Part Two

Chapter Seven

The morning has done nothing to calm my irrational mind. Peeta's going to be spending an hour or two with Delly's breasts and I'm going to imagine all of the names I wish I could call her to her face. Seems productive.

"Morning." Peeta enters the kitchen and I drop my cereal spoon, dripping milk on my shirt and the floor.

"Shit." I put the bowl on the counter. "Shit shit shit."

He hands me a paper towel. "It's just milk. Rough morning?"

"Great, now I need to change." I try to move past Peeta but he holds my arm, keeping me next to him. "Peeta, come on. I can't wear this."

"What's going on? Why are you so riled up?" His face is honest and some of my resolve begins to crumble. Dammit.

"Nothing, I'm just not feeling like myself."

"That's bullshit and you know it. Tell me what's going on, Katniss."

This would be the perfect time for me to keep my mouth shut. I should just bite my tongue off and be done with it. So God, do us all a favor and glue my lips shut before I say something stupid. Okay?

But no. I huff and say, "Did you have a good time last night at ABC?"

Understanding registers on his face and he sputters, "You were there? Why didn't you come over to the table and say hi? I would have introduced you—."

"Oh, to Delly?" Christ, Katniss. Get a grip now. "Yeah, well I thought about it for a second before I realized how awkward that might be for all of us. For you, the amazing artist, Delly, the stunning client and me, the…well, now what would you call me?"

Lord help me, I'm even gesturing.

"Excuse me?" Peeta's voice is getting louder, but I'm matching him octave for octave.

"What am I? Am I your roommate? Your human pillow? Your girlfriend? Your fiancée? Or maybe I'm still the girl who fucked you over? I'm trying, okay? I'm trying and I fucking don't know what to do anymore! Tell me how to make this better!"

He points a finger at my face. "You left me!" Peeta wins the war of volume. "You. You left me. You didn't talk to me. You didn't even try. You left me there." He's on a roll and rattles on. "I'm so sorry I'm not on your timeline. I'm sorry I'm still trying to come to terms with this. It isn't easy Katniss but I'm doing the best I can with what I have. I came here, didn't I? You think that I don't want to figure this out? You think that I don't wish that kissing you would make the doubt just go away? You think that I don't want to fuck you every time I see you? I do. Every damned time. But I can't because my head is screaming at me, reminding me that you ran once and you could run again. And I don't think I'd live through that, alright?"

All of a sudden the oxygen has been sucked from the room and I simultaneously feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. I knew this would happen. I did. This was one of the times when I'd have to be stronger than my urge to run because Peeta has every right to hate me. I hate me, too.

I step back. "I'm almost relieved you said that."

He raises his hands in frustration. "Katniss—!"

"No, I am," I interrupt. "Because you're right. I deserve to hear that. But I'm trying, too. You need to know that I'm trying." I take a deep breath. "Just stay here for a minute, will you?"

He lets his arms fall and I walk upstairs to my bedroom, reaching under the bed and grabbing the notebooks that I've filled over the course of the days, weeks and months. As hard as it will be to expose myself like this, I'm reminded that this was a project for me as much as it was for Peeta. I scribble one more note under my jealous rants about Delly, change my shirt and walk back to the kitchen.

Peeta runs his hands through his hair and his voice cracks a bit when he murmurs, "Listen, Katniss, I'm sorry I yelled—."

"No, it's okay." I hand Peeta my notebooks—four in all—and look him in the eye. He's confused by my offering but lets me continue. "I promise, it's okay. What you said was true. But what's in these is true, too and you deserve to know that."

He clears his throat. "Delly is a client."

"And she's lucky to be working with you."

"Are you leaving?"

This is a loaded question and my instinct is to tell him yes. It would always be easier for me to flee. But I wouldn't do that to him. Not ever again.

"I'm not leaving, I'm working." I squeeze his hand before grabbing my coat. "The difference is that I love you."

…

The morning—my irrational behavior, Peeta's yelling and the giving of the notebooks—has thrown me off of my game. I start my shift by yelling at Finnick and ruining an Americano with soy milk before settling down in the office and focusing on the computer screen. Breathe in, breathe out.

I pick up my phone and call Annie, leaving a message for her to call me back when she had some free time. It's a struggle to return to the quiet of paperwork so I decide to help Finnick up front as a distraction.

"Hey. I'm sorry for snapping at you, Finn." He nods and continues to make drinks, creating beautiful rosettes and hearts on the tops of every latte. It's odd to see this brazen guy with huge hands focus so intently on a tiny pitcher of milk, creating something that brings a smile to a person's face. Many people just cover it with a lid but a few genuinely thank him for taking the time to make their own little masterpiece.

"Will you show me how to do that?"

"Sure. Come here."

