Coffee and Classics
Over 100 followers?! That's amazing. Thank you so much. I enjoyed writing this chapter. You get to witness Peeta and Katniss at ease, and it's a great thing to see with the pasts that they have-which I haven't revealed yet. ;) I hope you enjoy! My next chapter is going to be a long one!
CHAPTER EIGHT:
A week has passed since Peeta and I spent the day together, talking, playing games with Prim and cuddling on the couch watching reruns of Friends. And he's slept over every night. We haven't done anything more than kiss, but I feel at home in his arms. And it scares the shit out of me.
I walk into Coffee and Classics with the intention of meeting him to discuss our evening together when I see Finnick at the counter, instead of Peeta. He looks up and sees me—his face instantly changing into a mask of regret and shame. I glare at him as I slowly approach the counter.
"Katniss, I'm so sorry," Finnick breathes, his voice lacking his normally "alluring" tone. "I was drunk, and I fucked up. You know how I value you as a friend, and I'm just sick with myself for trying to make a pass at you. And plus, I never would have even looked at you if I knew you were Peeta's girlfriend."
My glare turns into a look of panic. Girlfriend? Has Peeta been calling me is girlfriend? I can't be anyone's girlfriend. I'm not ready. I have Prim to think about. And school. I can't fail that. And what about Haymitch? I have to make sure he doesn't die. What is he thinking? What—
"Hey baby," Peeta whispers into my ear from behind, as his arms wrap around my waist and he places a brief kiss on my neck. However, I don't melt like I normally do. And he notices. "Is something wrong, Katniss?"
I shrug out of his arms and walk towards my usual chair in the back of the store. I hear him follow me, but don't acknowledge his existence until I'm fully situated in my chair, my shoes kicked off and my feet curled under me—book in hand. I look to him, and see him standing a few feet away from me; a look of awkward hesitation covers his face and his hand is rubbing the scar on his forehead.
"Did I do something…?" he trails off, waving his hands around aimlessly.
"Finnick said I was your girlfriend," and I trail off too, looking down and picking at a paint stain on my jeans.
"Ah," he says. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him crouch down to his knees. His face suddenly pops into my vision as he purposefully moves it next to my knee. His face is full of worry, but his eyes show a hint of mischief. "Katniss, I swear, I didn't tell him that. He probably just assumed, considering I talk about you all the time and I stay at your apartment every night."
He places one of his big hands on my knee and begins to rub it in a soothing manner. Slowly, he leans down and plants a kiss on my jeaned knee. I smirk at his action, and his mouth spreads into a wide grin. I take one of the arms previously crossed over my stomach and move it towards his face. Gently, I stoke my pointer finger down his crooked nose, and it crinkles in an adorable way.
"When do you get off work?" I ask him, my hand moving to cover his on my knee.
"At six, so in about an hour," he replies, glancing at his watch. "Do you want to wait for me? I was thinking we could stay at my apartment tonight, since Prim is staying over with Rue." I nod, and smirk at the fact that he knows so much about Prim's day to day life.
Since Peeta has begun to stay over every night, Prim has loved having little chats with him after dinner, or while they bake cookies together. Peeta's cookies are simply delicious, and I swear, they are some kind of aphrodisiac. I seriously want to jump his bones after watching him work or as he feeds them to me, still hot from the oven. While he works, his face is etched in concentration, but his eyes shine with joy and it's easy to tell how much he loves it.
He kisses my hand once and stands up to leave, making his way back to the front counter and out of our bubble of bliss.
Peeta's studio apartment looks just like I expected it too. It's relatively big for a studio, and the walls are a warm orange color, like the sunset. He has books stacked endlessly on shelves that line all around the room and his own paintings on crumbled paper or canvas are sporadically taped all over the walls. The paintings vary from mountain landscapes to kids playing in the park, but each one is breathtakingly beautiful. The room is impeccable, not a dirty dish or sock anywhere in sight. I smile widely and place my book bag on the kitchen counter and shed my jacket to place on top of it. With my jacket off, I notice how chilly it is, and realize he is opening all the windows.
"Sorry if it's a bit nippy. I like to sleep with the windows open," he explains as he sees me I rubbing my arms. He never mentioned that on any of the nights he slept in my room with closed windows. But I shrug it off, and watch as he moves towards me. "Do you want to order Chinese?"
When the food arrives, Peeta and I eat with our legs crossed, sitting on his king size bed—the white comforter smooth on my bare toes. Peeta moans occasionally at the deliciousness of his bite, then feeds me the next one, swearing that I will die if I don't taste how amazing it is. The whole dinner is comfortable and full of giggling and chatter. Eventually, we're stuffed, and I lay flat on his bed, unable to move.
