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After Peeta and I shared our tender moment, it was back to work as usual. After a few seconds of wordless communication, we reluctantly disentangled our hands and mumbled that we should start work. After our unexpected exchange, Peeta was much more quiet and hesitant than usual. I don't think he knew how to react to my unexpected show of affection and frankly, I didn't either.
Towards the end of the morning he finally seemed to become less shy and more like his normal self. We started talking again, of simple things but it was pleasant. As it approached 11, business was slow and I was expecting Peeta to tell me I could head home, like he usually does.
He had been quiet again for the past half hour or so and I was wondering what was up with him, as he seemed to be contemplating something. There wasn't much left to do so I was sort of sitting around, idly wiping down countertops and tidying up when I decided to ask him what was up, seeing that we had sort of just reached a new level of our friendship. As usual, I worried about coming across as prying or annoying but figured Peeta wouldn't mind as he was usually an open book.
"Are you ok, Peeta? Is anything bothering you?' I asked, him looking up at me from the open recipe book he had been blankly staring at.
His eyes widened a bit in a mixture of surprise that I had picked up on his pensive mood and hesitation on how to answer my question.
"I'm ok." He said, giving me a tight-lipped smile, very much unlike the wide grins he often gives me. Usually talkative and open, Peeta was being surprisingly closed off and while it should have ended my line of questioning, his uncharacteristic response only made me more concerned and curious.
"Peeta, I know it's none of my business or anything but if something's bothering you, you can tell me. That's what friends are for." I added the last part hesitantly, reluctant to call us friends in fear of appearing overzealous.
He looked up at me again, eyes wider than before. I could tell he was scared that I thought he didn't want to be my friend, which was not what I thought. I was just puzzled as to why he was being so withdrawn when he was usually quite the opposite.
"Thank you, Katniss, I appreciate it. Nothing's wrong I'm just being kind of silly I guess." He started blushing and running his hand over the back of his neck in a way that told me he was uncomfortable with where this conversation was going. That didn't stop me though. I was too curious.
"I'm sure it's not silly, what's going on?" I prodded gently, suddenly desperate to know what he was thinking, what he was concerned about. I wanted to make him feel better; it was unsettling seeing the usually joyful boy that made my days brighter suddenly quiet and contemplative.
He hesitated then, obviously unsure of what to say to me. I wondered what he could be thinking about that he would not want to tell me. Was it something too personal that he didn't want to share with me? While I understood if it was, I must admit the thought stung a little for some inexplicable reason. Had I done something wrong? I figured this was most likely, and wished he would just say it if I had.
"Ummm, I was wondering…." He paused then and looked back down at the recipe book, unable to meet my eyes for some reason. I suppose I was probably being a bit intimidating, staring at him intently, waiting raptly for his reply. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his neck again, finally gathering the courage to look up at me with apprehensive and timid blue eyes.
"I was wondering if you and Prim wanted to come to my house for dinner tonight? You don't have to of course and I don't want you to feel like you have to because you work with me or anything because you don't. I was just wondering if you wanted to come and have dinner at my house. With Prim of course. Only if you want to."
He said it in a hurried voice, obviously having trouble getting it out. He rambled a bit but in an absolutely adorable way. I thought it was sweet and also confusing that he was so nervous about asking my sister and I to dinner. Of course we would go to dinner at his house. Prim would be nothing short of ecstatic at the prospect of spending time with the man that has given us so much. She would love to dress up in her finest dress and do her hair and go have a surely delicious dinner at Peeta's home. It sounded lovely to me too. I wanted Peeta to meet Prim. I wasn't very forthcoming with words but I know that Peeta knows how important Prim is to me. It seems right that I would share such a crucial part of my life with him, when we have become friends and he has shared so much with me.
I've been looking at him for a moment, him staring back at me in the same nervous way.
"We would love to, Peeta. That sounds great." I say in way of reply, and his face instantly softens with relief. I have no clue why he was so nervous about asking or unsure of my answer but I find myself getting a little excited at the idea of having dinner at his home, if I'm being honest. I'm positive that Peeta will make something amazing and I can't wait for Prim to try his food and see how nice he is. I'm flattered that he asked and thought to invite Prim.
He smiles then, which in turn brings a smile to my face. We stand like that for a minute, smiling at each other across the countertop like idiots. He looks happy all of a sudden and I'm glad; seeing him act like himself brings relief to me and I'm glad that his contemplative mood wasn't caused by something more serious.
"Great! I'm so glad you guys want to come, I'll make something special for dinner and desert of course. You can go home now but could I pick you up at six o'clock?" He asks excitedly, his stubborn curl bouncing with the small movements of his head. I barely comprehend what he says because I was staring at the stray curl but luckily I'm able to form a reply after a second of staring at him, jaw slack, eyes vacant. No matter how hard I try I always end up either looking stupid or pissed off.
