I stand off to the side as Effie meticulously wipes the lipstick from Peeta's face while talking to him in a low and condescending voice. She looks like a mother disciplining a child and he is trying very hard not to smile. I watch as the corners of his mouth quirk up every few seconds before he tries again to keep a straight face. The photographers are having a field day. My face burns because I know that kiss will undoubtedly be headline news tomorrow.
Suddenly, and with unparalleled force, my conversation with Snow comes to the front of my mind and I focus on not panicking. The bright and lavish colors that surround me are jarring and offensive reminders. The music from the dance floor is too loud, too grating. I had tried to collect myself in the elevator afterward but I knew it wouldn't work. I tried focusing on happy things, just generally happy moments, but I came up empty every time. The tricks Peeta taught me weren't working.
I don't really remember the elevator ride down from Snow's suite, or even exiting the elevator or how I managed to walk calmly to Peeta. I just remember the feel of his hands on my face and his mouth moving, forming words, and his blue eyes. I think I spoke to him but I was so terrified I can't recall. I saw his eyes go from worried to confused and then his mouth was on mine and the party disappeared. Snow disappeared and there was only Peeta and his lips and his hands and his tongue. And then, when he pulled away it was only Peeta and his heavy breathe on my face and his nose touching mine and the feel of his hand on my back and I needed to kiss him again. The hunger had come back, the same hunger I had experienced in the cave during the Games; an indescribable burn in the pit of my stomach, left unsatisfied after Peeta pulled away.
"And you!"
I snap my head at the sound of Effie's voice. She's stomping towards me now, armed with the red lipstick Cinna made me wear.
"That was quite unladylike!" Effie whispers harshly while smearing more lipstick on me. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Good gracious you two are uncontrollable. The press is going to eat this up tomorrow. Make you seem like two animals…" she was rambling and I glance over at Peeta, who is making his way toward us, smile gone.
"You two need to talk to more people. The party is for you, after all," Effie huffs before she grabs both our hands and marches us off into the ballroom.
"There are people who want to speak to you," she repeats.
The fear starts to bubble up again.
"Ms. Everdeen, the President would like to speak with you."
My damn hands start to shake again and Peeta takes them between his.
"Effie, I think Katniss is beginning to feel a little under the weather. I think I should take her back to her room," Peeta places his hand on the small of my back, gently pulling me closer, and my mind wanders briefly. Lips and tongue and hands and—
"Well she sure didn't look sick 3 minutes ago!" Effie nearly screeches. I blush crimson, not meeting Peeta's eyes. "You two speak to some more people for another hour and you can leave with Haymitch. Not that I would understand why you want to, of course," Effie mutters. It's strange hearing Effie mutter. Usually she speaks so clearly.
"Thank you, Effie," Peeta says gratefully. My mind is still swimming. I try not to think about anything, to make my mind go blank. I can't think about Snow without panicking and I can't think about Peeta without remembering that kiss.
"We're leaving and going back to District 12 as soon as the party is over tonight so the car will take you to the train, not the hotel," Effie continues.
"Thank you, Effie, really. This is all just so new to us," Peeta explains, trying to appease her. I look at Effie and her expression softens.
"Of course. Of course, I understand that. I will see you two tomorrow morning."
I nod and manage to produce what I hope is an appreciative smile. Effie teeters off on her ridiculous shoes and I look up at Peeta, who is concentrating on me, eyes full of concern.
"Are you okay?" he asks softly.
The fear comes back, coupled with confusion, and I push it away, to a corner of my mind where I can lock it up for now. I'll deal with it later, with the faucets running and the bathroom door closed.
"Yeah, I just—" I pause, take a deep breath and take his hand in mine. "Let's just get this over with, I guess."
I give Peeta a small smile and start to lead the way into the ballroom. His hand moves to my back again and my heart rate quickens. I try to push that memory to the far corners of my mind as well. I'll deal with that later, too, I think.
I scan the ballroom and see the three women Peeta and I had spoken to earlier making their way toward us. I wrap my arm around him possessively and steer him in the opposite direction. I can't look at them without wanting to rip their throats out. They look at Peeta like he's a peace of meat.
"Well look who it is. The couple of the hour."
I turn, arm still wrapped tightly around Peeta, and am met by none other than Finnick Odair. He's tall. Taller than Peeta. Taller than Gale, I think.
"Name's Finnick Odair. Nice to meet you, finally," he holds out a hand and Peeta shakes it. Finnick is all bronze hair, green eyes and white smile. I think I can understand why the Capitol is obsessed with him; he's even more attractive in person. It doesn't affect me though. I've never had a weakness for pretty things.