We spend the morning pulling drinks and Finn guides my hands with any latte orders. I'm glad that the artwork is still drinkable since all I've managed are things that resemble puddles or clouds at best.

"I mentioned that Peeta's the artist, right?" I hand Johanna a latte with what looks like tobacco spit on it and Finnick laughs.

"Speak of the devil—."

The door chimes and Peeta walks in with Delly, giving a small smile when he sees me. I wave and they come to the counter.

"Peeta! It's been awhile. Come for your little barista?" Finnick rolls his 'r's' and I kick him while wishing the ground would swallow me up. "Ow! Jesus, Kat. What can I get you guys?"

Delly places a to-go order before Peeta (properly) introduces us. "Delly, this is Katniss. Katniss, this is Delly, the client whose website I've been working on. She's heading out of town but I told her that she needed the world's best cappuccino first."

Finnick yells above the noise of the espresso machine, "Thanks, man!"

I take Delly's outstretched hand and shake it. "Delly, it's nice to meet you. Peeta's been working so hard on this presentation; I hope you liked it."

"Liked it? Katniss, you're downplaying his talent." She seems nice enough. Her breasts aren't that great, really. "Peeta talks about you so much, so I'm glad we're finally getting to meet. You're very lucky to have him. I'm even a little jealous." She winks. Jesus.

Poor Peeta is already red but I can't help myself. "Well, I'm not sure that anyone can really be had, per se. But I know we're lucky. Thank you for noticing."

She looks a little unsure of how to respond so she takes a sip of her drink and nods. "Well I do have quite the drive in front of me. It was nice meeting you Katniss. Peeta, thank you so much for your hospitality. I love the end product!"

He shakes Delly's hand and walks her to the door, holding it open as she leaves. Peeta comes back to the counter and drums his fingers against the wood. I try to act nonchalant, too. "So the presentation went well?"

"Very well. The client is happy and I got paid so all in all, a pretty decent outcome."

"That's great, Peeta. How about a celebratory latte?" I motion to him and he rounds the counter, joining me as I show him exactly what I've been working on all day. He's standing impossibly close and I want to hold him there. "See? How great is this?"

I hand him the mug and he looks down, confused. "Jabba the Hutt?"

I take the mug back, put it down and laugh, wrapping him in a hug. "I'm glad you're here."

He whispers in my ear, low enough that only I can hear. "Are you almost finished with your shift?"

I move to look him in the eye and see that we're not only reading the same book, but we might have progressed to reading the same chapter. "Yeah, why?"

"Let's go home."

…

The house is empty (of course) but Peeta's been busy. I thought that his meeting with Delly would occupy most of his day, but it's clear once he'd led me upstairs that he's been working on a few more things.

"How did you get that up here?" I ask, gaping at the furniture in the corner of his room. There's an armchair with a blanket draped over it and a floor lamp beside it. His art supplies are everywhere as though he planning on sketching. The room was pretty cramped for space to begin with so the additional clutter is borderline inconvenient.

"Haymitch helped me." He motions to my room, saying "I had to move a few things to the other side of the hall. I hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not. But what's going on?" I continue to look around and see that Peeta's brought some food up as well. Basic provisions.

"First, get comfortable. Let your hair down and put on some sweatpants."

I do as he asks and return to his bedroom. Peeta's changed into flannel pajama bottoms and a ratty old t-shirt so at least we match. He steps to his bed and grabs my notebooks before standing in front of me, holding them out. I take them, a confused look on my face, and begin to ask for an explanation but he interrupts me.

"I started to read these this morning, but I stopped after just a couple of pages." He goes on, "I want you to read them to me. All of them. Now. Tonight."

Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. "Um, but those are for you to read. I wrote them for you."

"I know that, and I appreciate that. But I need you to talk to me Katniss. And if this is going to be the only way that you really say what's going on in your head, then I'm going to ask that you read these out loud. Please. For me."

Peeta must see that I'm completely panicking because he takes the notebooks from me and hugs me close, his chin resting on top of my head. "Katniss, please."

I can't help but cry, clutching at his back and pleading, "But everything is there for you. It was hard enough to write it down once."

"I know. But now I need you to talk to me, face to face. And I promise to talk, too. It won't just be you. You'll read and I'll react, explain or ask questions. We'll talk through it, just you and me. Please."

He holds me until I'm calm and then pulls away to look at my face, wiping away the stray tears. I nod and he gently hands me the notebooks. The chair is soft and the blanket comforting, so I tuck my feet under me and get situated. He even thought of a box of tissues. Peeta takes a seat on the bed and gives me an encouraging smile.

I exhale. Inhale.

I begin.

Author's Note: thanks to m'lady, m'bestie, m'friend emarina.