"That sounds great. You don't have to pick us up though; we're perfectly fine walking. Just tell me how to get to your house." I say, finally able to form a complete sentence.
"Oh, its ok, it's no trouble at all really. My house is a ways away from yours and it'll be dark anyways, I'll just come by your house at six." He says, smiling softly.
"Ok, thank you." I was reluctant to let him pick us up, as he was already being very generous by having us over and cooking for us. I had to remind myself that Peeta was doing it to be kind and would not expect anything in return. My first thought when someone did something nice for me was one of debt and how I would repay it, though those thoughts have been less frequent and intense lately just because of the sheer number of nice deeds Peeta does for me.
Prim will be beyond thrilled to be picked up in a car, having not ridden in one for years. I knew Peeta has a car because he drives it to work and his ancient Ford pickup truck is consequently always parked in front of the bakery.
I tell Peeta how to get to my house from the bakery, seeing as I don't have any idea where he lives and thus how he would get to my house from there. He listens closely, eager and not wanting to miss any of my sub-par instructions. After I've finished giving him instructions, he smiles big and wide and tells me he'll be there at six and that he's looking forward to it. I smile at that and tell him that I'm looking forward to it as well.
I leave then, Peeta holding the door for me as I leave and saying "Goodbye" in a happy and excited voice. I think of Peeta in his home with the same delighted look on his face, cooking dinner for us and looking forward to our company and my heart warms. I never would've thought to ask Peeta over to our home for dinner but I'm glad he invited us because it's a good idea. I'm looking forward to it more than probably makes sense but I decide to not overanalyze my feelings for once and make the walk home with a slight smile on my face.
I tidy up the home for a few hours and eat a sandwich for lunch. I feel sort of restless which is unusual so I go out to pet Lady, Prim's goat, until it's time to pick her up from school. I take the short walk over to her school at a quarter to three, five minutes before I usually leave but I figured I might as well go as I was anxious and had nothing left to do anyways.
I wait outside of the schoolhouse for a few minutes and am delighted when I see Prim skip her way over to me, happy as she so often is.
"Hey, little duck," I say, fiddling with her hair a bit as she hugs me.
"Hi, Katniss." She smiles up at me with her fair skinned little face, her fine blonde hair trailing behind her. My sister and I look very different; you would never know we were related if you didn't know us. She is fair skinned and blonde, much like Peeta's skin tone. I, on the other hand, have olive skin much darker than hers and thick, wavy, black hair that is almost always tied back in a braid.
I quite obviously take after my father whereas my sister takes after our mother. If our mother is any indication, Prim is going to be quite the beauty when she grows up and I anticipate that I'm going to have to beat boys off with a stick. Luckily, I don't have to worry about that yet, as she's only 10 years old and a generally happy little girl.
We start the stroll home hand in hand, both of us swinging our hands between us as we walk.
"How was your day, little duck?" I ask her, to which she looks at me briefly and replies that it was "Good, Beverly's mother packed her a cookie in her lunch and she shared some of it with me." That simple fact seems to have made her very pleased, but serves as a reminder to my thoughtlessness. I work in a bakery and I have not even once tried to bring home a treat to put in Prim's lunch. Peeta almost always sends me home with bread, which I use to make her sandwich, but she absolutely deserves to have a surprise sweet treat at lunchtime. I make a mental note to buy a cookie for Prim when I'm at work tomorrow and put it in her lunch the following day.
"That was very nice of her, " I say, stopping the motion of our hands in an effort to get her attention. We stop walking and I lean down to her to deliver the news about dinner because I know if I don't that she might run off from me in sheer excitement.
"Hey, little duck, Peeta invited us to come have dinner at his house tonight, does that sound good? He's going to pick us up in his car."
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, Katniss that sounds amazing! How nice of him to invite me too, I can't wait!" As I expected, she's extremely excited and jumps up and down a little bit at the news. She practically skips the rest of the short way home and immediately runs upstairs to go pick out her dress and hair ribbon when we enter through the door.
I go upstairs and watch her for a moment, fluttering about her room, picking from the few choices she has. I've been saving up to buy her a new dress and pair of shoes, both of which she desperately needs. I myself could use some new clothes, but Prim always comes first. Everyday I wear my dad's pants, taken in so they don't fall down, paired with either one of mine or his sweaters. Peeta doesn't mind that I dress that way and frankly it's none of his business even if he did care but it is very improper of me. Ladies are supposed to wear dresses at all times, but I have never had an interest in doing that. They're not practical and not as comfortable as pants, something the women in town haven't seemed to realize. I get nasty looks every time someone sees me walking about town wearing corduroys, but I learned a long time ago to ignore them.
I have a few dresses, all but one of them once belonging to my mother, but I can't even remember the last time I wore one. I figure that I should wear one tonight as it would be impolite to show up in my bloodstained work pants and a tattered old sweater. I go to my own room to remind myself of my choices while Prim worries over what she's going to wear.
