"We could get to NYC tonight if you wanted to," I say as we hop into the jeep after munching on a breakfast consisting of the banana nut bread my father packed for us. Katniss shrugs her shoulders. "Or we could stay somewhere else tonight and get there early tomorrow morning so we can spend the whole day exploring the city."
"The second," Katniss says simply. She's a woman of few words, that one. I smile to myself and turn the key in the ignition—the engine roars to life.
The roads get busier as we drive closer to the coast. Katniss unravels the map from my glove compartment on her lap, unfortunately so it covers her enticingly tanned thighs, and makes sure we are heading in the right direction. We make the decision to stop in Trenton, NJ for the night, which is only about an hour out of New York.
"How are your brothers?" Katniss asks as we speed through Columbus, Ohio. I turn my face to her briefly, surprised that she knows I have any.
"Uh, they're good. Rye is living in LA, working at some ad agency, and Thomas is married and living in Texas with two kids."
She nods her head, causing some of her hair to slip out of her braid. "My mom used to tell me about them. You."
My eyebrows fly up. "Really?" I'm pretty sure my voice is an octave higher than it normally is, but I try not to focus on that. Katniss was told about me. I like that.
"Yeah, just kind of an update on what you were up to. But she hadn't done that since my sister…" she trails off and turns her face to look out her window, officially closing herself off. But I don't want that. I want to get to know her. I'm sure why, but it feels important.
"Prim, right?" I ask. She doesn't say anything; she pulls hers knees into her chest, like she's trying to hold herself together. "My father showed me some pictures of the two of you years ago and I remember being mesmerized by her blue eyes; she seemed so delicate and innocent. She looked so happy—the opposite of most people in those required school pictures."
She still doesn't say anything but I see the corner of her mouth turn up in a smile. So I continue.
"My dad said that she was on the soccer team and she loved it, but she was terrible. Your mother couldn't count the number of scratches she had to mend all over her body." I have no idea where this is all coming from, but I'm suddenly remembering the stories my father has told me; stories that I don't even recall hearing, but I can invoke the information. It's a little nonsensical, but if Katniss is responding, I'm not going to question how the hell this is happening. "My dad once told me a story that she found a goat on the side of the road and she begged your mother to let her take it home and keep as a pet. And she apparently did the same with a flea-ridden cat." Katniss is full on smiling now and I can feel my heart pound in my chest at the sight of it. I've never seen her smile that big, and it's so unbelievably mystifying and beautiful.
"She was special," she whispers so low I barely catch it.
"She sounded like it."
Hesitantly, and without reason, I reach a shaky hand across the space between us and tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear; it's extraordinarily silky between my fingers. I don't look at her face, scared of what I'd find there, and but I can't help but let my hand linger down the smooth skin of her neck before I bring it back to the steering wheel.
The car is eerily silent. The radio is suddenly static and I smash the off button, annoyance and anger at myself welling inside me. Good fucking job. I probably scared the shit out of her and she'll never open up to me at all.
"I loved her more than anyone," she finally whispers. "I miss her every day." I hear the tears in her voice and I have the sudden urge to pull the car off the road and wrap my arms around her. I don't know why I'm having these feelings for a girl I just met, but they are there and they are powerful. "I can't believe I'm telling you this—I don't even know you," she says, her voice louder and full of disbelief. Maybe she feels the same way I do; that I'm drawn to her and I don't even know why.
"You can tell me anything," I tell her, and I mean it. God, help me, I mean it.
She nods her head, but she doesn't say anything else. She turns back on the radio and I watch as she reaches into the pocket of her jean shorts and pulls out her iPod. She plugs it into the stereo and I wait patiently. Soon, the soft sounds of an acoustic guitar fill the car and a smile tugs on my mouth.
"I love Mumford & Sons," I murmur. And again, I can't help but love having things in common with Katniss Everdeen.
The drive is too long—it's a little over ten hours until we are pulling into a hotel. Unfortunately there aren't any campsites nearby, so we have to just bite the bullet and the price tag. We only made one quick pit-stop at a grocery store in Schlusser, PA to go to the bathroom and grab some snacks—I was craving sunflower seeds like a bitch and Katniss wanted some powdered doughnuts—but besides that we basically drove straight through.
