Chapter 5

The Thursday after my first round of exams, Marvel takes me to a bar on the far side of campus. It's considered the "classier" part of town, if you could even call it that, basically meaning the place wasn't overrun with the underage crowd and they don't serve beer on tap. I've only been to the bar, nicknamed Mifflin's (an Office reference), once with Madge and her parents, years ago when they'd come down to visit. Like I did that very day, I feel uncomfortable and underdressed, missing the loud rock music and smell of stale cigarettes that my usual spot. Marvel doesn't seem to notice my obvious discomfort, ordering drinks and sitting silently with his arm draped over my shoulder.

My vodka tonic soothes me. "I used to play the tuba in high school," I say when the silence starts to become stifling, referencing the soft jazz music playing overhead. "I was actually very good. My uncle thought I could play in college but I just never got around to it."

I leave out the part about why I never got around to it. As much as I liked Marvel - and believe me, I liked him as much as I was capable - I never got the feeling I could open up to him. It was almost as if I was afraid he would like me less if he knew what was going on inside my head. Hell, nobody would.

"Did you also have braces and wear pigtails everyday?"

"That's a little mean and very stereotypical, I may add," I scold, bumping shoulders with him. He feigns an injury and laughs alongside me. "And, if you really must know, I had my braces taken off in eighth grade and I wore my hair in a braid everyday. Not pigtails."

"High school was just the worst."

"Oh please. I bet you were captain of the football team and dated all the pretty cheerleaders! You made fun of girls who played the tuba!"

"No," he shakes his head, chewing on the straw of whatever it is he is drinking. "I played football, yeah, but I wasn't ever any good. Dated one cheerleader. Britney Frost. She was a total bitch and I'm pretty sure she only went out with me because she had a crush on my older brother."

"Ouch," I mumble.

"Oh, it gets better. They are happily married now with a baby on the way and a dog named Pixie." I can't help but laugh, my loud giggle gaining the attention of all ten couples in the room. I blush and Marvel apologizes profusely through his own laughter.

"These places are exhausting," I say honestly, turning to return the nasty glare of one impatient women. When she finally looks away, her scowl is just as deep as mine. "They're just no fun! Everyone looks like they have a stick up their ass all the time. Where is the music and the Jack Daniels and the drunk girls dancing on tables? We're too young for this!"

"Well, we are about to graduate, Katniss," he says with a stiff face, all the light from a moment ago gone. "Maybe that's not the type of thing we should find fun anymore, you know? Maybe dancing on tables and loud rock music isn't forever."

"Because I'm so ready to devote my life to book clubs, board meetings, and sex once a week," I remark sarcastically. "We're twenty-two, Marvel."

"But someday we'll be fifty-two and those books clubs and board meetings won't seem so bad."

"Yeah, but I've got another thirty-years before life decides to reign me in. I'll take my chances and have my fun."

This is the thing with Marvel that always put me on edge. He is a politicians son. The type of boy that was raised from a young age to wear a suit, have a pretty blonde wife and three sons whose names were all a variation of John. He had the cookie cutter life, a plan after college, money to fall back on. He'd known since he was five what it was he was destined for; who he was supposed to be. I wasn't so lucky and there were moments when that simple fact didn't bother me too much. But then there were moments, much like this one, where the reality of how different we were almost pushed me away.

"If you'll excuse me," he says softly, putting his napkin on the table. His phone vibrates so loudly that the whole table shakes. "I have to take this. It's my father."

I nod numbly, sipping my drink and watching him make his way to the door, a line of women turning their heads to watch him go. It's almost like they could smell the money wafting from his pockets. I huff. I wonder what they think about me. Surely, it's equivalent to what I think about them, with their balding, bland husbands and four hundred dollar Chanel purses. A life of leisure. How nice.

It's when I finally make my way to the bar, having played through every cliche scenario in my head, that I see him sitting there, nursing a beer as he chats quietly with the bartender standing opposite. Peeta, dressed in tailored pants and a button up that hugs every inch of his body, his hair falling in waves over his forehead, his eyes so impossibly blue in the dim lights of Mifflin's. What are the odds he would be here? There is that pull again and he must feel it too, his eyes finding mine as I slink my way through the thin aisles.

I smile warmly, genuinely happy to see him but he doesn't have the same reaction. His eyes never tear away from mine though they are less than friendly.