"Nice to meet you as well. I'm Peeta Mellark and this is Katniss Everdeen." I remove my arm from Peeta's waist and shake Finnick's hand. My eyes flicker to Peeta and I see he has his Capitol face painted on. He's so much better at this than I am.
"Crazy isn't it? This place. The first time I came here I was fourteen. That was 10 years ago, almost, and I still can't wrap my head around it." I take Peeta's hand again, feeling suddenly sick. Was Finnick fourteen when they sold him away? What have they done to you?, I think.
"It's incredible. We're in awe as well. Katniss?" Peeta is trying to get me to speak. I must seem strange, standing here in front of famed Finnick Odair, acting deaf and mute.
"Yeah-" I clear my throat. "Yes. It's lovely. Everyone's so nice and there's so much to see and do." I'm know I must sound like an idiot. But that's better, isn't it?
"Ah, yes. So much to do. By the way, you've got a little something," Finnick says, gesturing to my face, his eyes alight. "Something red. Lipstick? Oh, never mind. Yes, lots of fun things to do," he winks at me and I want to simultaneously slap him and curl up in a corner. I glance at Peeta, whose face has turned scarlet.
"I'm just messing with you," he laughs and smacks Peeta playfully on the shoulder. Peeta grins and pulls me to him, planting a quick kiss on my temple while I scowl at Finnick Odair.
"Aw, come on sweetheart, lighten up! Don't pretend you weren't having a good time. But if you'd prefer to get a taste of what District 4 has to offer I'm up for the challenge." Finnick says as he waggles his eyebrows. My scowl deepens and I look up to see Peeta stifling a laugh. I roll my eyes and turn back to Finnick.
"Thanks, but I'd say I'm pretty happy what I've got right here from District 12."
My mind drifts back to the kiss and I remember how Peeta pressed me tightly against the wall, how an electric current ran through me, from my belly all the way to my fingers and toes. I'm sure my cheeks match the color of my lips at this point. I glance at Peeta and see him blushing as well. We match again. Effie would be ecstatic.
"If you say so," Finnick laments. "Besides, you've marked your territory pretty well, I'd say. There are a few women in here who won't even look at him anymore lest they encounter that scowl of yours." He's joking and his tone his light but he's said something meaningful. You wouldn't be able to tell by looking at him, of course. Finnick's a complete professional, a Grade A actor. But I know better.
"That's good to know," I tell Finnick calmly as I look up at Peeta, who won't meet my eyes.
"Anyway, I think I'm needed over there," Finnick says as he points to a large group of women who are giggling and waving. I can't help my frown. I feel so bad for him. Not pity, of course. But sad. I wonder if there was a way he could have prevented this. If there was a way anyone could have prevented this life for him. I feel Peeta stiffen besides me and I take his hand and squeeze it reassuringly. I won't let that happen to you. I keep my conversation with Snow locked up. Later. I'll deal with that later.
"I just wanted to say 'hello' and enjoy the rest of your stay. No more gross public displays of affection, though, please?" Finnick says with a smile. Peeta laughs again and shakes Finnick's hand before the District 4 Victor walks away. I watch him as he saunters off, tapping three fingers of his right hand to his right leg. I've seen that before somewhere but can't remember when. People do things like that, though. They tap their fingers to their legs. A nervous habit, maybe. It can't mean anything.
Peeta and I work our way through the crowd, greeting dozens of Capitol citizens. I try to avoid the women but there's only so much I can do. They greet me out of obligation and talk straight to Peeta, like I'm not there. Peeta doesn't let this phase him, though. He answers their questions while looking straight at me, smiling, and the memory of that damn kiss rattles and shakes in the back of my mind.
It's been over an hour and both Peeta and I want to leave. We're making our way to the door when a plump man wearing a set of deep purple robes blocks our way. I smile my Capitol smile and Peeta greets him.
"Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen. My name is Plutarch Heavensbee. I'm the Head Gamemaker for the Third Quarter Quell. I just wanted to introduce myself. It's lovely to finally meet you." My stomach twists painfully. The Quarter Quell. It comes flooding back: the memory of my conversation with Snow. I struggle to push it away, gripping Peeta's hand tightly in the process and he wraps his arm around me.
"Nice to meet you Mr. Heavensbee," Peeta says calmly. Plutarch Heavensbee looks friendly, kind even, like he couldn't possible be designing the arena that will destroy the lives of God knows how many people.
"Are you excited to Mentor this year?" Heavensbee asks.
I start to feel dizzy. It feels like there's cotton in my ears and my grip on Peeta's hand turns vice-like. Peeta's eyes meet mine and he pulls me closer to him.
"Of course," Peeta says lightly. "We hope to help the District 12 tributes in whatever ways we can." Heavensbee responds with a smiles. I spot Haymitch just outside the doors, looking expectantly at Peeta and me. I swallow the lump in my throat and turn to the Head Gamemaker.
