The Hunger games - I'm still breathing (Everlark)

Chapter 20

"Katniss?"

Peeta's gently nudging my shoulder.

"Katniss, we need to get up and get ready to open the bakery."

I groan and roll over onto my belly whilst pulling a pillow over my head. I mumble out some inaudible words that are supposed to sound like 'I'm sleeping'.

"Come again?" Peeta asks, laughing at me slightly.

I just grunt at him and pull the pillow even tighter around my head. This bed is too warm and comfy to leave right now.

"Right," I hear Peeta say from the cloud of wool my ears are swaddled in.

I feel his weight leave the bed and I take this opportunity to stretch my legs out. 5 more minutes, I think to myself. Peeta's footsteps coming round to my side of the bed however, gives me an unsettling feeling that I might not get that time.

Before I have time to look up and see what he's planning, I feel his whole body come jumping down on me.

"Ooof! Peeta, get off me!" I scream, laughing at him as I try and push myself to a sitting position. It's no good, he's too heavy for me to lift and he's laughing so hard that he can't even seem to pick himself up.

"It's time to get up, Katniss!" he snickers, finally getting to his knees.

I twist round and sit up, pushing him away from me in the process.

"You're like a child who's just seen winter's first snowfall!" I laugh.

"You love it," he says, crawling forward and stealing a quick kiss from my lips. Then he jumps off of the bed, dragging me behind him. He places his hands on my shoulders and steers me in the direction of the bathroom.

"Go, quick! Get ready, its bakery opening day!" he says, practically pushing me through the door.

Half an hour later, were out the front door and making our way hastily to the bakery. Peeta strides on ahead in front with me struggling to keep up behind him.

"Peeta, will you slow down?" I shout after him.

He stops and turns to face me with an eager smile.

"Sorry, I just want to get there and get everything ready for the customers," he says, taking my hand as I finally catch up with him.

"I'm sure they'll wait if you're a little bit late, Peeta. But you're not going to be because you woke me up at the crack of dawn so we could get there in time," I say.

I start to walk on at a faster pace but his lagging footsteps stop me. I turn to face him and see that he's deep in thought.

"Are you sure they're going to like it, Katniss?" he asks, his blue eyes wide.

"They'd be stupid not to," I say, smiling at him and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Now come on, soldier, its bakery opening day!"

Peeta laughs as I pull his hand and march us onwards.

When we reach the bakery, I'm surprised to see that the queue of people waiting for it to open winds all the way down the side of the building. I give Peeta an encouraging look and his excitements returns, wiping out any traces of doubt that had been playing on his mind before.

We walk in the back door and help each other tie our aprons on. We enter the main room and stand behind the counter. Peeta presses his fingers to his lips, kisses them and then places them on his family's picture. I turn away, feeling that I'm intruding on his privacy by watching his actions.

When he turns back around, he takes my hand and just stares at the large glass doors that hold back the happy, curious faces. His hand shakes in mine. He doesn't move, his eyes stay focused on the same spot.

"Do you want me to open the door for them, Peeta?" I ask, softly.

He nods his head and loosens his grip on my hand.

"Hey, look at me," I say, turning his head to face me. "They're going to love it."

I lean up and kiss him before brushing by him and heading towards the doors. I flip the wooden open sign, that Peeta of course made and painted himself, and unbolt the locks.

As soon as the door is opened, people come flooding in, each one stopping for a moment to admire the beauty of the room. A calmness falls over the crowd and even the children seem to be at ease. A few people let out relaxed sighs, or maybe they're sighs of relief that the vision on the four walls surrounding them could now become a reality.

Some people come up and thank me for everything that I did in the war and for giving them the opportunity to be happy again. Others give me a wide berth and try to avoid contact with me. I don't blame them; I'm still the girl who got their homes destroyed and their families killed.

Everyone talks to Peeta though; his easy attitude matches that of the room. He could always make better conversation than me. I don't mind, I'd rather people ignored me. I've had enough attention to last me a lifetime. I don't need to be thanked; I didn't do anything worthy of it. I haven't given anyone an opportunity, instead I've taken away people's opportunities by getting them killed.

So I sort the change out and re-stock the counters with a new treat each time when one is emptied. I leave Peeta to talk, to smile, to take people's orders. By noon, half of our stock is gone and Peeta is panicking that we won't have enough to last the day.

"Peeta, it's fine, we'll just close up when we get down to the last dregs," I say, looking straight ahead at a little girl who has her face pressed up against the window, looking in.

"Do you think I should bake some more now quickly?" he asks, but I'm not listening.

The girl looks to be around five or six years old. She has blonde flowing hair that reaches down to her waist. Her eyes are chocolate brown, her eyelashes are long and dark as she stares into the room in amazement.

The change in my hand crashes to the floor. It can't be her can it? Am I dreaming again? But here she is clear as day, I can see her, there's no haziness about it.

"Prim?"