Prompt? The moment Haymitch realized that Peeta was important to him. Because he could only bring back one tribute, and he chose his best friend’s daughter. So when he realized Peeta meant something too? Meant something for himself not a dead friend or a memory of a lost child? That had to be a big thing for him. Unlike Katniss, I think Peeta meant someone not tainted by his games and memories. Peeta was the first kind person he let into his life after he pushed everyone else away. Katniss too, but Katniss comes with old baggage and her own family to keep her busy. Peeta did not. I just feel no one explores that angle. Always how Katniss and Haymitch are a lot alike, not why those similarities would draw them both to the same boy.
Thank You for this amazing prompt! I knew I could go to sleep until I wrote this, so I hope you enjoy! <3
This Wasn't Supposed to Hurt
I don’t remember his name being called. I was a little preoccupied with being unconscious on the ground to notice the boy nobody would dare volunteer for.
Could you blame them? Not many would put their own life on the chopping block for another, and after the spectacle that was Katniss volunteering for her sister, nobody was ready to repeat it.
The first thing I remember about him was when he hoisted me up out of a pool of my own vomit and dragged me off to my shower. Nobody tells you how sobering it is to slip in your own sick and have a pair of kids take care of you.
After dismissing Katniss, Peeta took the burden of cleaning me up himself, and that’s when I knew he would die. Nobody that gentle or kind, who would take a relative stranger and clean them up like that, would survive in the arena very long.
But then, the very next day, he surprised me by getting aggressive when I wrote them off. He was pissed, and it surprised me so much, I couldn’t do anything but punch in him in the face. Then Katniss got involved, and I was forced to see them for what they could possibly be to this stagnant rebellion.
The problem was that two of them weren’t designed to be a team. Sure, they could become allies, stick together in the arena and take every one out, but the time would come when one of them would have to die if they both survived to the end. The Capitol is particularly cruel for rigging things this way.
We even tried the team angle for a while, having them go into things as one, but Peeta got tired of that quickly. He had his own plans. Tactics to give it to the Capitol as good as they gave it.
He’s a rascal, that one. And not in the way that I pretended to be one. He just is, through and through, without any sort of facade, and I admire that.
Even with all of that, I knew there would still come the moment where I had to choose one of them. They couldn’t both come home, and Peeta made it almost too easy for me to choose Katniss, which he probably intended.
After teaming with the Careers, the Capitol wasn’t too keen on him, even though it was plain to see why he did it. But Capitol folks aren’t the sharpest tools and during the games everything comes with a price, and it this was going to cost Peeta his life.
I don’t doubt for a second that his feelings for Katniss are genuine. I try to think of going into the arena with Lenore Dove, how I would have done any and everything to protect her and make sure she got to go back home and I know without a second thought that if I had to, I would have done the exact same thing as Peeta.
It’s when Peeta and the Careers have Katniss trapping in a tree that I have to make my decision. It’s relatively easy to negotiate with the sponsors to send Katniss the burn cream, something I could never negotiate for Peeta after allying with the Careers, which means I have my answer.
Then Katniss drops a Tracker Jacker nest on them all, and there’s something in my gut that lurches when I see Peeta screaming at Katniss to leave as Cato closes in. Something that causes my head to spin that has nothing to do with alcohol, when Cato realizes that Peeta helped Katniss escape. The scuffle, the way Peeta holds his ground. It’s familiar to me. I see myself at that age about to go toe to toe with a Peacekeeper to keep him from harming Lenore Dove, and I wonder for a moment if I’ve made a mistake.
He’s lying in the mud now, covered head to toe in the thick, wet earth, injured and clinging to life. I wonder if I should have done more for Peeta, negotiated something for him, gotten the Capitol sponsors on his side again. It wouldn’t have been too hard with these people, but it’s too late now.
I spend the hours with a gnawing feeling in my stomach. How quickly this boy showed me kindness, and I couldn’t even do the same for him. How easily I’ve been able to see myself in him, and I ignored it. How once again I was trapped into playing the game. I throw my empty glass at the wall, angry that Snow has forced my hand this way for yet another year, because the truth is, I want them both to come home.
I wait and wait for the cannon to go off, to signal that Peeta’s gone, but it never comes.
Then Claudius Templesmith announces the rule change, and everything changes.
When the Rebellion gave orders, it was always in your best interest to follow them. They didn’t tend to allow outside thinking. But the orders to fake your death in order to shock the Capital into action made something inside your shrivel.
