The next morning I wake up later than usual. Last night I was able to sleep a fair amount, mostly because there were no nightmares. Instead I had a strange dream, one that was not all together unpleasant. Peeta and I were walking through the woods. We were both silent, which is a true feat for Peeta, and apparently me as of late. He spotted a large buck and I took it down with one arrow, straight through the eye. Together, we hauled it back to the Hob and I sold it to Sae. It was a simple dream. A happy one.
I hop out of my bed with newfound energy and wash my face. As I am pulling on a pair of old black pants, I hear voices in the kitchen. I hastily finish dressing and start braiding my hair as I walk down the stairs.
Peeta is seated at the kitchen table with Prim and he was apparently in the midst of telling her a gripping story that I catch the tail end of.
"…and even though it seemed like a good idea, my stomach ached for days afterwards. So don't eat too many of them, OK?" he instructs as he points to a plate full of sugar cookies in the center of the table.
Prim nods and turns when she hears me hit the bottom stair. "Katniss!"
Peeta turns to look at me, a shy smile decorating his face. "Good morning, Katniss," he greets me.
I feel my eyebrows knit together. His behavior is quite the change from last night. Not to mention his blue eyes are brighter and the circles under them look minutely smaller. It seems like he had combed his hair, as well, or at least tried to, because it is less messy than when I saw him last night. He is wearing a soft white cotton t-shirt and a pair of old jeans that seem to be dusted with flour.
I glance at the cookies in the middle of the table and scowl even though I think of Prim and the way she would always look at the sugar cookies in the bakery window until I had to drag her away. I hadn't even thought to get her some since returning from the Games. Of course my issues with the baker's son kept me away as well. Had I told Peeta about Prim's obsession with those cookies during the Games. Maybe that's the reason he brought them.
"Peeta brought us cookies, Katniss, isn't that nice of him?" Prim asks me as she pops a cookie into her mouth.
Her voice brings me back to my senses and I glance in her direction. Why is he here? He didn't seem to be too pleased with me last night.
"That's very nice of him," I answer while quirking an eyebrow at Peeta questioningly.
"I was just telling Prim that I plan on making a lot of sugar cookies for the school. The kids have exams coming up and I figured it would be nice to have cookies waiting for them after the tests. I could use your help," he says.
"I don't think I would be any help. I'm not good at cooking," I respond. I am completely thrown by this proposition. Last night he couldn't wait to see me go and now he wants to spend the day playing house? I know we agreed to be on better terms but this is sudden.
"It's for the good of the children, Katniss, are you going to let down the children?" Peeta looks at Prim knowingly and she smiles broadly.
"Why do you need my help? Can't Prim help you?" I ask, annoyed.
Peeta rolls his eyes dramatically and turns to Prim, who giggles at his extravagance. "I told you she would be difficult."
I start to protest when Prim interjects. "I have school, Katniss. Remember?"
"Prim has school, remember?" Peeta imitates Prim's high voice. She frowns and sticks her tongue out at Peeta. I feel the corners of my lips twitch upwards and I fight them down.
"Besides, I asked you," he adds softly, imploring me with those blue eyes. I feel my cheeks heat up and am so surprised by my reaction that I turn to look at the floor.
"Bye Peeta! Katniss," I look up at my sister to see her staring at my bright red cheeks. She smiles, turns on her heel and walks out the door.
The kitchen in Peeta's house is identical to mine, only his is much more…pleasant. Mine reminds me of my mother, who likes to stay at our old house in the Seam half of the week due to her job as Healer. When she is home she cooks in the new kitchen.
I don't miss her. Prim pretends not to but I know she does.
Peeta makes his way around his kitchen with ease, pulling this and that from the cabinets. We don't talk and our strange "cookie making adventure" is awkward but I have no desire to make it more enjoyable. If he dragged me into this, he will suffer as well. I mentally scold myself. If we are going to be a convincing couple, we should do these kinds of activities.
