Author's Note: I think I probably went a little bit overboard as far as cheesiness goes with this chapter but I really couldn't help myself, it was all so sweet and romantic and this is a fluff story anyways. I'm hoping you guys don't care too much about the level of rom-com-esque scenes in this chapter because hopefully you like it as much as I do. I know I simply cannot resist the idea of a super romantic Peeta. Anyway, that being said let me know if I need to tone it down next time (because I'm planning on peppering in some M rated scenes sometime soon). Other than that, I would like to wish my usual thanks to all of you that have favorited/followed and reviewed, all of those messages are much appreciated and enjoyed. Feel free to let me know what your thoughts are and if you have any questions, I'd be more than happy to talk to you. Without further ado, I leave you with chapter 10 (It's a long one)!
Before I know it, Saturday's here and I'm even more nervous than I thought I'd be. Logically, I know that there's nothing to be nervous about. Peeta likes me, I like Peeta, he's very nice, and he's not going to pressure me into anything or make me do anything I don't want to. I know that and I repeat those simple facts to myself over and over again. No matter what I do, the feeling of overwhelming nervousness does not seem to abate.
Prim's friend's mom is going to arrive soon and Prim's fluttering about my room, choosing my outfit and deciding on which hairstyle will make me look least hideous. She practically sprints out of my room to go fetch a hair ribbon from her collection and runs back, a frantic excited energy about her.
"Come here, Katniss, put this dress on," She says, motioning at one of the few dresses that I haven't yet worn in front of Peeta. It's similar to but a bit more casual than the other two I've worn. It's an everyday dress that belonged to my mother, though I can't say I can remember her wearing it. It's sleeveless, unlike the others, and has a more fitted bodice. The skirt billows out, making the waistline more defined.
"This one is absolutely perfect. Go put it on so I can see what it looks like." She orders me, making a shooing motion as if she's a professional stylist that has an uncooperative model. I do as she says though, having no choice but to let her order me around unless I want to look like a fool. If it were up to me I'd probably wear my work pants. While I'm sure Peeta wouldn't mind, it's hardly polite, especially for a date, if you could call this meeting that.
I put on the dress in the bathroom; Prim handing me a bra as I go inside. I look down at my chest briefly and realize that I probably do need one, if only to round out the shape. I have been steadily gaining weight since Peeta gave me the job, and I suppose it's starting to show. While still slim, I'm curvier than before, actually having a small amount of cushion on my thighs and backside. My breasts seemed to have grown some too. I haven't given them much, if any thought recently, but now that I think about it, I can notice a difference.
Where the cups of the bra were loose before, they now fit snugly, like it's supposed to fit. I have naturally small breasts and gaining some weight has not suddenly made them large or even average sized, but it's a noticeable difference, considering I was nearly flat chested before.
I'm surprised to find that the dress doesn't hang on me when I put it on, instead skimming my body and fitting comfortably around my waist. I must admit that it looks rather nice and it's obvious Prim agrees when I leave the bathroom and she sees me.
"You look beautiful, Katniss," She says, beaming at me before leaning up on the tips of her toes and fussing with my hair.
I kneel down to her level and after a few minutes I look in the mirror, finding she's done my hair nicely again. This time she's pulled the two front sections of my hair back and twisted them, making my hair almost look like it's a crown. She's secured it with one of her dark green hair ribbons, closely matching one of the colors of the dress.
It's then that I hear a knock on the door and follow Prim downstairs. She's practically floating between the excitement for my date and the play date she has with her friend.
"Katniss," She says to me very seriously, pausing before answering the door. "You look perfect and Peeta's going to be blown away. Just remember to relax and be open to whatever happens, remember that he cares for you and you don't need to close yourself off. And please remember every little detail so you can tell me later."
"I will, Little Duck." I promise, placing a gentle kiss on her temple before smiling down at her. "Thanks for your help."
I open the door and she rushes out to go meet her friend, the fussing over me thankfully forgotten. I talk to her mother for a moment to coordinate when she'll be dropped off; she says Prim should be home after dinner.
I close the door and watch my little sister get into the car through the curtains, not missing the little wave that she sends my way because she knows I'm watching. I sigh when I watch them drive away, both relieved and overcome with anxiety and suddenly no distractions.
It's a few minutes before noon and Peeta will be here soon, which I can't seem to decide if it's a good or a bad thing. I rush upstairs to put on my shoes and take one last look at myself.
