Author's Note: Update is here! And we all know what that means: you have to trust me! And I apologize this update is a bit later than I wanted. Colds, work, and life tend to get in the way of writing. Rude, right? But it's here and I've already started the next chapter. So an update will be coming soon! Like always, thank you for the continued support & reviews! Your feedback is always loved and welcome! And I seriously have some of the best readers. Thank you so much for all your kind, sincerely, and very meaning for reviews! I love reading them all! Although these next few chapters are going to make for some nervous review reads, ha!
Always, always: Court81981 is the very best. Without her this story would not be half of what it is now! She's perfect. Besides the fact that she cheers for the Giants, but we all have a faults ;)
Summary: There are also three types of people in Dawson, Texas: those who are trying to flee, those who embrace their small town fate, and the Mellarks. Mellark Ranch; largest cattle ranch South of Dallas, employer of ranch hand, Katniss Everdeen, and home of Ohio State Buckeye running back, Peeta Mellark. And Peeta Mellark is coming home today.
Lone Star State of Mine
Chapter Fifteen: Goodbye Girl
"There you go, wrecking my whole world."
Sunday afternoons.
It doesn't matter what kind of weekend you've had, Sunday afternoons are always the worst. It could even mean the close of a terrible, awful weekend and you'd still find a reason to complain about it coming to an end. Because it doesn't matter how horrific your weekend is, a week full of responsibilities is worse. And the worst part of this whole Sunday afternoon debacle? It comes at you at any age. Either you're grumbling because you have a nine to five job calling your name like a playground bully or you're rushing to finish some homework assignment that you should have started weeks ago.
Sunday afternoons on a bad weekend are hard, but Sunday afternoons during a fantastic weekend are hell on earth. You've spent your entire weekend doing what you wanted. Doing it with people you want to be around. And it has probably snuck up on you like a haunted house ghoul. Because no matter how mundane the fun you're having is, it's easy to forget it has to come to a close come Sunday afternoon. And Dawson, even the football frenzy is coming to a close and Sundays are usually pretty bland days, minus the ever-popular debate of Texans or Cowboys. The blood may shield, but it wouldn't stop Monday from coming.
My dad, along with half the other males in Dawson, used to cage himself up at Greasy Sae's and watch whatever sporting event happened to be on the big screen. The women would occasionally attend baby showers, birthday parties, or any other happening that might be taking place. And if there was no happening, it was the day for grocery shopping, laundry, or another type of week preparation. Everyone goes about his or her day likes its any other, but it's in the air.
And organizing a suitcase only adds to that already familiar 'Sunday afternoon' pit in your stomach. The clothes you once so anxiously shoved into their place now nag at you to be put back. Most pieces need to be washed, another gnawing reminder that your week is about to begin all over again.
And for me that's a week back in Dawson, away from Peeta. Away from this weekend I thought would be a glorious escape. The weekend that has turned into a reminder of why it's always dangerous to let yourself get close to someone. Anyone.
I try to keep my attention focused on folding the same old t-shirt several times before I dare a glance at Peeta. He's still sleeping. The familiar crease in his forehead seems lighter here. He's more relaxed here at school. Even all the pressures of being the perfect running back still can't compete with the unnerving power Mrs. Mellark has on him back home. The power Peeta gets to break free from whenever he climbs in his truck to head back North. Back here.
My eyes scan over his sun-kissed, bare chest and my stomach turns in knots. The lines I've memorized move rhythmically with his breathing. I can practically hear his heartbeat in my head as I pull myself back into packing. I reach for an old t-shirt on the back of Peeta's desk chair. When I hold it I realize it's his. Or it was his. Until I stole it after the rainstorm we were caught in. It's my favorite shirt. It's from Dawson High School, and old gym shirt I believe. It must be from his freshman year because it's smaller than the ones he wears now.
The letters are faded and there are several holes on the left sleeve, like it was snagged on something. The tag, like the rest of the t-shirt, is worn, but I can still make out the letters "PM" that had been marked on for ownership. I pull the fabric close to my nose and close my eyes. His smell still lingers even after I've washed it numerous times—the sweetness of hay bales and the tang of sweat that had been so long pressed into the material that no wash could remove it. It smelled like comfort. A comfort that now put tightness in my chest. A comfort that wouldn't last.
I numbly toss the t-shirt into Peeta's laundry hamper and continue with my other articles of clothing before I can change my mind about the t-shirt. It's just a t-shirt. One I don't need. I have plenty of shirts I can sleep in at night.
Seeing the leaves change up close is a beautiful experience. In Dawson the leaves tend to change from dehydration. Their leaves fall off brown and crisp, but in Ohio the leaves are first different shades of orange, yellow, and red. I can't take my eyes off of them as Peeta and I walk along one of the many sidewalks throughout the campus. He's been pointing out different spots all afternoon and I've silently listened. My arm is linked inside his and I find myself always pulling closer to him. Peeta has asked me several times if I'm too cold. The weather is cool, but not cold enough to be bitter.
