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The cicadas screech loudly in the trees as the last waves of brilliant orange light the late August sky.
"That sunset looks almost as pretty as you do in that dress," Peeta says.
I look down shyly and kick a rock down the road with my boot. I wore a dress because it’s too hot for pants and maybe I secretly am trying to fit in tonight.
"It really doesn't look dumb that I have these boots on?" I ask timidly.
“I told you it looks fine!" Peeta says, "I’m sure other girls will do the same. It’s a party out in the dirt after all.”
He’s been reassuring me a lot already tonight. But he probably needs to.
There's a bonfire now on the last Sunday of every month. It started sometime back in the winter I think, some of the construction guys started doing it. Then when they broke ground on the medicine factory and more new people showed up it turned into the must attend social event for all the young adults in the district. Delly seems to have had a lot to do with the tradition continuing. She's asked us to attend nearly constantly for the better part of the year and for some reason I agreed to go this time.
Maybe the heat is making me crazy. But there's an itching in my limbs that doesn't feel far off from the way I get when I've reached the end of a days long stint rotting in my sadness. A need to feel something different.
So I said we were going. And I put on a dress I forgot that I had. A little white thing with a million tiny green flowers patterned on the airy fabric. Wide, lace trimmed straps with a low cut neckline that ties with a ribbon between my breasts, a fitted bodice with a flowing skirt that swooshes around my knees. It isn't Capitol fancy, but it's definitely District Twelve nice. Something I bought on a post games shopping trip with Prim. She always insisted I get things for myself too. But I don't know what occasion I would have bought it for.
She must have said something good to convince me to get it. I wish I remembered little things like that better.
I thought about leaving my hair down to keep with the theme of doing things differently. It's finally getting a little long again after we chopped it all off last year. But as I dressed the sweat started collecting on the back of my neck even inside the slightly cooler house. So I braided my hair with a ribbon to add something extra. I only had an orange one leftover from Peeta's birthday present so it doesn't quite match. I know there's a perfectly colored one in Prim's room, but if I went in there I wouldn't leave. And she would want me to go.
I’d been feeling self conscious when I started down the stairs. The dress shows a lot of cleavage, and even more of my scars. I sometimes forget they exist, when I ignore the stinging stretch of the places where it still feels like there’s too much of me missing. Peeta doesn’t notice them. Not that he ignores them, but it’s like he can see how they’re a part of me. He always sees me so wholly.
But I know that other people do. I've seen the way they stare at them when I come to trade in town when it’s hot like this and I can’t cover up. The way their eyes focus on them and flinch even when they think it doesn’t show. Especially the newcomers. They just see violence and war and fire and whatever version of me they’re built up in their heads.
But when I reached the bottom steps Peeta rose from the sofa looking like he’d just been stunned.
“Is this okay to wear?” I asked.
“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful,” he stammered, and he wasn’t playing it up for my benefit. “That’s perfect. I love it,” he smiled.
But I feel the confidence his praise had conjured in me starting to dissipate as we get closer to our destination.
"Have you ever been to one of these before?" I ask Peeta as we walk. I still don't really know what we're going to do, but maybe he can talk me through it.
"Not a bonfire exactly. Maybe stuff like that was happening, but if it was, I wasn't getting invited," he says easily.
There's no way that's true. "But you were popular," I argue.
"I meant that getting rowdy in a field is a little more… Seam?" He chuckles a little, "No offense. Just that my friends were kinda play spin the bottle in someone’s parents' storeroom types."
I frown and rush ahead a few steps.
"Not that it happened a lot or anything!" he calls, hustling to catch up to me, "And you know any kisses that happened before you were meaningless and completely forgettable right?" He slings his arm around my shoulders and jostles me closer to him, "And there really weren’t that many. I swear," he pleads cheerfully.
I lean my head into him, "I wish I had meaningless kisses."
He lets go of me laughing, "Why, you want to get even with me?"
That isn't what I meant.
Sure, it makes me a little jealous. Thinking of the girls that got to kiss Peeta that weren't me.
But not as much as you'd think.
Maybe some other girls knew what it was like to awkwardly press their lips to his while a small crowd gawked. I know what that's like too I guess. But they didn't know the other things I knew. Like the taste of the skin at the base of his throat or the sound he makes when my tongue touches it.
That's one thing. But there's more to it. I don't know if I can explain it to him.