I look at myself at my mother's old vanity, admiring Prim's handiwork on my hair and the way the dress fits me. I feel feminine, an entirely foreign feeling and one that I've never had the urge to experience before. I find that I want to be pretty for Peeta, regardless of how illogical that may be.
I look at my face; it's long profile with high cheekbones and an olive hue. I notice that I have a more even tone than I did a couple months ago and my sallow cheeks are no longer quite as thin. I look healthy and I smile faintly in the mirror, relishing in the security of knowing where my next meal is coming from.
I make a rash last-minute decision, one I will probably regret later, and dig one of my mother's old lipsticks out of the drawers. I feel silly putting it on but find that I think it looks rather nice, the way its light pink hue compliments my skin tone and highlights my lips.
Thinking about lips makes me think of Peeta's and how perfectly plump they are. Mine aren't nearly as prominent but I can't help but wondering if he'll notice my lips now, if he'll think about kissing me.
I hear a knock on the front door before I can fall further down into my daydream and I start, sparing one last look at myself to make sure everything's in order before flying down the stairs. I stand in front of the door for a moment, taking several deep, calming, breaths and running my hands down the front of my dress. I finally muster the courage to move and open the door, unable to help the fond smile that graces my face once I do.
Peeta's standing before me, blushing and nervous, holding a bouquet of flowers similar to the one he brought me last week. Instead of the suit that he donned the last two times, he's wearing a nice button down short sleeve shirt and a pair of nice slacks. He looks utterly adorable, standing on my doorstep, clearly nervous as can be just at the prospect of seeing me.
He timidly hands the flowers to me and I take them, inhaling their sweet scent. He doesn't know what to do with his hands now that they don't have something to hold on to and fidgets uncomfortably while I appreciate the flowers. I realize I don't even know what we're doing yet and he obviously feels uncomfortable standing on my front porch.
"These are lovely, Peeta. Why don't you come inside while I put these in some water?" He smiles gratefully and I move aside, allowing him to enter my humble little home.
I close the door behind him and leave him standing in the entryway while I go into the kitchen and put the flowers in a vase. I come back to find him standing awkwardly, not sure of what to do.
I smile in what I hope is a welcoming way and take a moment to appreciate how gorgeous he looks. My thoughts are interrupted when he hesitantly opens his mouth to speak and I do my best to project a welcoming and easy-going vibe so as not to make him more nervous.
"You look absolutely beautiful, Katniss," He smiles timidly before a thought occurs to him and he goes to speak again. "You always look beautiful, but you do right now, too, your hair is very pretty when it's down like that." He stumbles over his words and I can tell he doesn't think he's said the right thing so I make sure to let him know I understand before he feels like he has to elaborate further.
"Thank you, Peeta. You don't look too bad yourself." I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth and cringe slightly, willing Peeta to not have heard me embarrass myself. Peeta looks up at me though, cocking an eyebrow in a playful way and I briefly consider feigning illness and passing out on the spot.
"Well I'm glad we're both on the same page," He says with a good-natured chuckle and I can't help but laugh too, despite how mortified I feel. It doesn't help that his curls bounce a bit as he laughs and moves his head. Something about his luscious hair mesmerizes me, renders me mute and dumbstruck.
Peeta clears his throat then, the humored smile still clinging to his lips. "Are you ready? I was thinking we could maybe go have a picnic? It's not too cold today and the sun's out but we could absolutely do something else if that doesn't sound good." He watches me anxiously, waiting for me to show my opinion of his simple plan.
I think it sounds perfect, I can't imagine a better afternoon than having some of Peeta's wonderful food under the sun, the both of us sharing a blanket. "That sounds perfect," I punctuate with a smile, moving to grab a sweater from the hall closet in case it gets chilly. "I'm ready if you are." I step closer to him, sweater draped around my arm, about to open the door when he does it for me.
He holds it open in a chivalrous gesture, blushing while I exit my house. He follows me and I lock the door, making my way to his car.
He opens the car door open for me as he always does and I have less trouble getting in than I did the last couple times, as it's a bit more familiar now. I take a seat while he does his adorable half-jog around the car and sits down in the driver's seat.
"Prim's going to be home around dinner time, probably about 6:30, so we don't have to be home until then," I tell him and he smiles bashfully, getting himself situated and putting the key in the ignition.
