one more wip
Peeta rubbed his hands on his pants to wipe off the sweat. He looked at me with that characteristic smile, which he uses to hide his nervousness, with his lips pursed and his gaze glued to mine. Peeta leaned down and put his mouth to my ear, so I could hear him even with the music blaring in the background. “I can’t watch everyone dancing and leave my wife still.” Peeta whispered in my ear.
“Ah, Peeta...” I giggled a little and looked at his excited expression. He got up from the table and adjusted his coat, gaining the confidence to take my hand and pull me onto the dance floor. He left his cane behind. Something he almost never did in recent years. He was as dependent on his cane as he was on his prosthetic leg and painkillers. His hand strangled mine tightly and his arm went around my waist, bringing me so close that I lost my breath.
“I better invite you before someone else does.” Peeta said, his voice muffled by the music.
“I don’t think you should worry about that.” I said and he gave a huge smile, showing his teeth.
The singer continued to sing.
“This life of sin has got me in.
Well, it’s got me back in prison once again.”
We spun around a few times. We took a few steps this way and a few steps that way, in rhythm with the music. Peeta leaned on my body to keep from losing his balance, using me like he uses his cane. However, his lack of dancing ability had nothing to do with his leg. Peeta was a bad dancer by nature, without any movement and seemed to want to hug me more than dance. Which didn't bother me, because I wasn't that good either. I wonder where Willow got so much talent for dancing.
“I used my only phone call to contact my daddy
I got 20 long years for some dust in a baggie”
He lifted my hand over my head and twirled me around, then pulled me back into his arms. His heart was beating hard enough for me to feel it with just my hand on his shoulder. Peeta's blue eyes glowed such a deep blue that I knew alcohol was already in his blood. He was happy too, his eye wrinkles were marked by the smile he gave. I love watching him age. I think what everyone wants is to get older, but more and more beautiful. Every year I felt Peeta's face lighten from the scowl he had for a few years after the war. His gaze was as kind as before, as if he once again believed in something good in the world. I love every one of his wrinkles. They are the scars that show that you are alive and the only ones I would be happy to get. Being able to grow old in District 12 used to be the best victory you could have.
