Take a Hike

The chill breeze that’s been blowing surges into a frigid frenzy, whipping down the street. She shivers and burrows deeper into her coat. It’s a miserable winter day. The kind that threatens rain, dreary looking clouds blocking out the sunshine all day, and cold stinging droplets escaping from the sky just often enough to make the cold air unpleasant rather than crisp and refreshing the way it is before a gentle snowfall.

The problem is… Katniss can’t decide what part of that night was such a big mistake. She’s not dead or pregnant. No STD’s. They used condoms. He hasn’t started stalking her, as far as she knows. It’s not like she got drunk and slept with a complete stranger. No, she, while completely sober and supposedly of sound mind, slept with the boy she could never seem to shake. Her high school crush. And he hadn’t even had the decency to be a shitty lover. They’d had good sex. Surprisingly good sex — okay fine! 

She scowls at the bakery window and then squeezes her eyes shut. Admits the truth that’s been lingering on the edges of her self-awareness, taunting her.

It was the best sex she’s ever had. No competition. Not only did she actually orgasm, but she had fun. She hadn’t felt any crushing pressure to be one kind of sexy or another with Peeta. She just… was. And she’d enjoyed it so much, she’d enjoyed being with him so much, that she’d wanted to do it again the next morning.

“Uuuugh why?” Katniss groans quietly to herself. Why did the morning after sex have to be even better than the night time sex? Softer. Almost dreamy with the rosy glow of morning sun wrapping them in warmth and radiant light, and the way he had kissed her and moaned her name -- with such awe and desire she could barely stand it. Why couldn’t it have been bad and awkward? Why did it have to feel like their bodies had been moulded together. Shaped for one another. And it certainly felt that way as they’d moved in such delicious harmony over the already hopelessly rumpled sheets of his bed.

Which means she can’t stop thinking about him. She’s never spent so much time with her own hand in her panties, biting down into her pillow and frantically working herself to a necessary but disappointing climax. Not even when she was a teenager and trying to figure out her body’s response to boys and puberty did she masturbate this much. She’s certainly never done it with a single person in mind. And now, it’s always Peeta in her head when she does it. Every. Fucking. Lonely. Night. Since she slept with him.

But it’s never enough.

Huffing out a heavy breath, she admits to herself why it’s not enough. Because she wants him again. Still. Every time she makes herself come, it’s immediately followed by the wish that Peeta were there to whisper about how gorgeous she is mid-orgasm, to hold her and kiss her during and afterwards, to make her breakfast in the morning and fuck!

Katniss shakes her head and fights back stupid tears of frustration — actually no, it’s definitely the cold wind making her cry. It was only one night. There’s no reason for her to be crying over one stupid night.

She shouldn’t have kissed him in the first place. She shouldn’t have agreed when he asked her if she wanted to go to his place for a slice of dessert they never wound up eating. She shouldn’t have fallen into bed with him. She shouldn’t have enjoyed it so much. 

But she did. 

She should have left after he made her come the second time in the middle of the night, his hands big and warm and tender on her hips and ass as she kissed him and rode him like a mindless wanton hussy. But god had it felt incredible, staring into his blue eyes, whimpering with need while he murmured such lovely praise to her. While he begged her to come again for him.

She shouldn’t have stayed for breakfast. She shouldn’t have kissed him like that after they’d eaten their breakfast naked in bed, laughing and talking like they were a couple or some such nonsense. She shouldn’t have begged him for his cock when his mouth was making her delirious with pleasure. She shouldn’t have watched him falling asleep after they’d both come, after they’d kissed like lovers until he went soft and pulled back just enough to smile at her and caress her cheek before he closed his eyes. 

She shouldn’t have snuck out without a word while he slept. She should have left sooner.

She should have gotten his phone number at some point during the night or the morning.

And now, the past few days, she’s wandered by a different bakery every day. And for what? Hoping maybe she’ll stumble across him while he’s at work? She can’t even imagine how mortified she’d be if he did that to her. She needs to stop. She will stop, but unfortunately, it’s too late for her to stop today.

She needs carbs. Now. All afternoon she’s felt her blood sugar dropping, and she only made it worse by staying late at work. If she goes now, one drink will make her head spin.

She huffs in anger over the fact that she let Annie and Finnick rope her into this. Just because they’re stupidly in love with each other doesn’t make them some kind of all knowing matchmaker.