The entirety of plan meant that you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what was going to happen — and that would leave you lying to (and potentially never seeing again) your mother, your sisters, and Finnick.
And while your relationship was fake, set up by President Snow to distract the Capital, you had fallen for the Pretty Boy of District Four. You didn’t like lying about anything and didn’t like lying to your closest people and you especially didn’t like lying to the one man almost single-handedly keeping you afloat in the cesspool you called home.
But you were a part of something bigger now, had been since you agreed to side with the Rebellion, and Finnick’s honest reaction to your death was needed to sell the ruse.
You just hoped you were both alive so you could apologize about it all.
You knew it was all an act, a ploy to deceive the Capital — that it was a faked love, manufactured to receive more gifts, a way to survive a little bit longer within the Games. You knew that, understood that but… it was hard and getting harder all the time to keep understanding that. You wanted it to be real so much — you hadn’t realized how much you could love someone until it was quite possibly the only positive thing you could feel.
Days into this year’s Games and you were surviving by the grace of a higher power, the Capital and its fondness for tragedy. The more they thought they deserved to witness this love story writing itself in front of them, doomed to end in death, the more support they offered. You knew it was never going to be you alone in the end but you had hope that your partner would make it — they deserved it more than you anyway, had more to actually live for back home.
So your plan had rapidly changed from merely surviving until someone bigger, better, smarter caught you to surviving so you could insure your partner made it. You didn’t think it would be easy — and it wasn’t, not by any stretch of the word — but when you had softly sang them through their nightmares one night, your mentor had been able to send you some desperately needed supplies with the simple message of ‘Keep it up’.
You had grasped their meaning and ran with it, running yourself face first into an actual love for all that it was one sided.
Your partner had grudgingly agreed with your plan to hook the Capital into supporting you and they were quick to remind you, silent and hidden, that they thought the plan was stupid and doomed to failure, most especially due to the fact they didn’t have those feelings for you and didn’t think that they could reliably fake it long enough for it to mean something.
You had simply shrugged your shoulders and told them to try harder, that you both needed to be determined to get one of you back home. The mention of being able to go back to your District was enough to light a fire under your partner.
It might hurt worse if you knew they could love you back but you still wished you had more this a fake love story to tell.
Katniss and Peeta watching fireworks on a rooftop together and some kissing happens maybe? :))))
Anon, I am SO sorry this took me a week to complete! I hope you’re still around to see this, and I hope you enjoy!
BTW this take place in the same universe as my Girl Scout cookies drabble.
—
“Pull back like this,” I say, bringing the string of my bow back so my hand rests near my ear. To one side of me, a string of young girls follow suit, copying my actions, aiming their beginners arrows at the large targets a few feet in front of us.
“And… let go!” My arrow flies, cutting through the air and lodging itself solidly into my target. The other girls let go of their own respective strings; some arrows fly forward, with one or two even making the target. Others fall pathetically to the ground. Each girl moves to retrieve their arrows to try again.
“That’s okay,” I tell them, trying my best to sound reassuring. “If you didn’t get it this time. Just keep trying.”
It’s the Fourth of July, and my sister’s Girl Scout troup is celebrating with a party at a local community park. I agreed to teach a quick crash course on archery just for the event. I agreed to it for Prim’s sake, but the truth is, I didn’t really have anywhere else to go today, anyway. My family is too poor to do anything special for the Fourth except watch the fireworks for free. That’s why I’m glad I was able to help here. Prim deserves a nice holiday, even if I don’t.
At the end of the lesson, I round the girls up and walk the group back to our main party. The archery range is set a little ways off from the site of our party, but it’s not a horrible walk, so I was able to take them alone. Girls gather in little groups, talking about this and that as we make our way back.
Prim saddles up beside me. “That was a great lesson, Katniss!” She tells me.
“Thanks,” I offer a small smile in return.
“Maybe you should get one of those cookies when we get back as a reward.” I shoot a sideways glance at her and frown. It would be a harmless statement, if I didn’t know what she was really doing. It isn’t the cookies she’s concerned with encouraging me to go after, so much as it is the baker who supplied them.
Peeta Mellark first became involved in Prim’s Girl Scout troupe back in February, when she sold cookies to him outside of the grocery store where he works. The last thing you would think Peeta would want would be cookies, since he bakes for profit, but she managed to get him to buy some anyway. Since then, Peeta has become more involved with the troupe. He’s at the party today, even, though I know Peeta has a family that does more on these holidays than my own. But he seemed to think it was an important way to spend his time.
