Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm trying something a little bit different with this chapter, it's from Peeta's POV. I'm hoping that it provides a more rounded look at their relationship and lets us see exactly what he's thinking. Thank you so much to all of you who review and support this story, it means a lot to me. Please review and let me know what you think, I very much value your feedback, especially on something new like this. Enjoy!
It's Monday morning and I'm ecstatic. No longer are my days filled with loneliness and depression, they're now stuffed with smiles and bright conversation. My life has been immeasurably better since Katniss Everdeen has come into my life, not to mention become my friend and dare I say girlfriend?
The first thing on my mind when I wake up this morning is Katniss, not an especially unusual occurrence, especially for these last few months, but this time it's different. Instead of my usual pathetic, foggy fantasies of Katniss that were featured in my dreams the night before, my thoughts this morning are of things that actually happened. Katniss smiling like I've never seen her smile before, Katniss holding my hand in my car, and most incredibly, Katniss kissing me.
I still cannot believe that Katniss kissed me, let alone that she liked it. I spent the entire weekend thinking about our date, every waking moment devoted to the perfection that transpired. I was so nervous that she wouldn't like the picnic or that she wouldn't like me, I worried over it for days. But the enthusiastic kisses we exchanged were the sweetest reward I could have ever imagined for all the self-induced anxiety that I endured.
As I smile to myself and get ready I repeat the facts of what happened, trying to convince myself that it was real and get it all straight in my head, organizing it from the muddle of joyful memories that it currently is.
Katniss Everdeen works in my bakery. We're friends. She went on a date with me. She kissed me. I was her first kiss. She liked kissing me. We kissed for hours. She likes me.
She likes me. That simple thought is the most miraculous and most simple of all, the one thought that I was convinced would never become a reality. For years I watched Katniss from afar as I silently struggled, wishing this beautiful, strong, courageous woman was my friend. I always thought that we would have things to talk about, that I would connect more with her than anyone else in town. I don't know how I knew that but I was right.
We have had similar experiences, hers being different in that she's entirely responsible for her sister. Seeing her have to take care of her sister at such a young age made my heart break for her. I had no right to care about her but I did, I always have.
I started trying to help her when I could see her struggling, my own cowardice preventing me from doing more. I regret not offering her the job sooner, not ending her suffering as soon as possible.
Having Katniss here has been amazing, it makes every facet of my life seem better because I have something to look forward to. I was so lonely for so many years, I had withdrawn in on myself when my father passed away and I was receiving pressure from my mother to work harder.
My dad and I were very close and his death was devastating. It was sudden and awful, I remember being there when he died from a heart attack. My mother didn't seem to care; not that her husband had died and certainly not that I was grieving. I was so depressed during that time that I could barely get out of bed, which of course made my mother's insistent nagging even worse.
The day I turned 18 she left, fed up with my unresponsiveness and the fact that she no longer had any entitlement to the bakery. I was glad that she was not there anymore to make my life a living hell but it still hurt to be abandoned by my own mother, no matter how cruel she was. Although she was no company before, something about being entirely alone hurt.
I didn't maintain any of the superficial friendships that I had from school and I remained reclusive, keeping to myself and my business at the bakery. The entire time I thought sporadically of Katniss. I wondered how she was doing after her parents died, how she was feeling, if she had eaten today. I worried about Prim too, about the cheerful little girl made silent by hunger and grief.
I knew that I had to stop being such a selfish idiot and offer her some kind of help. I started with giving her some extra bread on our trades, later followed by the job offer. I think offering her the job at the bakery was the best thing I could've done, I only wish that I had done it sooner.
Katniss is an amazing employee and we work very well together. At first she was unsure of herself but now she's set in her routine, sensing what's needed and seeing to it right away. And the conversations we have are perfect; it never feels forced or meaningless. Even just her presence, her companionship, makes me happy. It's so incredibly nice to finally have a friend after so long, let alone a friend that shares a similar experience.
I was terrified to jeopardize our friendship when I told her about my true feelings, but she took it better than I ever could have expected her to. She told me that she liked me, that she liked who I was as a person and valued our friendship. It made me so thrilled to hear that, to hear that she felt even a fraction of the connection I felt to her.
