I fiddle with the radio but it's pure static. I guess that's what happens when you are driving through the middle of Oklahoma. I would plug in my iPod, but I packed it in my bag and I really don't want to ask Katniss to get it for me. She hasn't said a word since she accused me of basically trying to use her as a whore.
I sigh and lean back into my black leather seat. I guess the one good thing that's happened so far on this trip is that my sunglasses were on my head the entire time, so I didn't leave them at home like I assumed. Yay?
"Truce, please?" I plead once we've officially been driving for three hours and now outside Oklahoma City. "I won't have sex with you and you can stop assuming the worst in me. Deal?"
She turns her head to me, and I glance at her momentarily before I turn my eyes back to the road; she looked quizzical, and not pissed, so that's got to be a good sign.
"Deal," she whispers, uncrossing her arms and placing them flat on her legs instead, her fingers spreading out on her thighs.
"Awesome. Now can we play twenty questions or some shit so I don't fall asleep from boredom?" I ask, running a hand through my hair. That was surprisingly easy. Maybe she's not as crazy as I thought.
"Twenty questions?"
"Yeah. I ask you something about yourself and then you ask me. We should probably get to know each other if we are going to spend every second together for a while."
She nods. "Okay. That's a good idea."
I bite my lip and look over to her. She's raising her eyebrows at me; I mirror her expression. "You go first," I tell her.
"No. You." And we're back to her cold voice. I shrug and shake off the iciness of her tone.
"Fine. What is your favorite color?" I ask, starting out with an easy one.
"Green," she sighs effortlessly. I turn to her and watch as a small smile forms on her lips like she's remembering something. And again, I'm struck by just how beautiful she is. I forgot, with all the surliness and coldness, but every inch of her olive skin was carved by angels.
"How old are you?" Her soft voice pulls me out of my not so innocent thoughts.
"Twenty-four," I answer with a nod of my head. "Favorite book?"
"The Wind in the Willows," she replies instantly. I turn to her again, surprise on my face. Wow. I never would have thought. I used to love that book when I was a kid. She raises her eyebrows at me, challenging me, but I don't say a word. "What's your favorite type of weather?"
I frown, pondering her question. "Rain, I think. It's refreshing, and I love the smell. But I enjoy the sun as well." I scratch my chin. "Would you rather eat a cup of mayonnaise or drink a cup of vinegar?"
"That's fucking disgusting," she says, but her tone isn't hard like before. It's still musical and warm. "Drink the vinegar, I suppose."
"What was your major in college?" she asks, slipping off her sandals and curling her feet under herself.
"Business. I wanted to be able to handle the bakery and have it continue to thrive once my dad passes it over to me." She nods at my explanation. And it's true. All I've ever wanted was to run the bakery some day, and lucky for me, my two brothers didn't want anything to do with it. "Favorite poet?"
We go back and forth, answering favorite authors and movies and names of childhood pets. With each passing question, Katniss relaxes more and more, and I find myself able to laugh with her, and not just at myself. Her laugh is just as musical as her voice, but it's high in comparison; it causes goosebumps to rise on my skin.
"What's your favorite position?" Katniss asks as her nineteenth question, and practically choke on my own tongue. This girl seriously wants to know that after she thought I was some sort of sexual deviant earlier? She needs to sort out her priorities.
"Seriously?" I question, making sure she actually wants to know this. She nods, her eyebrows challenging me infuriatingly. She doesn't think I'll do it. Well, I guess I'll have to prove her wrong. I turn my eyes back on the road and speed pass a grandma in a small blue Chevy truck. "Cowgirl."
She's silent for only a moment, before she says, "Why? I thought that was supposed to be a girl's favorite position." She places her bare feet on my dash; her toes are a deep purple.
"Are you using that as your final question?" I inquire, raising my eyebrow. I seem to be doing that a lot with this woman.
She flings out her arms nonchalantly. "Sure. Why is that your favorite position?"
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, nervous sweat forming on my upper lip. I've never explained this to a girl before, only Gale and Finnick, and they could see where I was coming from. I fight the urge to avoid it and take a deep breath before I speak, "Honestly, how could I not like it? The girl is riding you, her body open and exposed. You get to watch everything; her expressions, her breasts, yourself sliding into her. You get her know her more intimately than you can in any other position because she's in control, and she shows you exactly how she likes it."
Katniss is silent for a long time after, and I'm afraid I've crossed some line. I don't normally talk about sex so openly—I think it should be kept between the two people doing it. But she encouraged me. And I'm trying to remind myself of that fact, in case she decides to throw it in my face later. I've only known her for a short period of time, but she seems like the kinda girl that would do that.
"I get it," she says finally, with a shrug of her shoulders.
And I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank the lord that went over well.
I pull into a crappy motel a little before eleven, when we are officially out of Oklahoma, and park the car in front of the entry way so I can run inside to get us a room. There's no point in setting up a tent tonight when we're surrounded by cheap motels that run for forty-five bucks a night, and honestly, my back is cramped from driving for five hours and I could use a bed. I don't even want to think about how it's going to take the nine hour drive I have planned for tomorrow.
