Chapter 11

Right when I walk through the door, I know that Peeta has been busy all morning. The greasy smell of bacon mixes with freshly baked bread, giving the room a delicious odor. I kick off my boots before walking into the kitchen.

Peeta is busy at the stove, frying pancakes and bacon on a griddle and boiling eggs in another pot. He seems lost in concentration and sweat glistens on his brow from working over the burners. He doesn't seem to notice me so I slip out of the kitchen into the living room. The dishes from last night are gone from the coffee table. I end up looking at the pictures on his shelves.

There's one of Peeta with Effie, a recent photo. She has actually gotten rid of her extravagant Capitol outfit. I can barely recognize her, but she looks beautiful without all the makeup and bold colors.

Another is of Finnick and Annie. I recognize the picture that Annie had sent me in the mail. Perhaps she sent Peeta one as well. I wonder how she is, how she's coping without Finnick.

The next is a picture of Haymitch, scowling at the camera as Peeta crouches beside the chair he's sitting in. I laugh because its speaks so well of their personalities.

The next one surprises me though. Its a picture of me and Peeta, getting married. The picture was taken from the Capitol wedding President Snow hosted and broadcasted to the nation, yet it was cropped so it was only me and Peeta at the pew.

I examine our faces carefully. We both seem less tired. Stronger. Peeta's face is a mask of pride and joy. Only by looking closely at the picture can you see that it doesn't reach his eyes. My face seems happy, yet there's a worried crease in my brow speaking of stressful times. I close my eyes. Yes, the Capitol had forced me to marry Peeta. And at that moment I had felt utterly helpless and losing control of my own life.

But had I truly been unhappy? Did I regret being married to Peeta, even if it was a complete hoax?

"Katniss, I didn't hear you walk in." I turn around to see Peeta, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He spots the picture I'm still holding in my hands. Oh damn.

"I was just looking around," I say. I place the picture back to where it was on the shelf. "Nice pictures."

He smiles. "That one's my favorite." He walks over and picks up the frame, wiping some dust off of it with his sleeve. When he places it back on the shelf, angling it so it catches the sunlight streaming in through the window, he adds quietly, "Even if it wasn't real."

His words strike home and I flinch. He means no harm by his words, but they always have a little bit more to them than he knows. He leads me to the breakfast table where the food is set out. He motions for me to begin as he pulls a chair out for me.

"Where's Haymitch?" I ask.

"Hung over. He barely managed to phone me earlier to tell me he wasn't coming." Peeta helps spoon food on my plate.

We eat in silence for a while. Peeta keeps putting food on my plate as if I'm not eating enough but he stops when I begin to talk to him. "You only have four pictures."

He looks up, eyes bright. "Yeah. Special people."

"Why do you keep our wedding photo?" I blurt out suddenly. His eyes go wide and I instantly regret my outburst.

"Sorry, I-"

He waves it away. "No, its fine. Its a nice picture of us, don't you think? I don't have many pictures with you, so I decided to put that one out. Does it bother you?"

"No! Course not." But it does, and Peeta can tell. He's about to say something when I say, "Really. Its fine. Its your house."

We finish our food quickly after that. Peeta clears the dishes while I put the leftovers into the fridge. When I'm wiping the tablecloth with a sponge, Peeta clears his throat.

"So what are you doing today?" he says.

I bite my lip, a habit I have when I'm nervous. "Probably cleaning my house."

He nods, distracted. "I see."

I walk past him to put the sponge back in the sink. "If you'd like, you could come over for supper later," I say quickly before I can change my mind.

He stares at me, his expression unreadable. "Just bring some bread just in case I burn down the house," I add uncomfortably. At this, he nods.

As he walks me to the front door, I realize I'm still wearing his jacket. "Oh! Here. I forgot to give this back." He laughs and places his hands over mine to stop them from unzipping it. "You can keep it as long as you want," he says. "Besides, today is supposed to be the first snow day of winter. It'll be chilly for a while."

I look up, ready to thank him and decline, but I'm distracted. I hadn't realized his face was so close to mine and that his hands were still on mine, warm and slightly rough. His eyes had darkened to a deep, rich shade of blue. I could almost hear our hearts pounding at the closeness.

His lips part then. Almost imperceptive. But I notice it. And I also notice that the distance between us is closing in. I don't know who moved first, yet I can't seem to organize any of my thoughts.

Not when Peeta Mellark is kissing me.