I dream I'm back in Panem, running freely in the woods. There's no game in sight and I have no bow or arrow with me. Gale isn't there either and I realize I'm running to the bakery. People look surprised to see me, but their expressions are sorrowful and flabbergasted, like I'm coming from the dead. Upon reaching the bakery, I call for Peeta, but the place is empty and unoccupied. Then, I run to my house in the Seam and I see the petite figure of Prim running towards me. We fall on each other's arms, but when I look at her face I see she's already an old woman. The decades have passed and she never made it to America.
"Wake up," I hear.
I open my eyes to find Johanna shaking me.
"There's something I want you to try," she says.
I sit and rub my eyes. Johanna shows me a corset and I grimace instantaneously; I have never owned one. First, I could never afford them; second, they seem very uncomfortable.
"Women in high society wear them and you should get used to it in small doses," she adds.
"High society be damned, I'll never use it," I declare.
"So you'll embarrass the family you're marrying into," she states.
I study her figure as I get up. For all the talk she's giving me, she seems to appreciate corsets as much as I do.
"You don't use one either," I say.
Johanna rolls her eyes.
"I'm not going to be a high society wife, you will."
She puts the corset around my body and starts adjusting the tightness of it with rough tugs on the long ends of the lacing.
"That hurts," I complain.
She giggles. "Well, little girl, beauty hurts."
"How am I supposed to breathe?" I ask.
She frowns. "Take small breaths, I need to deliver you alive."
'You're trying to torture me," I state.
"That was not my intention, even though it's a delightful reward," she giggles. "I wonder what Lover Boy will think of this. I believe he fancies your natural shape much more."
Her comment hits a nerve and I turn to her, imperious. "I'm your boss, Johanna. You must respect me."
Johanna snorts, reverting me to my original position. "My respect is earned, Brainless, not bought. I don't care if you're my boss. If you want me to respect you, show me you're respectable."
I don't know how to reply, because it's something I would say.
"Everything I've seen you do from the moment we met has been a betrayal to Mr. Hawthorne," she adds. "Do you think I don't realize what you're doing? That you disappear every night?"
"Am I allowed to walk?" I snap. "I want to feel free! I don't think I'll have much freedom after I'm married."
Johanna pulls the corset tighter. "Well, Brainless, there's a piece of knowledge I'm willing to share with you. You don't feel trapped in a good marriage. A good marriage resembles the freedom you crave. If you're already feeling this way and you are still single, it says everything about the future success of your match."
"How can you know that? You're single," I say.
My words seem to have a calming effect in her mood, and Johanna sits on my bed.
"I am married, Brainless. The difference between us is that your fiancé does everything for you and my husband couldn't care less about me."
I turn to her in shock and she smirks.
"Yes. Do you want to be shocked? My husband fled with a man," she laughs, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
My mouth hangs open in dismay. "I'm sorry," I say at last.
"Everyone says my temperament is the reason he lost interest in women and thus the love of God. I know it was the first thing you thought as well, Brainless. I needed to leave Panem because no family wanted to trust their children to a separated teacher."
I shake my head, unable to utter the words. No, I don't think that; she can't be blamed for another person's actions.
"Now tell me what you think about it. As far as I know, Mr. Hawthorne was a coal miner who left Panem two years ago and became a millionaire producing and selling weapons. There are plenty of marriageable young women he could choose from at this point. Prettier girls, much more interesting, from better families. What does he do instead? He sends for the one that he hasn't seen for years but he never forgot. He pampers you, gives you everything, finds a whole entourage to accompany you in your journey. I thought it was very romantic until I met you. Then there's Lover Boy –"
"What do you have against Peeta?" I ask. "You keep mentioning him."
"Nothing, Brainless. He's just another man you fooled. I don't know what they see in you. You're insipid and play with their hearts. You are a fucking idiot."
Johanna bursts out of the room, leaving the corset tightly pressed on my body and, no matter how much I try, I'm unable to loosen it without help.