When I return with the key, I pull the jeep into the slot designated for room 13 and turn off the engine. Katniss gathers her bag from the backseat, and I grab my duffle, and together we enter exit the car. It takes a couple jiggles before the key turns fully in the ancient lock, but it does eventually, and the two of us plow into the room, immediately searching for the light switch.
When I flip it on, it reveals a small room with dust colored carpet and walls with peeling flowered wallpaper. But the beds themselves, though smaller than expected, are impeccably clean and actually look quite comfortable. I practically sigh at the sight of them.
I throw myself down on the bed closest to the window, and actually sigh. I think I'm in heaven. It's even better than I hoped. Katniss mumbles something about getting changed and sneaks into the bathroom. I open my eyes and scan the room before I jump up off the bed and open up the window just a crack. I unzip my pants and slip them off, tossing them on my bag next to the bed and then pull off my shirt over my head. I hope Katniss doesn't mind me sleeping in my boxers. I don't want to make her uncomfortable, but it's too hot to sleep with pants and a shirt on.
I snatch my toothbrush from my bag, along with my mint toothpaste, and walk to the small sink that's tucked into the corner next to what looks like a crack stove. I brush my teeth rapidly and try not to listen to Katniss in the bathroom that is now only a few feet away from me.
It's not until I'm under the sheets of my bed and staring at the TV that Katniss reemerges from the bathroom. My mouth instantly dries at the sight of her. She's wearing small green and blue striped sleep shorts and baggy t-shirt; but by the way it rests on her frame, it's apparent that she isn't wearing a bra. My cock twitches in my boxers, but I instantly begin to recite the pledge of allegiance in my head, cursing at my junk for acting like I'm back in middle school just at the sight of a girl in shorts.
I watch as she plops down in the middle of her bed and sits cross-legged, facing my direction. She twirls the end of her braid in her hand, and pulls her bottom lip into her mouth. She's nervous.
"Can I do something for you?" I ask, trying to put her at ease. She's probably not comfortable with me being practically naked only a few feet next to her, but honestly, I could say the same thing.
"I just feel like a dick about earlier," she exhales, her body sagging. "I shouldn't have assumed you wanted to bang me. I mean, could I sound more full of myself?"
I'm surprised, no doubt, that she's kind of apologizing to me. I shake my head. "No, I'm sure that's not why you thought that. I've only just met you, but I can tell you aren't conceited."
She nods, but she's still biting her lip. "I just," she starts, "I don't like accepting help. And I know most people expect some kind of reward when they do favors, and I couldn't think of anything I could give you. So I just assumed that you would assume I would have sex with you."
Jesus, what kind of people does she hang out with? "Katniss, I'm sorry that you've never been with someone who doesn't expect a favor in return. But, honestly, I don't. I just want to help you with this trip and I swear I'm not going to take advantage of you."
She seems to believe me, or at least she doesn't refute my statement, because she doesn't say anything else; she just slips under her sheets and curls up on her side, facing the opposite direction. I turn off the TV, my fatigue setting in, and flip over onto my stomach.
Katniss Everdeen is throwing me for a loop, to say the least. She's cold and mean one minute, and then she's laughing and smiling the next. She accuses me of expecting sexual favors and then she apologizes—though she never actually said the words "I'm sorry".
She's an enigma, to say the least.
And I can't help but be intrigued.
It's not until we are cruising down the freeway the next afternoon and I'm sipping cheap coffee, that I bring up my idea.
I clear my throat. "So do you have a deadline?" I ask, raising my voice over the soft classical that plays out of the stereo speakers.
Katniss whirls her face to me, her braid whipping around. I wonder why she always wears it that way. "Deadline for what?"
"For getting to Maine or getting back to Oklahoma."
She shakes her head and takes another drink of her cup of black tea with about a thousand packets of sugar. "No. I just wanted to get this over with and move on with my life."
I'm surprised by the bored, cold tone of her voice. How could she be so stale? But then again, I don't know how I would react if everyone I loved died; I shiver at the thought. But maybe I'd be just like her.
"So you would be okay if we went on a little detour of sorts?"
She shrugs her shoulders. "I guess it depends on where the detour was."
"New York City, I was thinking."
Katniss runs her calloused finger around the lip of her cup, nibbling on her bottom lip. What I wouldn't do to be able to listen to her thoughts. "That could be fun," she acquiesces, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. She turns her gaze back over to me; I fidget under her scrutinizing expression. "Why did you agree to take me on this trip?"
"I…" I trail off. But then I decide to just go for it anyway. "I got dumped. Cheated on, actually, and then dumped. I thought it would be best if I just got away for a while and tried to sort things out on my own. I don't—" I stop myself. No. We don't know each other that well yet. She probably still thinks I wanna get in her pants.