"Yes, we really hope to bring another District 12 Victor to the table," I tell him, struggling to make my voice strong. "I'm sure the arena will be magnificent."
Heavensbee looks at me warmly and I want to run away. Back to District 12. Back when there were no Games. Back to when there was no manipulation, no lies, no falsities.
Peeta glances out the doors and spots Haymitch climbing into a large black car.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Heavensbee, but our Mentor is out there waiting for us. I think we need to go. But it was nice to meet you and we'll be sure to meet again, I know," Peeta says, all the while keeping his arm wrapped around me tightly. I smile a farewell at Heavensbee and Peeta leads me out the large oak doors of Snow's mansion, past the tenacious photographers, and straight into the waiting car.
Haymitch is sitting there waiting, taking sips out of his flask. He nods at us and tells the driver, an Avox I think, to take us to the train. Once we begin to pull away, Snow's mansion receding in the background, I feel the tears start to drip down my cheeks. Peeta is there in an instant, his hands on either side of my face. I look into his deep blue eyes and whimper pathetically. I'm so scared. I'm so confused. My head hurts because I'm scared of what Snow said. My head hurts because I can't stop thinking about Peeta's lips and hands and tongue. He is so close to me our noses are touching. I wish he would just sit farther away so I could think. His proximity is too much but I'm too weak to push him away.
"Not yet," he whispers to me, his breathe warm on my face. "Just wait until we're on the train. Please, not yet."
He sounds slightly desperate. I glance at Haymitch. He's studying me carefully, his grey, Seam, eyes, unreadable. What do you know, he must be thinking.
I look back at Peeta and nod, hastily wiping the tears from my cheeks. So weak, I think to myself.
I spend the rest of the car ride staring at my hands. When I feel the car stop, I quickly get out and go straight to my compartment. I know Peeta will follow so I don't close the door. I rush into the bathroom, turn on the faucets and sit on the cold tile floor, grateful that the tears have stopped for now.
I look up as I hear Peeta enter the bathroom, closing the door behind him. His face is very serious, a picture of worry. He sits down next to me and takes my hand. I don't pull away, even though his hands in mine just remind me of his hands on my back and his lips and that kiss. How can I possibly handle the repercussions of Snow's conversation when I can barely clear my mind of Peeta. So weak.
"What did Snow say?" he asks softly and I look at him sadly, finally able to let the contents of my mind spill forward.
"I went in the elevator up to his suite or room or office or whatever it was. He was sitting there in big chair and he wasn't facing me. He was looking out the window."
Snow's office was on the top floor of his mansion and it had breathtaking views of the mountains. It smelled in there. Like someone had tried to cover up the smell of blood with a strong perfume. I had glanced warily around the room, noticing only the obscene amount of roses displayed like trophies on every surface. I disentangle my fingers from Peeta's and put my head in my hands.
Snow had greeted me like an old friend. He had turned around in that big chair and looked at me, smiling, his puffy lips stretched over his overly white teeth. He was wearing a very fancy suit, as red as the lipstick Cinna painted on me, accented with a white rose pinned to his collar.
"You look lovely, Ms. Everdeen," he says softly, smiling that nasty smile. I stand straighter and clear my throat. I won't be weak. Not for him.
"Thank you, sir," I respond. Snow gets up from his chair and pours himself a drink of amber colored liquid.
"Can I get you anything, Ms. Everdeen?" he asks? "Brandy? Wine? Coffee? Tea?"
"No, thank you, sir," I respond, my back as straight as an arrow. Despite the fact that his gaze makes my skin crawl I don't remove my eyes from his.
"If you say so," Snow concedes, as he takes his drink to the window. He stares out of it for a while, not speaking. It's making me anxious. Surely he has something to say. Why else would he invite me up here?
"Is there anything you wanted to tell me, sir?" I ask.
Snow turns at the sound of my voice, as if he had forgotten I was there. He studies me, smiling. My hands begin to shake and I hold them behind my back.
"Oh, yes. I have many things to say to you, Ms. Everdeen," Snow grins, taking a long sip from his glass. I stare at him, grasping my hands together behind me.
Snow looks out the window again, idling swirling the amber liquid around, ice clinking together eerily.
"I just wanted to tell you that I believe you," he says facing the window. "You've done a good job with your act. I believe you."
I'm speechless.
He turns to me again and his eyes are light, smile wide. I should be happy. I should be relieved. I did what he asked of me and, according to him, I've done a good job.
"You're a terrible actress," Snow continues. "and yet I believe you." He says simply, chuckling to himself. "It's funny how that works, isn't it? Love is a funny, fickle thing." I remain silent, unsure of what to say. What does he mean?