Eyeing the bakery, Katniss is pleased to see that unlike many of her other definitely-not-stalking-her-one night-stand bakery stops, at least this one doesn’t look like the staff vomited out pink and red hearts all over the place. It’s not as cozy as she thinks a bakery ought to be. Almost… sterile. But for now, that suits Katniss just fine.

Pushing the door open, she inhales and checks her phone, quickly tapping out a text to Finnick to let her know she’s on her way but may be a few minutes late, depending on how quickly the line moves.

They serve coffee too, and Katniss surreptitiously sips the warm brew and nibbles on the surprisingly delicious cinnamon twist bread as she leaves. She probably should have left work earlier and given herself enough time to go home and change or at least freshen up before going to meet her blind date, or at least check her appearance in the window, but Katniss can’t quite seem to care. She’s managed to put off everyone’s recent attempts to set her up on dates, a regular occurrence between Thanksgiving and Valentine’s Day, but when Finnick brought Prim into the mixture and her baby sister had started to apply pressure, Katniss had cracked.

“At least I won’t be alone,” she reassures herself quietly and double checks the text from Finnick to make sure she’s headed in the right direction. Annie and Finnick had wanted to do this ridiculous double date to introduce Katniss to a friend of theirs, someone both of them seemed convinced Katniss would hit it off with, in the bar where she and her friends sometimes still congregate for drinks and post work venting sessions.

“That way, it’s a low key, no pressure environment,” Annie reassured her. But Katniss had balked.

“And if the date goes so horribly that I’m left permanently scarred and never want to set foot in Ripper’s again?”

“Sheesh, Overdramatic Queen,” Finnick had teased, but he had suggested an alternate location, and so Katniss had finally agreed. 

She’s still focused on her phone when she hears his voice, somewhere in front of her, and freezes in place. She’d know that voice anywhere now, even when he’s not moaning in her ear.

“I’m sure it’s not unsalvageable, Dells… We’ll come up with something, alright? …I know. Listen, I’m leaving the bakery now and I’m late, so I have to go but I’ll call you later, okay?… Okay. Love you, too.”

Love you too???

Katniss is still reeling from that declaration and so it doesn’t register that she’s completely stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at him as he exits and shuts a recessed door.

She’s still scrambling to make sense of his presence here, right now, when she’s going to meet a blind date. Fate seems to be mocking her at that moment. Because he sees her as he pockets his phone. Of course he sees her. How could he not? She’s standing two feet away from him. 

“You,” he says.

“Me,” Katniss answers and she’s not sure what she’s expecting, but for half a second, Peeta looks absolutely horrified.

Of course he does. One night stand. Her cheeks burn with shame and she looks away from him. At the logo stamped on the door he just exited and the words EMPLOYEES ONLY. The proximity to Peeta’s apartment, where they had their one night stand. Of course. Of course, after over a month of random bakery stops, she happens to pick the one where Peeta works on today of all days. 

And she’s frozen, not from the cold, but from the absolute maelstrom of feeling inside her. So strong it takes her breath away.

It was just one night, she reminds herself as Peeta speaks and she stupidly has to ask him to repeat himself.

“So uh, what did you get?” he motions towards the bakery bag in her hand. She stares at it dumbly for a moment, repressing a sudden urge to scream at him.

That’s it? He gives her the best sex she’s ever had and all he can ask when they run into each other again is what did you get?

“Cinnamon twist,” she spits out and he nods.

“I would’ve recommended the cheese buns for you,” he says and her mouth erupts in salivation and instant fury that she hadn’t been made aware such a thing was an option. It sounds decadent. Divine. 

“I’m, um, I was actually hoping to bump into you,” he says and motions awkwardly with his hand. His ungloved left hand. Katniss stares at his bare fingers and her mind wanders back to that night. To how those same fingers felt inside her. She makes a pathetic sound in her throat that she hopes Peeta doesn’t hear, because he’s still talking. “But I’m actually late meeting someone,” he says and hikes his thumb over his shoulder.

“I know. I heard,” she says. His eyes widen slightly and he nods. “You shouldn’t keep them waiting. And I’m actually late myself.”

“Right. Okay. Good seeing you, Katniss,” he says. 

The banality of it infuriates her and all she can manage is a stiff nod and an even stiffer, “You too, Peeta,” before she sets off again.

But Peeta starts walking in the same direction and their shoulders bump slightly.