It's something I've learned in this year and change we've had together, that our lives before the games were hardly the same in any way. My stories of my father's kindness are the opposite of his stories of his mother's cruelty. His house was always too warm and mine was freezing. This is just another one of those.
"No, it's just that my priorities back in school were… survival related. You were having fun, and being young. Just kind of wish I was too."
It's another strange thing that's been happening now that we're safe. I spend small moments thinking about the ways I wish things could have been. Not in the dark ways that haunt me a little less often now. The what-ifs that might have saved the life of someone precious, slip ups that could have taken the few I got to keep.
No, these are different daydreams of a Katniss who got to experience life with the same priorities that everyone else got to have. Now that I have tasted love, peace, and hope for the future, I find myself looking for the spaces it could have fit in before.
It's just as pointless as the other kind of wondering, nothing can be changed. But for some reason it feels like a safer what if to explore. There's a comfort in it I haven't quite figured out.
"I grew up too fast," I tell him. And maybe I still haven't grown up at all, I think. "I didn't get to be young."
"We're still young Katniss!" Peeta chides me. "And we're going to a young people party right now. This is your chance!"
"But what are we even going to do? Aren't these kinds of things for like… single people?" I whine.
"Hey, it's not like you're married. Some other eligible bachelor might steal you away from me. Delly says these things are very much about who's leaving with who," he says salaciously.
I know he's just trying to make jokes to keep my spirits high. But he's been saying things like that sometimes lately. Mentioning marriage.
Of course I’ll marry him. It doesn't feel true to say that I wouldn't if he asked. But the thought still scares me a little. Being a wife feels like something inconceivable that I just don’t know how to be.
I feel too young for whatever it means. But here I am complaining that I'm not young at all. I wish I made sense.
Peeta takes my hand reassuringly, "It's gonna be fine! We're just trying to have a new experience. You just have to have fun."
"I'm not fun."
"I disagree," he says, giving my hand a squeeze, "It's okay if you hate it, we can leave the second you want to," he promises.
We take a cut off of the road not too far from the Village and tromp through the dying grass toward the steady rising smoke in the distance at the treeline. This party happens closer to our side of the woods since the meadow has changed meanings. Can't really have much fun at a party in a graveyard.
There's a few trucks and carts backed around the perimeters of the fire. And I can see at least twenty shadows already standing amongst them. Further back from the flames than they usually are, I assume. This was a tradition started in winter that I guess must continue despite the heat of the summer.
When we approach Delly spots us first and bounds across the field to hug us. “You really came!” she squeals.
We’re quickly dragged to a truck bed with a small barrel on the tailgate.
Delly explains that the barrel is full of sweet homemade wine that she assures us isn't very strong. "Rex has been trying to make moonshine though and I wouldn't take it if he offers you any. He hasn't got the recipe right, I think it might be poison."
"Good tip," Peeta laughs, opting for the wine.
He offers me a paper cup with a raised eyebrow. “Split it with me at least. For the experience,” he cajoles.
Suddenly a few guys surround Peeta, all shouting at once, “Mellark! You’re here! This guy from Ten is the best arm wrestler! We told him you could take him!”
He laughs and tries to fend them off jovially, but it's clear they won't be letting up.
He turns to me and Delly and hands me the wine cup, taking my other hand to press a quick kiss to my knuckles. “Stay with Delly. I won’t be far. I'm sure I'll be back fast. I'm real out of practice."
He looks genuinely happy. I get so jealous sometimes. The way he can just light up around people and become the most charming and pleasant version of himself.
"Have fun. I know you can," he says as he's dragged away.
I wrap an arm protectively around myself and take a sip of the wine. It's berries of some kind, maybe cherries because it's more tart than sweet. It goes down a lot easier than the liquor Haymitch drinks, but the fermented taste stings the inside of my nostrils.
I try to clear it from my throat as I turn to Delly, "So what do people do at these things anyway?"
"Oh so many things happen at a bonfire, Katniss," Delly says. "Right now we’re at the mingling stage when people are arriving and having first drinks. Well I mean some of the boys who got the fire started are deeper into drinks than that. You saw when they took Peeta. But anyway, soon someone’s going to start playing music or telling a story. This man Barlow from Seven tells the most wonderful stories. He does different voices for the characters, and I know that sounds silly but it really is so much fun," she barely stops to breathe, "I hope there's music and dancing tonight. I really want to dance. Those guys might get too rowdy and just end up fighting. I hope they don’t. I don’t like when it’s turns into fights. It spoils the fun a lot faster." She frowns at the thought, but with the next breath her smile relights her face, "Anyway, we just kind of— see where the night takes us until the fire goes out. And there will be good stories to gossip about in the garden tomorrow. Always a lot of canoodling and break ups and salacious things like that. People sneak off into the trees to—" she wiggles her eyebrows and giggles a little. "Just a lot of romance and excitement! I look forward to it all month."