I go to my room and open my wardrobe, seeing a meager selection of old dresses to wear. I sigh and rub my eyes, as I am utterly and completely out of my element. Even though I don't have much to choose from, I'd probably end up picking the most inappropriate one for the occasion so I decide to enlist Prim's help. I walk down the creaky floors in the short hallway to Prim's room.
I pause in the doorway and watch her for a moment as she peruses her selection of hair ribbons. Contentment washes over me at the sight and the anticipation of tonight. For the first time in a long time, things feel right. Ever since my parents died I've felt empty and overwhelmed with the responsibility of caring for myself and my sister with ever dwindling resources and no one to lean on. But in the course of a few weeks that all has changed. I have a job and a friend. Someone who invites my sister and I over to dinner and is unbelievably kind and generous. I have enough money to buy food now and because of that I'm no longer sinking under the weight of my responsibilities.
I suspect I will always feel like something of a parent to Prim but decide that it's ok. Prim is my only family and a huge part of my life. It makes me happy to think that I have found a friend that is so accepting and supportive of my situation.
Breaking out of my reverie, I enter into Prim's room and ask her to help me pick something to wear. She's more than happy to help, as I knew she would be, and picks out a knee-length thin blue dress for me to wear. It doesn't have much weight to it so I'll have to wear a bra, something I usually don't do, as it's hardly necessary. I'm glad that I've gained a bit of weight recently; otherwise I would look downright pathetic in this dress that has a tendency to cling to one's frame. There's a sash around the middle to tie at the waist and while it's simple, there's something elegant and pleasing about the dress. As I knew she would, Prim's made an excellent choice considering what she had to work with.
With that out of the way, we still have a couple hours to kill before Peeta comes so I fix Prim a snack of toast and goat cheese with a few precious drops of honey. Buying honey felt like an unnecessary indulgence but I could afford it and it's been worth it to see how much Prim enjoys it.
I make myself a cup of mint tea with some milk and sugar and sit down with a book for a couple hours to pass the time. Prim entertains herself by playing with Lady, her doll, or reading. She's always been really good about letting me have private time and finding things to do.
I glance at the clock a couple hours later and find I only have about twenty minutes until Peeta arrives. I go upstairs, put the dress on, and look at myself in the mirror for a moment. I hardly, if ever, think about my appearance. But some part of me feels an unfamiliar urge to look nice for the dinner tonight. I don't know why I want Peeta to think I look nice but I do.
I'm worried that he'll think I look silly or foolish but I swallow the fear and decide it's a chance I'll have to take. I smooth the dress over myself and think about what to do with my hair. It doesn't feel right to wear it in my usual braid, given that I'm trying to look nice.
I tell Prim to get dressed on my way to the bathroom where I unplait my hair and set it about my shoulders. My hair is long, reaching about the middle of my back. It's very wavy and I decide that it looks ok the way it is and it'll just have to do. I don't have any fancy hair clips or anything of the sort so it will just be simply tucked behind my ears.
I put on my only other pair of shoes besides boots, a pair of worn oxfords that have about an inch of a heel on them. I check on Prim to make sure she's getting ready and find her dressed and in front of her mirror, brushing her fine blonde hair. I enter her room and take the brush from her. My wild nerves are soothed while I brush her soft, smooth hair and look at her peaceful little face in the mirror. She looks beautiful as always and I'm glad that Peeta invited us so that she could have something to look forward to.
When I'm finished, she ties a ribbon in her hair as a makeshift hair band and turns to me, eyeing me in a contemplative way.
"What is it, little duck? Do I look silly?" I ask, worried that she is going to confirm my suspicions.
"No," She says, in a cheery manner. "You look beautiful, Katniss. But you could use just one more thing."
She turns around then and opens the drawer in her little dresser that holds all of her hair ribbons. She considers them carefully and then selects one of her precious ribbons. Walking back to me, she motions for me to bend down. I oblige and get on my knees so that she can reach my head. She takes two sections from the front of my hair and brings them back to carefully secure with the ribbon. Once done, she thoughtfully looks over her work before taking a little wisp of hair out of it's grouping to frame my face. Satisfied with her styling, she steps back and smiles at me.
I get up to look in the mirror and am a bit surprised at what I see. My skin looks soft and supple, my hair long and wavy. The way Prim fixed it, my hair now frames my face in a flattering way, much better than it had looked before. My delicate features are no longer dominated by my unruly hair and are instead highlighted by it. I decide that I don't look silly. In fact, I think I look pretty for the first time in my life.
I turn to Prim and hug her, giving her a silent thanks for her expertise. It's then that I hear a knock on the door and I freeze, anxiety seizing me. Prim squeals at the sound and skips down the stairs before I can stop her.
Once downstairs, I hear her open the door and the nervous cadence of Peeta's voice fill my home.