Except Prim isn’t entirely convinced it’s for the good of the troupe that he’s playing along. The first time she suggested that Peeta may be interested in me, I was shocked. What would someone like Peeta Mellark possibly want with someone like me? We may be in the same grade, from the same town, but we live in two entirely different worlds.
I see him now as we approach the party. Sure enough, there are his cookies, decorated to look like watermelons, hamburgers, hotdogs, and a whole slew of assorted summer things. He holds them out to our group, enticing the girls with the cookies. They race to him, greedily grabbing up the cookies he offers.
I can’t help smiling as I watch them eat, though. They’ve worked hard; they deserve to have this treat.
“Would you like one?” Peeta offers me politely with a smile on his face.
Prim’s teasing words come back for me. I’m very tempted to decline his offer, lest anyone get any ideas. “Come on,” Peeta says, holding a plate of the cookies out in front of me. Tempting me.
For a second, I just stand there, looking back and forth between the plate full of cookies and Peeta Mellark. Then my stomach rumbles, and I can’t help it. I take a cookie off the plate. “Thanks,” I mumble as I shove it in my mouth.
“Of course,” he smiles at me. “You worked as hard as they did. You deserve it.” I’m trying to figure out what to say to this, but he continues. “Besides, they might not be your Samoas, but I like to think they’ll do.” He’s still smiling politely, but something mischievous dance in his eyes. My cheeks grow warm at his words, but he’s the really strange thing: the warmth also floods the rest of my body as well. I’m not sure what to say to this, but I find myself stealing looks at him for the rest of the afternoon, and even well into the evening. And more than once, I’m surprised to catch him looking back at me.
Shortly before the fireworks are supposed to start, he approaches me. “I know the perfect place to watch,” he tells me. “Want to go?”
I look around at everyone. My sister is sitting huddled on a blanket with her friends as they wait for the show to start. I really should stay close to her, and watch the show with the adults chaperoning the party.
“Okay.” I’m as shocked as anyone when I hear the word come out of my mouth. Peeta looks pleased.
“Come on,” he says. He leads me over to the public restroom some distance away, and stops. I glance over at it, then look at him, expecting him to go on. But he doesn’t move.
“Here?” I ask, give him a suspicious look.
“Don’t laugh,” he says. “You can see everything from the roof.”
He takes me around the side, to one of those cement block walls with the holes in them that make it easy to climb. He offers to give me a hand, but I refuse. Climbing is something I’m good at.
“Wow. You’re like a squirrel!” he says as he watches how fast I make it to the top of the building.
“That’s what my cousin says, too,” I tell him as I watch him follow suit. He’s no where near as good at it as I am, and it takes him several minutes longer than it took me to reach the top.
Dusting his hands, he nods over to the far side of the rooftop. “That’s the best seat.” I follow him over, and we carefully settle down, dangling our legs over the edge. Then we make small talk as we wait for the show to begin.
“How come you’re not with your family?” I blurt out. Immediately I feel bad, hoping I haven’t just addressed a sensitive subject for him.
He looks surprised, and is just opening his mouth to speak when the first boom crackles out overhead, making us both jump. I turn, looking up at the fireworks.
“They’re beautiful,” I hear him say between explosions.
“Yeah,” I agree.
At the same time, we turn to face each other, and our eyes lock, not even wavering as the next explosion rocks us. And then he leans in, and his warm, soft lips meet my own.
I'd love to see your take on "Katniss or Peeta calls into a late-night radio show to dedicate a song to her/his secret crush."
Sorry this is late! I know this isn’t quite what you asked for, but I hope you enjoy it regardless!
It’s nearly midnight. The hospital is completely quiet, except for Johanna and me, and the small radio we have playing to keep ourselves from going crazy. We both work the graveyard shift at Panem Hospital’s reception desk. Not my ideal job - I’m a bit squeamish, and don’t deal with blood very well - but I needed something to help keep my sister afloat. So here I am, two minutes to twelve with nothing but my sarcastic desk mate and an overly-flamboyant DJ to keep me company.
“Welcome back, listeners!” Caesar Flickerman’s spirit comes from the small box situated snugly between our two computers. “We have a late night caller here to dedicate a song to a special girl out there!”
“Thank you, Caesar,” another voice responds. It takes a second for me to register, but when I do, I sit straight up in my seat. I can’t... it can’t be... can it?