I have no other option but to get into my brown dress and join her and the Mellarks for breakfast. Johanna is unusually quiet and doesn't respond to Rye's witty banter. The Mellark parents talk about New Panem, the town where they are going to live. They tell us that it was built by emigrants from Panem and it's not very far from New York City. They know many people there, including Graham's fiancée, whose parents own the town's shoe shop.
I'm not really interested in the conversation until I realize that they are asking Peeta something about the place where they'll be staying. He just shrugs. I remember that he told me he doesn't want to follow them to New Panem and decide to give him a way out.
"Actually, I was thinking that Peeta could stay with me and Gale in New York. We'd do well with some food that reminds us of home."
Mr. And Mrs. Mellark look at me, seemingly horrified by my proposition. Peeta's brothers look the same, and subsequently guffaw as soon as I finish the last sentence.
"Oh my God," they say between fits of laughter.
Peeta himself looks mortified and Johanna keeps a blank face, even though I know that she's judging me. How could I have misjudged the whole situation, I don't know.
I want to burst out of the table to show my dissatisfaction, but Gale has spent his money on my ticket and it includes the food, so I'm not letting any of it go to waste. I keep eating, staring at my plate with tears threatening to fall from my eyes.
"You should be ashamed of yourselves," Johanna tells the two brothers before she throws her napkin to the table and leaves.
To their credit, the brothers offer me sincere apologies following Johanna's reprimand.
After breakfast we find it's rather cold to sit or walk on the deck, so we retire to the library to read and write letters. It is a beautiful room, coated in mahogany, with several small writing and card-tables distributed around the space, writing-bureaus round the walls, lounges, armchairs and glass-cased shelves flanking one of the sides.
I write letters to Primrose and to my mother. I don't know who Rye or the oldest Mellarks write to, but Graham tells me he's writing to Delly. The letter will arrive after him, but he doesn't want to miss the chance of sending his fiancée a souvenir from the largest ship in the world. Only Peeta and Johanna don't write to anyone. We post the letters in the box outside the library door so that they are delivered when we arrive in New York.
At some point I'm given a telegram, which I instantly know it's from Gale. It makes me uncomfortable because I know Peeta must be looking at me and judging my reaction after the revelations of last night.
"Katniss, you're pale. Is everything all right with Mr. Hawthorne?" Mr. Mellark asks with a frown.
"Yes," I say, "Gale says he's waiting for me."
"A true gentleman," Mrs. Mellark nods in approval.
"You don't seem happy," Rye says.
"I thought you had received bad news," Graham adds, sounding confused.
"Katniss is a blushing bride, as she should be," Mrs. Mellark says.
My eyes meet Peeta's to gauge his reaction. I'm so stupid for letting him know more than he should. He frowns and purses his lips when our eyes meet, but doesn't look away.
I spot Mr. Mellark gazing at his youngest son, then at me. He gets on his feet and offers me his arm. From the conspicuous looks he gave both of us, I wonder if Peeta has told him anything.
"Will you walk with this old man?" he asks me with a grin.
"You're not old, Mr. Mellark," I say, taking his arm. He chuckles in response.
We walk together on the deck despite of the cold, and I reckon he wants to get as far away from the others as possible. He speaks pleasantries and makes some remarks about the differences between Panem and the Titanic until he gets to the point.
"You seem conflicted, Katniss."
"I don't know what you mean," I say.
"You are not happy since we boarded the Titanic," he says. "Your manners were always so resolute before, even on the verge of extreme hunger."
"There have been too many changes in a short period of time," I reply uncomfortably, still wondering if Peeta has told him something.
"I figured, and I know someone who can help you make the transition smoother," says Mr. Mellark. "Haymitch Abernathy, your uncle."
I frown. Abernathy used to be my mother's maiden name. The Abernathys are a traditional, old money family from Twelve, but they disowned my mother when she decided to marry a man from the wrong side of the tracks.
"Is he my mother's brother?" I ask.
Mr. Mellark grins and nods. "Yes, he's a good man who went to America years ago. Haymitch is a very good friend of mine."