"That’s a lot," I say when she finally pauses to sigh dreamily.
"Oh no but it's not!" she fusses, "There’s nothing you have to do really. Just have fun! We’re all just working hard all the time and you know things have been a little slow but we’re making progress. It’s just nice to take a night to be young and free. We’re free now remember?" She nudges me with her shoulder.
I am a little less free than everyone else here. I'm still not allowed to leave Twelve. But her point is made.
"Thom always says that. He's being sarcastic when he says it a lot of the time. But I still think it's nice," Delly smiles, "It is true."
I lift my cup before taking another sip, "Cheers to that."
She turns to stand in front of me and puts her hands on my arms, "Will you just hate me if I introduce you to some new people?"
My immediate answer is yes, but I look across the way to where Peeta is hunched over a stack of apple crates locked in arm to arm combat with a giant bald man surrounded by hooting hooligans and know I won't be getting him back all that soon. Talking to Delly's friends will have to be at least slightly more pleasant than standing here alone and panicking that someone will talk to me first. So I oblige.
She drags me around the fire to a pair of girls with matching curly black hair. Delly is very excited by their arrival. New "gal pals", as she calls them, have been in short supply, most of the recent newcomers being burly men taking manual labor contracts building the factory, but a few have brought sisters and girlfriends along with them. As is the case with this pair. Calla & Chrysanta, here from Ten with their brother.
They predictably want to tell me about what I— what the Mockingjay— meant to them and their families. I smile with closed lips and nod solemnly as they rush through the prepared statements of praise and gratitude they've always wanted to say to me if they got the chance. Truncated stories of a cousin lost to the games a few years before me, the photo of me their mother kept tacked up in the back of the closet they hid in when the peacekeepers came looking for rebels.
Another variation of a story I've heard a hundred times.
I haven't gotten much better at receiving these kinds of stories, though, it's like they bounce off of me. I don't really want to be thanked. Dr Aurelius says that it isn’t for me. That people tell me these things for themselves. So I really do always try.
But the outpouring ends quickly as it usually does. No one really wants to linger on any of it too long. The conversation moves onto the raccoon that had already taken up residence when they arrived in their new lodgings, and Peeta reappears beside me.
"I lost terribly," he tells us with a sigh of defeat, "they made me take a swig of the moonshine as a consolation." He takes my waist and leans back to dramatically look me up and down, "Let me get a good last look at you now in case I go blind."
Everyone in the circle laughs as he leans in to introduce himself. He's so good at this.
The conversation flows easily as people move in and out of the little circle. It’s not completely unpleasant, I mostly get to listen while other people talk. Peeta so expertly finds moments that set me up perfectly to easily say something that isn’t embarrassing. People even laugh a few times. The real kind, not the humoring me because I’m famous kind.
It reminds me of the Victory Tour, but a lot less dire of course. I remember that I'm capable of getting through social interactions without crumbling. It helps a lot that Peeta is on my arm. It always did.
Every now and again he catches my eyes and asks me wordlessly if I want to go yet. And I guess I don’t.
A while later, when the moon has risen full in the sky above us, the music starts up. Just a skinny man with a guitar, an even taller and skinnier man using a tub as a drum, and a girl who looks too young to be here with a small accordion.
Delly is with a group of girls spinning around in a circle. I accidentally make eye contact with her as she twirls past us. So she bursts out of the circle in our direction with her arms stretched out toward me. "Katniss come dance with us!" she squeals.
"Oh no." I say immediately, "I'd need to drink a lot more for that."
"That can be arranged," Peeta offers, nudging me toward her with a hand at my back and turning to head back toward the wine barrel.
"C'mon Katniss, please please!" she begs, jumping up and down.
Before I can start to stammer for an excuse, Thom appears next to us.
"Thom!" Delly squeals, all her attention leaving me at once, "Where have you been? I thought you might at least try to be more fun tonight since we have special guests and all! Even when you're the sober one you have to at least try!" She leans forward to poke him in the arm but tips a little on her feet.