"Sounds great, should be more than enough time." He looks especially nervous again and I scoot a tad bit closer to him in an attempt to show him that he doesn't need to be anxious. He starts the car and drives off, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other fidgeting nervously on his thigh.
I don't want him to be so nervous, I don't want him to think that he has to impress me or be anything that he's not. I reach over and gently place my hand over his. He instantly stiffens before relaxing and slowly encompassing my hand with his.
While we drive for a few minutes he does that same circular motion in my palm, one that both soothes and excites me. I don't know why he does it, simply that he has anytime my hand has been in his. It's a very comforting and sweet gesture, one that I was never expecting but find myself enjoying and expecting nonetheless.
We arrive in front of a meadow a short time after we've departed, the same one Peeta has painted and I suspect that he picked flowers out of. It's a large, rolling field, untamed and wild. There's an abundance of wildflowers and weeds growing everywhere, the grass thick and ankle high. It's certainly not polished or even particularly pretty but it's peaceful and out of the way. I think it's the perfect place for a picnic and I appreciate that Peeta's shared a place with me that seems to hold some significance to him.
Peeta opens my door for me after he gets out and I take his hand as I climb out. His hands are slightly clammy, due to nerves, and I can tell he's self-conscious about it.
"Sorry," He mumbles before looking down and hastily wiping his hand on the front of his pants. I just smile at him, I don't know why he's so nervous in my presence but I think it's endearing.
I take a second to look at the meadow; I realize I've never really appreciated the beauty in it before. Seeing Peeta's painting has changed my perception of typically ordinary or ugly things. I can suddenly see a little bit of what he sees in it. I see the gentle slope of the hills, the glint of the sun on the dew still clinging to the overgrown grass. Everything about it is serene, it prompts me to take a deep breath and inhale the unique scent of the grass and foliage.
"I hope this is ok," Peeta says softly, watching me take in the meadow. "I know it's not the nicest place in the world but I thought it would be an ok place for a picnic."
I turn to him and take his hand to reassure him. He hesitates before gripping my hand, still nervous that they're a little bit sweaty. I want to show him that I don't care, that everything about him is sweet and adorable and attractive.
"It's perfect," I say simply and his face lights up, obviously reassured by my simple statement.
He lets go of my hand and goes to reach into the open bed of the truck, pulling out a rolled up blanket and a basket. I walk into the meadow a ways until I find a nice, flat spot, Peeta following me with the supplies.
"Does this spot look good to you?" I ask, and I find him staring at me, that familiar look of timid wonder in his eyes.
"It looks perfect," He says after a moment of processing what I said, echoing my word from earlier.
He shakes out the blanket and places it down. The blanket is plenty big for two people but not overly large. It's comfortable while still being intimate.
He places the basket on the blanket and I sit down, smoothing my dress out after I sit comfortably with my legs crossed. I look up at him and pat next to me, as I know he's currently agonizing over where to sit.
He blushes with a tight smile and sits next to me, crossing his legs and facing me.
"Are you hungry?" He asks me and I nod. I get hungry pretty often and I haven't eaten much yet.
He starts unloading the basket and my mouth waters, seeing the typical delicious fare of the bakery laid before me. There are the customary cheese buns, as Peeta knows they're a favorite of mine. There are two apples, both perfectly round and pink. He's also laid out two sandwiches made on French rolls, two glass bottles of water, two cupcakes, and plates along with cutlery and napkins. It's more than enough food and it all looks positively delicious.
Peeta makes me a plate with a cheese bun and a sandwich, along with an apple on the side and a bottle of water. He makes the same plate for himself and we sit in silence for a moment, both of us eating contentedly.
"Thank you for doing this with me, Katniss," He says, stealing a small glance at me.
I wait until I'm finished chewing and I look at him, moving my foot out to lightly touch his as I take in the way the sun reflects off of his beautiful hair.
"Thank you, Peeta," I say and take a second to formulate my thoughts, thinking of how to properly express what I've felt these past few days.
"You know, I was actually pretty excited when you asked me to do something with you, just us and all. Honestly, knowing how you feel about me made me really excited. I've been the happiest this past week than I've been since my parents died." I realize I probably shouldn't have mentioned my parent's deaths, as its kind of a mood killer, but I didn't know how else to say it. And I know he will understand; if anyone understands what it's like to lose a parent, it's him.
"Really?" He asks, wonder lacing his tone, as if he can't believe that I was genuinely excited that he liked me.
"Yeah, Peeta," I say, smiling at him before I look down and play with the edge of the blanket. "You're kind of great."