"Mr. Abernathy would refuse to help me," I say, shaking my head. "My mother is estranged from her whole family."
"I can assure you he would help," Mr. Mellark replies. "I grew up with him, so I know he will receive you with open arms."
"I don't know," I murmur, uneasy.
"You still have some days to think about it," he says. "I'm giving you his address in case you decide to ask him for help."
Mr. Mellark gives me a folded paper and I put it quickly in my overcoat inner pocket.
"I have you in high regard, Katniss, and what I'm going to say to you, I would say to my own children. No one should get married if not for true devotion in this day and age," he says. "It's all right to give up and start again before it's too late. That courage runs in your blood and I hope you will use it."
"I understand, Mr. Mellark, but there's no problem at all. I'm just homesick."
"All right. But if you change your mind, I have a proposition for you. You can come with us to New Panem and we'll leave you in your uncle's house. Then you may let Mr. Hawthorne court you properly and decide if marriage to him is what you want. It seems reasonable to me," he says.
"Thank you," I say. "I'll think about it."
I spend the rest of the day lying on my berth, both trying to hide myself from the Mellarks' scrutiny and waiting for Johanna to help me remove the corset from my body. She, however, seems intent on avoiding me, so I go to the saloon and watch the sea through a porthole.
This is the first time in my journey that I have the chance to pay attention to the other people around me. There's a woman whose husband is in third class, but he wanted to grant her a cabin in second, so they are travelling in separate accommodations. I have noticed them before, because they usually spend time together, talking affectionately across the low gate which separates the steerage from the second class deck. I also watch briefly as a devoted father plays with his two sons. I've seen them as well, always playing in the covered corridor that is used as a designated playground.
I join my companions for dinner. No one asks what I've been doing, and I don't explain it either. The meal is totally uneventful until Mr. Mellark asks for the usual red wine. When Peeta refuses it for the second night in a row, his father asks:
"Why not, son?"
"I can't," says Peeta. "I'm on a tight leash."
I gasp, forgetting the unspoken agreement that we don't talk in front of the others.
"Like the dogs?" I ask.
Peeta chuckles. "Yes," he replies. I give him a knowing smile in response.
Mrs. Mellark looks at him disapprovingly.
"Why do you say those absurdities? Katniss will think you are a fool."
I have to hide my face with a napkin to stop myself from laughing. Peeta takes several gulps of water before he resumes eating.
After dinner, Johanna finally releases me of my corset without a word and goes to sleep. I read a book on my berth until it's ten to midnight and then get dressed to leave.
Like every night before, I find Peeta leaning against the railing. When I get next to him, he reveals a folded blanket and starts wrapping it around me.
"I figured I would need something to keep you warm," he says, sounding almost affectionate. "This night is so cold."
"What about you?" I ask, seeing him shiver.
"I'm all right."
"You're shaking, that's not all right."
I get Peeta to sit on a bench and sit myself next to him. I spread the blanket around us, from our feet and up to our chins; it's barely enough for one person, but we get closer and it fits around us. With the edges of the blanket tucked under our bodies, the warmth comes almost immediately.
"I knew there had to be a reason why I lost half of that leg," Peeta smirks. "This way we fit."
I laugh.
"You're so silly, Peeta," I say, watching white clouds being formed by our breaths.
"It's the first time you allow me to make fun of my leg," he says. "That's progress."
"I may have just accepted this to be a lost cause."
"So you accept it at last. It's my first victory against the will of Katniss Everdeen," he says with a triumphant grin.
I giggle.
"The only one," I correct him.
"Not at all," he says. "The first of many. Want to bet?"
"No," I frown.
He shrugs amusedly. "You know you'd lose."
I push him with the side of my elbow. "You seem a little too proud right now. I'll throw you overboard if you don't shut up about it."
Peeta laughs heartily at the idea.
"And how exactly do you plan to throw me overboard?"
I shrug. "With my hands."
"Those little hands?"
"Calloused like men's. Don't underestimate them."
Peeta straightens his back in defiance. "I'd like to see them try."
"What?" I ask. Of course he can't be expecting me to really do it.
