Coffee and Classics
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:
I'm wringing my hands over and over, waiting for Peeta to get home from work. I hid the Bridal magazines Prim bought for me a few days ago under the cushion on my side of the couch, but I have been looking through them while he's off at work. But none of the dresses are what I want. I mean, they are beautiful, but just too fancy. Why does every dress need to be bejeweled nowadays? I want something simple.
When I finally hear a key in the lock, I turn to the door, my stomach fluttering—full of nervous butterflies. Though it's completely insane; Peeta's going to be thrilled with my decision. He's the one that asked me to marry him in the first place.
However, when Peeta plows through the doorway, he's not alone.
"Hey, sexy," Finnick calls to me as he crosses the room and plants himself down on the couch. He immediately turns on the TV and begins to surf the channels for something to watch. When did our apartment become a youth hostel?
Peeta sets his keys and wallet onto the table by door and makes his way over to me. He leans down and presses a small kiss to my eager lips. I place my hands on his chest, and run my palms down the muscles that reside there.
"How are you, love?" he whispers when he pulls away.
I exhale shakily. "Good," I reply, a smile tugging at my lips.
He tilts his head at me, confusion lighting up his features at my expression. But he shakes his head, dismissing it. "I invited Gale over too—I hope you don't mind."
My desire to smile instantly fades. I haven't talked to him since he was a dick and basically told me to ditch Peeta. What kind of friend thinks I would be better off if I left the person that has made me truly happy since my parents died? Asshole.
Peeta kisses me on my forehead, bringing me back to reality. "I know you are still mad at him, but he's your best friend and you need to make up. You were both angry and you said some things you didn't actually mean. And he came to Coffee and Classics today and was very apologetic. You can even ask Finnick."
"It's true!" Finnick calls from the couch. I turn away from Peeta and glance towards Finnick; he's finally decided on a TV-edited version of Point Break.
"See?" I turn back to Peeta, and see him raise his eyebrows up at me.
A knock rings out on the white wooden door and Peeta leaves me to answer it. Gale walks through the threshold and instantly his gaze lands on me. His grey eyes are full of remorse and I already feel my grudge begin to fade. I nod my head toward my bedroom and he follows me into the room, shutting the door behind us. I turn around to face him, crossing my arms over my chest.
Gale pulls at his brown hair with his left hand, exasperation filling his features. "Shit, Catnip, you know I'm not good at this—but I'm sorry I said those things, okay? Peeta's a good guy, and I know he would never hurt you. So if you want to say yes, I will be there by your side on your wedding day, passing you a flask so you have the courage to walk down the aisle."
A smirk creeps up my face. He's right. I will need a little liquid courage.
"I'm sorry I threw your…situation in your face," I apologize back to him. "I really do hope everything works out with Madge or with your son. Or both."
He smiles at me and opens his arms; I move into his embrace. You forgive your best friend for anything. It's kind of in the contract.
"You're gonna say yes, aren't you?" he whispers into my ear as he rests his chin on my shoulder.
I bite my lip, stifling a grin.
The five of us crowd around the TV, eating pizza and watching the movie. Prim, Finnick and I take over the couch while Gale sprawls himself out on the love-seat in the corner and Peeta sits on the floor in front of me so I can run my fingers through his floppy curls and massage his tense shoulders. I just need to have my hands on him at all times, it seems.
It's after midnight when the movie ends, and I look around and see that Peeta and I are the only ones still awake. I ask Peeta to carry Prim to her room while I grab blankets from the linen closet in the bathroom for Gale and Finnick. They just look too comfortable to wake up. And as annoying as they are, I do like having them around.
After I've tucked in our snoring friends, I head to our bedroom and find Peeta already under the covers. He's lying on his back, reading by the light on our nightstand and running his hand lazily up and down his bare chest. I slip out of my clothes and dress myself in a tank-top and a pair of Peeta's sweats before crawling in next to him. I put my head on his chest and he wraps his arm around my back until it rests on my side, where I link my fingers with his.
"Read to me?" I ask, planting a kiss on his smooth chest.
He nods his head and begins to read to me from his spot in the book. I close my eyes and listen to the deep timbre of his voice, repeating the words I've read many times before. If each night of the rest of my life is like this, I know I will always be happy. I'm with the man I love, my sister and my closest friends. Marrying Peeta could never be a mistake if life is like this. And if kids are what he truly wants, maybe far down the road, I could possibly be talked into it. For him. I would do anything for him.
Peeta's fingers gently squeeze mine and my eyes flutter open again and meet his beautiful blue ones. He sets the book down on the nightstand and I glance at the clock there and see that he's been reading to me for almost an hour. I guess time flies when you are dreaming about the future.
"I wasn't able to talk to you very much today," he whispers as he turns off the light and immerses us in darkness.
"I know," I reply, snuggling into his chest. I release his fingers and move my arm so it's draped across his body; he places the arm previously holding the book over it.
"I missed you."
"I miss you every second we aren't touching," I admit to him.
He presses a kiss to my temple and I raise my head to meet his lips again. His soft lips caress and battle mine; the kiss is sweet and cherishing and causes my stomach to flip. When we finally pull away, he presses his forehead against mine.
"Can…" I start, but trail off. No. That's not how I should begin.
"What?"