"I don't think your dear sister will be going into the arena," he says, wistfully staring off into the mountains again. "No. And I don't think Mr. Mellark will ever experience what some of these Capitol citizens have to offer in the same way Mr. Odair has." He smiles widely at me but I can't move. Something's wrong.
"Your friend Mr. Hawthorne has obeyed the rules and has not needed to be punished. Your family is safe. Excellent work. You may go," he says and he turns back around, sits in his chair and sips his drink while staring off into the snow-capped mountains. I stand there in shock. That's it?
"I said you may go, Ms. Everdeen."
It's a command, not up for discussion, and I walk, on wobbly legs, toward the door when I hear him address me one last time.
"Oh, and Ms. Everdeen?" I turn around. Snow hasn't moved. He's still staring out the window. "The Quarter Quell announcement will be in five days."
"He said he believes me," I say, head still in my hands. "He said I did a good job with the act and that he doesn't think Prim will be Reaped. The Quarter Quell will be announced in five days."
Peeta is quiet, the only sound is the steady stream of water leaving the faucets.
"You're safe. He actually said it, too. Out loud. I should be happy right? I did it, he said everyone will be safe," I take my head out of my hands and look at Peeta. His expression is unreadable. "Prim is safe. Gale is safe. You're safe. Everyone's safe."
Peeta casts his eyes down and runs his hand along the tile floor.
"I don't know. That doesn't seem right," he murmurs.
"I'm so confused," I whisper. "I'm confused and scared because I don't trust him."
Peeta leaves to take a shower and I pace around my compartment trying to clear my head. I grab a pillow, run into the bathroom and scream into it, biting into the soft material. I throw it against the door and sink onto the floor, rubbing my temples. The train hasn't left the station, yet. I don't know what time it is. After midnight? I briefly wonder if Effie is back.
I lay down on the bathroom floor and the cold tile is soothing; it almost has a numbing effect, briefly quieting my busy mind. I lay there a while, staring at the ceiling, watching the steam from the flowing faucets cloud the room. I slowly climb into the shower and scrub my body free of makeup. I stand there, watching my fingers turn to prunes. It must be at least an hour later when I get out and change into my pajamas.
I walk down the hall and open Peeta's door. He's sitting by the window, staring out at the passing scenery.
"For a second I thought you may have drowned in the shower, or something" he says humorlessly, still looking out of the window. He seems to be just as weary as I am. Mentally spent.
I walk up to him and put my hand on his face. He closes his eyes at the contact, his golden eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. I kneel down and wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him to me and when Peeta's arms find their way around me and I can finally breathe.
I don't even plan to do these things, these embraces and caresses. They just happen, as if my body acts separate from my mind. Now that I've known what it feels like to be held by this boy I can't stay away. I crave the comfort he gives me and how safe he makes me feel. I want him to hold me tonight in his strong arms, protecting me from Snow and the Capitol and the Hunger Games. So weak, Katniss.
"Can we go to sleep?" I ask him. I'm tired, both mentally and physically. I feel him nod into my neck. I pull away, walk over to the bed and climb in. Peeta is next to me soon after. We face each other and Peeta plays with the ends of my hair.
"You're not alone in this, Katniss," he says softly. "Remember that."
The next evening Peeta and I are sitting on the couch in the living compartment of the train. We'll be back in District 12 tomorrow morning. I've been sulking around the train all day, trying to ignore the clawing memory of my encounter with Snow. Peeta's tried to make me feel better but I think he gave up after a while. He's sketching something right now. I wanted to ask to see what it was but Peeta is oddly private about his drawings.
Effie walks into the room, looking hilariously worse for wear. It seems she took a page out of Haymitch's book after we left the mansion last night.
"Good morning," she says in a false cheery tone. Does she think she's tricking us? I glance at Peeta and he smirks at me.
"You mean 'good evening," I correct her.
"Of course. My apologies. I'm just a little under the weather," Effie shakes her head and I almost feel bad for her. "We're stopping in District 4 to refuel," she continues, like it's physically painful for her to speak. I've never been hungover so I'm not familiar with the feeling. "So if you want some fresh air you have about an hour before we're back on track."
Effie walks out of the room slowly and heads, I believe, to the dining compartment to get her hands on some toast or juice.
I look back out the window as the train slows to a stop. District Four. Blue-green water and warm weather. I liked District Four.
"Come with me." I turn to see Peeta stand up, gather his sketching supplies, and begin to head out the door of the train.
I don't want to go. I'm not in the mood. I can't stop thinking about Snow and our conversation and I'm still scared and confused.