"I don't think you are as tough as you say," he provokes me. "I bet that you can't even get me out of this bench, but I could be wrong."
I imagine the scene, a single man and a woman playing like children in the dark of the night. It's true we both lost our childhood too early and it would do us good to have fun, but the time for that is over. We're adults. Even worse, it's past midnight and there's nobody around. It would be highly compromising to be found by our companions in this situation, let alone with my hands on him.
"That wouldn't be proper," I say.
"That wouldn't be proper at all," he confirms.
Peeta looks solid and bulky. I don't believe he's as strong as he seems, and I'm definitely stronger than I look, so I may have a chance against him. I decide I'll prove him I can get his body out of the bench.
We both giggle in mischief when I first pull him by his arm. Peeta, however, doesn't move. I pull again, with all my strength this time, and try to push him from behind, but he doesn't move an inch. He grins at me in amusement.
"Give up. You're a tiny little girl," he says.
I refuse to, though, and keep pushing him harder, but nothing ever happens, no matter how hard I try. Peeta covers his eyes and shakes his head in laughter.
"Stop embarrassing yourself, Katniss Everdeen."
But giving up is not something I'm used to do, and I figure I'll wear him down sooner or later, so I keep going.
The next thing I know, Peeta is wrestling with me. We both laugh like children in a playground as now the roles are reversed and I fight to defend myself. I'm soon rendered unable to move and carried in his arms - in the same manner that the men in Panem usually take their wives home on their wedding night. I wonder how he can do it so that one of his hands holds the crutch and carries me somewhere else at the same time.
Peeta wraps the blanket around me and I hear him put the crutch away. I'm seated somewhere I don't recognize right away, but it doesn't feel comfortable. Suddenly I look around and I know where I am: my buttocks and back are facing the void and, taking a glance back, I can only imagine the sea behind me. Peeta has sat me on the railing.
With a gasp, I grab him around his neck to keep myself from falling and hide my face in his shoulder to fight the vertigo. Although his arms are solidly wrapped around my back, I'm terrified that he will let go of me, even if I think that, at this moment, no strength of his can rid him of my grasp. What if this thing breaks? What if he's crazy and really wants to harm me? And to do this with only one leg. The idiot!
"What are you doing?" I ask in a voice that isn't mine, seizing his body with all my strength.
"Hasn't your prey ever retaliated before?" he asks.
The fool! This isn't funny. "Get me down, now," I command him.
Given that I don't let go of him or even look around even after he gets me down, Peeta takes me back to the bench and sits me there, tucks us both into the blanket again and rubs my back apprehensively. I'm still so shocked that I don't seem able to stop shaking or let go of him.
"Katniss, are you all right?" he asks.
"You're crazy!" I cry out. "You could have let me slip."
"I wouldn't let you slip," Peeta says seriously. "I would never put you in danger. The only way for you to fall was to have me fall down with you."
"Like that's hard, to fall with only a leg and a half!"
Peeta gives a small chuckle.
"You're making funny remarks about my leg too. It's my third victory tonight."
"There was never a second," I say, annoyed.
"Yes, there was. You're giving me a hug, so it makes us friends."
He's bantering with me after all; there's no way he considers grabbing him to save my life as a hug. He uses his strength to separate my body from his, even though I keep grabbing his clothes, and puts his arm tightly around my shoulder so that I know I'm safe.
"Your mother is right," I say. "You are a fool."
"You seem to be finding some common ground with her," Peeta smiles.
I let out a small chuckle.
"You're the common denominator," I say. "We point out your absurdities."
"But it makes you laugh, and that's beautiful," he says.
"I laugh because I'm nervous, not because it's funny."
For some reason, however, I trust Peeta. This is the same boy who took a beating to keep my family alive – he's my hero of so many years. The embrace he's giving me is surprisingly warm and soothing.
"Will you still come tomorrow?" he asks. "After this."
"If you stop behaving like a pirate," I say.
"I'll be on my best behavior," he replies. "I should count as a victory the fact that you keep coming here every night. But I don't, because I know my only contender for your company is Johanna Mason."
