Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any characters within the series. These belong to Suzanne Collins.
"I'm starting to think that maybe you were right. Maybe we should have stayed in 12," Peeta says. He is always sure of his actions. Always makes confident and well thought out decisions so this is a surprise.
"No, Peeta," I tell him. "You were right. It's important for us to do this. If we don't how are we going to know that we are better?"
"What happened with Gale?" he asks out of nowhere.
I shrug my shoulders. "Lots of stuff, I guess."
"I want to know. Everything," he says with an edge to his voice.
I suppose I owe this to him. The short version anyway. "He wanted me to…Well I guess he just wanted me. But I told him I would never leave you and that I didn't love him like that. Then he left."
"And that's it?"
I prop myself on my elbow from the lying position I am so I can see his eyes. "What are you implying?" He hesitates. I know what he's implying. I shouldn't make him have to say it. "He tried to kiss me, or I guess he did kiss me, but I didn't kiss him. I pushed him away."
He sits up in a huff, turning his back to me. "He kissed you? Were you going to tell me?"
"There's nothing to tell, Peeta. I didn't kiss him back so what does it matter?"
"Why were you even that close to him, Katniss? And it does matter," he says.
Why was I that close to him? I know he wouldn't let me out of his arms but I could have tried harder. I could have been sterner with him. Instead I let it happen. I let his lips touch my neck and my face, places only Peeta deserves to feel. I let him.
"It happened so fast," I tell him in a small voice.
"Did you like it?" he asks to my surprise.
"Of course not!" I answer mechanically. "I mean…it wasn't you. It was all wrong. But I don't deny that some part of me recognized that it might have been that way if…if -"
"If you hadn't settled for me," Peeta finishes my sentence.
"No, Peeta. I didn't settle for you. You know that." I grab onto his arm but he pulls it away. I still can't see his face.
He composes himself enough to ask, "And you're sure you don't have feelings for him?"
"Peeta! Knock it off!" I yell at him. "I'm not going to sit here and let you accuse me of lying to you. And accuse me of loving someone else. Don't be ridiculous!" I get off the bed.
"Wait," he says. "Don't go. I'm sorry." I know he is but it still makes me angry. He lowers his eyes. It's clear he feels bad for doubting me. I was angry with Gale because he deserved it. Peeta doesn't deserve to be treated this way. I put my hands on his shoulders.
"No, I'm sorry, Peeta. The situation with Gale, what happened, was…bizarre. I wasn't expecting any of that. If I had been expecting him I might have reacted… better." I think of the way Peeta found us clinging to each other. It's no wonder he was worried. "I didn't react that way to him because I'm in love with him. I just…," I try to remember why I acted that way. "It made me sad."
Peeta looks at me now giving me his full attention.
I continue, "When you spend that much time with someone and you depend on them day in and day out…it's hard to accept that it will never be like that again."
"I don't know if I'll ever understand," he mumbles.
"How can I make it better?" I ask.
His eyes find mine and they are suddenly hard. I recoil at the harshness but refuse to let him go. When he finally speaks he doesn't hold back. "Maybe don't let me find you holding onto another man like that. Ever again," he says. His curtness surprises me. I know I deserve it, but it still surprises me. I don't have a response so instead I just hold onto him tighter. He continues, "Like you're heart is going to stop if you let go. Like you need him more than anything else in the world. Like you need him more than you need me."
"I'm sorry," I say because I don't know what else to do. I realize it's the first time I've said it. He removes my hands from shoulders and gets up, grabs a pillow and moves to our suites sofa. "What are you doing?" I ask, though I already understand.
"I'm sleeping over here," he says, still visibly angry.
I should just leave him alone. I should let him cool off. I owe him that. But I am selfish when it comes to Peeta and I always will be. I only give him a few minutes before I go to him. I don't know what to say and I'm sure there are no words to make him feel better so instead I throw myself at him. I stand before him and slowly take my clothes off. His eyebrows pull together in confused annoyance and he says nothing. I watch his eyes move over my naked body and notice his breathing getting slightly more erratic. I climb on top of him and see his hands ball into fists at my contact. He's angry. This could be the angriest I've ever seen him.