On a separate note, Peeta and I seem to have come to an unspoken agreement to not discuss our kiss in Snow's mansion. I've all but tried to bleach it from my mind hoping that if I forget it, I won't be so distracted. It hasn't worked.
"Katniss, trust me. Just come here." I look up at him and he raises his eyebrows. I heave a sigh and follow him out of the train grudgingly. When my feet touch down on District Four turf warm air hits my face. There's a breeze. We're at the train station and I notice that it's so much more calm, actually quite pleasant, when photographer's aren't in your face. It smells like salt and I spy a drop off a few hundred yards away and the shimmering of water.
Peeta grabs my hand and walks swiftly in the direction of the ocean.
"For the next hour we won't talk about the Games or the Tour or the Capitol. For the next hour, forget them," he orders. I don't understand how that would even be possible considering I've been drowning in my thoughts of them for the past few months. I can't just forget them.
"Easier said than done," I croak, watching my feet. I look up and see the ocean, sparkling in the evening sun. They told us about it during our District Four Tour. I've wanted to swim in it ever since I laid eyes on it and I smile a little. The drop off turns out to be a small slope and I drop Peeta's hand and walk off toward the water.
I quickly take off my shoes and run, feeling the sand seep between my toes. I reach the water and close my eyes as I feel it hit my toes. It's cool and the breeze is warm and I focus solely on that, locking up my thoughts of the Capitol for now. Just the water and the sand and the sun. That's all there is.
"Peeta, come feel this!" I shout behind me. I don't hear him so I turn to see where he is and find him making his way toward me rather slowly. I turn my back to the water and walk back to him.
"Sorry, the sand's just kind of hard to walk on with my leg and all," he explains, smiling grandly despite the situation.
"Oh," I respond. I know he won't want me to say 'I'm sorry' so I don't. "Do you want to go swimming?" I ask. I want to.
"You swim, I'll just sit here and watch you."
"You don't want to swim?" It's all I could think about during our District Four tour. The water was so close but absolutely prohibited.
"I don't know how," he replies simply.
I guess that makes sense. There's no real reason why anyone from District 12 should know how to swim. The only reason I know is because my father taught me.
"I'll teach you. It's easy. Come on," I tug on his arm and Peeta laughs. I look at him expectantly.
"What if I drown?" he asks.
"Do you really think I'm that bad a teacher?" I ask, slightly annoyed.
"No. I'm just a lot bigger than you. And heavy. I don't want to sink," he says, hiding a smile.
"Fine, but I'm going in," I tell him and I begin to move toward the water.
Peeta moves in back of me and I turn to see him taking off his shirt.
"What are you doing?" I ask him, slightly alarmed. Peeta looks at me like I have three heads.
"Well I don't want to get my shirt wet, do I?" he responds while peeling the shirt from his body.
I've seen Peeta without a shirt on before, but it was different during the Hunger Games. He was dying and it was a life or death situation. He was covered in mud and blood. All I was thinking about then was how I was going to save his life. He was very thin.
He's put on weight since then. Muscle. His chest is wide and strong; his stomach is defined. My throat goes dry as I remember the way I shamelessly pawed at him the other night. Peeta tosses his shirt to the side and walks toward the water, swinging his arms back and forth like he's gearing up for a race. The muscles in his back move with each motion and I'm rooted to the spot, entranced.
"Are you coming or what?" Peeta asks me, looking over his shoulder. He's smirking. I'm caught.
"Uh, yeah," I reply stupidly, and I start to follow him.
"What are you doing?" He asks.
"What do you mean?"
"Why are you still wearing that?" Peeta asks, gesturing to my clothes. "They're gonna get wet."
"Oh, I—" I stutter. I didn't think this through. I'm wearing long pants, a long sleeve shirt and a tank top underneath. It's winter in most of the other districts, after all. "Hold on." I remove the long sleeve shirt and turn around, my face bright red. I walk towards Peeta again.
"What about your pants?" he asks, innocently. "They'd be awful heavy soaking wet."
I huff. He's right. I want to tell Peeta to forget I ever suggested this but I know that would be a disappointment to both him and myself. I really want to swim in this water. I hastily step out of my stupid pants and walk right past Peeta, into the water, not meeting his eyes. Once I'm up to my chest I dive in and swim underneath until I can't breath anymore. When I pop up for air, I'm out far enough where I can't stand. I turn back to Peeta, who looks slightly worried.
"Can you come back here?" he calls.
"Why?" I tease.
"Because you're out far and it's making me nervous. Plus you said you'd teach me to swim," he argues.
I swim back to where Peeta is. He's smiling radiantly.
"You're like a fish," he says, amused. "You'd never think you're from District 12."
My smile falters and think back to the hidden lake in the woods where my father taught me how to swim. It's a painful memory, reminding me of what I lost.