"If we're going to be friends, we are gonna have to spend more time together," Peeta declares, as if reading my mind. "It's for the better," he adds, almost to himself, as he concentrates on mixing ingredients for the cookies.
I had taken a spot on the counter and was watching Peeta start to concoct the cookies. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and I see his muscles flex as he methodically starts to roll out the dough. His arms are tanned and I can see some new burn marks scattered around them.
I place my hand on his arm without thinking and he immediately stops and looks up at me. His face is closer to mine than I had anticipated. He stares at me straight in the eyes and he exhales through his mouth. I feel it on my face.
"What are these from? I thought you had a full body-polish in the Capitol?" I ask, tearing my eyes from his.
He waves me away dismissingly. "I'm not used to the new ovens in this house. New ovens mean new burns."
"I'm sorry," I reply. I don't have any new scars from hunting. It feels unfair that Peeta should have more scars than me.
He just looks up at me and smiles widely. "Don't be sorry, I love baking," he assures me as he goes back to the dough.
I spend my time alternating between staring out the window and staring at Peeta's arms working the dough.
"I'm sorry for the way I acted last night," he says and I am brought out of my daydreaming. "I was surprised by your visit. Haymitch warned me but I didn't think you'd actually come. I was just…overwhelmed… with everything," he explains and I feel guilty, remembering his broken expression on the train a few weeks ago.
"That's OK." I don't know what else to say so I just study his arms as they move around the dough.
"It's not. I'm sorry for assuming that…we both felt the same. I should've known that you had someone else at home. I was being naïve," Peeta says as he pauses slightly in his dough making and look at him.
Who else would he be referring to? I don't have any friends and I barely talk to anyone besides Prim and Gale. Wait.
"Are you talking about Gale? We're not together. He is like a brother to me. Nothing more," I look Peeta straight in the eye when I say this and for once he is the one to falter.
"Oh. Okay," he responds as he sharply turns back to the dough and he starts to roll it out. I continue to watch him do it.
Peeta breaks the silence after a few minutes.
"So…now that we're friends," he looks up at me and smiles, "we can have little baking adventures everyday." He says the last part of the sentence in a perfect Capitol accent and at the same time flicks some flour my way, leaving the end of my braid covered in white powder.
"Hey!" I shout, slightly shocked. I turn back to Peeta and his smile is so genuine that I smile back and for a second I forget where I am. But then I think about how much Haymitch would love this display and scold Peeta before he gets the wrong idea.
"I hate baking," I frown while dusting my hair off. Peeta looks up at me, hurt in his eyes, before he so expertly disguises it.
"That's not what I meant. I mean…I'm fine sitting here watching you do it," I explain, trying to rectify the situation. He looks up at me with those damn eyes again and before I can get flustered I switch my gaze to the floor. I can feel my cheeks burn anyway and I'm not sure if it's because of sudden embarrassment or anger or just Peeta.
"It's getting late, I'm going to pick up Prim from school," I say hastily as I hop off the counter and make my way to the door before Peeta can change my mind.
"Wait," he almost shouts before I can open his front door. He grabs my hand and leads me to the porch. Before I know what is happening he envelopes me in a soft hug. I stiffen at first, still not used to this. But then I remember the way he feels. I forgot what it was like to hug Peeta. I'm brought back to our time in the cave, the only time during the Games when I felt any semblance of safety. I realize I'm hugging him back. He smells like the sugar and vanilla he was using for the cookies but also something else I can't quite pinpoint. It's a good smell, not like the coal dust and gasoline that 12 reeks of. I feel my eyes flutter close, too caught up in this strange feeling of being safe. I feel his arms travel down my sides to my waist and he starts to pull away but before he does completely, he presses his cheek to mine and whispers, "for the cameras." Something in his voice isn't right, though. It's the same hollow voice I know from the train. The voice of a boy who is reminding himself that it's all fake. The voice of a boy who had his heart broken once before and isn't going to let it happen again.
Before I know it Peeta lets me go and is back inside his house. I shake myself from my momentary daze before going home to wash the flour out of my hair. I'm not explaining that to Prim.