He doesn't realize I'm hanging on for dear life. He doesn't realize I'm trying to keep myself frozen in this moment forever. Because I can't imagine getting back on that plane tonight. I can't imagine going back to Dawson and starting all over again. And I will have to start all over again. That much I've decided. I've looked for reasons not to, but everything this weekend has screamed the opposite. Even now as we're walking along the semi-quiet campus people are stopping Peeta to congratulate him on yesterday's win or to simply say hi. And Peeta is beaming. His smile is carefree and his steps are light. This is what the Ohio State University does to him. Something back home could never do.
"So do you want to talk about it?" Peeta asks, breaking our silence and casting an umbrella over the storm in my mind.
"About what?" I ask, even though I know the answer.
"Jo told me about Delly," he continues as we walk, "How you disappeared for a while after that. And I just hope she didn't really get to you. She can be a real piece of work and —"
"I'm fine, Peeta." I reassure him. "She's just another Glimmer. You have to take her at face value. I just needed some air."
"I'm really glad you came up here," he smiles in my direction. "I know this place really isn't your…well, out of your comfort zone. So thank you."
My stomach twists as I turn to look at him. He is so sincere. He completely understands just how different this all is for me, and he's patient enough to allow my insecurities. He's patient enough to allow it to ruin everything for him. And I'm insecure enough to let it happen. I've seen what this kind of dependence leads to. I've seen my mother continually melt into the shell she became after my father died because her identity was wrapped up in him. Much like I'm becoming wrapped up into Peeta.
"Do you know just how much your name and the NFL draft are mentioned together?" I ask in a desperate attempt to change the subject. "Because I'm pretty sure most of this campus — along with fans across the nation — are expecting to see your name in lights before it's all said and done."
I swear I see him wince slightly as he looks down at the ground and laughs. He's heard it all before, I know. But we've never talked about it. Whenever the future is mentioned he simply tells me wherever I am is where he'll be, but that's unfair to him. I'll be in Dawson until the end of time; my life plan is set whether I like it or not. But the worst part is, I like it. I want to be in Dawson. I belong there. Peeta doesn't.
"They just have to have something to talk about." Peeta shrugs, looking around the campus. "It would be boring to announce, 'Peeta Mellark has just scored his first touchdown of the game and he also has a Psych paper due on Monday!' What a multi-talented player!"
My laughter bubbles through my sour mood, and Peeta's laugh mingles with mine for a moment. It's small seconds like these that make me wish I could forget the rain cloud over my head. The sense of fear I have over letting someone close enough to hurt me. How I've already let Peeta in and how much it's going to hurt without dragging it out. We are, after all, just kidding ourselves.
"Would you go?" I ask, fearing the answer. "Enter the draft, I mean?"
"My mother would hang me by the rafters in the barn if I didn't finish school." Peeta gives a dry laugh. "I have a year and half left here. It all depends."
"On what?" I ask.
Peeta stops walking then and drops my arm linked around his. When he turns to face me my stomach fills with butterflies. His eyes are so blue I swear I could swim away in them. His jaw is clenched and he swallows hard, "Katniss, it's always going to depend –"
"Red! There you are!" A strong voice interrupts Peeta's words and I turn to see Thresh walking toward us.
I can see Peeta's eyes still linger on me for a moment longer before he turns as well to greet his teammate. He and Thresh exchange a handshake that must be taught to all men at birth while we girls are learning to braid our hair. Once they slap each other on back and step away from each other, Thresh turns to greet me with another bear hug — one I'm not completely prepared for that leaves me gasping for air.
"Howard is talking shit about how he can beat anyone in pool over at The Hob." Thresh grins. "What do you say?"
Peeta glances over at me and I simply smile and shrug my shoulders. "What else would we do all day?"
He reaches over and grabs me by my waist and kisses right below my earlobe, "I could think of a few things."
My cheeks burn red and Thresh just rolls his eyes and laughs, "Alright bunnies, we get it. You have fantastic sex. Now, Mellark, what's your answer?"
Peeta removes his lips from my cheek too soon for my liking and grins back at Thresh, "Challenge accepted."
Thresh claps his hands together and turns to lead the way toward our new destination.
The Hob is a rather small college bar and when we walk in it's pretty much shoulder to shoulder — even on a Sunday afternoon. I feel Peeta's hand on the small of my back as we follow Thresh through the crowds of people. Most recognize Peeta and make it a point to slap his shoulder, shake his hand, or yell his name across the bar. I feel like I am in some sort of cinematic moment where the hero is greeted warmly by his peers. Peeta's expression tells me just how much he does enjoy these moments. And why shouldn't he? He's had them for most of his life.