"My father taught me," I respond. I've never told anyone before. Not Gale. Not even Prim. "There's a lake in the woods outside the electric fence. I fish there sometimes."
I look up at Peeta. "It's my favorite place," I tell him softly.
Peeta nods, eyebrows knit together. I don't want to talk about this anymore so I start to teach Peeta how to swim. He flops around like a nervous fish and it makes me laugh. I teach him how to float on his back. We stay in shallower water. Swimming takes practice so Peeta won't be great in the small amount of time we have. He's a quick learner, though.
The water is warm. Warmer than the lake in 12. It's clear, too, and I can see straight down to my feet. I squish them in the sand and see a small crab scuttle away. I think I've tasted crab before. Maybe on the train at some point. I see Peeta's still wearing his shoe on the foot of his prosthetic leg.
"Does it hurt?" I ask him. Peeta looks at me confused. "Your leg, I mean."
Peeta looks down at his leg. He's wearing pants, I realize and it aggravates me. "They're gonna get awful wet." Hypocrite.
"Nope. How do you think I shower?" he asks with a smile. I blush and shake the image of Peeta in the shower from my mind.
"Are you supposed to sleep with it?" I ask.
"No. It actually kind of hurts when it's on for too long."
"Why don't you take it off, then?" He's had his prosthetic leg on every night we've slept together. I know because I can feel the hard metal pressed against me. I don't mind but if it's uncomfortable for Peeta that's a different story. That's almost two months he's been in pain.
"I didn't think you'd want to see my leg," Peeta says softly. I look up at him and he's staring down into the water. "You're kind of queasy, remember?"
First I'm angry because Peeta's been uncomfortable every night to try and make me more at ease and that's ridiculous. Then I feel guilty because I'm the one who caused this.
"That wouldn't make me queasy, Peeta. I'm only bad with blood and open wounds."
He turns to look at me, the bluish green of the water making his eyes even more impossibly blue.
"We should get out and dry off," Peeta changes the subject. "Effie will be coming for us soon, anyway."
I nod and we make our way out of the water, walking carefully in the soft sand. I jog quickly toward our clothes. My tank top is wet and clinging, leaving little to the imagination. I won't even think about the fact that I'm only wearing my underwear.
I'm just pulling on my pants when Peeta calls to me. He's still at the water's edge, bending down and picking something up. I walk over to him, ringing the water from my hair, and he looks up at me.
"Look what I found. Sea glass," he beams as he hands it over to me. It's a blue shard of glass, the edges smooth and worn away. I turn it over in my hand, admiring it. It doesn't look like glass. It's not as harsh, not as severe. It's about half the size of my palm, a strange little trapezoid.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Peeta asks. I look up at him. He's smiling slightly, his eyes sparkling in the setting sun.
"It's beautiful," I tell him, handing it back to him.
"No, you have it," Peeta closes my hand around the glass and I feel the smooth edges press into my skin.
"No you're the one who found it-" I begin.
"Don't be a pain. I picked it up so I could give it to you," Peeta smiles. He's soaking wet and the way the sun is moving lower in the sky makes his body look like it's shining. Droplets of water are snaking their way down his torso and I switch my gaze away from him and back to the water before he catches me staring.
"Ok. Well, thank you," I respond and I walk back towards Peeta's clothes on the beach, and plop down on the sand. Peeta sits next to me, staring into the horizon. He looks so calm and happy. I lie down on the sand and close my eyes, letting the breeze push my hair over my face. I feel the sand move next to me as Peeta lies down.
I stretch out on the sand letting the warm sun dry my clothes. This is so different. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest and for the first time in weeks, Snow and the Capitol and the threats they pose aren't looming over my head. It's almost like nothing bad could happen in this beautiful place. Maybe Peeta wasn't so crazy, after all.
I smile for the first time in hours. I'm happy in this moment. Truly happy.
Peeta has been quiet for a long time now.
"Aren't you quiet," I joke, looking over at him, as I lie in the sand. Peeta pushes off the sand and props himself up with one arm. "What, have you finally decided to stop talking?" I ask him again with a smile, closing my eyes.
"I want to kiss you."
I open my eyes and Peeta is staring at me, an intense expression written on his face. His eyes lock on mine and I realize that they are the exact same shade of blue as the sea glass he gave me earlier. My stomach flips and I remember our last kiss. He's still staring. My stomach pools with warmth and I can feel it branching out to the far ends of my body. He's still staring, and my heart skips a beat. It's my call. Whatever I want. But what do I want? We've never kissed without the cameras. This would be crossing a line and yet I want to kiss him. My eyes move down to his lips. I really want to kiss him.