Peeta picks up the left over containers and places them in the fridge and turns off the main light, before returning to me and plopping down beside me. I turn my head to face him, but I can't make out his expression by only the dim light cast from the light on his nightstand. Even though it's only 9:00 p.m., I want to crawl into bed and start our nightly ritual of cuddling and quiet discussion favorite books and movies. And it's obvious that Peeta does too, when he sits up on the bed and takes off his shirt. Quickly he unbuttons his pants and takes them off as well; I do the same, kicking mine to the floor. I crawl up the bed towards the pillows, and swiftly duck under them; the sheets are silky and I love the feeling of them on my bare thighs. When Peeta joins me, I promptly sit up. Peeta looks at me startled, but I try to ignore his expression, and in a moment of boldness, I pull off my t-shirt and cast it to the ground as well, exposing my black bra. Quickly, I lean off the bed to turn off the light on the nightstand, and snuggle back under the covers. Finally, I look over to Peeta, and see a smile plastered on his face. I roll my eyes, and he laughs loudly at my expression; he moves the arm he has under the covers between my back and the mattress to grip my bare side, and pulls me into him—like he has for the last seven nights in a row. But it's different this time, more intimate. Who knew that losing one article of clothing could do that?
Once I'm nestled into his side, Peeta turns on his right side, startling me. I'm normally the one that turns. He moves the arm he has under my lower back up, until in rests under my pillow, under my head, and takes his left hand and places it directly on my stomach, his pinkie dipping into my bellybutton and his thumb grazing the bottom of my bra. Goosebumps instantly erupt over my skin.
"Is this okay?" he whispers, his lips touching my left earlobe. I nod, words unable to form in my mouth. His lips press a wet kiss to the spot behind my ear he loves so much, and it's obvious I do too, for my body flushes in response. Slowly, his lips trail across my neck and stop at underneath my chin. I hesitate for a moment, but his warm breath on my skin melts my worry, and I tip in down so his lips gently touch mine.
The kiss is soft and sweet and filled with…love? No. It can't be. But it's strong, whatever emotion it is, and my toes curl in response; I can't help myself from deepening it, my tongue slowly dipping into his warm mouth. Peeta lets out a soft moan, his hand tightening slightly on my stomach. In the blink of an eye, Peeta moves on top of me and my legs part as his hips settle between them. I curl my legs around his hips and thighs and move arms to wrap around his shoulders, holding him close to me, and he does the same.
Our breathing begins to stagger as our kisses become more heated; our skin begins to heat and stick together and it feels like heaven. I've never felt so completely at home in another man's arms, not since my Dad used to hold me as a child. Not even my uncle Haymitch at the ability to settle me like Peeta has. This man I've only known for ten days. It's slightly fucked up, and completely terrifying, but I can't stop myself from enjoying the feeling. And I don't think I want to stop it.
The shrill ring of my phone breaks the through the haze in my brain caused by the feeling of Peeta's lips melded with mine. It's Bohemian Rhapsody. Prim's ringtone. Peeta recognizes it too, and peels away from me, leaping from the bed to pull my phone out of the front pocket of my discarded jeans. He looks up at me questioningly, and I nod, indicating it's okay for him to answer the phone. Peeta presses the answer button, then the speaker phone button.
"Hey Prim, what's up?" He asks, climbing back onto the bed and back towards me.
"Peeta! Are you with Katniss? I need your guy's help!" her voice is panicked, and I instantly shoot out of bed, scrambling for my shirt and pants.
"Prim! What's going on? Where are you?" I yell into the room, hoping she hears it. Peeta is suddenly standing next to me, pulling on his clothes as well.
"I'm at the police station. I went to a party, and it got crashed by the cops…I'm so sorry, Katniss. Can you come get me?" Her voice is edged with tears, but fury runs through my veins. A party? She's only fifteen! What the fuck is she doing at a party?!
"I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't move a muscle. And we are going to have a serious chat, Primrose." I say, trying to lessen my rage.
"I know we will. And it's the station on 5th avenue," she says, her voice sullen and broken. She sounds like she's already beginning to punish herself. Good.
"We'll be there soon," Peeta calls into the phone and presses the end button. He hands my phone over to me and walks to the kitchen counter to grab the keys to his truck, my bag and my jacket. Quickly, he walks back to me, helps me into my rain jacket and slings my book bag over my right shoulder. He pauses his movements, and leans down to press his lips to the spot behind my ear. "Let's go baby. Prim is waiting for us." I'm not sure how I like the term "baby," but the obvious concern for Prim in his voice makes me unable to comment on it. His blue eyes bleed into mine as he gently cups his giant hands on the sides of my neck. He presses his forehead to mine, and breathes deeply. He slides his hands down my neck, down my shoulders and arms and grasps my hands; he drags his forehead from mine and then turns and pulls me to the door.