"Red!" I hear a voice ahead of us cry and when we finally make our way toward the back of the bar, I see Mitch standing with Jordan at a free pool table. "I figured Thresh would run and find you — he knows he doesn't even stand a chance going against us with anyone else as his partner."
"All talk, Howard. All talk." Thresh shakes his head, grabbing two pool cues from the wall.
"What's the stakes?" Mitch asks.
"Round of drinks — including spectators." Johanna appears beside Peeta and grins.
"Boozer," Mitch replies.
"Chicken," she counters.
"Fine, a round of drinks for the bar." He looks back at Thresh, obviously unable to be shown up by anyone.
"Either way, we win." Johanna laughs, looking over at me and then at Peeta. "Hey Rockstar, did you have a nice post-game celebration?"
"Classy, Jo. Real classy." Peeta laughs, unzipping his jacket and sliding it off his shoulders.
"Always." She says, rocking her hip sideways to bump into his. And then her attention is on me, "Katniss, come on. I have a table just over there."
Peeta leans in and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before Johanna can lead me away. My eyes linger on the pool table where Peeta is already joking with the boys. His familiar laughter can be heard over the crowd at whatever Thresh has just said that caused Mitch to glare.
"Are you bummed to leave?" Johanna asks as we take our respective seats. "I know Peeta is going to be a pain in my ass without you."
"He'll be fine," I disagree. "He's totally in his element here."
A waitress comes over before Johanna can respond and she orders us two beers with a smile before glancing back at me, "Peeta may be in his element here, but in his mind it's not complete without you in it. He's all but told me on several occasions."
Johanna's eyes are drilling a hole into me, but I can't bring myself to look at her. She's an insightful pain and I know she's seeing right through my casual answers. She's also a protective mother hen over Peeta, and I fear I'm about to get on her bad side. The silence at our table seems to drown out all the noise of the bar and it seems like a decade before our waitress returns with our drinks.
"Thanks," I mumble, reaching into my back pocket to pay but before I can, Johanna has handed her the money and she's off to her next table. I look up at her, "You didn't have to do that."
"And you don't need to act like some wounded animal," Johanna says casually, sipping her beer.
"What does that mean?"
"You're acting like you and Peeta are having problems — did you get into a fight?"
"No. We didn't – "
"Then what's with you? Is it Delly? Look if she got under your skin yesterday, I can handle that. Consider it done." Johanna leans forward, resting her elbows on the pub table.
"It's not Delly." I sigh, getting frustrated that everyone thinks one girl can have such an impact on me. "I'm just not – this isn't where I belong."
Johanna watches me knowingly and I'm waiting for her rebuttal. I figure she'll tell me that it's where Peeta is and therefore I should be happy. I'm waiting for her argument that she'd love for Gale to be here with her. I'm waiting for her to tell me that I'm simply being overdramatic. But she doesn't say any of that.
"Peeta knows that," She says, looking down at her molasses-colored bottle. "He was surprised you even came at all. Because you're so set in your ways and he normally wouldn't bring you out of your comfort zone, but he missed you too damn much, or some shit like that. But do you want my opinion?"
"I'm going to hear it anyway." I smile, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn't work; Johanna just continues to stare into me.
"You're afraid. You're creating problems that aren't even there because you're afraid to let him in. I saw that from the beginning and I related with it. I get it, I really do. But sooner or later you have to quit running and decide something is worth fighting for." Johanna leans back in her chair. "Peeta's made his decision, whether he's realized it or not. I see it in the way he looks at you. And how doesn't look at any other girl. They don't exist. They never have. And you're a goddamn idiot for creating these little problems in your head as easy escape route."
There is a long silence and I know I look like I've just been struck upside the head. Johanna watches me and I simply blink at her. She's waiting for a response. A response I know I don't have because I've never had anyone be so forthcoming with me. Sure, I had Gale to tell me I'm doing something wrong on the job or I'm being too harsh with Prim. But no one has ever called me out on my inability to let someone in. I've also never had anyone I related to as much as I relate to Johanna. She's right, for whatever reason; she has that same instinct in her as well. But she must have had something I didn't before today: someone to call her on it.
"It's alright easier said than done," I reply lamely, my fingers nervously tangling together.
"I know." Johanna says, standing up and grabbing her drink. "But if you don't think he's worth it than you don't deserve him."
Before I can argue she's disappeared into the crowd, leaving me completely shell-shocked.