Maybe this one time, on this beach, in this sand, because it's sunset and that's Peeta's favorite color, because in my pocket I have a piece of sea glass, and I'm happy in this moment, I will allow it. Just this once.
I look back up to his eyes, which have darkened considerably. He's moved closer as well, his face blocking the setting sun. I really want to kiss him.
"Ok," I whisper. "Kiss me." He moves closer to me and my eyes flutter closed.
"Good friends don't do this," he warns, his lips brushing my own, my heart pounding.
"No, they don't," I answer and I bring my mouth up to his. He tastes like salt and his lips move over mine slowly, deliberately. Peeta brings his hand to the side of my face. My heart is beating so rapidly I can feel it in my ears. I let my hand wander down his neck. I can't think about anything other than how perfect this moment is. I wish I could freeze it, live in it forever, and the thought makes me smile.
"Don't smile," Peeta breathes, kissing me again. "I can't kiss you if you're smiling." This only makes me smile wider and then Peeta is smiling and his teeth are hitting mine and the moment is ruined but it's still perfect. Peeta groans and flops back down on the ground.
"I'm very angry at you right now," Peeta complains and I laugh.
"Maybe if you're nice, I'll let you kiss me again one day," I tease. Peeta closes his eyes and sighs sadly, like he knows that was a one-time deal. Because on this beach no one can touch us.
"We should go back," he says, "It's getting dark." I look out to the water and see that the sun has disappeared over the horizon. But I don't want to go. I want to kiss him without smiling because I ruined the first one. Because I can't let it happen again. Because only on this beach was it allowed.
"I don't want to go either," I hear him say.
I turn and see Peeta watching me. His face is close and I look down at his lips again. My heart starts to race again but I force myself to turn away.
"Come on," I tell him quietly, as I stand up and brush the sand off me. I shouldn't have let him kiss me. I always realize that after the fact, don't I?
Peeta pulls his shirt back on and grabs his sketchbook.
"Did you want to sketch something?" I ask him, hoping to steer my mind in a different direction.
"Yeah. But don't worry," he says lightly as he walks ahead of me. "I think I'll remember this day pretty clearly."
The happiness I felt on the beach disappears almost immediately once we enter the train. Effie is waiting for us, ready to scold us like children for being sandy and slightly damp. Peeta goes to shower and I return to my compartment. I sit on the bed and pull out Peeta's sea glass. I turn it over and over in my fingers and it's almost like I'm back on the beach with Peeta. Almost.
A dark cloud is descending over my happy memory. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have let that kiss happen.
My memories of Snow and the upcoming Quarter Quell hit me suddenly, as hard as a sledgehammer to the chest. I'm knocked out. Exhausted. Weary. Because I don't want to think about this anymore but I can't stop. I'm angry because I don't want to think about it anymore but I can't stop. I'm confused because I don't know what Snow meant. I'm scared because I don't know what the future holds.
I shower and meet Effie, Haymitch, Cinna, Portia, and Peeta in the dining compartment. I'm not particularly hungry but I eat because I know I should. I glance at Peeta every few minutes. The area under his eyes is red.
"You're sunburned, Peeta," I tell him.
He looks up at me and smiles, reminding me of the way our teeth hit together on the beach. I know it was a mistake and I want so badly to regret it but I can't. I should but I can't.
"I know. Stings a little," he shrugs turning back to his food. The tip of his nose is burned as well. Peeta must sense me staring at him because he glances up at me quickly and grins.
"Don't smile. I can't kiss you if you smile."
I groan inwardly. I want to kiss him again and that's dangerous. Instead I frown and focus on my food. What happened on the beach can't happen again. It was a bad idea. I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, hoping to convince myself of their truth.
"So, tomorrow morning we will arrive in District 12. Tomorrow evening there will be a party at the Mayor Undersee's home. And that concludes the Victory Tour," Effie explains. She looks a bit sad, like she wouldn't mind staying on this train forever. I wonder if she has friends in the Capitol. I wonder if she has friends at all.
"They will be airing a recap of the Tour the next night, isn't that great?" She looks excitedly between Peeta and I. I try to smile. Prim will want to watch that.
Everyone finishes dinner at their own pace. I linger, poking at the food on my plate.
"Katniss." I look up and see that Peeta's still at the dinner table. "Are you alright?"
I take a sip of water and nod. Peeta studies me silently.
"I'll be in my room, I guess," he says when I don't speak, and he walks out of the room and down the hall.
I stay in the dining compartment a while longer, slowly sipping glass after glass of water, frowning at the dark window. I walk back to my room and brush my teeth. I sit on my bed a while and hold the sea glass in my hands, rubbing the smooth surface, trying to sort through everything in my extremely crowded mind.