The drive wasn't uncomfortable. We didn't have any more heart-to-hearts, but we chatted about small things, and I'm starting to realize that getting Katniss to talk about anything at all is a miracle. So I'm puzzlingly pleased with chatting to her about movies and the last Olympics. I still don't how her mother or her sister died, but hopefully we'll get there in time. I want to know everything about her.
"I'll check us in," Katniss says, unbuckling herself and yawning loudly as I put the jeep into park in front of the lobby doors. It's almost nine o'clock, but it feels so much later. I nod my head and reach into my back pocket, handing my wallet with my father's card over to her. She smiles at me softly and with a nod of her head, she leaves me alone.
I watch the delicate sway of her hips as she opens the glass doors to the lobby and makes her way to the front desk. I realize she's not as tall as I thought—maybe around 5' 3"—but the way that she holds herself doesn't really fit it. Her presence is commanding and strong, even when we are in a cramped car.
I'm spacing off hardcore, staring into the hotel, when there's suddenly movement in the corner of my eye. It's Katniss. She's waving her arm at me urgently, motioning me to come in. I step out of the car, my knees and back cracking loudly, and cross the paved sidewalk and into the lobby. It's decorated in a beach theme: palm tree wallpaper and aqua blue carpet. It hurts my eyes.
"What's going on?" I ask when I've reached her.
"Oh, they just needed to see you so they didn't think I'd jacked your wallet," she says, twirling the end of her braid around her finger. I nod at the guy behind the counter. His face is sunken in and his eyes are a little buggy, but he looks like a nice dude.
"Here I am," I say, trying to smile, but it's interrupted when I yawn widely. Shit, I'm tired.
The man smiles back. "Okay, so that's a one bedroom with a king size bed for one night, is that right?" he asks.
I frown. "Um, no, we need a room with two doubles, please."
The guy instantly gets a panicked look on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. We don't have any of those available. There's comic book convention down the road and I'm afraid we're booked solid—except this room. It's our last one."
"Well do you have any of those pull-out bed things?" Katniss asks, her voice cold and commanding. I see the guy reel back a little bit. Yeah, I feel your pain, brother. You don't expect a girl who looks like Katniss to make you feel like a little kid.
He shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. Those are all taken as well."
I sigh, running my hand through my hair. "Okay, we'll take it." Katniss turns to me, her eyes surprised and cold. "We don't have any other options," I tell her, "I can just sleep on the floor."
She doesn't respond. She faces the clerk again and ignores me as she waits for him to give us the keys.
As soon as he does, we get back into the jeep and pull it into the last available parking spot in the corner of the L-shaped hotel. We trek up the stairs to the second floor, bags in hand, and make our way down the carpeted landing to get to room 234.
As soon I unlock the door with the slide-y key, my stomach clenches. The king size bed looms in the center of the room, taunting me. The comforter is decorated in waves and pink flamingos, going along with the beach theme, and piled with a plethora of pillows. Katniss nudges her way into the room past me, slamming the door behind her.
She throws her bag down the bed and begins to dig through it.
"I'm gonna take a shower," I tell her, and make my way into the small bathroom. It's covered floor to ceiling in sand-colored tiles, and I immediately strip down and hop into the small, glass shower. I wash myself as fast as I can with my aching arms, and let the scalding hot water beat down on my stiff muscles. But I'm too tired to stay in here long—just standing on my feet is exhausting.
I turn off the water and dry my skin with the scratchy towel provided, then slip into a clean pair of boxers.
I step out of the bathroom, rubbing my sore back with my left hand. Katniss is already in bed, propped up against the headboard with a book in her lap—but her gaze is fixed on me; I stop in my tracks. She's nibbling on her bottom lip—her nervous tick—and I have no idea why.
"I was thinking," she says, releasing her lip as she begins to run her fingers through her hair, separating her loose braid. "You shouldn't have to sleep on the floor."
I jerk in surprise. "What?" Is she serious?
She nods. "It's obvious that your back is hurting, and this bed is huge. We won't even be able to tell the other person is in it." Her eyes narrow. "But if you make a move, I will chop your nuts off."
I want to hesitate as the million possible scenarios of this going down badly run through my head, but I can't. My back is sore and I'm so tired. I'm gonna pass out in three seconds anyway and she's right, I'll never notice how close she is. I nod. "Okay, thanks."
