December 15
Peeta didn't go back to the department store after lunch with Jo the day before. He had thought about what Jo said at the diner about not smothering Katniss- Katniss. God, he loved the way her name sounded, the way the s's rolled off his tongue effortlessly. He had practiced saying her name enough times since he found out what it really was that he was starting to feel like a creeper.
He was debating about whether or not to go down to the store today after he got off work, still wondering if it was too soon to show up. He did have a few more gifts to buy before his family's big Christmas Eve party. A party that all of his extended family and his parent's closest friends would attend. A party he was hoping to take Katniss to. He had shown up the last three years in a row without a girl and his brothers had begun to question his orientation. They hadn't let it go for the past twelve months. Apparently being patient for just the right girl must mean you prefer men.
Forty-eight hours had passed since he last saw Katniss. He felt so pathetic that knew the amount of time and his brain kept adding to it with every pass of the hour hand on his wall clock. He refused to allow his conscience to solicit the minute hand. He'd never had it this bad for a girl, and after another ten minutes of trying to persuade himself to wait, he gave in, having known from the beginning of this internal debate what he would do - more Christmas shopping.
After he had showered and dressed, making sure his appearance was pleasing, but not overly impressive, Peeta found himself standing in front of the massive glass doorways that led into the department store. He felt rooted in place, nervous about what would be exchanged, if anything, between Katniss and himself. The continuous ding of the bell from the Salvation Army volunteer seemed to lull him deeper in thought.
"You want me to wire two tin cans with some string between both of you so you can talk to her? Or are you actually going to go in?" Peeta winced as Jo's voice echoed behind him, too loud for how close she was.
"I'm going in, thank you very much," Peeta replied dryly.
"Really? Cuz it looks like you're casing the place for a robbery. The security guards are starting to stare at you. Come on." Jo grabbed his arm and ushered him inside the doors.
"So what's your plan, lover boy?"
"Well, first on the list is to get you to never call me that again," he cut his eyes in her direction with a look on his face that hopefully told Jo he didn't appreciate the nickname.
"Hey, I make no promises," she replied, accidentally sloshing her Starbucks onto the marble floor. "Oops. Okay, I gotta get to work. See ya, Pete."
"Peeta," he corrected.
"My bad, lover boy."
"Pete it is," he sighed in resignation, preferring one over the other.
"Thought so." Jo began the walk back to customer service, stopping to get the attention of one of the sales girls. "Hey, Clove, cleanup on aisle slut," she pointed at the floor where she had spilled the coffee. The dark-haired girl gave her a pretty convincing death glare, but Jo laughed it off and kept walking. Peeta couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. He had never met anyone quite like Jo.
Thirty minutes of shopping later, Peeta stood in front of the customer service counter. He assumed they were busy in the back, being that no one was around. He occupied himself studying the bright red poinsettias that were stationed around the counter and the large, lighted wreath that hung in between the words "customer" and "service".
After a few minutes had passed, Peeta decided to ring the little bell next to the register to get someone's attention. He hoped that someone was Katniss.
Much to his delight, it was. She walked out of the store room, piercing him with her silver gaze. Today her hair was pulled back in a braid and she wore a dark green fitted sweater that buttoned down the front, paired with black skinny jeans and worn, brown riding boots. She wore no jewelry or accessories of any kind, and Peeta thought the simple look was radiant on her. She didn't need adornment of any kind, her natural beauty being enough to draw any sane man's attention.
"Can I help you, sir?" Katniss said, politely.
"Wow. Sir? Do I look that old?" Peeta joked.
"I didn't mean to offend you. It's just what we call customers whose names we don't know," she answered seriously.
"Well, let's remedy that. I'm Peeta," he said, extending his hand in friendly greeting. Katniss surveyed his gesture and moved on without accepting it. "What can I help you with, Peeta?"
Down, but not wanting to be out just yet, Peeta pulled his hand back and pushed the hideous tie he had picked out for one of his brothers towards her. "Do you have a box for this?"
"Yes. I'll be right back," she said, disappearing and returning just as quickly.
She handed him the box, but he didn't take it. "Could you wrap it for me? I'm terrible at wrapping. Precision just isn't my thing," he lied. Precision was exactly his thing. He was a baker by trade and with life-long training he had learned how to exact measurements of different ingredients without using any tools.
"Sure. Paper?" she questioned.
"Let's go with that one." Katniss lined her sight with the direction of Peeta's pointer finger.
"Which one?" she asked, unsure of what she was seeing.
"The one with the blonde girl in the blue dress."
"You want to wrap a man's tie with Frozen wrapping paper?" she asked incredulously.
Peeta laughed and nodded his head. "It's for my brother. He can be kind of a jerk. Last year he gave me a Barbie toothbrush, so I figure a pink tie with red lips wrapped in princess paper is fair game, right?" he explained jovially. Hey, at least he got to share something about himself with her.
"I guess," is all she said. Katniss went to work, so quickly and quietly wrapping the small box that Peeta was surprised when she spoke to him before ringing up the sale at her register. "You were in here the other day, weren't you?" The thought that maybe he had made some kind of impression on her excited him.
"Yeah, uh, I mean, ye-yes, I was," he stammered through his answer, elated that she had noticed him. Was it too soon to ask if he could buy her coffee? Possibly. He decided to go another route.
"You remember me?" Peeta questioned her, hoping he didn't sound too hopeful.
"I remember the blue bow and I thought…" Katniss trailed off and became quiet, looking away from his eyes. Peeta was curious about what it was she thought, so he decided to press her for an answer.
"You thought…?" That was the wrong move. Katniss balked and hastily rang up the charge.
"It's four, eighty-two," she barked out promptly enough that Peeta knew any moment he had to get to know her better was dashed. He paid his bill and after watching Katniss vanish into the back, he left the store and returned to his apartment a few blocks down the street. Throwing the wrapped tie on top of his coffee table, he fell back on the couch exasperatedly, the drop forcing out the large breath he had been holding since he walked in the door. Katniss was definitely proving to be the tough nut Jo had warned him she was. But after unconsciously repeating her name a few times in his head, allowing those s's to spark his emotion again, he knew he wasn't willing to throw the towel in just yet. Peeta would either take Katniss to his family party, or he would show up alone again, and risk any ribbing his brothers would surely dole out upon him.
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Okay, so this chapter is even longer than the first two, so it's technically becoming a story and not so much a drabble. I failed at the drabble test. TMI. I suffer from bubblegum disease. Don't know what it is? It's a writing disorder, where you want to write shorts, but you're too detailed a person to accomplish it.
I'm really enjoying writing Jo. And my Peeta is a little feistier than normal. I think in my head this time he just doesn't want to lay down and play doormat. And happy Wednesday to Too-Much-Black-Coffee, who followed this story about 15 seconds ago. You're just in time, dear! Try some creamer… Hope you all enjoy this one and please, oh, please, leave a review! Is Peeta too stalker-y? Just wait for my PiP story. He gives a 3 paragraph confession that might have you running for the hills or melt your darling little hearts. I do not own THG, however I do own any grammar mistakes. :)