I'm late to Peeta's room again. I've gotten too attached to him and I know what happens to the people I get attached to. Bad things. I promise myself that once we're back in District 12 I will stop these sleepovers. I have to. I shouldn't have started them in the first place but I was too weak. Maybe if I stay away from him my feelings for him will as well. But I've known what it's like to feel his body against mine. To share his warmth and hug him to me. It's useless.
I don't knock, knowing that the door will be open. I expect to see Peeta sitting by the window but he's propped up in bed, sketching in his notebook. He's not wearing a shirt.
"Hi," he greets me, not looking up from his notebook.
"Hey," I answer, standing awkwardly by the door. When I don't move Peeta looks up, face pink from the sun.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"I just…where's your shirt?" I try to make my voice casual but it comes out more like a squeak.
"I got more sunburned than I thought. It hurts to have a shirt on. I can put one on, though, if you want," he looks back down at his sketch while I try to find a coherent response.
"No," I say a little to loudly. "No. Do what's comfortable for you."
I crawl under the covers and watch him sketch for a while, trying to ignore the fact that he's basically naked. It's not working. You shouldn't have let him kiss you, Katniss. You shouldn't even be here, I repeat over and over, not really hearing the words.
He gets up to put away his sketchbook and I notice the slight limp. I wasn't paying close enough attention before to notice. He tries to hide it but after our conversation on the beach I expect it.
"Peeta?"
He looks up at me, his hair falling into his eyes.
"You should take off your leg," I say quietly.
"No. I'm fine, really." Peeta turns away from me and closes the dresser drawer.
"I won't mind. You don't have to worry about me, I'm not queasy like that." Peeta doesn't look convinced. He continues to walk around, ignoring my request.
"I won't sleep if you're wearing it," I add and I know it's the truth. I won't be able to sleep knowing he's uncomfortable.
Peeta looks at me, sighs deeply and finally sits down on the bed. I watch him detach the metal prosthetic and put it next to the bed on the floor. His back still turned to me, Peeta rubs the end of his bad leg slowly through his pants, like he's soothing an aching muscle. His pant leg is too long on that side and that fact tugs at me a little bit.
He looks back, gauging my response. The whole scenario is very intimate. It's the most private moment we've shared together. More private than our time on the beach, or any other night on this train, because this is the most vulnerable Peeta's ever been. My chest swells from the inside. It's a strange feeling and it startles me for a moment.
Peeta rolls back the blankets and slips in, inching closer to me.
"If it freaks you out, you have to promise to tell me." He's not as close to me as he usually is. I move closer, ignoring my inner protests, and hesitantly put my head on his chest. The skin is warm from the sun.
"You don't freak me out," I answer. We stay like this a while and I stare at the freckles on his stomach, feeling the rise and fall of Peeta's chest.
"Is it more comfortable? Without it?" I ask quietly.
"Yeah. A lot," he breathes. "Thank you."
I close my eyes and listen to Peeta's heartbeat. I can't fall asleep because my mind is still racing, trying to piece together the ever confusing puzzle pieces that are my emotions. It's strange that I can be so adamant about staying away from Peeta but the moment I put my head on his chest, the moment his lips touch mine, the only thing I want to do is stay right there with him. Now that I know this, I'm not sure I can stay away from it. It's terrifying.
"I'm scared of this, Peeta," I confess and he breathes deeply.
"I know, but there's nothing you can do to stop anything anymore. You've done everything you can," he whispers, almost asleep. I nod. He's right, there's nothing else I can do. I've tried everything.
It's only in the dream-like state between consciousness and sleep that I realize we were thinking of two separate things.
That night I dream I am sprinting down a dimly lit hallway. The smell of blood is pushing me forward. I run, faster and faster, until I come to a drop-off. I stumble and fall, but at the last minute I'm able to grab hold of the ledge. I'm holding on for dear life and, despite my better judgement, I look below me. It's bright tunnel and the smell of blood is creeping into my nostrils from the hallway above. I want to let go but I'm scared of falling. I can hear Peeta calling my name below. I look down and see him, a tiny figure, waving his arms.
"Let go! I'll catch you," he calls but I grip the ledge more tightly. My fingers are slipping and my heart beats faster. I can't hold on much longer.
"Katniss, just trust me! I'll catch you!" he calls again. My fingers keep slipping and I desperately try to hold onto the ledge but it's no use. I'm hurtling down this bright tunnel and there's nothing I can do to stop myself. It's scary and I'm tumbling down, faster and faster. I see Peeta waiting for me at the bottom, getting bigger and bigger the faster I plunge down. Strangely, the closer I get to him, the less scary it seems and I find myself thinking, "It's not so bad, falling down this bright tunnel into Peeta's arms."