Maybe It Can Be Real

Chapter 20

ALL RIGHTS GO TO SUZANNE COLLINS. I OWN NOTHING.

ENDING OF LAST CHAPTER:

"Oh, you know I'm just teasing you because I love you," he says. A sly grin covers his face. "By the way, I may or may not recall you saying you were my girlfriend. Have we officially decided this?"

I laugh. "I kinda took it that we were, considering we kiss, say I love you, and live together, and all."

"True," he replies. He smiles. "I like it."

I lean in and kiss him. "Me too."

****

He kisses me again and says, "So, food?", while laughing.

I groan. "Yes! I'm starving!"

He abruptly stops laughing. "I think about that all the time, you know?"

I look at him curiously. "What? What are you talking about?"

"When I gave you the bread," he explains quietly.

"Oh my God, Peeta, it's alright. I'm here now, so you don't need to worry about it," I tell him.

"No, it's not okay. I know I said this before, but I should've gone out in the rain and helped you. I was being selfish. I didn't want to get hit by my mom, so I didn't, and I'm sorry," he says on the verge of tears.

"What is up with you?", I say with a laugh to lighten the mood. "You don't need to get upset over this! You throwing the bread was enough!" I grab his chin. "I'm here. Now. You saved me. And that's all that matters. Okay?"

"But I st-," he stops talking when I cut him off with a kiss.

"Shut up and make me food," I mumble against his lips with a giggle.

"Fine," he says, defeated. He gets up off the floor, and says, "I should've done better though!", before running to the kitchen.

"Peeta!", I whine before getting up and running into the kitchen as well.

****

"Why can't I see what you're making?!", I scream from my place in my room. Peeta told me I wasn't allowed to watch, that I had to stay in our room while he made it. It was a weird request, but I did it anyway.

"Cuz!", he yells back while laughing. I laugh too and sit on the ground with my back against the door. My head thunks back against the door, and I close my eyes. I start thinking about the day Peeta threw me the bread.

I don't understand why he feels bad! He saved my life! He should be happy that he did that - everyone I came across didn't do anything because they either couldn't or didn't want to. Peeta didn't need to, but he did, and for that I am eternally grateful.

I must've been in much deeper thought than I thought I was, because the next thing I know, the door is no longer behind me, but Peeta's feet.

"Peeta!", I complain while looking up at him. "You took my back rest away!"

"But your food is ready," he says while smiling.

I get up and start running downstairs. "I don't care that you did that anymore!", I sing loudly. His laugh follows me to the kitchen.

I stop dead in my tracks when I see the kitchen.

"Oh. My. God," I whisper. Peeta comes up next to me. I start jumping, slapping his chest, laughing, and saying, "Oh my God, Peeta! You did not! You did not! You did not!"

"Ah, but I did," he says with a smug smile.

I squeal and give him a hug. "I love you so much!"

He hugs me back. "I love you too."

I let go and turn back around to the masterpiece in front of me. A giddy smile covers my entire face. "Oh my God, I still can't believe you did that," I half-whisper.

"How long did you make me wait upstairs?", I ask.

"Oh, uhm, about an hour," he replies.

"You did this in an hour?", I question incredulously. "You're amazing."

"Yeah, an hour," he says sheepishly. He bows jokingly and says, "Shall we eat?"

"We shall," I reply.

****

The kitchen looks beautiful. The lights are dimmed, and there are candles on the table. Flowers (which I assume came from my garden) are in a vase on the table as well. He put a tablecloth down, and put all the food and drinks in really nice dishes. Music is softly playing from the radio in my living room.

I take a bite of lamb stew. I cover my mouth with my hand and say, "So what inspired you to set up a romantic dinner and cook my favorite food?", with a smile.

"I dunno, really. It just kinda popped into my head," he answers. I nod my head in response.

"Also," I add, "how did you know that this would excite me this much? I'm usually not big on this stuff ninety-nine point nine percent of the time," I say.

"I didn't really know, I just thought it would be fun and something different," Peeta responds.

I put my spoon down and lean back. I take a deep breath. "Thank you, Peeta," I say. "It was astounding."

"You're welcome," he says.

He gets up and comes over to me. "I know we have danced before, but may I have another dance?" He puts his hand out.

I place my hand in his and say, "You may."

He leads me over to the living room. There's plenty of room because he even thought of moving the coffee table and couch (that boy). I rest my hands around his neck and his glide to my waist.

We gently sway back and forth, and we both become engulfed in the moment. My head rests against his chest, and I say, "I like dancing with you. You're quite good at it."

"You're good at it as well," he says. I stand on my tip-toes and press my lips to his. "Thank you again. It was amazing and beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked it," he replies with a smile. "Oh yeah, I forgot; would you like dessert?"

I laugh. "You made dessert too? You are too much."

"It was simple, really. All I did was make pudding," he says while chuckling.

"Pudding?!", I screech. I sprint into the kitchen and search for it. I finally find it in the fridge, so I grab two spoons and sprint back into the living room. I pull Peeta onto the couch and give him a spoon. "Eat," I command.

We both dig into the pudding in comfortable silence.

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