“Peeta,” Caesar says. “This young lady must be very special in order for you to want to dedicate a song to her.”
From beside me, I can just feel Johanna’s dark eyes piercing my backside. “Isn’t that- “
“Yeah,” I say immediately, brushing her off and trying to mask my embarrassment.
She gives a bark of a laugh. “How sweet, Everdeen! What’s he going to dedicate?”
“How should I know,” I say, burning in my seat.
“It better not be something cheesy, like that Meghan Trainer song with John Legend.”
“It won’t be,” I insist, silently praying Peeta doesn’t embarrass me with something that sappy.
“She is,” Peeta continues from the radio. “We’ve been together through a lot, even before we started dating, and I just wanted to dedicate a song I know she loves. We’re back big Backstreet Boys fans, and I wanted to dedicate ‘I Want it That Way’ to her.”
I slide down my seat, trying to disappear as Johanna bursts out laughing behind me.
---
“Peeta!” I all but yell as I slide into the car.
“Something wrong?” he asks a little too innocently.
“You know what,” I say. “The Backstreet Boys? You know I hate them!”
Peeta just bursts out laughing, and begins to pull away from the curb. “You didn’t enjoy my little gift?” He manages to ask between gasps.
“No,” I scowl at him. He doesn’t respond; he just shoots me one of those grins that wear down my resolve, no matter how hard I try. His blue are alight with the laughter reflecting in his eyes, but there’s something else there, too. Something that makes my heart beat just a little bit faster. But no, I’m still mad at him. I force my frown to stay in place, and look at the passenger window, just to make sure I win this.
“Come on, Katniss,” he says. “I’m just teasing you.”
I don’t respond.
“Katniiiisss,” he sings.
I make the mistake of glancing over. My eye catches his, and then all my resolve is gone. The corners of my mouth twitch up, despite my resolve.
Peeta flashes his eyebrows in response, but doesn’t say anything; just looks satisfied with himself.
“You’re the worst,” I say, shaking my head. Peeta just grins, and turns the radio up.
A week later, I’m sitting at the desk again with Johanna, when Peeta calls in again. “I’d like to dedicate ‘Larger Than Life’ to her, Caesar. Because her love for The Backstreet Boys is larger than life, and so is my love for her.”
Again, Johanna howls with laughter. I’m going to kill him.
The following week, he calls in with “Shape of My Heart,” being sure to include the most over-the-top “heartfelt” dedication he can manage. And since it’s Peeta, that’s quite a bit.
On and on it goes, with Peeta calling in to Caesar at precisely midnight every week. It gets so that Johanna looks forward to it, waiting to hear which song he’s going to pick this time, and how she’s going to use it against me for the rest of the week.
It’s time to get him back.
“Rye,” I approach Peeta’s brother one afternoon when Peeta is busy with a customer out front. “I need your help...”
When Peeta comes through the door a little bit later, his nose is wrinkled up as though he’s just smelled something rotting. “Why are you playing this?” he asks us.
“Payback’s a bitch, bro,” Rye smirks.
“For what?” Peeta’s brow wrinkles, trying to figure out what on earth his brother could be getting revenge for.
“Gee, I don’t know. What for?” I ask, exchanging a look with Rye.
It takes Peeta exactly a second to catch on. Then the corner of his mouth twists up into a lop-sided grin. “But Katniss, I thought you loved The Backstreet Boys! Honestly!”
“Uh-huh,” I say flatly.
Peeta just crosses over and wraps his arms around me. “Okay. Okay. You got me. I won’t do it anymore. But you have to admit, you liked it a little bit, right?”
But that’s the problem. I did. And I make sure to show Peeta exactly what his teasing does to me as soon as we’re alone that night.
Prompt: Katniss helping Prim sell Girl Scout cookies :) Peeta asks which ones are Katniss's favorite and gets all flirty lol
“I just need to sell a few more, and then I can stop for the day,” Prim says as she studies the order sheet in front of it. “Think it will take long?”
“’Course not,” I smile at her. “Everyone loves Girl Scout cookies. I’m proud of you, Prim?”
“Why?” she asks, finally tearing her eyes away from the the form long enough to look up at me.
“Because you sold all these cookies on your own! You didn’t need Mom or me there to help you at all, really.”