The ride to the airport is here before I know it, and I'm leaning against the passenger side window staring hard at the blurred buildings going past us. When I first arrived, I thought this thirty-minute drive had felt like a millennium and now I feel as though it's all flying past in the blink of an eye. I should talk to Peeta. I have to talk to Peeta, but Johanna is right. I have to quit running. I've spent most of my life running from anything that I could remotely become attached to. Running was always safer than letting someone in. That's why my world consists of Gale and Prim. I don't need anyone else. At least I didn't think I did.
I turn my head to look over at Peeta and the frown that's drawn deep on his face. He can sense the difference. When he approached the table with only me sitting there last night, had been the start of it. He asked where Johanna had run off to and I had simply shrugged. He instantly apologized for her, not even knowing what he'd been apologizing for. And he had no reason. She was right. I just couldn't face that.
Our drive is a silent tension and I'm reminded of the drive home after he had just protected me from Cato. How neither of us tried to start a conversation, but the air could have practically be sliced with a knife it was so thick. That was the night it all started. That was the night I truly saw myself being drawn toward Peeta Mellark. That was the night I should have simply ran like hell.
When we arrive at the airport I get out slowly, watching as Peeta pulls my bag from the bed of the truck. I hold tightly to my plane ticket and walk to the front of the truck. People all around us are saying their sweet goodbyes and waving to loved ones. We're in a standoff and neither of us knows how it all started. Not really, at least.
"Peeta, are you planning to come back to Dawson?" I ask suddenly.
He looks at me strangely and gives a small laugh. "Yeah. I'll be home for Fall Break."
"I mean after college. After – when you graduate, will you come back to Dawson?" I ask, feeling desperate for answers. Peeta starts to open his mouth, but I can't hold my own words in any longer. "Because I don't think you should. You don't belong there. This is where you belong — maybe not in Ohio, but out of Dawson — in a world that appreciates you. That adores you."
He looks like the wind has been knocked out of him and he stares at me for a moment. My chest heaves like I've just run a mile, but I know it's my adrenaline and emotion boiling over.
"And I think we're kidding ourselves if we think this will continue on past that point." I can't stop the words from falling from my lips. "You're heading for great things. I'll just end up holding you back —"
"Katniss, stop!" Peeta's voice rises over the crowds and I feel only slightly embarrassed when several around us stop their conversations to stare for a moment. "Are you going to let me answer any of your damn questions or have you already had this all already played out in your mind?"
I don't say anything. I don't have to. He already knows the answer.
"I don't know where I'll be after college — hell, I don't know what I'm having for dinner — but I do know I want you there." Peeta steps closer to me and I feel his free hand rest against my arm. "Where ever it is, I want you there."
"I can't do this life, Peeta. I can't be the girlfriend of a famous football player. It's too much. I like my mundane life back in Dawson, the one where I can blend into the shadows. I was doing just fine with all of that before you came along." My voice is barely above a whisper.
"And who says that's the life I want?" Peeta asks, and I can see an uncommon anger boiling in him. "Did you ask me? Or were you casually deciding all of this for me? Deciding that because you saw me for one weekend up here that you have me all figured out?"
"You're so at ease around here." I argue, my own steel will settling in. "You're happy!"
"Did you ever think you did that for me?" He counters. "I love you. Happiness comes with the fucking territory!"
I reach out to take my bag from his hands and he lets me, looking defeated. He knows he hasn't gotten through to me. And I so badly want to believe him, but I can't. I won't believe that someone like Peeta would even consider dating me, let alone throw such a bright future away just to be with me. I've been fooling myself for long enough to believe what we had would last forever. Not with me, because I ruin everything. I'm damaged goods. Peeta Mellark deserves someone whole.
I take a deep breath, praying my voice comes out stronger than I feel. "Goodbye Peeta."
He reaches for my arm as I turn and I hear him say my name, but with the slightest tug I'm free from his grasp and heading inside the airport. I don't look back. I know if I do, I'll change my mind. I'll decide we can weather anything. I'll become delusional because that's what love does. It makes you delusional enough to think someone out of your league would keep you around forever.
Regret chases me through the check in process and catches up with me at the metal detectors. Johanna is right; some things are worth fighting for. But that would mean putting myself out there at the risk of being completely ruined by love. Running is so much easier.
I easily make it through security, the regret only partially nagging at me. The tightness in my chest doesn't appear until I'm walking towards my terminal. The heartbreaking pain doesn't take over until I'm seated near my gate. And my tears don't win out until I've boarded the plane to go home.
As I keep my blurred vision fixed on the runway outside my window, all I can think about is doing it all over again. Starting from the beginning. Back when Peeta came home for the summer. I tell myself I wouldn't do any of it as I wipe away a fallen tear. I'd keep my distance and have it be like any other summer. But I know I'm lying and that thought only makes my tears fall faster.
Author's Note: Faith. Please have faith. And if you have questions, comments, etc. the best place to reach me is on my Tumblr(fourfinick). Ask away!