Thom wordlessly steadies her with a hand on her shoulder and just holds out a canteen in front of her face. “Water. You need it,” he says matter-of-factly.
"I'm not drunk!"
"I didn't say you were. I said you need water."
"And yooouu need to come dance with me!" she sings back.
He says nothing and continues to stand there, holding her gaze firmly.
She huffs and snatches the canteen from him and takes a big gulp and wipes her mouth dramatically. “There,” she tuts as she defiantly replaces the cap. “Now come dance with me!”
She shoves the canteen back into his chest and grabs his arm to drag him toward the fire. He stays planted until she's pulling his arm all the way outstretched before he finally breaks into a wide smile and follows her into the crowd.
"I really hope those two figure it out soon," Peeta says quietly, reappearing at my side with a fresh cup of wine.
"Figure out what? How to dance?" I look to Thom and Delly who seem to be moving about with relative grace, "I don't think they need to. He’s a lot better than you."
Peeta laughs, "No I meant figure out that they’re in love with each other."
"Did she tell you that?" I feel a little offended. Delly seems to tell me everything even if I don’t want to know it or if I’m not listening. But I think I would have listened if she said she was in love with Thom.
"She didn’t have to. It’s so obvious," Peeta muses.
They are together a lot. I don't see much of anyone but they usually appear as a set. I assumed they were just friends.
I guess I recognize the look in Thom's eyes as a look Peeta gives me. And there's something familiar in the way that Delly leans into him just so before shyly looking at the ground.
"Well why aren’t they just a couple then?" I ask.
Peeta laughs gently and I know there's something I'm missing here.
"Probably because they don’t want to ruin their friendship, and they have to work together for council stuff," he explains.
"So it could be awkward?"
He nods, "It’s scary to confess your feelings. But they usually just come out eventually." He grins at me before turning back toward the crowd, "They’ll figure it out if it’s meant to be."
I loop my arm through his and pull him closer to me. Feeling suddenly grateful that we already figured it out.
As the crowd of dancers starts to grow into the space we’re standing, we move back to take a seat next to Calla on one of the makeshift benches made of plywood balanced on cinder blocks.
The guitarist starts playing Blue Bayou and it’s probably just the wine and the summer night air but I start to quietly hum along.
Peeta puts his hand on my leg and jostles it, “You should go sing with them!”
I know that he’s joking, I don’t think I’d do that even if I was blacked out on that poison moonshine, but Calla doesn’t.
“It really would improve it so much if you did,” she says. She leans over Peeta to whisper toward me, “Levon is not a very good singer.”
I laugh a little. It’s true, but none of these dancers really seem to mind.
She suddenly leans back eyes wide like she’s been struck with a brilliant idea. “Do you play guitar Katniss?”
I shake my head.
“I bet you’d be so good at it! I mean a guitar has strings and so does a bow!”
I can feel the mocking laughter rising up but Peeta turns to her first, “You know, I was just telling her the same thing.”
I laugh into his shoulder and suddenly the bright light of the fire is shadowed by a figure in my periphery.
A man stands in front of us folding a cap in his hands nervously and looking right at Calla.
“Pardon me Miss,” he says, “I was wondering if uh.. if you might like to have a dance with me?”
Calla looks to us like she’s making sure she’s the one he’s talking to, then back at him shyly, “I guess that would be fine.”
She holds her hand out toward him and he takes it and as they walk off toward the fire I hear them introducing themselves.
"Have you had enough wine to want to join them yet?" Peeta asks with a smile.
I look down into the cup I'm holding, “Do you think if there was one of these before, you know if… everything was different,” I hope he understands what I mean and I won’t have to explain all the parameters, “would you have asked me to to dance like that?”
He seems to really consider it. "I want to say that I would have, but I’m not sure," he chuckles, "I think I would have spent the entire night trying to work up the courage to ask you to dance, but never doing it. And then I'd spend the whole next month trying to figure out how I’d get it together next time."
"But I would have had such a lousy time alone that I wouldn’t go to the next one," I sigh.
"So then there would have been another month of trying to get someone else to pressure you into coming again so l could make my move," he rubs the back of his neck and laughs, "It would have taken me a long time to get you in this scenario."
"Not that long. You could have asked me," It’s like the alcohol is letting thoughts out of my mouth before I have a chance to think them. "I noticed you too you know."
"What if we try it right now?" he says.
"What?"
"Pretend. Everything's different. We've never spoken. Let’s see what happens if I’m brave enough to ask you."