"Don't what?" she asks, sympathetic curiosity in her tone.
I shake my head. "Never mind. The point is I'm off women right now. And this trip will allow me the space I need to follow through with that."
She's quiet for a long time. I cruise into the carpool lane, change the radio station to something a little more upbeat and put on a boatload of chapstick before she speaks again.
"You realize I'm a girl," she whispers, twiddling with the end of her braid again.
I bark out a laugh. "I did, actually. But you made it abundantly clear that you aren't interested and so I'm trying not to be too." Fuck. Did I just say that out loud? Please tell me that didn't sound as creepy as I imagined. I squeeze my eyes shut momentarily, cursing myself for being such a moron.
She sighs and shifts in her seat, leaning back into the leather. "My, uh, last boyfriend, um, cheatedonmetoo." The last half of her sentence she speaks so fast, I'm barely able to make it out. But I do. What an asshole. Not to sound shallow or anything, but how could someone cheat on woman as beautiful as her?
"I'm sorry, Katniss. The guy was obviously a fuckhead and not good enough for you."
I glance in her direction, and lock eyes with her striking, stormy ones. I try to ignore the pounding in my chest, but I can't. She's absolutely beautiful. I can't deny that. But she'd break me too. They all do.
I turn back to the road and let the silence overwhelm me.
Katniss sets up our tent in exactly seven minutes. By herself. I left to grab some of the free firewood the campsite provided, stacked against the restroom wall, and when I returned she was zipping it closed with a satisfied smile on her face.
We didn't get as far as I had intended today. The traffic was shit—a bridge was being rebuilt or something—so when the sun started to descend in the sky, I figured it was time to find a campsite. I was tired and achy, and Katniss had started to nod off in her seat.
"I'm guessing you've done this before?" I ask as I let the wood topple out of my arms and into the fire pit.
She nods, her smile now ghosting on her lips. "My dad—," she stops, a look of surprise on her face as if she didn't intend to reveal that, and shakes her head.
I nod, unable to think of anything to say. It's obviously a touchy subject, and I don't want her to feel uncomfortable.
"Here," I break the silence and lean down to grab the bag of goodies my father packed us yesterday. They might be a tad stale, but they are still delicious. I mean, how could they not be? They are Mellark recipes. I pass the bag to Katniss. "We should eat something and head to bed. Maybe read a little if you brought a book."
She sits down on a log in front of the pit and slips her hand into the bag as I get to work on the fire. I've never been really good as building fires, but I learned how to do it in this survival class Finnick begged me to take with him. We spent the entire weekend running through the woods, lighting campfires, roasting hotdogs and getting drunk. Well they got drunk. I just watched Finnick make a fool out of himself.
I sit down across the fire from her and we eat quietly once I've finally got the fire started. Croissants, rolls, cookies and well as two loaves of sourdough are in the bag my father packed for us, along with various other goodies. Hopefully we can stop at a grocery store tomorrow and buy a cooler along with some drinks and sandwich fixings for lunches and snacks on the road.
"I love the stars," I whisper to myself. They look so promising tonight. They're crystals in the deep cave of the sky, glittering down at me. I always feel insignificant when I look at them, but I think it's a good thing. I think our problem as humans is that we feel important—most important. But the stars humble me. I feel small when I'm under them, and I like it.
"Meet too." I bring my eyes back to her and watch the shadows from the fire ignite her beautiful features. I didn't realize I said it loud enough for her to hear but I'm glad I did. I like having things in common with Katniss Everdeen.
When my stomach is full of carbs, the two of us crawl into the tent. It's relatively small, but there is still a good amount of space so it won't feel crowded and awkward.
"I'll, uh, turn around so you can change," I mutter as I turn myself to stare into the corner on my side. I can hear her shuffle around and the distinct sound of her belt buckle hitting the floor and I try to think about anything else. Anything but the fact that there's a gorgeous woman stripping not three feet from me. I'm so fucked. I can feel my cock harden in my jeans, and I'm officially pissed off at my body's betrayal.
"I'm done." Her melodic voice interrupts my internal berating, and I nod my head. I strip off my shirt and slowly pull off my jeans, still facing away from her, and slip into my sleeping bag before she can see that I'm at half-mast just because the sound her belt makes.
When my lower body is covered, I roll over on my side to face her. She's in her sleeping bag too, a book in her delicate hands and a flashlight in her mouth so she can read the pages. Her hair isn't in a braid like it normally is, but spread out on her pillows—a halo of chocolate waves.
Her book is well-loved copy of On the Road by Jack Kerouac. The spine is bent is a dozen different places, the cover full of wrinkles and marks, but it's still together. She holds it with careful and caring hands, and I know it must be special to her. I think about grabbing my sketchbook from my duffle, but I decide against it. I'm too enthralled by Katniss.
And that's how I fall asleep.
Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm laying the groundwork right now, and I hope you like it. The next chapters you get to know them more and I think you'll love it. :D Thanks for following, reviewing and favoriting! You rock!