Light cracks through the curtains. Peeta stayed the night. Well, sort of. We stayed up for hours and he fell asleep at the foot of my bed. I've been watching him sleep for a while. I couldn't close my eyes. My mind won't rest. I try to grapple with the fact that I'm terrified every time we take a step closer to each other. That I can't just change overnight. That at some point I'm going to mess up. I'm going to hurt him. I'm going to get hurt. I swore I'd never let myself get this vulnerable, yet here I am, watching a sleeping boy and feeling my eyes wash over his lips. Peeta yawns and stretches out. It takes a moment for him to realize where he is, and when he catches me watching him a slumber-heavy smile stretches across his face.
"I'm sorry, I was supposed to go," he says in a gravelly morning voice. He forces himself to sit up. His hair is a mess, like it always is in the morning. His curls flatten on one side of his head and stand straight on the other. He looks quizzically at his feet. "Did you take my leg off?"
"Oh! Yeah, I did. It's next to the bed on the floor. I know your leg gets sore if you sleep with it on," I reply. Normally he attaches it immediately, but this morning he lets it rest on the floor. I start to wonder if he only attaches it immediately when I'm around. "I don't mind, you know," I add.
Peeta looks over my shoulder. "Is there cake left?" he asks.
"Some. I may have stolen a few bites this morning," I say shyly.
Peeta looks at me with a devilish grin. "Katniss. Everdeen. Did you eat my cake?" He crawls toward me on the mattress slowly, like a hunter stalking prey. I inch backward on the bed.
"No!" I deny it, although we both know I'm lying. My back hits the headboard and I can't escape any further. He's grinning wickedly and I can't help but smile back. Before I know it, his arms are around my waist and he pulls me underneath him on the bed. He pins me down, and I think he's going to kiss me. My heart slams against my sternum. Instead, his hands slide under my arms and he starts tickling me. I screech. I screech. I don't even recognize myself, this smiling, happy girl. I try to wrestle my way out from under him, and I remember he won the silver medal in school. I'm defenseless and begging him to stop, laughing until I'm out of air. "Please!" I plead, gasping and giggling.
"Ahem!" A familiar disapproving throat clears in our direction. We stop and look up to see Effie, arms crossed and toe tapping rapidly in her pointed heels. We shoot apart from one another on the bed, a tangle of morning hair and sheets and smiles that we fail to conceal. "Breakfast began twenty minutes ago! Everyone else is already in the dining room!" She turns curtly and clicks out of the room. We both try to bury our laughter but it doesn't really work. Peeta straps his leg on.
"Well, technically I'm already dressed," he says, referring to his dress slacks from last night.
"Go change," I say, throwing his suit coat at him. He grabs what's left of the cake and ducks out of the room. I'm sure everyone can see his guilty walk between our doors. I wait a bit hoping he makes it down first and can absorb most of their shameful glares. I wash my face, brush my hair, and throw on daytime clothes. It's at least another ten minutes before I finally wander down to the dining room.
"Nice of you to grace us with your presence, sweetheart," Haymitch says, scooping another mound of eggs onto his plate.
Peeta is across the table and keeps his eyes trained on his food, a roguish smirk sitting on his lips. "Yeah, Katniss. Try to show up on time next time," he says sternly, and the two of us burst out laughing. Peeta laughs until no sound comes out. I'm wheezing at the table, tears rolling down my cheeks, and Cinna is giving us a bizarre look.
"It wasn't that funny," he says gently, and I just shake my head, desperately trying to swallow the laughter. I try to look at Peeta but the eye contact doesn't help. A renewed roll of cackling bellows through us. Peeta's slouched down in his chair, trying not to choke on the toast he was chewing.
"Well I never!" Effie says, rising from the table and throwing her cloth napkin in her chair before storming from the room. The laughs turn into chuckles, which finally transition to giggles and then nothing at all.
"That was easily an entire year's worth of laughing for me," I say, trying to regain my composure and wiping my cheeks.
"I didn't even know you could laugh," Haymitch comments as he slides Effie's plate in front of himself. I'm ravenously hungry and pile my plate high with food. I couldn't stomach anything last night, surrounded by a bunch of men that tried to kill me. I find it curious that most of the Gamemakers are men. Aside from a few servants and some trophy wives, I was one of the only women in that room last night.
When my prep team shows up, I steal a couple extra pieces of bacon and bring them with me as we go to get ready for the day. Peeta gives me a look as I leave the room, and I know our respite is over. The interviews are tonight. The nervousness that manifested as laughter earlier now makes me fidget in my chair. Of course my team doesn't know Peeta's proposing, but Cinna's told them to make me look "radiant." I'll need all the help I can get not looking terrified.
When you want time to drag it races by. The afternoon vanishes, I barely remember Cinna speaking to me. Calming words. Breathe. In what seems like no time, I'm backstage with Peeta and Haymitch, listening to Caesar Flickerman warm up the crowd.