I cross to the other side of the bed, setting my duffle down next to it, and crawl on. The mattress is springy and soft, and I sigh at the relief I can already feel in my limbs.
I lay down on my back and instantly my eyes flutter closed. I feel Katniss shift around beside me, but I can't focus on what she's doing. Then, when I'm seconds away from falling asleep, I hear something startlingly divine.
Katniss is singing. Softly, almost like she doesn't know she's doing it. I can't hear what the lyrics are or identify what song it is, but it is so bewitching. My eyes fly open and I turn my body in her direction, needing to be closer to the melodic tone of her voice. I should have known she was a singer—just her speaking voice is unbelievably musical. But I never imagined I would ever, in my whole life, hear something as angelic as this.
She doesn't notice that I'm watching her; she's too busy reading and singing, but I am, and it's an unbelievable sight.
"You're so beautiful," I exhale, closing my eyes again.
And then I'm out.
Something smacks my shoulder and I jerk awake, sitting up. I forget where I am momentarily, but my eyes slowly focus on the gigantic palm tree that covers the wall in front of me and remember. Trenton, NJ. Sleeping in king size bed with Katniss. Wait, where's?—I look to the left of me and see why I woke up in the first place: Katniss. She's thrashing around, her face covered in a sheen of sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead. She's moaning quietly, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and her arms flailing. She must be having a nightmare or something.
I shift closer to her, and try to shake her awake, but she just keeps whimpering and tossing around. My heart contracts in my chest at the sight of this strong, hard-ass woman whining and cowering. "Katniss," I call, shaking her again; still she doesn't wake. I say her name again, louder, pushing her hair away from her face.
"Katniss, please," I plead.
Her eyes fly open, and land on mine. Terror lives in her silver eyes, and I find myself moving closer to her, my hand wrapping around her stomach and resting on her left hip. I need to take her pain away.
"I—I-I," she stutters, but her mouth never forms any words.
"Shh," I tell her, caressing her forehead. "You just had a nightmare, you'll be okay. It's not real."
She continues to gasp for air, and I can't help but glance down at her sweat-soaked shirt clinging deliciously to her chest. Her nipples are straining against the fabric, and I lick my lips at the sight without making a conscious decision to do so. But I quickly ignore how sexy her body is and bring my eyes back to hers. They stay locked on mine, but the fear hasn't drained a bit—she still looks terrified.
So I say the first thing that pops into my head: "I'll protect you."I have no idea what it means, to be honest, but weirdly, I feel it. I want to tear whatever it is that is torturing her out of her head. Her eyes dilate quickly, and I see some tension fade in her shoulders, her neck becoming less strained.
"Go back to sleep, Katniss," I whisper, tucking her hair behind her ears. She gives a shaky nod of her head and closes her eyes again.
I lie down next to her, resting on my side, but keep my hands on her hip and on her forehead. I stay awake until her breathing evens out again, and I know for certain that she's out. Then I let the warmth of her body lull me back to sleep.
When the alarm goes off the next morning, I fling out my right arm and smash it until it turns off. I blink my eyes open, letting them adjust to the sunlight streaming through the front windows. I yawn, my chest rising—but there's an unusual weight on it. And that's when I notice it. Her.
Katniss is lying on top of me, her head resting in the middle of my sternum. Her arms are wrapped around my bare stomach and her legs are intertwined with mine. I realize that my left hand is woven into her silky hair, holding her to me.
And it's heavenly.
Her skin feels so perfect against mine and it looks amazing too—olive vs. fair. She's clinging to me—like she needs me—and I wish she did. Wait, what?
Katniss nuzzles her face into my chest, and my thoughts are scattered. But after a few moments, I feel her whole body stiffen; she must come to the realization that she's lying on a human, not a pillow. She tears her body away from me, rolling over to the complete opposite side of the bed.
"I'm sorry," she says immediately, running a hand through her velvet locks, avoiding my gaze.
I shake my head. "No need."
Her eyes move to me and she tilts her head, a confused expression taking over her face—mellowing her scowl, but never hindering her beauty. What is she thinking? But she shakes her head, dismissing something, and crawls out of bed. She walks into the bathroom and closes the door.
And I'm inexplicably cold.
Hey guys! I hope you liked this chapter. Thank you so much for reviewing, favoriting and following! And hopefully I'll get another, longer chapter out in a less than a week!
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