****

Their shoulders barely touch and Peeta’s entire body feels like it’s scalding. He knows his face is beet red as he apologizes to Katniss for the collision. She grunts and keeps walking. The same direction he’s going.

“I’m uh, going this way,” he says and points up the sidewalk. Her eyes cut sideways to him as they fall into awkward steps with each other.

“Me too.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Peeta wishes he’d remembered his gloves this morning, but he’d been in a bit of a rush. He’d stayed up late the night before, texting Annie and trying to wheedle her for details about this mystery girl Annie wanted to set him up with. Peeta had been in a near panic over the whole thing and Annie was having none of it.

Absolutely no details.

Why not? He’d whined over text and he could feel her eye rolling through the screen.

Because I know you, Peeta. If I tell you anything about her, you’ll show up not as you but as the weird ass version of you who makes himself into the dream guy of whoever he’s currently dating. You keep saying you want something deep and authentic, so you’re going into this one blind.

How dare you force me to be authentic.

I’m doing it for your own good.

What if she hates me?

What if she doesn’t?

The problem is, Peeta thinks as he glances over at Katniss, still silently walking next to him, he hasn’t trusted his own judgement in romance in a long time. Even before he and Katniss had what he thought was an incredibly intimate night and morning together, and not just because the sex was amazing -- but oh god the sex was so amazing that Peeta hasn’t been able to get aroused thinking of anyone but her since then -- but also because of the way they talked. Really talked to each other. Peeta felt like he’d bared his soul, entrusted her in part because she seemed to be entrusting him, only to wake up alone with no non-creepy way to contact her.

Alright, fine. So it was just a one night stand to her and he was being pathetic for hoping it would turn into more. But now… now he’s headed into a blind date and he’s still hung up on the woman walking next to him. As painful as it might be, Peeta needs some kind of closure, or this blind date will be even more of a disaster than all of his failed long term relationships have been.

“Katniss,” he starts and thinks for a moment that he hears her whisper, “Please don’t.” When he glances over, she’s not looking at him. She’s looking resolutely ahead.

“Nevermind,” he says instead and keeps walking. But this is a disaster. There’s no way he’s going to be anything but a distracted wreck for the next few hours. There’s no way he’ll manage to be an attentive date to anyone. Not now, after seeing Katniss again.

She’s moving with purposeful strides and he considers slowing down, backing off and letting her go ahead alone. It’s probably weird that he’s keeping pace with her, but he keeps hoping she’ll stop and announce that one of the businesses they’re passing by is her destination.

It doesn’t happen.

So he does the only thing he can think to do.

He lies.

“I think I forgot something at work,” he says and stops walking. It’s half relief, half agony when Katniss barely slows and turns to nod at him. Then keeps walking. He waits until she’s turned a corner at the end of the block and curses under his breath, because she turned down the street where the bar is located. Now he has to stand shivering on the street and give Katniss space or he’ll definitely look like a stalker when he follows her down that street.

He lingers for a few minutes. Long enough that he feels the need to text Annie to let her know he’ll be a few minutes late. His toes are starting to get cold and he wonders if he’s given Katniss enough of a head start to wherever she’s going. In the end, he doesn’t have much of a choice. The spitting drops of rain start to pick up. And he didn’t bring an umbrella today.

“Fuck it,” he mutters and jogs after Katniss. Thankfully, there’s no sign of her when he turns the corner. And he’s moved fast enough that he manages to duck beneath the bar’s awning before the deluge truly starts. He’s only a little soggy and winded but takes the time to shake the water droplets off his coat and hat, raking a hand through his hair and not caring if it turns his curls into a frizzy mess. He probably shouldn’t have lingered at work. The minor emergencies he stuck around to help with didn’t really need his specific attention. And now he’s showing up to a blind date in his work clothes. Probably smelling like yeast and sweat. He probably looks like a mess, but Annie said she wanted him to be authentic…

Taking a deep breath, Peeta reminds himself that he really only needs to make it through one drink, plasters a smile on his face, and enters the bar. It’s a quiet place. A little swanky. He pauses for a moment and finally spots Annie and Finnick, looking impossibly in love with each other and beautiful, as always. They’re cozied up in a booth. Peeta can’t see who is sitting opposite to them. Her back is to Peeta, and the booth is tall enough that he can’t see much of her anyway.

No one has noticed him yet, so he takes his time approaching. When he’s four feet from the booth, two things happen at once.