And then the date. The kisses. After so many years of pining and what-ifs, it's almost enough to make my head explode. When Katniss leaned into kiss me, time stopped. Nothing else existed in the entire world except her beautiful face hovering inches from mine, pink lips slightly parted.
Kissing her felt like coming home, it was the most exciting and arousing thing that had ever happened to me.
I was surprised that she was surprised that she was my first kiss. Wasn't it obvious? I feel like it was obvious how unattached I've always been; only forming surface level friendships in lieu of any real substance. I tried to make Katniss understand that she was all I had ever wanted, and I think she finally did.
Kissing in the meadow, in my meadow, was an indescribable experience. I haven't told Katniss why that meadow's important to me because it's kind of silly, but it's important to me nonetheless. One day, right after my mom had left, I was hopeless. I was miserable, I had no energy, and I had no idea how I was going to run the bakery by my self.
I woke up that morning feeling the same way I'd felt everyday since my father died, utterly despondent, but I knew that I needed to do something to get myself out of this rut or else the business was going to fail. And I decided to go for a walk. It was really early and still dark out but I decided to go anyway, to clear my mind. It seemed impossible to drag myself out of bed and put clean clothes on but I finally did, wanting to go back to bed every second I was out of it. I must've walked for about an hour, aimlessly wandering around town. The sun was just starting to come up when I reached the edge of the meadow.
Something about the way the orange and pink hue of the sun painted the field was absolutely stunning to me. It took my breath away, the beauty of it. Here I was, in front of something that I had never given a second thought, finally realizing how gorgeous it is, how it had been there all along.
Everything hit me full force in that moment; the beauty of the meadow and the sunrise and the profound loneliness I felt. I cried, great sobs wracking my body as I stared unwaveringly at the meadow and the sun rising above it. I went over to the meadow and I laid down, utterly exhausted and drained. I fell asleep for a couple hours and when I woke up later, the ground was alive around me. There were birds singing their songs from the tress, squirrels busily running about, bees buzzing around the flowers.
There was one flower in particular, a dandelion, right by my head. When I turned to look around me, I saw it and something about it struck me. I can't explain why but seeing that flower triggered something within me. I saw the fresh, morning dew on the petals, the fat little bumblebee buzzing around it, the silky petals reaching greedily towards the sky. I got up, bewildered, and looked around me to take in the beautiful sights and sounds and smells of this untouched piece of land around me. And I knew that I was going to be ok. I still felt depressed and overwhelmed, but I knew that I could do what I needed to and that it was going to be fine.
Something about seeing that meadow that day pulled me out of the black hole I had been living in. From that day forward I was able to find the strength each morning to get out of bed, although it was hardly ever easy. Each day still felt long and lonely, but I was able to get through it.
I took Katniss to that meadow because she reminds me of that dandelion. She reminds me of something striking in its detail but commonly overlooked. Something hardy and humble, something beautiful and resilient. I didn't have the courage to tell her, but I think it was enough that she was able to see the meadow as I do. It was incredible to watch her appreciate the beauty of it, to know that I had helped her find something that she admired. It made me feel even more sure of our connection that she saw it the way I did.
It makes me smile to think of the tranquility of the day and the intimacy we shared. I go about getting ready for Katniss with a soft smile on my face, more than ready to see her again.
After I'm showered and dressed I head to the bakery, thinking about what I'm going to make us for breakfast on the way. One of the best parts of my day is having breakfast with Katniss in the morning, sharing a meal together before we fall into the easy rhythm of the day.
When I arrive at the bakery I park my car and walk briskly inside, impatiently unlocking the door to get out of the unforgiving briskness of the late fall morning. I do what I usually do, preparing the dough needed for the day and firing up the ovens.
Doing that takes me about 45 minutes, which is why I usually arrive an hour before Katniss gets here. It means I get up unreasonably early, but I'm used to it and nothing gives me the motivation to get up quite like the promise of seeing Katniss.
I think about it for a moment and decide to make some French toast this morning, a bit heavier and fancier than the usual fare but I figure the events of Saturday call for celebration, at least in my opinion. I whip some cream to go with the toast and set it out in a small bowl on the table top, alongside two place settings and a jar of amber honey.
