Coffee and Classics

Again, thanks everyone for the follows, favorites and reviews. I loved writing this chapter, for you learn a little bit more about Peeta. I hope you enjoy it!

I do not own The Hunger Games.

CHAPTER FIVE:

The rest of the day continues without incident. Peeta comes by every once and a while to refill my drink or for a quick chat on his break, but mainly I sit and read. Prim leaves around 7:30 p.m., off to a sleepover with her friends. It makes me nervous when she leaves and I'm unable to watch over her, but she's a teenage girl and I know she needs to spend time with her girlfriends. Just because I didn't need any friends in high school besides Gale, doesn't mean Prim is wired liked me. Actually, from the millions of contacts on her phone, it's safe to say she's nothing like me in that aspect. Or in any aspect, really. She oozes life, is quick as a whip and thrives on social interaction. I'm a sullen, stressed, moody chick that enjoys reading and being alone.

It's not until the lights start to turn off that I glance down at my watch and I'm surprised to see how late it is. 10:38? Jesus. I quickly place my book back into my bag, and get up to leave, straightening up my area. I slip into the shoes I kicked off hours ago, and begin to make my way out of the store.

"Hey Katniss, wait up!" Peeta calls to me. I stop and turn around to see him jog towards me from behind the cash register. "Do you want to go out for a beer? Our first friends date?" He takes a step towards me, and I notice how much he towers over my 5'2" form. I look up into his face right as he licks his lips, and I can't help but follow his tongue around the edge of his mouth.

I smirk knowingly. Now I know how he gets his conquests. Before I can say anything, he cuts me off. "Drinks on me." He smiles again, crinkling his blue eyes, and I find myself nodding. He nods at me, and then crosses back to the register to lock it up. I flip the sign to "closed" for him, and turn off the rest of the lights. Immersed in darkness, I walk towards the light in the kitchen, only to find myself walking straight into the solid form that is Peeta Mellark.

"Fuck! I didn't see you there," I mumble, after I bounce off his chest. Peeta's hand is suddenly at my side, steadying me. His grip is strong, yet soft, and his hand is so big that with it splayed, the edges of his fingertips are gently touching my backside. Flush rushes to my face and suddenly I'm thankful for the darkness, so he can't see it. His breathing is heavily, and I squint into the darkness, trying to find his eyes. When I do, I'm amazed to see they still shine bright, even in the dark. I wonder if I could see his eyes if we made love.

I'm startled by my thoughts. First of all, make love? What am I, fifteen? And second, WHAT THE HELL! I just met this guy!

Peeta coughs, and whispers, "Are you okay?" His voice is husky, and I feel my stomach flutter. And something even lower…

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get to the bar." I step past him and towards the kitchen, trying to run away from the foreign feelings he's giving me.

Talking with Peeta is about the easiest thing I've ever done. He is genuine, hilarious and an all around good guy. Apparently, he grew up in Orlando, but never really enjoyed the humidity, and decided to transfer to UW for his senior year. He's 22, grew up working at his family's bakery, loves to paint, portraits in particular, and wants to be an architect. It's not until I've finished my second long island ice tea, that I realize we've been talking for two hours straight; with zero awkward silences. I mean, he mostly does all the talking, but I find myself opening up whenever he asks me a personal question. He just puts me at ease, and I haven't been fully at ease since my parents died.

"I can tell how much you care for Prim," he says after finishing his third beer. "Your eyes just seem brighter when you're near here. Wow, that sounded cheesy." He laughs at himself and tilts his head up to look at me, rubbing that same spot on his forehead. That must be a nervous reaction, I think.

"She's my everything," I whisper. Long island ice tea is obviously inhibiting me from holding back any emotion.

"Well, she looks up to you. She told me that she wishes she was as strong as you are." I look at him in shock. Prim told him that? She just met the dude today.

"Well, I wish I was as nice as she is." We look into each other's eyes and laugh together. Peeta's face is truly beautiful when he laughs, his eyes are bright and his slightly crooked nose crinkles in the cutest way. When our laughs cease, his eyes begin to smolder, and I feel my stomach begin to flip again. But before I do anything stupid, like kiss him, I let the alcohol take over and say what's been on my mind since I met him.

"Peeta, you are a nice guy and all, but I'm not gonna sleep with you." Peeta chokes on the sip he just took from his forth beer and coughs loudly, a look of shock on his face. He opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off, "I know you must get tons of lays, all the time, but I want you to know that I don't want to be one of your many."

"Katniss, seriously, stop talking," he says, his face stern and his tone slightly angry. Wow, I've never seen that look at his face. He looks pissed. "First, no one could ever see you as 'just another number' or whatever, and if they did, I would rightfully kick their ass. And second, I'm not some womanizer. I don't just love 'em and leave 'em."

Now it's my turn to look shocked. Peeta does seem like a nice guy, but he has to be aware of his beauty. And how he turns on women just by walking into a room; I've counted 17 glances in his direction since we got here. I mean, after having this bar conversation with him, I've realized he's not Finnick, constantly flirting and sexually suggesting we get a room, but still, I just figured he was a more subtle heartbreaker.

"Seriously, Katniss try to believe me," he says, obviously responding to my perplexed expression. "Fuck, I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I've never even had a one-night-stand." He looks down at his beer bottle and begins to peel off the label, embarrassment flushing across his tan skin.

"Oh," I respond, unable to think of anything else to say. He looks up at me, his face changing from embarrassment to something else. Lust? Affection? Hunger? I'm not sure—the alcohol in my bloodstream preventing me from being able to fully assess it.

"I would never do anything but cherish you, Katniss. You must know that."

"You barely know me," I whisper shyly, my eyes turned down to the table. This conversation is rapidly changing from the direction I had intended it to.

"I know. But you're different than anyone else I've ever met. I can just tell." I look up into his eyes, and finally notice how close we are; how we've been leaning towards each other from across the table. Before I can think of the repercussions, I lift my right hand away from my empty glass, and place it on the side of his face. My thumb brushes his bottom lip, and I notice a sharp intake of his breath. His hot breath on my thumb causes warmth to spread throughout my entire body.

"Katniss…" he whispers, and finally I look into his eyes. They are dark, and burning, and my stomach continues to melt with each passing second. "What are you thinking?"

Oh, jeez. What am I thinking? I scold myself. My hand drops away from his face, and falls onto the table. "I don't know," I finally whisper, turning away from his face and glancing across the bar. Anywhere but his eyes.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asks me, causing me to turn back to him. I quickly glance at my watch, and see that it's almost two.

"I don't want to be alone," I whisper only to myself, still staring at my watch. But Peeta hears me.

"I won't leave you."

I glance up at him, and I can tell from his sparkling azure eyes that he's telling the truth.