He gets up immediately without looking at me and starts walking away, crossing to a crowd of guys on the far edge of the fire opposite me. I chuckle to myself a bit and wait for him to saunter right back and admit to it being a silly idea. But as he seems to get involved in a conversation I realize he’s actually going to play this game with me.
I down the cup of wine in my hand and slam it on the bench resolutely. I square my shoulders and sit up ready, but remember I should get into character. I try to think of my old self, one who is slightly less consumed with worry for the future, how she would be right now.
It’s easy to fall into it without Peeta next to me. I can just conjure all the ways I felt today before this party, before he was there to talk me out of them. My shoulders slump a little as I tuck my arms around myself. I focus my eyes in the middle distance and watch the others dance.
Every once and awhile I scan my eyes around the scene, long enough to assess but not long enough to permit eye contact that might welcome a conversation. Any version of Katniss wouldn’t really want to talk to anyone. On the second sweep I think catch Peeta looking at me, he’s still in the group across the fire, but when I glance back he’s leaning over laughing. On another, he definitely is looking at me but quickly turns to speak to someone next to him. When I return to watching the dancers spin around I find a giddy nervousness rising up in me. I want to turn and see if he’s looking, but I don’t want to do it too soon. The next time I look over our eyes lock over someone’s shoulder, he keeps speaking to whoever he’s talking to but he doesn’t look away. My stomach does a back flip and I’m the one who looks at the ground first.
The song ends and people clap and mill about, sneaking out to get more drinks or shouting requests at the musicians. I absentmindedly take the cue to sit up and stretch a little, I roll my neck to the side to glance at where Peeta was standing to find his whole group dispersed.
"Miss Everdeen?"
I turn my head back toward the voice Peeta is now standing to the right of me, looking suddenly very boyish in the firelight.
"I was just hoping I might be able to steal you for a dance?" He raises his eyebrows hopefully, "I've been told I'm a bad dancer, but I promise I'm good company."
It’s not his best line, but I think it would work on this Katniss, because it's working on the real one. Like everything that comes out of his mouth.
"I guess that would be fine," I say, holding my hand out toward him.
We take a few steps and find a place on the dirt dance floor, not too deep into the pack. He stands in front of me and raises our joined hands up to the side and puts his other hand high on my hip, resting so gently. It's so noticeably different from how he usually touches me.
"So as we already established you're Katniss Everdeen," he begins as I put my hand on his shoulder, "And I’m Peeta Mellark."
"I know," I say and my eyes dart immediately to the ground.
"Oh you know me?"
His grin is just too smug, I can't let him get away with it.
"It’s a pretty small district." I retort. "You were in my year at school. We had classes together. Of course I know who you are."
“Well it’s nice to meet you anyway,” he laughs with exasperation and shakes his head, starting to sway us in a gentle step, “You really are exactly what I thought you’d be like.”
“Oh yeah? and how’s that?” I reply with an air of indignation.
“Perfect.” He says smoothly. Earnestly.
A rush of warmth floods my face and I turn my head away from him to glance at the band.
“So how much have you thought about me exactly?” I ask.
He shrugs, "A perfectly reasonable amount to think about a practical stranger."
"Is that so?" I eye him suspiciously and he takes the opportunity to spin me around, "And what exactly are your intentions toward me?" I ask when I return.
He pulls me just a little bit closer, "I intend to spend every possible minute with you that you’ll allow."
He says it so sincerely. I want to kiss him so badly. This game is hard.
I try to regroup, hold my chin up unimpressed, "My mother won't like me with a merchant boy. But my father—" I've decided my father is alive in this fantasy too, it feels nice to have him for a moment, "—he might be able to convince her. You'll have to charm him though."
"Oh I’m very good at charming fathers. I can charm anyone."
"But how do you plan to charm me? That’s the most important step isn’t it?"
"Well, this dance is going well so far," he declares cockily, "But we’ll need to have a proper date of course. I’ll pick you up at your house, so I can meet your family. I'll bring you flowers and also flowers for your mother and sister because I'm very thoughtful. Then we'll head out to the meadow for a romantic sunset picnic, I’ll pack your favorite cheese buns—"
"You don’t know those are my favorite!" I interrupt, "I didn't even know they were my favorite until you made them for me."
He laughs, fully breaking character and dropping my hand, "Sorry, this is harder than I thought it would be."
I put my now free hand on his chest and tilt my face up toward him, "We can just skip to whatever part it is when you kiss me then."