Katniss knocks on the door right as I'm finishing the last piece, so I turn the stove off before wiping my hands on a towel and hastily making my way to the door.
She's standing before me in her burgundy work pants, faded from the countless times she worn them, and a thick sweater, more form fitting than when I first saw her in it when she wore it on the first day of work. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, as well is the tip of her nose and ears. She offers me a shy smile and I move aside for her, struck by her beauty.
Katniss looks absolutely stunning every time I see her, no matter if she's wearing a dress that fits her perfectly or her usual work clothes. I love the fact that she wears almost exclusively pants; I love that she doesn't care what anyone has to say about it. It takes a special kind of courage to wear pants that were made for a man in a small town where just about everyone thinks it makes you an unredeemable heathen.
She goes to take her usual spot on the stool and I finish plating the French toast. I carry both of the plates over to the makeshift table after sprinkling our breakfast with a light dusting of powdered sugar. She smiles up at me when I set her plate in front of her, tucking a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid behind her ear.
"This looks incredible, Peeta. Thank you." She seems slightly more timid than usual, something clearly occupying her mind and causing her unease.
"It's my pleasure," I say, but my smile is more strained now. I'm worried that she's going to tell me that she thinks that the kiss was a mistake, that she's thought it over and has decided that she doesn't want to be with me anymore. Even worse, that she no longer thinks she can be friends with me.
My heart constricts at the thought and I tell myself to calm down, though it's difficult when I think about the prospect of her not being apart of my life anymore or having changed her mind about her feelings. She had seemed just as emphatic as I was on Saturday but that doesn't mean she hadn't thought it over and realized that she didn't like me or that my second declaration of my feelings was creepy or overzealous.
I try not to let my anxiety get the best of me but it's hard. I often find myself struggling to control my anxiety in front of Katniss, whether it's over how she will receive something I say or what she's thinking in a moment of silence. I know that most of the time it is unfounded but I still feel it, often acutely.
Ever since my father died I've found that I feel anxiety over rather innocuous things. Before he died I got sad a bit more than most and often found myself worrying over things but it wasn't a problem and my dad always helped me and made me feel better. He was very gentle and understanding; whereas my mother thought I was wimpy and needed to toughen up. I've always been very sensitive, ever since I was a little boy, which is part of the reason I had a hard time connecting with people.
After my dad died I developed a crippling depression along with anxiety and a tendency towards reclusivity. It makes it harder to interact with people, though I've found that I'm ok with interacting with customers. It's only when I'm interacting with someone on more than a surface level, exchanging more than just pleasantries. Those feelings of anxiety are amplified around Katniss because I care so much about what she thinks of me, which in turn makes me self-conscious.
There's a stretch of silence between us that lasts a few moments as we both begin to eat our food. I run my hand through my hair, a nervous habit of mine, and brace myself, turning to Katniss to find out what's troubling her.
"Are you ok, Katniss?" I ask and she looks up at me, swallowing before taking a sip of water and fidgeting a bit, obviously made uncomfortable by my question.
"I'm fine. I've just been thinking about some things," She says and I stiffen, anticipating her to tell me that we're over before we'd even begun, that she regrets what happened between us over the weekend.
"What have you been thinking about?" I pose the question, voice trembling slightly with the fear of all the things she could say that would ultimately equate to the same thing, her not wanting to be involved with me in any way.
She looks down at her lap and shifts her napkin before looking up and turning around to face me fully. She can't meet my eyes for more than a few seconds at a time, steeling herself to let me down gently I'm sure. She opens her mouth to speak and closes it a couple times, each time followed by a downward gaze and the idle movement of her fingers. She finally musters the courage to speak and looks me straight in the eye, determination taking over.
"I have some questions." She says and my eyebrows rise on their own accord, surprised at the direction this conversation is going.
"Questions?" I ask tentatively, unsure of the nature of what she has to ask me.
"Yes. I was wondering about some things and I was hoping you could help me." She looks down again, her previous resolve dissolving a bit. I'm encouraged by the fact that she doesn't seem to outright regret what happened and relax, still on-edge but less tightly strung.