"We all know what the deal is tonight," Haymitch says. Peeta and I nod. Normally I'd take comfort in his closeness, but in this moment we both feel weird and distant from one another. Laughing in my bed seems a million miles away. Time is pliant, like toffee being stretched through a wheel.
"Smile. Be surprised. Be happy. You want to give them something to root for. You want to show the world you are crazy, head over heels, willing to die for each other in love. You got it?" Haymitch looks at us directly. We both nod. He turns to Peeta. "You know what you are going to say?" Peeta nods. Haymitch puts his hand on Peeta's shoulder, but Peeta just looks at his feet. "Okay, I'm next," Haymitch says, straightening his jacket. I don't wish him luck. I should, but I'm in my own head.
The crowd cheers and I zone it all out. I don't listen to Haymitch's interview. I feel Peeta next to me, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. He fiddles with the ring box in his jacket pocket. Find when you're being selfish and change it. I swallow my panic and steady my hands before I step in front of him.
"Hey," I say awkwardly. He meets my gaze for a second before dropping it again. "Hey," I say more insistently, stepping forward and cupping his face in my hands. His eyes meet mine. "This isn't real," I state. "You don't have to be nervous right now. You can be nervous when we do this for real." The look on his face shifts immediately, but we don't have any more time. I hear our names announced and we have to make our way on to the stage.
Okay, he feels better. Now I just have to make it through the next thirty minutes.
Caesar and Peeta exchange pleasantries. They joke and laugh between them. I try to laugh along, but it's fake and I'm awkward. I keep Peeta's hand in a vice grip for most of the evening. Caesar's eyes twinkle next to his midnight blue suit. He guides us through the interview flawlessly.
"Now, it seemed like things had cooled off between you two back home," Caesar implies, chuckling to himself.
"Oh, that was my mom." I spit out the first words I've offered independently this evening. "She thinks I'm too young for a boyfriend," I add.
"Well, these are special circumstances, certainly! I'm sure she'd understand. Am I right?" Caesars asks the crowd, and they cheer uproariously. "But on the Tour things seem to have heated right back up!" The screen cuts to a montage of our visits to the Districts. Video of us smiling. The kiss on the dance floor with everyone dancing around our still frame. Whispers and smiles. My soaked dress in Four. Our sneaking away and getting caught. The food fight. It's very convincing. As the video comes to a close, Peeta leans into me. "I think I should do it now. Are you ready?" I nod, imperceptible to anyone but him.
"You seem very happy away from mommy's prying eyes! Yes! Yes!" Caesar exclaims.
Peeta squeezes my hand. "We are," he says, rising from the couch. The audience gasps. Everyone knows what's coming, but I feel as though the thousands of us are all holding our breath together. Peeta drops to one knee and they sigh in unison.
"Katniss, I've loved you since before I could write my name. I've loved you up close and I've loved you from far away. I've loved you in secret and I've loved you in public. I've loved you when we were both crying in pain, and I've loved you when we were both laughing in joy. The only true thing in my life, for as long as I can remember, is loving you. It's a constant for me. I'll love you every day for the rest of my life if you'll have me. When I thought…" he gulps. The audience stills. "When they changed the rules, when they said only one of us could win…" I know why he's doing this. He's trying to say we weren't rebelling. He's trying to say we weren't defiant. But it doesn't make the words any less true for him. "I knew I didn't want to live without you. I didn't see the point. And in that moment, when you poured the berries in my hand, I knew you felt the same. That there is no life for me without you in it." I see audience members blotting tears from their eyes. "Katniss Everdeen, please marry me." The auditorium is silent, and I picture the lake. I dive underwater, and all the sound stops. The mockingjay's songs fade to nothing. The brush of leaves vanish. The audience isn't there. I'm floating still. Alone.
"Yes," I breathe, and the audience erupts into screams. The screens all fill with sights of cheering crowds from districts across Panem. The roar of the crowd is deafening. Peeta rises to his feet, and slides the ring on my finger before pressing his mouth to mine. He leans into me.
"You're crying," he whispers, and my fingers float to my cheeks. I force a smile on my face and wave to the crowd. I fawn over the ring. Peeta dips me into a slow, deep kiss and the audience eats it up.
From behind us, we hear Caesar gasp. "Why President Snow! We are honored!"
Everything in my body turns cold. I feel Peeta's grip on me shift from affectionate to protective. We both gasp and pretend we are honored that he's here, when really I'd like to find a loose nail somewhere on this set and jam it into his eye.
"Peeta, did you tell him?" I flirt, throwing what I hope comes across as a playful look to the audience.
