Chapter 26

Its been a week and a half since Paylor had us interview in District 12. The party had been a drag- people were clamoring over the Mockingjay and Peeta, which both angered me and had me possessively dragging Peeta around all night as women threw themselves at him wantonly.

Instead of claiming him with our physical display of affection, it had only spurred on the madness of Peeta's female fan club.

Peeta and I had danced that night, but we didn't say much, simply because the cameras were trained on us the whole time and we didn't want to say anything that could be overheard and misread.

However, when Gale came up behind us during a particularly slow dance, asking for a turn, Peeta had only given him a tight-lipped smile and handed me over gracefully, not missing a single beat.

Was Peeta even angry at Gale? I wonder what the relationship between the two of them could possibly be now that Gale has lost his memory. Gale recalls Peeta being hijacked and recovered back in District 13, but hardly much else. Its almost as if he had been wiped from both of our lives.

But wasn't that what you wanted?

I push the horrifying thought away. Of course I didn't want Gale to forget me. We had spent years together, surviving, beating the odds. Even if he had made mistakes in the past, I can't forget that he was the one that helped me survive until Prim was reaped.

I still hold a bit of frustration over the fact that Gale had acted the way he had in District 12. Affection. Kisses. Protesting about how right we were for each other. Then District 13. Staying close. Prying his way through the cracks in my life when Peeta was taken. Kissing me.

I'm angry again. I can feel it as I stomp through the woods. I'm headed to the lake, eager to finally get away from everything now that the buzz has died down over what had happened at the interview.

The interview. I'm not quite sure what took over me at that moment. But I do know now that I'm keeping to my promise to myself. I've been making an effort to keep Peeta company as much as possible, especially since he has just received a new prosthetic limb from the Capitol, courtesy of Paylor. He spent the whole day trying to walk on it, adjusting to the new contraption, and I helped him walk around his house, maneuvering around his furniture.

Peeta and I have been sleeping together as well. Every night, we would fall into our routine. He would go brush his teeth as I put Buttercup outside to wander the backyard. After I let Buttercup back in, I would head upstairs to find him changed into his night clothes and sitting on the edge of the bed, either sketching or lost in thought. I would quickly utilize the bathroom, washing my face and brushing my teeth, before joining him. By this time, he would be already under the sheets and would lift the covers for me to slide in next to him, where I would instinctively lean back against his body. His arms would circle me as I lay my head on his chest and we would fall asleep in only a few moments.

Today, when I woke up, I noticed that Peeta hadn't woken up earlier than I do as he normally does. I spent a good few moments relaxing against his warm body. No nightmares. Still, Peeta blinks his eyes open and inhales deeply before exhaling and looking down at me. His hair is tousled from sleep as I raise an eyebrow expectantly.

But instead of the usual good morning, Peeta says, "You're beautiful when you wake up." I find myself flushing red hot as he pulls his arm away from my shoulders and sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I can't seem to pull up any sort of response.

Peeta seems to understand this. He doesn't make a fuss when I stammer out that he can use the shower first and he balances himself unsteadily on his new prosthetic before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving me to myself. Well, myself and my jumbled thoughts.

It has been a while since the interview, yet I'm still not sure if my sudden affection for Peeta was drawn from my feelings for him or just another need to survive. And I hate myself for it. How can I distinguish if what I feel are emotions or just another instinct? Are the two identical?

When I ask myself what I would do without Peeta, the answer is always the same. I cannot live without him. Survival. Or love?

I had gone downstairs to grab two cheese buns from the bread box for breakfast as I pondered this. Yes, I had kissed Peeta. Yes, it had felt extraordinarily good. Yes, I had done it to take the brunt of the media. Yes, I had done it to protect Peeta.

Dammit.

No matter how many times I run it through my head, the reasons even out.

However, that didn't change the fact that all the blood rushed to my face when I opened the bedroom door and found Peeta changing into his clothes for the day.

Peeta had brought over some clothes so he could change in the morning and start his day faster than running back and forth from his house to mine. I had agreed, simply because I didn't want him to have to walk to and from our houses in his night clothes in the chilly winter air.

He's pulling on some soft cotton sweatpants, the dark color a sharp contrast to his pale skin. His hair is still damp and drops of water spray from his golden locks as he shakes the hair from his eyes. His towel is dropped ungraciously on the floor as he struggles to get his pants on over his false leg and he is concentrating on the task at hand while trying to maintain his balance.

I had quickly run over to him, hoping he wouldn't fall and hurt himself or break his prosthetic, and placed one hand on his back and one on his shoulder to steady him. But when my hands touched his skin, I could feel something spark between us. He had turned to look at me, but I recoiled, pulling my hands back in surprise and snatching up the cheese bun as an excuse. "Here's your breakfast," I had muttered quickly, avoiding glancing at his sculpted chest and arms. He chuckled quietly. "Thanks, Katniss." I left the room quickly, trying to fight the urge to get back in there and... and...

I'm not quite sure what I would've done. I've never been experienced with these types of emotions before. Not even with Gale. I don't know how to react with what I feel for Peeta.

So I do what I do best and ignore them to the best of my ability.

Peeta decided to go off into town that day. "We can't hide ourselves away forever," he had explained as he pulled on a thin jacket. I shrug in response. He invites me along, but I shake my head. "I'm going out," I explain shortly. He nods, pulling on the coat he had chosen to wear. I shake my head before going to the closet and pulling out a thicker one.

"The Capitol predicts snowfall tonight," I explain as I take the coat he had chosen and throw it onto the couch. "Its going to be very cold." His smile warms me as I hold it up for him to slip into, but I avoid his gaze as much as possible. I had seen my mother do this to my father when I was little. Did this mean I was falling in love with Peeta?
The feel of his arms embracing me is gentle as he says, "Thanks, Katniss. I'll be fine." He then walks out the door, stopping at the edge of the yard to turn around and wave before trotting off down the street.

I'm staring off after him, oblivious not only to the bitter cold as it touches my skin but also to my rebellious right hand, which raised in response to Peeta's wave. But as soon as I caught myself looking at Peeta with the expression of one of those adoring female reporters, I immediately decided to set foot into the woods.

As I approach the clear water of the lake, I notice the surface is frozen. Glossy and smooth. I test the ice carefully, pressing the heel of my boot to it before placing my body weight on it. However, the ice breaks as soon as I force my leg down a little harder.

Is this what me and Peeta are like? Fragile? Testing how far we can go until we break? I shake my head, sitting on the grass near the water's edge. No. I don't want us to break because then we will be without each other. And when water refreezes, it takes time. Its weaker than the rest. Its a sobering thought, damaging my relationship with Peeta so much that it is no longer as strong as we could make it.

The ice glistens back to me the next few hours I spend there, lost in thought about Peeta.