"Of course. You can ask me anything. Anything at all." I tell her, meeting her gaze with what I hope is an encouraging smile.
"Well…" She says slowly and sighs, looking up at me with her head downturned slightly out of nerves. "I had a really great time on Saturday. I really enjoyed kissing you." She pauses for a moment, visibly stiff and uncomfortable talking about it.
I lean forward slightly, emboldened by her preface and curious. "But it made me think about what we're doing and what we both want out of this relationship. I wasn't… I'm not sure what you want. And I also had some questions regarding some of the…. The ummm… the…. Physical things."
Her stiff speech implies that she thought about this conversation in her head, rehearsing what she was going to say. I'm a bit confused as to what she means when she says "the physical things."
"The physical things?" I ask, searching for some clarification before addressing the other aspect of her query.
"Yes, the umm… the other things, the things besides kissing," She says, immediately looking down. Realization dawns on me, suddenly making sense of her behavior.
She doesn't regret what happened; at least I don't think she does. She's just confused about the nature of our relationship and doesn't know what to expect. It's really all my fault; I have hardly been clear about anything, not even having used the word "date".
I feel bad that she's so nervous and I want to do anything I can to put her at ease and make her understand that I have absolutely no expectations, physical or otherwise.
"Well," I start, unsure of what to say but deciding to let the words flow freely, otherwise I'll get too nervous. "I don't know what you want out of this…. Relationship," I hesitate, the word seeming too clinical for what we have between us. "But I obviously really like you Katniss, and I want to be with you as long as you want to be with me. We don't have to take things fast, we can go at whatever pace makes you most comfortable. But I want you to know that I have no intention of breaking things off. I want to be with you." I stiffen from my unambiguous words, worrying that I've come one too strong. She's looking at me intently, clearly soaking up everything I say. She doesn't say anything so I continue, nervous and taking a deep breath to compose myself.
"As for the other stuff…." I falter, not knowing how to put her at ease or make her understand that I'm not expecting anything from her. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. At all. If kissing is all your comfortable with then that's completely fine. Even if you don't want to kiss anymore, that's fine too. I want this to go at your pace."
The silence stretches between us for a few tense moments while she thinks about what to say next.
"I think I feel the same way… about our relationship." She speaks slowly, barely meeting my eyes. I can tell she's deep in thought, trying to make sense of her emotions in relation to what I just told her.
"And…" She looks down in her lap, brows furrowing slightly. "I don't want you to think that I don't want to do things with you, because that's not what I'm trying to say." She pauses and I sit on the edge of my seat, eager to listen to what she's trying to express.
"I… I want to do other… things… with you," She looks up, searching my face, willing me to understand. "I just don't know how. I don't know what to expect. This is all very new for me."
I think I understand, I think I know what she means. I think she's saying she's confused about where to go next and I completely get it, I feel the same way, though I imagine a have a little bit better idea than she does of how a physical relationship normally progresses.
"It's new for me too," I say quickly, trying to ease her nerves. "And there's no right way to do anything. But if you have any specific questions, I'd be happy to try to answer them, though I might not know the answers because I've never done any of this before."
She nods, thinking hard for a moment and then resuming her slow, quiet speech. "Umm… I guess my biggest concern was sex?" She says, squeaking the last word out, and my eyes widen, surprised at her direct question.
"What…" I clear my throat, trying to stop my voice from betraying my racing heart. "What about it?"
Her cheeks are pink, a rare blush surfacing as a result of this conversation. "I don't know. How it works, I guess? What leads up to it?" She's staring intently at her hands in her lap, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. "I… I don't think I'm ready for it yet but I feel like I might be… at some point. And I guess I'd like to know more about it so I know what to expect."
I take a moment to formulate my response, thinking of the best way to answer her questions. I know a bit about sexual activities because of the "friends" I used to have in school; sex seemed to be all they could talk about. I always just stayed quiet when they talked about something they had convinced a girl to do, disgusted by the disrespect and flagrant disregard with which they talked of them. I've always been baffled and disappointed by the double standard that seems to exist; it's fine if the boys have premarital sex, because apparently it's in our nature. But if the girls do it then they're ruined and morally deficient.