"Johanna is not that bad," I chuckle.
"Are you becoming friends?" he asks.
"Not at all," I say. "But I understand and respect her. She hasn't had an easy life, we have that in common."
He nods pensively.
"It was very kind of her to say something at breakfast today. I wanted to do the same, but I was embarrassed," he says sheepishly.
I scowl, remembering the episode of this morning.
"Why would your brothers laugh at me?"
"They didn't laugh at you," Peeta says softly. "They laughed at me."
"Why?"
He snorts.
"I'll have to throw myself overboard if I tell you."
I scowl at him. "Don't do that thing ever again."
Peeta chuckles awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Katniss," he says, sounding sincere. "I thought it was funny, but it was out of place."
I shrug it off and let it go. I don't have much energy left in me after the scare, anyway. The beating of my heart slows down and gets regular, I start dozing off and the warmth of his body is the last thing I think of before my head falls on his shoulder. I don't know for how long I sleep, but when I wake up I find myself in the same position. Seeing me awake, Peeta just smiles enigmatically. The embarrassment I feel has no limits.
"Are you warm?" he asks softly.
I nod and smile. Yes, I'm very warm.
"Do you want to go back to your bed?"
I shake my head. We'll be in New York by Wednesday, which leaves us three nights left on this ship. I'll have enough time to sleep after. These are the last happy moments before my high society wedding, where I won't know anyone except for the Hawthornes.
Also, I can't bring myself to leave the boy with the bread by my own initiative. In my mind there's an obvious explanation: I owe him my life and I know he likes my company after spending his last four years indoors. I wonder, however, why being with him feels so addictive.
It would feel good to be travelling alone with him. We could spend the whole day together and actually have a conversation during mealtimes. But it's good enough as it is, and the sad thing is that a week from now I'll be in Gale's arms, certainly missing Peeta's warm body. And he'll be God knows where, probably missing the Titanic as much as I do.
I only wish this trip never had to end, that we could be here forever.
Peeta's dazzling grin shows me I've said the last words loudly.
"Are you serious, Katniss?" he asks. "I was thinking the same thing. I wish I could freeze this moment and stay in it forever."
I shake my head. Here he is, using my own words to flirt with me; he doesn't miss a chance. It is disappointing to find out he still doesn't take me seriously. But then how could he, after what he learned about me last night?
"If we lost a couple of degrees maybe it would come true," I say, partly joking, partly trying to diffuse my embarrassment.
The way Peeta purses his lips shows me he either didn't comprehend or didn't appreciate the joke.
"You should flirt with Johanna instead. Her answers are always smarter than mine," I say sheepishly.
Peeta looks upset.
"Am I giving you that impression?"
"What impression?"
"That I would flirt with someone else if given the chance."
I would say an indubitable yes but, given his somber expression, I begin to question my own wisdom.
"I don't know," I say honestly.
Peeta looks disappointed.
"Well, that's concerning."
"Why?"
"Because then I have failed to gain your trust."
I shrug. "Honestly, Peeta… Who cares?"
Peeta locks eyes with me.
"I do," he says. "In these past nights you have made me feel like a man again. I want you to know you mean a lot to me."
"I don't have more practice dealing with people than you do," I say. "I never talk to anyone, that's why I mistake courtesy for flirting. I'm sorry if I was rude."
"You were not rude," he smiles. "You just don't know the effect you can have."
"The only person I knew who used to say beautiful things was my father, because he wanted to woo my mother every day. But I've realized that it's common for people of our age to say such things to everyone, so I need to get used to it."
"I had no idea that people said that," Peeta says softly.
"Well, not everyone. Gale doesn't know how to say beautiful things, but he cares about me. I don't think words mean that much when the actions speak for themselves, does it make sense?"
Peeta sighs and nods slowly. "It does make sense. He has proved his reliability sending for you years later. Maybe he will be a good match for you, after all."
"Maybe. With Gale I always know what I can count with," I say. "It's not always necessarily good, though. We've always spent our time quarreling and I don't see how that can change. I know we'll set the house on fire sooner or later."