"No it’s just—" he shakes his head, "I keep trying to remember what it was like when I could only dream of you. Not because I can’t remember, I just have all the answers now. I have the real thing. I still can't believe it sometimes. You really love me back."
His eyes sweep all over my face as his hand on my waist grips tighter, I start to lean up to take the kiss I want, but I can see him slipping into his mind somewhere.
"If I had known then I had a chance," he sweeps his finger over the edge of my face, his gaze is suddenly tinged with sadness, "We could have had more time," he whispers.
I move my hand from his shoulder to his cheek, “Peeta…”
He quickly grabs my hand and kisses my palm, shaking his head, “I’m sorry. It’s stupid to talk like that. This was just supposed to be a silly flirty thing and I made it sad. Everything happened the way it needed to, and it led us to where we are now. If it didn’t, I might not have you."
“No, but that's wrong," I say, "it would have happened anyway.”
His eyes light up and he kisses me quicker than I wanted, but he's being conscious of all the people around, "I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said."
"I believe that though," I insist, making sure he understands. Because I finally understand why these thought exercises feel safe to play in, "In every what if, if we’re alive, we’re together."
He doesn't say anything but pulls me closer and I abandon whatever little of a proper dance hold we had left to wrap my arms around his middle and press my face into his chest to feel his heartbeat on my cheek.
This is where I belong.
When the song ends and I wordlessly drag him away from the crowd of people as they clap and beg for another song.
"Need a break already?" Peeta asks.
I don’t answer and just keep pulling him away from everyone and between two of the trucks that are parked around the edges. And the moment we're mostly cloaked in shadow, I pounce.
I snake my arms around his neck and pull his lips down to mine. Diving in to take every kiss I haven't been able to since we got here. Tasting the sweet wine on his tongue.
"Oh, this kind of break," Peeta smirks against my lips and presses me against the truck. The weight of him sends my blood rushing through me as I paw sloppily at his shoulders, trying to get more of him.
I’m reminded of the Victory Tour again. Peeta and I “sneaking off” to pretend to kiss in side rooms to sell the love story. But I don’t want this to be like that. This is real and we aren’t pretending.
I can't remember the last time we just kissed like this. Devouring each other's mouths while our hands and arms slide around haphazardly, like we're trying to touch everywhere all at once. Pivoting and stumbling around as we unconsciously grapple for dominance, eventually ending up fully behind the truck.
I push him against the tailgate and he bends a little to rest on the small ledge, pulling me down toward him. I straddle his thigh and grind my core down against him, seeking relief from the longing that's growing untenable. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and catches it with his teeth. I lean myself further into him everywhere we’re already touching, still trying to get closer. In my movement, my upper thigh makes contact with the unmistakable hardness of Peeta’s erection fighting against his jeans.
I can’t help but moan softly as my hand slides down his chest to run my palm over the rigid shape. I still marvel at causing this reaction in him.
Peeta's eyes flick toward the fire, to the people who could definitely still see us if they were looking. He lets out a breathy groan. “You wanna go home?”
“No."
I lean back to see his face wearing a mask of bemused optimism.
I untangle myself from his lap and run my hand down his arm and catch his hand at the end, "C'mon. For the experience." I say, and hope it sounds alluring.
“You’re not allowed to say you’re not fun ever again,” he grins as I yank him up and start for the edge of the woods.
Soon we’re in the dark of the trees and I feel completely comfortable again all of a sudden. My woods. My trees. My Peeta.
I let go of his hand to scamper ahead a few steps, and he dives for me with his heavy steps. But I don't let him catch me while I giggle like a school girl and lead him further into the trees.
I finally find the perfect spot, a tall old tree heavy and bent toward the ground, a tall hedge of bramble creating a shadowed, leafy den.
I slow enough to let him catch me and sweep me up into another hungry kiss. I pull him toward me as I back us into the thicket and press my back against the tree.
He kisses me tenderly as his hand slides down my neck to peel down the strap of my dress. It slips easily off my shoulder, revealing a bare breast. The night air touching my skin makes me feel so exposed, but free.
“I knew you weren’t wearing a bra,” he smirks as his palm slides up my rib cage to caress the newly uncovered skin.
“I couldn’t wear it with the dress,” I try to explain as Peeta’s head ducks down, “the straps were sticking out at the-“ but his tongue is on my nipple and all the words melt away on mine.
I begin to lose myself in the feel of him on my skin and the night air in my lungs and the pressure that builds with his every touch.