I know that most of their stories were fabricated but they introduced me to things I'd never heard of. Sometimes they went into rather graphic detail, relaying what they called "techniques". I hate to admit it but there have been occurrences where I have thought about Katniss and I doing those things in my dreams, my subconscious mind causing me to think about her in such a way. I always felt ashamed afterwards, when I woke up hot and disoriented, like I had betrayed or disrespected her by fantasizing about those things, whether unconscious or not. I never dreamed about us doing anything that wasn't slow and tender, sweet and romantic, but I still felt bad that I thought about those things.
"Umm… W…Well, I don't know much about it either," I say, my stutter only making my anxiety worse. "But I'll definitely try to answer any questions you have." I pause for a second, gathering myself before I continue. " There's absolutely no rush though. I don't want you to feel pressured to do anything. You… We should only do whatever you feel comfortable with."
She nods thoughtfully, though timidly, and looks down, formulating her response.
"Thank you," She says quietly. "I like kissing you. So I guess for right now we'll start there and I'll ask you questions as they come up?" She looks at me, embarrassment evident in her cheeks and the way she's biting her lip slightly. She looks beautiful, not to mention adorable, and this whole conversation is very surreal.
"Sounds good," I say, managing a small smile and turning back to my food with flaming cheeks. I can't help but smiling slightly at her confession that she likes kissing me, thrilled that she enjoys it, though I probably do more. I love holding her small face in my hand, her soft lips between mine. The little sounds she makes and the way she enthusiastically responds to me is nothing short of incredible and I have to force myself to stop thinking about it before I get too excited.
We eat the rest of the meal in silence. When I get up to clear the plates, my leg cramps slightly and I have to hold onto to the table for balance, though I don't think Katniss notices.
One of my legs is permanently injured from the time I tried to feed a stray dog some left over bread and it attacked me. It was my fault; I was too eager in my advancement and scared the poor creature. It latched on to my leg and mangled the knee and calf. I have long, ragged scars that run down the lower half of my leg from where it latched on and pulled, which I'm very self-conscious of. I do everything in my power to not draw attention to it, though I know I walk with a slight limp.
One of the countless things I worry about is Katniss seeing my bare leg and being repulsed by it. I'm used to it and I still think it's absolutely hideous. I push the thought to the back of my mind, figuring I've had enough anxiety for today.
I resume my task of clearing the table and cleaning up while Katniss starts on the work for today. We go about our respective tasks, neither of us speaking much but sharing a companionable silence.
The rest of the day passes pleasantly, albeit quietly, both of us made timid by our earlier encounter. Both of us are at peace though, a tension has been lifted as the result of our discussion. We both understand that we'll figure things out as they go along and be open to communication.
I'm glad Katniss came to me with her concerns, even if I wasn't able to answer any specific questions today. I'll answer her questions to the best of my ability as they come up, though I'll probably have similar questions myself. I think we both are ok with figuring it out together and helping each other when we can, I know I certainly am.
While we bake and clean and tend to the customers, moving about the bakery, we share light, tender touches and bashful but happy smiles. We've made progress in our relationship today, and even though we don't speak much we're both contented in our easy routine and the gentle reassurance of the other's presence.
When it's time for Katniss to go home I hug her, hesitantly at first, until she envelops me and buries her head in the crook of my neck. I squeeze her close to me and bathe in her scent, the feel of her body in my arms, her soft hair brushing up against my cheek. I muster up the courage to kiss her, a gently peck on the corner of her lips. She returns it briefly, her lips moving over mine tenderly. We part with smiles and our customary greeting, both of us put at ease by the morning's clarification and the confirmation that neither of us regret what happened.
I finish up the tasks for the day in a haze, unable to focus on anything other than what Katniss said. She said she liked kissing me and even more miraculously, that she wanted to do more things. I smile so hard that my cheeks hurt.
When I make it home I go inside and close the door, staring at the painting of a dandelion that is so significant to both of us, although for different reasons. I close my eyes and sigh, the same smile still ghosting on my lips. I feel happy for the first time in a long time.