Peeta chuckles.
"I wish I could have seen one of your quarrels. God helps whoever is in that house with the two of you."
"Most things I've said these nights would have become a big fight if I ever said them to Gale. With that said, I don't like quarreling, although Gale thrives on it. I remember my parents being nothing but sweet to each other. They disagreed many times, but they didn't fight."
Peeta shakes his head and purses his lips.
"You don't need to marry Gale if you're not sure about it. You can take your time."
"Your father had the same conversation with me this morning," I say.
"He did?" Peeta asks, surprised. "What did he say?"
"He says I have an uncle in America, Haymitch Abernathy, and he gave me his address," I reply with a shrug.
Peeta seems amazed and proud.
"My father is full of surprises," he says. "Will you try to find your uncle?"
"Perhaps, but I will still marry Gale. I owe him that."
Peeta frowns.
"How exactly do you owe him?"
"He is my best friend. Some winters ago, my mother, Prim and I were so hungry. I couldn't even find any game to hunt. Gale gave me money from his job for us to buy food. He took the food away from his siblings so that we could eat."
"You can repay him. I can give… I can lend you the money."
"What difference would it make?" I chuckle. "I would owe you instead."
Peeta turns to face me and shakes his head.
"It would make a big difference," he states. "Gale thinks you're marrying him because you love him back; I would know better than that. And you would remain single."
I don't reply, but tears come to my eyes. I don't know if it's anger, shame, guilt or hope.
"You can come with us and work to pay your debt," says Peeta.
"With you?" I ask absently.
"With my family and I. We'll help you find your uncle and get a job."
I smile. "Your mother will chase me away when she finds out I'm poor again."
"Only you and me, then," he replies. "We can work and share our expenses for a while."
"That wouldn't really solve the main problem, would it? I still have to keep my family fed."
"But we will," he exclaims with bright eyes. "And we'll buy them tickets to America."
"Peeta, you can't spend your money on my family," I say condescendingly.
"So can't Gale, yet you marry him for food… and to pay for favors," he replies with a grimace.
Obviously Peeta knows nothing about the code of ethics of the Seam. The merchants pay for everything with money, they don't owe favors or loyalty to anyone.
"It's different, he will be my husband. It's expected, actually. Money is to be forgotten after that; love is the only currency in a family."
"Can you trade in that currency? Will you be able to love him as your man? I don't see it now," Peeta replies, rather exasperated. "What will you owe him if you fail and your debt keeps increasing?"
"You seem to think I'm heartless," I say.
"There's nothing heartless about you," he says quietly. "But why not give him a chance to find someone who loves him?""
The question is valid. I'm a terrible friend and a dreadful fiancée. I'm not sure if I can love Gale as a husband, but I know many women could. However, loving him or not, I'm the woman Gale wants; is it fair to deny him that when I owe him so much?
"I'm telling you, Peeta Mellark, stop intruding in my life," I snap angrily. "I hate it when you do that."
"Then why don't you go away?"
I frown at him, startled by the question. I should go away, indeed, but his words have disconcerted me. Peeta is always so gentle, even now. He still has his arm wrapped around my shoulder, though loose enough to let me go.
He looks vulnerable, but tightens his jaw and his gaze is firm. He doesn't lower his eyes from mine, showing he's unwilling to bend. This would be the beginning of a huge quarrel with Gale, but things are different with Peeta. We trust each other enough to capitulate before things turn sour. I understand that, if I'm not leaving, then I accept to lose this battle, as he won't drop the subject. In the end, I'm the one who looks down, because I have no answer: I don't know why I don't go away.
"I think I know why you don't," Peeta says softly.
"Do tell."
"Because you like me. You come here to be with me."
I laugh.
"That's absurd," I say. "I always come here. I didn't even know you were here the first time I came."
"True," he says. "But you said you came here to be alone and, by now, you know that is not going to happen."
I look down, confused by his words, unable to deny them.