I kiss his forehead and cheeks, move down to his neck while sliding my hands up his shirt. I can see the tendons in his neck flex as he tries not to give in. For some reason it makes me want him more. I tug at the strings of his pajama bottoms. When he makes no effort to help me I plunge my hand down his pants. He sucks in a scattered breath still fighting to keep his anger in control. I move my hand and body over his confident that I will be the victor in this game of seduction. As I make my way back to his lips I find his eyes and they are furious. I whisper into his ear, "I love you. Only you."
And then he caves.
His hands grasp around my waist and he's up, moving us to the bed. His movements are agitated but specific. He roughly grasps at my breasts, taking each of them into his mouth before sliding his hands down my body and in between my legs. He's still visibly pissed off but now he wants me. This is good I decide. What did that science book say about sex? Endorphins are released during sexual activity giving the participant the feeling of being happy. Maybe this will help him feel better.
He stands at the edge of the bed feeling my body and I can tell struggling to decide if this is really what he wants to do. I pull at his pants again and this time he does help me. He pulls them off and pulls me by my thighs toward him. He doesn't reach down and kiss me. He doesn't form his body over mine so I can feel his skin and muscles, so I can relish in the feeling of his body rising and falling gasping for breath. He stays standing when he slips inside of me. He doesn't go slowly. He moves quickly and with purpose. This isn't about making love to me. He can hardly stand me right now. This is about blowing off steam. But what did I expect really? It's an odd feeling. He always feels amazing inside of me but not like this. I want to hold him. I want to kiss his lips and find his eyes. He's looking at my body but he's not looking at me.
And then it's over. When he finally looks into my eyes I can that he is disgusted. But with me or him? I can't tell. He grabs his clothes from the floor and goes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Okay. So maybe that was a bad idea. He seems angrier than he was before. I find my clothes and quickly get dressed. I climb under the covers and wait for him to come out but as the minutes pass I realize he's avoiding me. Okay. So maybe that was a really bad idea. He probably hates himself for caving and making love to me that way. Or having sex I should say. I don't think I can take lying here knowing he's holed himself in the bathroom just to avoid being in the same room with me. I knock on the bathroom door.
"Peeta?" I ask. "Are you okay?"
It's silent for what feels like a forever. "Just leave me alone, Katniss," he says. His voice is strained.
I want to knock the door down and tell him I'm sorry – again. I want to take him in my arms and beg him to kiss me and to give me the affection he stole from me just now. I don't deserve it though. I turned one bad situation into another. I hope it's me he's disgusted with and not himself. He did nothing wrong. It's me. Always me.
"I'm going to see Haymitch," I tell him, hoping he'll come out and get some rest.
I knock on Haymitchs door and wait for him to invite me in this time.
"Very good, sweetheart," he says. "There's hope for you yet. Want a drink?"
"No. Stop offering me liquor," I tell him. If I turn to the bottle every time I get upset I'm going to end up exactly like the old man.
"Whatever," he says. "So what's new? Shouldn't you two be staring into each other's eyes right about now? Declaring your love for one another?" he laughs.
"What are you talking about?" I ask, confused.
"After you two have sex. Isn't that what you kids do with all that lovey dovey crap?"
Comprehension flashes before me. He heard us. Who else heard us? I feel my cheeks blaze with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
"Oh, you didn't know?" he laughs. "These trains are not very private."
I sigh. Nothing I can do about it now. "No, no lovey dovey stuff for us today."
"Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?" he asks. "You pissed him off that quickly afterwards? I just heard you a few minutes ago. Which, by the way, is pretty unpleasant for me. I'd venture to say unbearable. Try to keep it down, will you?" He takes a drink from his flask.
"I think we just had our first angry experience," I admit.
"Oh jeez, I don't really want to know! Don't talk to me about your sex life, for God's sake!" He takes another drink.
"Fine," I say because I don't really want to talk to him about it either. "Can I sleep on your couch?" I ask.
"Fine with me," he says. He throws me a pillow and I curl up with a blanket. I turn my back toward Haymitch and try to sleep. It's useless. All I can think of is Peeta. I hope he'll come find me but he doesn't. When the train pulls into the Capital my stomach is in knots knowing I may not have Peeta by my side today. I don't think I can face it alone. Then I remember, that is precisely the reason I brought my mentor with me.