It was almost unconscious at first, how Katniss found herself avoiding the coffee shop on the days she knew Peeta wouldn't be there. She tried to reason that it was because no one could make her chai tea quite the way he did, which was exactly the way she liked it. She felt her face flush with heat when she thought of the possible other things he might be able to do just the way she liked them.
She found herself wondering what he did when he wasn't working at the coffee shop, and then wishing that he would spend his break with her again so she could ask him. This was so unlike herself that she had to physically shake her head as the idea occurred to her while she trekked across campus toward Tribute Street one day.
"Hi Peeta," she said, accepting the drink from him that he had starting making for her before she even cleared the door. He had started doing that lately; making her drink as soon as he saw her opening the door, anticipating her order. Sometimes now, instead of slinking away to her window table right away, she found herself leaning on the coffee bar, making idle chit chat with him while he continued to make drinks for other patrons; enjoying some additional time with him, if only to stay in close contact with his dazzling smile just a little bit longer.
Finally one evening she got up the nerve to ask him about his life outside the coffee shop. "So, do you have any other talents, besides making really delicious cheese buns?" she asked, in a very un-Katniss like manner. My god, she even sounded flirtatious. Where was this coming from?
He chuckled in response. "I like to paint," he said. "I'm in the Art program at the University, actually." He was pouring steamed milk into a caramel latte and she could hardly tear her eyes away from his forearm in order to give her full attention to his answer. When she finally did look up at his face, licking her lips, she saw that he wore an amused expression and her face immediately felt 100 degrees hotter.
"What do you paint?" she asked, bringing herself back into the moment.
"Anything, really," he replied. "Mostly landscapes, but sometimes I paint things I dream and those can be fairly abstract."
"Well I'd love to see them sometime," she found herself saying. What?! Did she really just say that? She saw his eyebrows lift in surprise and then he cleared his throat audibly.
"That'd be great," he said, his voice an octave higher than normal. "I have some on display, actually, in the student center, right now. We could, uh, walk over there after my shift, if you want."
She frowned. "I can't," she admitted. "I have a class at 7." Seeing his face fall, she quickly amended, "I could meet you tomorrow?"
His face brightened immediately. "That'd be great! What time should we meet? Or, I could pick you up."
"Let's just meet there," she said, starting to feel nervous about seeing him outside of her coffee shop bubble. "About 11:30?"
"That sounds good," he said, neutrally, and she hopped down from the bar stool and nodded at him before she headed off to her table to grade a few papers.