Finnick says something that makes the mystery girl laugh. A familiar laugh. Familiar and recent enough that Peeta nearly trips over his own feet.

No. It’s not possible, he thinks.

And Annie spots him, her face shifting into a triumphant smile, like she can’t believe she actually got him here.

“Oh Peeta, good! You made it before the downpour!”

“Barely,” he croaks, but that’s all he can manage, because he was right. Peeta stops next to the booth and meets the wide, astonished gray eyes of one Katniss Everdeen.

He wishes he knew her better. He’s always wished that he knew her better. But now… now he knows how to use his tongue and fingers to coax her into an orgasm, but he has no idea how she would want to play this bizarre scenario where their apparently mutual friends decided to set them up together on a blind date. After they’ve already had a one night stand.

She looks… terrified, and Peeta feels something awful twist in his gut. She’s disappointed. Of course, she’s disappointed, he berates himself. It’s him, after all. She got the authentic Peeta and left without a word the next morning.

“Annie, can I have a moment?” he asks, his voice sounding strained. And he knows Annie can hear it because her smile falters and slips.

“Don’t you want to at least--”

“It’s not necessary,” Peeta cuts her off and Katniss is shaking her head, almost imperceptibly. She purses her lips together and his mind scrambles for whatever message she’s silently sending to him.

“Is everything alright?” Annie asks, but she still hasn’t risen up from the booth.

“It’s fine,” Peeta tries to reassure her. “But this isn’t really a blind date.” Another panicked shake of the head from Katniss. What does she expect him to do? Lie about the fact that he already knows her? How the fuck does she think they could possibly pull off that kind of lie? He can feel annoyance creeping into his voice as he explains.

“Katniss and I have known each other since we were five.”

That sentence, the use of her first name when no one at this supposedly blind date has introduced them, lands squarely on the table and meets with shocked silence. Except for Katniss. She seems to wilt a little. 

No, he realizes as she mouths the words Thank you to him… relief. She’s relieved.

“Oh,” Annie says, sounding a little put out.

And it hits him then, what Katniss expected him to say. What she was worried about him dropping on the table. Their one night stand.

“Well I had no idea you two had already met, let alone were already friends.”

“Didn’t say friends,” Peeta hears himself say.

“I mean… not close friends,” Katniss finally speaks up. “But we’ve known each other for a while. We went to school together. Had a lot of the same classes together.”

“Oh,” Annie says again, and Peeta sees his chance to escape before this gets any more awkward than it already is.

“I should go. Since we already know this won’t work out the way you want it to. Thank you for the invite though, Annie. Finnick,” Peeta says, motioning towards the table.

“Why not?” Katniss asks, the sharpness in her voice snaring his attention and yanking it back to her face. 

“Why not, what?”

“Why do you think this won’t work?” she asks motioning between herself and him. He can feel Annie and Finnick’s gazes on him. On her, even. The curiosity and something else sparking in their aura’s. There’s something a little defiant and hurt in Katniss’s eyes. Hurt? How can that be? She left him alone in bed. Peeta lifts one eyebrow at her and tries to convey his thoughts.

Really? You didn’t want me to say it…

“Because if there wasn’t any spark or interest before now, why would there be after one drink today?” After the way you clawed at my back and begged me to go deeper, give you more, while we fucked. After the way you whispered your secrets over my damp pillows and played with my hair before kissing me. After the way you laughed with me over breakfast and then moaned my name like it was a fucking prayer when you fell apart in my arms.

Katniss drops her gaze, her cheeks darkening with a blush. “At least stay while it’s raining. You don’t even have an umbrella,” Katniss points out.

Peeta stands there like an idiot. Until Finnick clears his throat. “She’s right. Stay. Have a drink with friends, and…potential friend. Better than drowning out there.”

Finnick’s tone carries some hidden meaning that Peeta can’t quite grasp, but when Peeta looks over at him, he’s locked in a staring contest with Katniss. His lips quirk in seeming amusement.

Curiosity or stupidity wins out and Peeta shrugs out of his coat, hanging it on the hooks between booths, next to Katniss’s.

Annie shoots him a grin and Peeta glares at her, a promise that he’ll have a lot of stern words for her later for putting him through this, as he slides into the booth. Next to Katniss. She barely moves and he accidentally bumps his elbow into hers. And once again, his entire body feels on fire with memory.