"Hey, Peeta," I falter, heat rising to my cheeks, suddenly too nervous to speak.

"Katniss," he bites.

"I thought you were going to the baseball game tonight. Finnick hasn't stopped talking about it. He seemed really excited."

"It was kind of a date thing and, since you had to "study" and all, I just wasn't up for going and being the odd man out. I'm actually meeting them here for drinks," he says matter-of-factly. I hadn't even remember that I, in fact, had been invited to that game. Peeta and I had become such good friends over the past few weeks that simple invitations didn't weigh so heavily on me. But clearly it did him. Shit.

"I just came out for a drink with a friend after my exam. I took it early because we had the option and-"

"Whatever," he huffs, turning his attention back to the television screen, ignoring my existence entirely. A knot forms in my throat, guilt taking over whatever anger I might have. I feel like I'm going to cry or scream - maybe both. "If you didn't want to go out with me, you could've just said so. I'm a big boy. I can handle a little rejection."

"Peeta," I sigh, running a hand through my hair, not knowing what to say. "It's not that. I really did have to study and by the time it all got worked out, I thought it was too late to give you a different answer. Marvel just wanted to take me out for drinks tonight because I've been so-"

"Stressed," he finishes, still not bothering to look my way. "Yeah, I know. I've been the one having to listen to you bitch about it for the past week."

"What the fuck is your problem, Mellark?" I bark, shifting into the seat beside him. The bartender looks at me with wide eyes, going back about his business when I meet his cautious glare with a fiery one of my own. "I'm talking to you, Peeta."

"Katniss, go back to your table and be with your date. I'm sure Mr. President doesn't like waiting."

"Oh please," I groan. "Is that what you're mad about? That I'm out with another guy?"

"What else would I have to be mad about?" Peeta asks with just as much enthusiasm, drawing attention to what was once a private conversation. "Do you know how stupid I feel? I'm not there because I want to be with you and you're here with him."

"Give me a break, Peeta, you don't want me nearly as much as you say you do," I say, finally voicing my insecurities. "Besides, I didn't even know it was that important to you. You didn't even really ask me. I had no idea that "the game" had meant "go on a date". Do me a favor and pull your head out of your ass."

In a move that surprises me, Peeta stands to his full height - which isn't too much taller than my own frame - and looks down on me with a fire I've only ever seen once before. Whether it was anger or pain in his eyes, I don't know. But it was an emotion I had caused. I stand toe-to-toe with him, waiting patiently for something. But instead he surprises me even more by simply throwing a twenty on the bar and walking away without another word.

The bartender whistles, his back facing me as he shines the wine glasses. "You really stepped in it. Such a shame when both boyfriends show up to the same place, huh?"

"Fuck off," I curse. I don't let his red, embarrassed face weigh too heavily on my conscience, following Peeta through a backdoor which leads to the alleyway Marvel and I came through when we first arrived. He's smoking a cigarette, his body angled against the brick wall opposite him. He looks like something out of a magazine.

"You're being a real dick again, you know that right?" I say, the anger before gone. I don't like fighting with Peeta. I don't like playing into his moods. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or upset. I would have never gone up to you if I thought you'd react this way."

"I wasn't sure if it was you or not," he mumbles, taking another long drag. I hate cigarettes. I hadn't even known he was one to smoke. I keep my comments to myself. Something tells me now is not the time. "I heard you laugh. But then I saw that guy there and thought that there was no way that was you. But yet it was and here we are."

I realize now how right Madge and Annie had been about being upfront about Marvel from the start. "Peeta, I'm sorry."

"Is that your boyfriend?" He asks with conviction. "Is that who you've been spending all your time with?"

"He's not my boyfriend." My voice isn't convincing and I cringe at his ironic smirk. As much as I want to bite back for the sake of my own personal gain, I stand silently opposite him knowing I royally fucked up. "It's nothing serious and we're just seeing each other right now. You know, having fun."

"Must not be too special," Peeta whispers, almost to himself. We finally make eye contact. "You know, if you didn't even think to bother mentioning him."

When I don't respond, he moves closer, his body encasing me. The heat radiating off him is enough to turn me to mush and I swear I'm melting. He reaches a cautious hand up to map the contours of my cheekbones and run his fingers through my hair. I close my eyes, the intimacy of the moment not escaping me. His breath is hot against my face and he dips his head to my throat once, twice, three times before placing a soft kiss where my shoulder meets. I sigh, desperately needing more but knowing I shouldn't.