I look up timidly after saying that, nervous and slightly embarrassed to admit my feelings, even if it's in a very indirect way.
He's just staring at me, a burning intensity in his eyes. He looks so happy and so excited, it makes me smile, it makes me feel joy bubble up inside of me.
There's only one thing on my mind in that moment and I make a split decision to take Prim's advice, to stop over-thinking things, to apply my determined attitude to this situation. I'm still nervous, so nervous, but I don't give myself time to think about it.
I lean forward, hovering over Peeta, placing my hand to the side of him for balance. My face is so close to his, I can see his individual eyelashes, his blonde eyebrows, the little freckles around his nose that I've never had the pleasure of noticing before.
I see his eyes go wide, realization dawning on his features as he figures out what I'm about to do. He opens his mouth to speak and I lean forward more, pressing my nose to his, wanting to silence him, not wanting words to get in the way. If he speaks now, no matter what he says, I'll lose my courage.
I take one last look at his wide eyes, fully able to appreciate how shockingly blue and clear and prefect they are from being this close to him. I close my eyes and inhale shakily and shallowly, finally placing my lips on his.
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing and I feel terribly awkward, terribly stupid. I apply more pressure and move slightly, and this seems to pull Peeta out of his motionless trance. He angles his face more, so that our noses aren't smashed together. He moves his lips slightly, parting them a bit and applying pressure, kissing me back.
I try my best to adjust to the new position, to not over-think it, to do what comes naturally. I part my lips slightly, mimicking him, and work with him to find a balance, both of us testing the waters. His hand moves up to cup the side of my face and something about feeling his big, warm, soft hand on my cheek makes something click within me.
Suddenly I don't feel paralyzed by nerves or the fear that I'm embarrassing myself irreversibly. I let my body take over, I let the feelings that have been coursing through me ever since I allowed myself to like him find an outlet.
Our lips move together in an awkward fumble until I part my lips slightly more and he takes my bottom lip between his. I realize then that that's what kissing is. It's not blindly moving against each other with silly little pecks at each other's mouths. I'd never seen anyone kiss besides my parents and I hadn't exactly been watching very closely when they did it.
I mimic his movement and capture his top lip between my own, sucking on it, moving with him. He sighs softly, making a small noise in the back of his throat and I find my confidence, both of us developing a delicate rhythm. It's a gentle game of give and take, each of us leaning into the other slightly, the other person leaning back to compensate. We learn together, we discover what it feels like to fit together.
I feel so electric as we keep going. I feel incredibly alive and feminine, I feel like I'm exactly where I belong. I feel something start low in my abdomen, kindling a fire within me.
His hand never leaves my face, and after a little while his thumb takes up that circular motion on my cheekbone. It only stokes the fire, only makes me want him more.
I don't know how long we stay like that, lips locked, both of us perfectly in tune to the other. I've been taking shallow little breaths through my nose and so has Peeta, but it's difficult and eventually we part on a gasp, both of us not wanting to move but thoroughly winded.
We both stare at each other while we catch our breath. His cheeks are as flushed as I've ever seen them and his lips slightly parted, even more plump and pink then they usually are. He looks utterly delectable; there's nothing I want to do more than keep kissing him. But I don't know what he wants; I don't know how he feels about what just happened.
I don't know what to say or how to handle the moment so I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind. "That was my first kiss," I say and I regret saying it so suddenly and unceremoniously, but glad that it's out of the way, him now having a valid reason for me being so awkward.
His eyes widen and a small smile takes hold of his mouth, drawing my eyes once again to his perfect, distracting, lips.
"It was mine, too, Katniss," He says and I know my eyes must widen my comically, my mouth must open wide in a very unladylike fashion.
"Really?" I ask him because I truly can't believe it. How can Peeta, 19 years old and exceptionally handsome, how can he never have kissed anyone before? He's more than anyone could ask for in a mate. He's kind, sensitive, and considerate. His lips are perfect and his skin is incredibly soft. His eyes are the bluest I've ever seen, quite possibly the bluest eyes in existence. He has well defined muscles and a strong build; he's practically a chef for heavens sake, not to mention a talented baker.
"Yes," He says on a nervous chuckle, impossibly, miraculously, confirming his statement. "Don't look so surprised," He says good-naturedly, watching all these thoughts dawn on me.