Prim just beams, looking proud as can be. But really, is it any surprise she’s doing well? Prim was born to be a Girl Scout. She’s the living example of everything a Girl Scout should be. And I’m right--she doesn’t need my help out here. I’m just here to keep an eye on her, really. Our mother can’t do it, because she’s too busy working long shifts at the hospital. She’s had to, ever since Dad died. So watching Prim has become my job. Not that I mind.
I’m leaning over, sorting through her remaining boxes, so I don’t see the next potential customer before she calls out to them. “Hi, would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?”
I glance up, and look straight into the blue eyes of Peeta Mellark. He works at the bakery in this grocery store, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to see him here. But for some reason, it is. “I don’t think so, Prim,” I hiss. “He sells cookies of his own. He wouldn’t be interested.” I even wonder if we should clear out of here so we don’t get in trouble, when I remember that we asked permission from the store manager before we started.
“I don’t know about that,” Peeta smiles. “Everyone loves Girl Scout cookies. What do you have?”
“Thin Mints, Short Bread, Tagalongs... We’re out of Samoas.”
“Shoot,” Peeta says, no doubt cleaning up his language for Prim’s younger ears. “Those are my favorite, too.”
“Well, I can order some for you, if you want. I just need to get some information.”
“Can you do that?” he asks, shooting me a look. “Then how do I get the cookies?”
“We would deliver them!” Prim says proudly. “That’s why I need your address.”
“Both of you?” Peeta asks, looking straight at me as he says it. I shift, feeling uncomfortable for some reason.
“Yes,” she informs him, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. “Just make sure you write neat enough for me to read later.”
Peeta nods, taking the order sheet from her hands. He gives me another look, before beginning to fill out the required information. But several times, I see his eyes glance up to me, before darting back to the sheet. Finally, he takes a deep breath, and looks back to me again.
“Didn’t you sell these at my house when we were her age?” he asks.
My cheeks grow warm. He remembers that?
“Yeah,” I say.
“I thought so,” he says casually. “I thought I remembered you with a taller guy.”
“My cousin,” I explain. Gale used to take me out back then, because both my parents were too busy working.
Peeta nods, unreadable. “Are you still a Girl Scout too?”
“No,” I say. “I wasn’t any good at it, like Prim is. The only thing I ever did well was learning archery.”
“Oh. That’s too bad,” he says. “I would have ordered a box from you as well.”
I flush; was that supposed to be some kind of insult? I stay silent, watching him warily.
“So what’s your favorite flavor?” Peeta continues. He seems to be taking forever to fill this form out.
“Oh, I don’t know. They’re all so good!” Prim giggles. “I guess I like the shortbread ones best.”
Peeta just smiles a nods. Then his blue eyes flicker back up to me. “What about you, Katniss?”
“Me?” I ask, though I don’t know why. Obviously, he was asking me. “Uh... I guess Samoas.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Well, we have something in common. Here you go,” he tells Prim, handing her back the order form. “I think that’s everything.”
“Thank you!” Prim says happily. Peeta just nods, then excuses himself into the store, presumably to begin his shift.
An hour later, Prim has met her goal for cookies sold for the day. We’re just packing up. “Wait here a minute,” I tell her. “I want to use the bathroom before we go.”
I walk into the store, and head towards the back, where I know the restroom is located. You have the pass the bakery to get there. I think about reworking my route, and going the long way so I can avoid passing by, but at the last minute I steel myself and force myself to pass. Peeta is right there in front. He stares at me with a strange look as I pass, but he doesn’t say anything.
On my way back, I think it’s going to be the same thing. But just as I’m reaching the far end of the bakery counter, I hear him call my name. Confused, I turn, and find him standing a few feet behind me with both hands behind his back. He looks... nervous.
“Katniss. Uh... “ He falters, shifting weight. “Um... I made these. For you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a small bag full of cookies. No, on further inspection, they look a lot like the Samoa cookies that the Girl Scouts sell. “Since you said you like them, and all. Um, see you.” He waves, then disappears back behind the bakery counter.
I just stare for a minute, holding the bag in my hand, still stretched out in front of me. Did he... did he make these himself? For me? Why would he do that? I can’t make any sense of it. For a moment, I’m tempted to just leave them on the counter, because I don’t know why he would give these to me, and I hate the thought of being in his debt. But something - I don’t know what - makes me abandon the idea. Instead, my fingers curl around the bag, like they would a precious pearl, and I secure them safely in my pocket.
Prompt: Everlark at a public pool with separate people. Peeta starts drowning and Finnick, the lifeguard, has to give him cpr and Katniss is freaking out and everyone's like ???