"Katniss," he mutters against my skin. His voice is soft, almost as if asking me for permission but I can't give it to him. I want too. "He doesn't mean anything to you, Katniss. This is real. Whatever this is, it's real. I feel it, you feel it. We have to act on it."

I meet him halfway, his lips crushing down onto mine in a moment of weakness. They are soft, softer than I would have expected, but firm all the while. The stubble on his jaw scratches me as we continue, a stark contrast from the few kisses I've shared with Marvel or anyone else. When his tongue finally makes it's way into my mouth, he tastes of beer and peanuts, something I never really cared for but, now, something I could never go without.

I move a hand to settle in his curls, too consumed with the moment to even hear the loud footsteps and laughter approaching at a steady pace. I only pull apart when I hear the loud crashing sound of metal, Peeta standing in front of me. Protecting me.

It isn't danger, per se. Just Finnick, Thom, and a few of their fellow brothers. They all seem drunk, at least the majority of them who are too consumed in their own business to focus on what is before them. It's only Finnick who seems to be coherent enough to understand the reality of the situation but he just stands to the side, watching.

"What's up, man?" A younger boy asks, shaking his hand as he passes to enter the bar. Peeta smiles warmly and claps him on the shoulder. "Hello, pretty lady." I'm too nervous to even be polite. All is silent as the door shuts behind them.

"And then there were three," Finnick mumbles, a sadistic smile playing around his lips. I snarl, trying my best to look threatening in a moment when I feel the opposite. "So what do we have here?"

"Finnick, fuck off," I curse just in time for Peeta to make another crude comment of his own. He looks amused and unfazed, leaning against the wall with his own swagger and mindlessly playing with a piece of rope.

"You guys can't honestly be surprised. You were just making out in the back entrance of a popular bar. Someone was bound to see the two of you. I'm just happy it was me."

"Finnick, for the love of God, please just go back inside and let us have a minute," Peeta begs, running a hand through his hair. He looks… nervous.

"Well, if I remember correctly, Annie told me a little story about Ms. Everdeen entertaining a young man by the name of Marvel tonight. Is that simply a myth or is there some truth to that?"

As if on cue, Marvel cracks open the back door, peeking his head through the opening, only stepping out when his eyes land on me. I feel my face flush, my hands cramp. It's written all over me, surely, what just happened between Peeta and I. He has to know. Anyone with half a brain would know. But if he suspects anything he says nothing and simply slinks by my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. Peeta literally gags.

"Hello," he greets, friendly as ever, extending his hands to the two men. "Marvel. How are you guys?"

"Finnick Odair," Finnick responds, pushing Peeta forcefully to his side. "This is my friend Peeta Mellark. We're here with some of our brothers tonight. I'm actually dating Katniss roommate, Annie."

"Lovely girl," he comments, his eyes sparkling with fake enthusiasm. Peeta stares at me with narrowed eyes, a silent conversation that only the two of us would ever be able to understand. He's begging me to do something. Anything to show him that what just happened matters.

But I'm stuck in place. My bones stiff like rocks, holding me in place as the rest of the world seems to move around me. I have to literally remind myself to breathe. I start to sway. "Too much to drink tonight?" Marvel asks with a soft smirk.

"Probably just drunk on love or something like that," Peeta mutters, finally breaking his eyes away from me.

My throat clenches. Marvel tightens at my side, obviously confused by the comment but too much of a gentleman to say anything about it now. He will ask me in private, later, and not push me for an answer when I tell him Peeta was just joking. Because that is the kind of man he is and that is the kind of man I should want. The kind of man I should be kissing outside of bars. The only man I should be kissing.

"Oh, we've all been there, no?" Finnick jokes, nudging Peeta in the side to get him to stop with the death glares. It's no use. He raises his eyebrow once more, as if telling me this was my last chance to act. To come clean.

I almost do.

He turns on his heel, mumbling stiff goodbyes, not hiding his obvious aggression as he slams the door with so much force it shakes the trashcans against the wall.

Finnick is the first to break the silence and laughs awkwardly. "Well, someone sure woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, huh?"

Yeah, I think. And I woke up in the wrong bed.

...

to be very honest with everyone, this is the story I plan on finishing before any of the rest. Look for updates, and I'm sorry they aren't very regular, and continue to give me your opinions. Thanks!

B