"I wanted to be the first to congratulate you. To the happy couple!" Snow raises his hands in the air, and the audience applauds wildly. The scent from the rose on his lapel drifts to us, and I have to swallow hard to keep myself from lunging forward and ripping it from his jacket. President Snow turns to Peeta and me, a small box in his hand. "A gift! A token from all of Panem." I open it. Inside is a picture of my parents on their wedding day. The same picture that was on the desk in the study when Snow came to 12. The audience cheers at the symbolism of the gift, wishing Peeta and me a marriage full of love. But that's not what this is, not to us. Not to me. This is a threat. He can take whatever he wants, whoever he wants, whenever he wants. Nothing and no one is safe from his reach.
My eyes fill with tears but I smile brightly. "It's so thoughtful. Thank you," I say. The audience reads my reaction as gratitude, but I'm struggling to keep my real emotions in check. Rage. I can feel Snow close to me. I can smell him. I can taste the repugnant odor of the rose. It would be so easy to just end it now, for both of us. If I had a weapon, something to kill him swiftly before the guards descended on the stage, I'd do it now. I'd watch his blood pour on the floor and I'd see it as rebirth. But instead I stand uselessly by as we banter for the audience.
When President Snow silences the audience and says, "What do you think about us throwing them a wedding right here in the Capitol?" I pull off girl-almost-catatonic-with-joy without a hitch. Caesar Flickerman asks if the president has a date in mind. "Oh, before we set a date, we better clear it with Katniss's mother," says the president. The audience gives a big laugh and the president puts his arm around me. "Maybe if the whole country puts its mind to it, we can get you married before you're thirty."
"You'll probably have to pass a new law," I say with a giggle.
"If that's what it takes," says the president with conspiratorial good humor. Oh, the fun we two have together.
I imagine him bleeding out at my feet.
Back in the Tribute Center, I dismiss myself before dinner is served. I tell Effie I'm tired, but I can't be around everyone right now. I go to my room. I can't hide in my closet. The floor has a giant shoe rack and there's no space. I go to the bathroom and step inside my shower fully clothed. I curl up in the corner. The shower has four glass walls, and I still feel exposed. I don't want to be here anymore. I reach up and turn the faucet and the water pours all over me, my clothes clinging and heavy my body. I run the water too hot, until it burns my skin, and I let it fall on me anyway. I want the glass to steam up and hide me from the world. I want my skin to wash away from my body. I want to be reduced to bone, I want to crumble to dust, I want to blow away in a dry desert wind, until I hear a quiet knock at the door.
"Katniss?" Peeta asks as he ducks inside. I don't reply, but I don't need to. He knows where I am. "You okay?" he asks. In answer, I push open the shower door. Water drips onto the floor, and Peeta sees me soaked in my clothes, curled up in a corner. "Okay then," he says, and steps inside. He says nothing about the water temperature as he takes a seat beside me.
"You're still wearing your shoes," I say mindlessly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know the etiquette to sitting in a running shower with your clothes on," Peeta laughs, and I smile. I drop my head on his shoulder, and he rests his head on mine. I don't feel like I want to melt away anymore. Or, if I do, I want Peeta to melt with me. We can melt into people goo and swirl into the drain until we can't tell anymore which parts are him and which parts are me. I lift my head from his shoulder to tell him that. He turns his head to look at me, water dripping down his face and steam making the air feel heavy around us. Our eyes lock. I picture the lake again. The silence. Floating alone. Only I don't feel so alone anymore.
I can hear the shower running, I can hear the drops of water pelting the glass walls and hitting our clothes. The air pressure of the faucet. I can hear the water pooling and gravity pulling it down the drain. I can hear the pound of my heart in my ears. I lift my hand and place it on Peeta's chest. I can feel his skin through his soaked shirt, his heart slamming on the other side of my palm. I bring my gaze back to his. I see him swallow. We're both nervous, like we haven't kissed a thousand times. But this is different. We've agreed that this kiss says something. Means something. So when I bring my mouth to his, I kiss him softly. He doesn't kiss me back right away. He lets me say what I need to say, in the only way I know how. My fingers go to his jaw, grazing it gracefully. My tongue lightly caresses his lower lip. His mouth starts to move against mine. We know how to kiss each other. Everything is slow and languid. Deliberate. I tug his hair slightly and he breathes into me. "Katniss…" It's more an exhale than words, and I crawl into his lap.
The water hammers my back as I take the advantage. I am kissing him. I push his shoulders into the wall. Our pace hurries. I pull at his shirt and he tugs at my hair. The kiss deepens. My tongue dips into his mouth and Peeta meets it, stroking my tongue with his own in a way that makes my stomach tighten into knots. I slowly withdraw from his mouth, leaving small, soft pecks on his lips, his cheeks, his face, his neck. I let my mouth linger where his pulse beats and I feel his fingers tighten desperately around my waist. I bring my mouth to his one more time and stay there for an extra moment before I pull back and meet his gaze.
I smile. He smiles back.