“Forget him, Brainless–he’s a guy. They’re all clueless,” Johanna says, casually taking another sip of her soda as she dangles her feet in the water.
“Oh no, not all of them,” Annie assures her, stealing a glance that both friends notice.
There’s a silence while Johanna stares at her, thinking. Katniss can only imagine what’s going through the girl’s mind as she looks Annie over. Finally, Johanna turns her dark eyes back to Katniss. “All guys,” she says again, confidently. “Even if Annie is in denial.”
Annie frowns at this. “I’m not in denial, Johanna. Just because you haven’t met the right guy ye- “ Annie is cut off by Johanna’s uproarious laughter. “What’s so funny?” Annie asks, frowning even deeper, if it’s possible.
“You. Thinking Finnick Odair is some sort of romantic gentleman. Don’t you know his reputation as a player, Annie?”
Annie looks as though she’s going to admonish Johanna, but instead she just sighs, swallowing her anger with a shake of her head. “You don’t know him, Johanna. There’s a side of him he doesn’t let the world see.”
Johanna just rolls her eyes, then turns towards the smaller girl. “Come on, Katniss. Let’s go get another drink, and leave Annie here to make eyes at her sea god boyfriend in peace.”
Without a word, Katniss climbs out of the pool, and silently follows Johanna across the pool deck to the snack counter. While Johanna orders from the older woman behind the counter, Katniss turns and casually scans the area. Her grey eyes stop instantly when they lock with the familiar set of blue eyes from the shallow side of the pool. For a minute, their gaze holds, and Katniss’s heart races. Then Johanna’s voice interrupts her thoughts, and she’s brought back to reality.
“What are you staring at, Brainless?” Johanna asks, trying to follow Katniss’s gaze to find the object of her fixation. Then she gives Katniss a strange, quizzical look. Katniss just shrugs, and shakes her head.
“Nothing. Let’s get back to Annie before she runs away with Finnick, and we never see her again,” she says, hoping the subject change distracts Johanna.
Half-way across the deck, however, a commotion breaks out. Both girls turn to find the blond girl in the shallow end yelling for help. In another instant, Finnick leaps from his lifeguard chair, and in one smooth dive is in the water and half-way to the spot where the girl is located.
Katniss figures out what’s happening just as Finnick reaches the scene. Without even pausing to consider if it’s a good idea or not, her feet take off, carrying her as fast as she can, despite the remaining lifeguards yelling at her to stop running for safety. A confused Johanna follows behind.
“Peeta!” Katniss cries as she reaches the other side of the pool, where Finnick has managed to get the unconscious boy out of the water and onto his back. Without even glancing at her, Finnick pinches his nose, causing panic to rise up in Katniss. What is he doing?? If he was still breathing before, then surely this will stop him from doing so now. Katniss starts to dive forward to push Finnick away, but stops in her tracks when Finnick leans forward to kiss Peeta.
No. Not kiss him. Somewhere in her mind, it registers that Finnick is administering CPR. Katniss stands, frozen, as she watches. Just when it seems hopeless, and she’s deciding that Peeta is gone, moved on to whatever world waits after this one, he gives a cough, and those long lashes of his flutter open.
“Peeta!” Katniss yells, and flings herself at him before the blonde girl who had actually been calling for his help is even able to make a move. Peeta looks up at her, surprised. “Katniss?”
“You were dead!” she tells him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Well, I seem to be alive now,” he smiles gently up at her.
Finnick, still resting on his knees, looks between them like he’s trying to figure something out. “You know each other?”
“Yes. I’m- “ Then Katniss stops, and can feel her cheeks growing warm.
“Her partner in gym,” Peeta finishes, sitting up slowly, never taking his blue eyes off the girl.”I taught her how to wrestle. Now maybe she should teach me how to swim,” he adds with a smile, which only makes Katniss blush harder.
“Katniss?” Annie’s soft voice comes from behind Finnick. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah… Yeah, it’s fine,” Katniss says, tearing her eyes away from Peeta long enough to look at the girl. She’s starting to come back to reality, to remembering who she is, and what her connection to Peeta really is. Gym partners. She’s a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and he’s a boy who has never gone to bed without food in his life. It’s a miracle, really, they were even at the same public pool together, really. Not when he surely had friends with their own pools to go to.
“I- I’m glad you’re okay. See you, Peeta,” Katniss says, and climbs to her feet. She takes off without a second look back to the longing stare the boy gives her as he watches her walk away.