His hand slips beneath my underwear to find me soaked in anticipation for him. "Oh you really wanted to do this didn't you," he chuckles.
Peeta's perfect fingers slip easily inside of me and a breathy moan bursts from my lips.
His knuckles strain against the fabric of my underwear as he tries to curl his fingers deeper into me. He removes his other hand from my breast to try and pull it out of the way but the taught fabric pulls and cuts into my thigh
"Just take them off," I huff.
He grins as he removes his fingers from me slowly and begins to pull the panties down my legs. He kneels and I lift my feet to help him pull them over my boots. He balls the underwear up and stuffs them into his back pocket.
"You'll have to get those back to me," I say seriously, "My mother will notice them missing from the laundry."
He laughs with surprise and stays kneeling as he grips both my thighs, "We would have gotten into sooo much trouble, Katniss," he muses slyly as he starts to slide my dress up, "Me with my talent for lying to parents, and you…" his voice a low rumble, "always sneaking under the fence," he scolds as he lifts my skirt to let himself underneath.
His palm pushes my thigh up over his shoulder as he rises on his knees to press his face into my wet heat. His tongue zeroing in on my already thrumming clit sends my hands flying into his hair and my back arching into the tree bark. The fabric of my skirt mixes with his curls in my fist as he adores me with his lovely mouth.
My eyes close and my head lolls to the side. Stars behind my eyes spin around and start to take me spinning with them. Oh right, I'm kind of drunk aren't I? Drunk and getting eaten out against a tree. This is very silly of me.
I almost start to break into a fit of giggles when I feel Peeta's hand sliding up my inner thigh, his thumb effortlessly sliding inside of me. The pressure collides too perfectly with the work his tongue is putting in. It's too good.
Too close. I need him to finish this with me. He has to be part of this too.
I tug his curls to tip his head back and paw at his shoulder to get him to stand. He obliges, stopping to kiss me all the way up my torso, his lips landing at the hollow of my neck.
I hook my fingers over the waistband of his pants near his hip to pull him closer and start to slide them toward the button but they collide with the tip of his cock instead. He must have tucked it in his waistband when I dragged him into the trees. He’s had to do it a few times when Haymitch showed up unexpectedly.
"What do you want?" He asks in that tone he only uses in times like this. It’s breathy and whiny but so in control.
I flick open the buttons of his fly as fast as my fingers will let me to free him. I nip at his lips as I push his underwear down roughly to get all of him in my hands. He’s so hot and heavy and smooth. All I can smell is the bonfire smoke in our hair mixing with the scent of me on his lips.
I start to stroke him slowly. I want to tell him to take me. To fuck me here in my woods and make me howl at the moon. But even the alcohol can't make me brave enough for that.
All I can manage is a breathy, "Please?"
He looks behind him, surveying the ground around us. It’s dark, no way to check for poison oak or ant piles. Also this dress feels special to me now, and I don’t want to get it dirty. But really I can’t wait another second to have him inside of me, so I spin myself around in his arms and reach back to hook my hand behind his neck and pull his chest to my back.
"Like this?" he murmurs into my ear.
"Yes." I breathe. Beg.
His lips nip at my earlobe as his hand runs up the back of my thigh, gathering the fabric of my dress up with it. He's moving far too slowly.
As my hand tugs impatiently at his hair behind me, I put one foot up on a surface root and arch my chest into the tree to give him better access. I need him right now.
Peeta grips my hip with one hand and his other snakes up my chest pulling me closer as he glides into my heat.
"Oh."
It's a low animal sound. This angle is incredible. I love this. I love discovering new ways we fit together. I start to wonder what we have around the house that is exactly as tall as this tree root but Peeta slides back and then into that perfect spot again and I can't think about anything.
"Fuck," I pant.
"You're telling me," he growls, squeezing my breast and rolling his hips.
I can't believe this is happening. It's so reckless and animalistic. So natural, making love under the moon. But it also feels forbidden. And I guess I always had an affinity for rule breaking.
I crane my head back to try and steal sloppy kisses and gasp into his mouth. I reach up for a branch to steady on as I arch further into him.
He starts to pound at me a little harder, grunts and curses tumbling into my hair. He snakes a hand around to where we're joined and when his fingers circle my clit I nearly scream.
"Don't stop-that-please-like that-" I stammer.
It's right there… until-
"RANKIN!"
We both freeze at the sound.
Another voice shouts, "Where are you going?!"