"I'm not saying that you like me romantically," Peeta explains. "But I believe that, once you are in New York, you will miss these nights. I know I will miss them terribly. What you'll be signing into with Gale has no easy way back and it's not fair for anyone involved."
I fiddle with the blanket, wondering what would happen to me if I refused Gale. I don't know anyone else in America. If I refuse him, I will need to find a job to support my family back in Panem. I'm not sure I can make it alone in a new country; I would have to deposit my faith in Peeta or in my unknown uncle, and that's too risky.
"Katniss?"
"What?" I ask dryly.
"At least postpone your wedding until you're sure of your feelings, will you? That's all I ask you for."
"Why?"
"You're too young to ruin to your life merely because you think you owe someone."
"Why do you care so much, Peeta? It's none of your business."
"I believe it is," he murmurs.
"I'm going to ask: what's in it for you?"
"All right," he blurts, looking down. "It destroys me to imagine Gale touching you."
He gasps at what he has just said and I turn to him, speechless.
"Still, I could bear it if you fancied him," he adds softly.
I take my time to process his words. Is there a chance that Peeta may have any kind of interest in me? I have never deemed it possible. The Mellarks are privileged people, and merchants marry between themselves for property purposes. But Peeta lost half of a leg and, in his opinion, his value as a man. Perhaps some merchant girls won't want him anymore. In such a situation, it wouldn't be odd if he developed an interest in the first woman he spoke to, even if she was from the Seam.
"Why is that?" I ask.
Peeta shakes his head, seeming anguished, but I pull him to face me. Hesitantly, he focuses on my eyes and places his free hand tentatively on my waist, offering me plenty of time to make him stop.
Getting closer, he kisses my lips very gently. His lips feel warm and plump and exciting, but he ends the kiss almost as soon as it starts, eliciting a moan from me and making me want to follow his mouth in frustration. I understand his reasons, though. This way he can take all the blame; I'm innocent in this. He has demonstrated his feelings, but hasn't gotten to know mine. It's a selfless declaration, and I think it's the most beautiful thing someone has ever done for me.
My heart bursts with something previously unknown. I don't understand it, but I realize that I don't want to be with Gale next week; I want to be with Peeta. I desire being kissed by the boy with the bread, talking to him the whole night and to be wrapped in his solid arms as I sleep.
"This is why they laughed this morning," Peeta says sadly. "I wish I had never had that accident. You could have loved me."
Peeta can't look at me anymore. His expression is pained. It must have taken him a lot of courage to kiss an engaged woman, especially when he doesn't feel worthy of love. But he is; many women could love him.
I'm astonished. I wonder what elicited such feelings in him and I can't find an answer. Was it anything I said or did? I can't find any particular moment in which I could have gathered his interest.
I wonder if this could work, me and him, but it's too early to think about it. Time, however, is not in our favor.
Peeta's hand may have left my waist, but his fingers still rub mine fearfully, seemingly asking them if he has lost my approval.
I could take my hands away from his reach. I should get up and go away. Instead, I find myself placing my hand possessively on his torso and supporting my head on his chest. He gasps, his heart racing at the touch, and his hand rubs my hair as I lie in his arms for hours. We talk about inconsequent things we want to do in New York, from climbing the Statue of Liberty to participating in a model yacht race in Central Park and visiting the zoo.
Then, we fall into a comfortable silence.
"I'll allow it," I say.
"What will you allow?" he asks tenderly.
"To freeze this moment and stay in it forever."
Peeta chuckles and kisses my forehead as an answer.
We go back to our cabins after I fall asleep in his embrace, at almost 4am, with a renewed bashfulness between us. We barely allow ourselves to gaze at each other or speak as we go down the stairs.
"I'll think about this," I promise when he leaves me at the door, and he grins with what I think is hope.
I lie in bed for hours, listening to Johanna's snores and trying to find some rest.
Maybe talking to Peeta every night could be considered fine for an engaged woman, but tonight I shared my body heat with him, we held hands and I got to know the feeling of his lips on mine. I desired him.
This time I know I'm betraying Gale.