I take a deep breath. "I would like it to be small, okay? Just immediate family and close friends—the people most important to us. And we'll have to do something about Haymitch—sober him up enough so he can walk me down the aisle. I figure, no groomsmen or bridesmaids; just your best man and my matron of honor—Prim obviously. And, though I'm not very good with words, we can write our own vows if you'd like to."
Eerie silence is cast over the room. Um, I thought this is what he wanted. Did he change his mind? My nerves begin to take over and I can feel my palms start to sweat.
"Did you fall asleep?" I finally ask.
I feel him shake his head. And I breathe a sigh of relief. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he whispers, his voice laced with incredulous excitement.
I roll my eyes in the dark, knowing he can't see me. "I'm saying yes, Peeta."
He sits up in bed so quickly I fly off him, tossed off to the side. He throws the covers off his body and crosses the room to our dresser, where I see him open his sock drawer. He jumps back on the bed and crawls towards me. He kneels in front of me, leaning back on his heels and opens the ring box again, five days after he first popped the question. He pulls the ring from the velvet cushion and gently takes my left hand that lies on our white down feather comforter into his.
"You'll marry me?" he asks again. His voice is shaky, and I can't tell if it's because of tears or excitement in the darkness.
"Yes."
He slips the ring onto my finger and as soon as it's nestled where it's supposed to be, he clutches my face in his hands and crashes his lips into mine. He grins against my mouth and I can't help but do it too. I'm going to get married. Jesus.
"I'd love it if we wrote our own vows," he admits once he pulls away.
We fall back down onto the bed and slip back under the covers; I let out a chuckle. "I knew you would." We move onto our sides facing each other; our legs entwined and our hands clasped.
"I love you so much, Katniss." He presses another kiss to my cheek.
"I love you, too."
I'm woken up the next morning by soft kisses along my arm. I open my eyes to find Peeta grinning against my skin. I'm lying on my back while he leans over my body, his mouth pressed against my forearm that's positioned across my stomach. His hair is muzzled and his nose is wrinkled in the most adorable way—which I'm pretty sure is what made me fall in love with him in the first place; his ocean blue eyes are brimming with happiness. I move my hand so it rests on his muscled shoulder and he immediately shifts forward until his face is hovering above mine.
"Good morning, fiancée," he greets me. Then he places a chaste kiss on my sleep-ridden lips.
"You too, fiancé," I reply.
I'm pretty sure his returning grin crushes the world record for largest smile.
We lay in bed for another hour or so, kissing and touching and staring at my ring as it rests on my finger and repeating declarations of love. But I guess that's what you are supposed to do when you're newly engaged. But eventually, the rumbling of our stomachs become too loud to ignore and we mosey out of bed and make our way back into reality.
Everyone else is awake and watching TV, their eyes puffy with sleep and their hair just as messy as ours. Gale and Finnick give us nods of acknowledgement before returning their eyes to the Sunday morning cartoons. Prim bounds off the seat between the two of them and runs over to us. She's gives us each a hug, then follows us into the kitchen as Peeta begins to grab the ingredients for pancakes. Yum. I hope I get pancakes every day for the rest of my life.
As soon as everything is in the mixing bowl, Peeta walks over to where I am sitting on the counter and moves himself between my legs. He's giving me that look; the one that makes me want to clench my thighs together but also causes my heart to melt. He lifts my left hand and kisses my ring before he places my hand on the side of his face and leans into it. God, he's beautiful. I pull his face to mine and kiss him, wishing we were back in our room, away from the wandering eyes of friends and siblings.
"GAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Prim's squeal causes us to break apart and I look at her with panicked eyes. Jesus, did she chop her arm off or something?
"YOU SAID YES!" she yells. Suddenly, she pushes Peeta out of the way and pulls me down from the counter and wraps her arms around me, squeezing me so hard I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to breathe normally again. And then she begins to jump up and down. And I jump with her. And I hate myself for it.
Soon, another pair of arms wrap around us, and I smell the cologne of none other than Finnick Odair. He begins to jump with us and cackle like a serial killer.
"Okay, okay!" I finally shout, and force the two of them to stop their girlish antics. I press a kiss to Prim's forehead, then untangled myself from them and move over to Peeta. I wind my arm around his back and he hugs me to him. I see Gale standing in the corner, smiling at the two of us. "Yes, I said yes," I officially tell them.
The three of them erupt in cheers and Finnick yells for champagne. Peeta lets go of me and turns off the mixer before he moves over to the corner cabinet to grab a bottle for us.
The five of us move into a circle in the kitchen, and he pours four glasses of the alcohol and one glass of orange juice and passes them around; Prim frowns when she gets her drink, but Peeta just kisses her forehead and gives her a knowing look.
"To Peeta and Katniss," Gale says when we lift our glasses in the air. "May you two banish the stereotypes and statistics of young marriage."
We all shout "cheers" and clink our glasses together before drinking them. When my glass is drained, I look up to Peeta and find him smiling down at me.
I know the odds aren't in our favor. I know that it all seems crazy and that we're young. But he's the one. He's my dandelion in the spring—the hope that life can be good again, even after the tragedies we've both experienced. I love him. It's as simple as that. There shouldn't be anything else to it.
He presses his forehead to mine and takes a deep breath.
"Is this real or not real?" he asks, his voice laced with amusement.
I tell him, "Real."