The calls are still yards away but they're coming closer. But I'm too close.
I feel Peeta start to move to leave me but I grip his hip and press it further into my backside.
"Don't you dare," I hiss.
The quietest whimper barely escapes his lips. I think I might have just made him come.
He bends his head and his lips lock onto my bare shoulder as his hips keep slamming into me just right. Shallow thrusts that push me closer and closer…
The intense wave of pleasure starts to crest and the involuntary sound begins to leave my throat before I can stop it but Peeta's hand shoots up to clamp over my mouth. I puff and pant into his palm as every star in the sky explodes before my eyes.
My knees quiver beneath me and Peeta squeezes me tighter as my walls squeeze around him and I ride out the last of this absolutely earth shattering orgasm.
His breath is shuddering in my ear as we slowly start to untangle ourselves and stand properly. His hand slips down off my mouth, his thumb comes back up to gently stroke my bottom lip. A near silent, "Sorry about that."
The noisy stomping and distant shouting is still coming toward us, quickly.
I scramble to pull my dress straps back up and my skirt back down, Peeta turns toward the tree and rushes to get himself righted back in his pants.
The exact moment we're both decent and leaning casually against the tree, a man I can only assume is Rankin burst clumsily through the thicket. His suspenders are undone and he appears to only have one shoe on. He stares at us, blinking in the dark.
"Just lookin' for a place to piss," he slurs, bleary eyes that show he has no idea who he even is right now.
"Well good luck finding one!" Peeta says with a friendly wave.
He stares more, swaying and blinking a moment longer before finally shuffling back out of the bushes.
Once his stumbling footsteps are finally out of earshot, we double over and laugh until we cry.
-
When we emerge from the trees as nonchalantly as possible, the fire has started to die down and the makeshift benches are being piled back in a cart. The party is over and everyone's going home. A much sleepier looking Delly is leaning against the side of Thom's truck. The bed is piled with more people in various states of alertness.
Delly spots us and her eyes widen as she perks back up, "I thought you left already!" she blinks a few times as recognition creeps over her face, "OooooOooh did you go sneak away?!" she giggles loudly.
"We just took a walk," I say. At that moment I feel the distinct pull of Peeta taking a stick out of my braid behind my back.
"C'mon, leave them be," Thom appears behind her and opens the passenger door. "Let's get these folks home."
"I just knew you would have fun," Delly says proudly as Thom helps her into the cab.
"Y'all want a ride?" he asks us.
"We can walk, and you're going the opposite direction," Peeta tries to wave off.
"To the road at least," Thom insists.
My legs still feel like jelly from our dalliance so I happily hop up on the tailgate and scootch in to make room for Peeta. He sits on the edge and pulls my knees toward his lap, tucking my skirt up carefully under them.
"Just trying to keep you from falling out, and to protect your dignity," he smirks and shakes his head, "No panties on…" he says under his breath.
I shush him with a giggle and he gestures to the completely passed out guy behind me. "Oh no do you think he heard me?"
He wraps his arms around me and I lean into him as Thom starts to drive very slowly across the grass. If he went any faster I think we'd all go flying.
As we crawl along I look in the back window at Thom and Delly in the front seat. She keeps looking over at him and even in the dark I can tell she has puppy eyes. But every time she looks away, Thom turns to look at her. They never catch each other, not once.
It’s actually kind of infuriating to watch. I almost wish Peeta hadn’t pointed it out.
But he's probably right, it'll have to come out somehow.
When we reach the road, Peeta and I hop out and wave as they all drive away.
We start treking back to the house and I stretch my arms out to the sky, trying to take in every last breath of this night.
"Well, what did you think of your first young people party Katniss?" Peeta asks with a satisfied smile.
"I guess it ended alright," I shrug and take his hand, "I just hope it was as fun as all the parties you went to without me."
"I need you to know," he says seriously, "that was so much, and I mean so much, more fun than I ever had in school. Or ever."
"Good." I say, stopping to give him a kiss.
"So, we'll be going back next month?" He asks hopefully.
"Oh I don't want to do that for quite awhile," I say quickly and he looks a little disappointed, "but I definitely think we should take trips to the woods together more often."
"You know, I've been looking at the scenery with new eyes the whole walk," he says seductively, "there was a rock formation back there that looked very inviting…"
I look down and shake my weak legs with a pout, "You'll have to carry me home."
"Deal," he laughs and bends to throw me over his shoulder.