
"Damn," he says. "We should've taken some of our clothes off before we got in."
"That would've been smart," I say.
We lay in the grass for awhile, my head on his chest and his arms around my waist. "Peeta?" I say softly.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for fixing my cupboards today."
He chuckles. "No problem, Katniss."
I press my lips to his and we kiss for a long time. I roll over so I'm on top of him and his hands slide into my back pockets. My hands are tangled in his hair, his perfect, perfect hair. Our tongues fight for dominance but in the end, he takes control. I've never been one for affection, but Peeta's a very affectionate person. He can control the physical side of our relationship.
I don't know how long we're like this, but I know it's a while. When we finally untangle ourselves, I know it's late. We make the long hike back to Peeta's car and when he turns it on, it's after two in the morning. When he pulls into my driveway, he turns off the car and walks me to my door. He kisses me in the lips and once again, I find myself entangling my fingers in his hair as he holds me tight at the waist. I'm the first to pull away. "You can stay here if you want," I say. "I mean, it's late."
"It's only ten minutes to my house," he says. "But I'll stay if you want me to stay."
"I mean, if you want to, you can," I say, embarrassed by my offer. "You don't have to, just if you want–"
"Katniss," he says. "Do you want me to stay?" Do I want him to stay? All my mind can think of is how right it felt out by the lake, lying in Peeta's arms. How I felt like I could just stay there forever.
I just nod my head. He smiles and kisses my forehead. He locks his car while I unlock my door. I open it and we walk inside. I close and lock the door before we wander into the kitchen. "Want anything?" I ask.
"I'll get it," he says, going into my cupboard and grabbing two glasses. He hands me one and then gets himself a glass of water. I do the same.
"It's late," I point out.
"That's been established," he says, raising his eyebrows.
"Do you want to watch TV or . . . I guess we could go to bed," I say, looking down.
He laughs. "Katniss, you seem very uncomfortable."
"This is weird," I admit. "Is it weird for you too?"
"Maybe a little," he says. "Let's go to bed."
"I have some of my father's old clothes," I say when we walk into my bedroom. He's never seen it before. "You can wear those."
"I can sleep in this if you don't want me to wear those," he says. "Those probably have some sort of sentimental value."
I shake my head. "I don't want you to sleep in your wet clothes," I say.
He shrugs his shoulders. "I like your bedroom," he says. "Especially the picture." On my bedside table is a picture of Laurel and I on Laurel's second birthday. My mother had taken it with a camera I'd given to her for Christmas one year. I'd traded four squirrels for it.
"Thank you," I say as I hand him a white t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. "I'll go into the bathroom to change into my pajamas."
My pajamas consisted of a tank-top and shorts. I changed, washed my face, and re-braided my hair. For good measure, I put on some deodorant and brushed my teeth. There would be a boy in my bed tonight. I'd never had a boy in my bed. It wasn't just any boy, either. It was Peeta Mellark.
So many girls would kill for a chance to share a bed with Peeta Mellark. Not only for what might happen there, but just to snuggle with him. And I'm getting to do that now. I'm sharing a bed with Peeta Mellark. The thought pleases me but it also terrifies me. I exit the bathroom and crack the door open. "Are you done?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says. "C'mon in." He's standing and looking at the picture again. "I would've laid down, but I don't know which side you sleep on."
I point to the right side and he sits on the left. I lay down and he follows suit. We pull the blankets up and I turn the lamp off. It's dark and Peeta Mellark is in my bed.
"Come here," he whispers so softly that I can barely hear it. But he's opened his arms and I don't hesitate to situate myself in them.
"Gale will drop Laurel off at two," I say softly. "You'll need to leave by then."
He nods. "So Gale doesn't see me?"
I pause. "And Laurel."
He shifts underneath me. "What?"
"Look, Gale and I agreed a long time ago that Laurel doesn't meet the boyfriends/girlfriends until we're engaged," I say quickly.
He stays silent for a moment. "That makes sense," he finally says.
"I just don't want her to get close to you and then have us break up," I say.
"I understand," he says softly. "I don't like it, but I'd do the same thing if I were in your position."
"If it makes you feel any better, I don't like it either," I say. "It's Gale who really wants me to keep you out of her life for now."
"But I'm already in her life," Peeta says. "She likes me."
"Gale's her father," I say. "I have to respect his wishes."
"I don't," Peeta mutters.
"Peeta," I say softly.
"Does this mean I won't get to see you during the week?" he says.
"Unless I can get Prim to babysit, no," I say.
"Katniss, c'mon," he says. "I want to see you every minute of every day. And I want to be a part of your daughter's life."
"Peeta . . ."
"How am I supposed to show you how good of a father I'll be?" he whispers. "If I'm supposed to be out of her life until we're engaged, how am I supposed to show you how great of a stepfather I could be?"
"I don't want you to not be a part of her life," I tell him. "But I have to respect Gale's wishes."
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Peeta says. "Please, Katniss. You and Laurel are a package deal and I know that. I want to be part of her life. And I promise that if you and I ever break up, I can still be part of her life. But I don't plan on us breaking up."
I blush, but luckily he can't see it. "Fine," I say. "But Gale won't find out about this and if he does, it stops. Okay?"
He smiles widely and kisses the top of my head. "Thank you, Katniss."
"For what?" I ask.
"For showing me that you care about me enough to let me be a part of your kid's life," he says. "And it means you're not planning for us to break up, either."
"I'm not," I say softly. "I don't want us to."
"Good night, Katniss," he says sleepily.
"Night, Peeta," I reply. Normally it takes me a long time to fall asleep. But in the safety of Peeta's arms, I'm asleep in minutes.