"I'm shocked. You're the nicest person I've ever met, you're unbelievably handsome, and you're so considerate, so respectful. I had a hard time believing that you liked me at all, and now you tell me that you've never even kissed anyone before." I'm probably being a tad rude or overzealous but I can't stop myself. This boy once again surprises me.
He turns beet red and looks down for a second and speaks softly. "Well, thank you, Katniss. It means more to me than you could ever know that you think all those things of me."
I can't believe he doesn't believe the things that I said to him, that he thinks that I have some untrue opinion of him.
"Those are facts, Peeta. You're incredible. I'm honored that I was your first kiss. I'm surprised, but in a really good way." He looks up at me intensely at my words, abandoning the blanket that he had previously been fiddling with.
"You're the only person for me, Katniss. You've always been the only person for me. I've wanted you for as long as I can remember. I remember watching you on the playground when we were kids and thinking you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I hated leaving school because I wouldn't see you everyday anymore. I had been trying to work up the courage to talk to you but I never did. And I regretted it so much. I never thought I'd get the chance again. And then you started trading your squirrels with me and I had the same problem; I couldn't think of a way to talk to you without sounding like an idiot. But then I realized that I needed help at the bakery and you were perfect; you're trustworthy and capable and smart and I would finally have an excuse to talk to you." He pauses to take a deep, shuddering, breath and I take his hand, eagerly soaking in every word he's saying with disbelief and happiness.
"Working with you was better than I could've possibly imagined. You're so easy to talk to and I absolutely loved hearing about your life and your interests and about Prim. We became friends and you opened up to me and I was just so happy to be apart of your life. I agonized for days over whether or not I should tell you the nature of my feelings because I didn't want to risk losing your friendship. You were, and still are, the best friend I've ever had. I can't properly express how happy it made me that you liked me too. It made me feel like nothing in the world was wrong, like everything was perfect. And then I bring you here to a dilapidated field and you like it and you kiss me? The honor was entirely mine. I couldn't imagine a better first kiss. "
I don't think I've ever heard him say so much at one time before. I'm amazed and speechless at his heartfelt declaration. I never imagined that he had liked me for so long. I never had any idea that he even noticed me when we were in school, let alone wanted to talk to me.
He's just laid all his feelings and the long history of them out in the open and I can tell he's nervous about it. He looks worried that I won't take his statement well, that I would somehow be deterred by such an eloquent and heartfelt confession. What he just said to me is the most romantic thing I've ever heard. I never thought that I was one to like romantic gestures but I find that I do. I like them when they come from Peeta, anyway.
I do the only thing I know how to do when he seems nervous and I want to reassure him, I take his hand. He squeezes mine and smiles again, slightly less nervous but still apprehensive. I lean forward again, my face close to his as I whisper.
"Neither could I," I say, punctuating with what is now our second kiss. He doesn't hesitate this time; he brings his hand to my face and kisses me. It's more intense this time, which does nothing to help the aching that I'm starting to feel between my legs.
Something takes hold of him and he leans into me so that I'm reclining on the blanket where I was previously sitting, held up by my elbows as Peeta lies in a similar way to the side of me. I turn my head to face him and in a few moments I find myself lying down with no recollection of how I got there and not caring.
Peeta's hovering on top of me, holding my face and kissing me breathless. I never dared to hope that we could have so much chemistry, but it's apparent we do. We stay like that for an indeterminate amount of time, long enough for me to feel pleasantly dizzy and like I'm floating. Nothing exists but the feel of Peeta's solidity close to me and his lips on mine, moving in a way that chases all other thoughts from my mind.
Eventually we part and catch our breaths, both of us staring at each other again. I feel simultaneously electric and relaxed, the beating of my heart fast and steady in my chest; Peeta's thumb circling softly on my cheek.
I don't know why I do, especially because I'm in such an excited state, but I smile really big and wide and then I start giggling. Light laughter erupts from deep within me and I can't stop it, can't stop the outpouring of joy that I feel.
Peeta seems confused for a moment and then he smiles, chuckling along with me as I laugh, semi-underneath him. He places a gentle kiss on my temple and moves fully to my side, lying down beside me. I turn towards him so I can look at him. His eyes are closed and he has a peaceful smile on his face. He looks so carefree, the most unbothered and unburdened that I've ever seen him. He looks as young as he is and impossibly beautiful.
I take his hand and intertwine our fingers. I let my eyes shutter close and breathe deeply, taking in his presence and the perfection of the moment.