5. Blue

Peeta seems as into the kiss as I am. I'm hoping for a replay of my dream when he pulls away abruptly leaving me embarrassed because I was the one who initiated it. I have to wonder if there's someone else for whom he's pining. Or maybe he's a religious zealot who wants to remain celibate. Because it seems awfully strange that such an attractive-looking guy would live in the middle of nowhere like a hermit.

"We should probably look for your, ah, cousin," Peeta says. His voice is hoarse and his face is flushed.

My face is just as red. "I guess you're right." He reaches for my hand to help me up, but drops it as soon as I'm standing.

The problem at this point is that I don't know where to look. We've circled the woods for miles. Why aren't there helicopters overhead? Why isn't anyone searching for me? A crazy idea enters my thoughts. Maybe I'm in the middle of a very long dream. But if it is a dream, I don't want to wake up because I don't want Peeta to disappear.

We head back toward the wooded area and comb it yet again. Peeta stays close to my side and I'm grateful. I don't want to lose him too.

My stomach growls loudly and Peeta suggests we get some game so we can go back to the cabin and eat.

We stand very still, our shoulders touching. I nock my bow and Peeta extends his rifle. After a few minutes a rabbit approaches. I nudge Peeta's shoulder with mine to let him know `I've got this,' and then shoot. Straight through the eye. I pull the arrow out.

Peeta shakes his head, and smiles. "I might have to keep you here Katniss, and not let you leave."

He's only trying to cheer me up, but I frown at his joke.

"It will be all right," he reassures me, rubbing my back for just a moment.

I carry the rabbit to the cabin. Peeta takes it from me and skins and guts it before putting it in a pot, along with some vegetables. He puts a lid on the pot and hangs it on a rod that extends over the fire to cook. Then he makes biscuits and places the dough on the top of the lid of the pot.

His cooking skills intrigue me. "Do you live on biscuits and stew?" I ask.

He grins. "Most of the time."

"But don't you miss other foods? Pizza and hamburgers and tacos."

His eyebrows rise. "I don't know those foods."

I narrow my eyes. Is he serious? It's hard to tell.

"You've never eaten them?"

"No."

It sounds odd, but maybe his parents were health nuts that served the plainest of foods.

I have other questions for Peeta. "What happens if you get sick?"

"My brother lives ten miles away. We visit each other regularly."

"Don't you get lonely?"

Peeta nods. "I do Katniss. It is lonely here. It can get downright depressing sometimes."

"Then why do you stay? Why did you leave Kentucky?"

"For the chance to get ahead," he explains. "All I have to do is improve the land, and I've already built a house. I still have to clear more of the land and plant some crops. But in three more years, I'll own it outright. Then I can sell the land and move to Oregon City or Portland, and open a bakery."

His strategy is a sound one. He's clearly very disciplined if he can live without modern conveniences. I have no doubt that someone that is so determined will make good on his plan. And a tract of land this big will fetch a pretty penny when he sells it. He'll have plenty of cash to start his business.

Peeta's got more going for him than any guy I've ever met. And he's so clever, too. I'm amazed at his ingenuity in obtaining a land grant from the federal government. It must be a very obscure program because I've lived all my life in Oregon and I've never heard of anyone obtaining free land. I thought that type of homestead program ended long before I was born.

"What about you Katniss," Peeta asks. "How did you become an actor?"

I laugh at Peeta's assumption. "I'm not an actor," I say. "I only did this because of my cousin Gale and his wife Madge. I'm not into history all that much."

"History?" Peeta asks, a puzzled look crossing his face.

"Yes." I stop speaking because Peeta is removing the cooked biscuits from the lid of the pot. He takes off the lid and checks on the stew.

"It's done," he calls out and we sit down to eat.

Afterwards Peeta says we need to walk to a nearby stream to get some fresh water.

"It must be awful having to carry water back to the cabin all the time," I say. "Too bad you can't dig a well close to the cabin."

"That would be ideal," he agrees. "It's an improvement I'm considering."

The stream isn't too far away. Large, jagged boulders border it, but there is an open section where the rocks are mere pebbles. Water rushes along the shallow stream, sparkling blue in the late day sun.

I'd like to take off my dress, which reeks of sweat, and wash myself in the clear, cool water. But I feel self-conscious around Peeta. I'm not like my friend Johanna who would easily strip in front of him and jump in the water regardless of what he thought.

My cheeks grow warm at the thought of Peeta frolicking nude in the stream at bath time.

Peeta has given me a large bucket. He holds the pot that is dirty with the remnants of our meal. First he cleans it with sand and water. Then we both dip our containers into the stream and fill them.

We carry the water back to the cabin. We pour it into a small covered barrel that sits just outside the door. We make two more trips to the stream until Peeta is satisfied that there is sufficient water in the barrel.

It's near twilight now and Peeta lights some candles inside the cabin.

We sit at the table lost in our individual thoughts as we wait for the water to boil for tea.

Peeta breaks the silence. "Would you consider staying here with me Katniss?"

My jaw drops as I gaze into those brilliant blue eyes. I've only known Peeta for a day and he wants me to stay.

For a moment I am almost foolishly happy. He likes me. After spending more than 24 hours alone with Peeta, he has grown on me considerably. I like him too. I think about kissing him and never stopping. Running naked through that stream with him.

But then reality sweeps over me.