Begin Again [Wattys 2013 Finalist]

Chapter 13

The next day goes by relatively the same as last night. Peeta stays in bed, still suffering from symptoms of his flashback, and I don't leave his house. I just feel bad that I was never here for him before. I don't know how he gets through this. The headaches, the nausea, the sweating and then freezing. But this time I help him. And when we wake up the next day, he's finally better. I go home only to shower and when I come back to Peeta's, he's made breakfast. I walk in and I see I spread of numerous pastries on the table. They look delicious. They look like the ones I've only enjoyed in the Capitol. My jaw drops. It's not even been an hour. How does he do it?

"Peeta what's all this!?"

"It's to say thank you. For staying with me. So, thank you."

Peeta walks around the table and pulls out my chair for me. He's his typical charming self again. And for once, I couldn't be happier. 

"This is so delicious!" I exclaim! "How do you do it!?”

Peeta smirks at me through a mouthful of hot cinnamon roll. He grabs my hand and drags me from the table to the kitchen. 

"Let me show you," he says with that smile that's so genuinely sweet that I know I won't be able to resist his offer, even if my baking skills are too far gone for even Peeta Mellark, the baker's son, to save.

"Peeta you know his can't turn out well!" I joke in reference to the little cooking skills that I have.

"Come on Katniss! It'll be fun! We need to do something fun!"

I wholeheartedly agree to that. So when Peeta throws me an apron, I catch it without another word. I want to do something fun for a change. Just me and Peeta. And neither of us will cry or scream or fight. I struggle with the apron for a couple of seconds, but not for much longer because once Peeta has his tied, he walks up behind me and offers to help. I don't decline the offer. My hair is down today, so Peeta lightly brushes it off to the side where it now rests on my shoulder. His hand brushes the back of my neck and I feel shivers run down my whole back. I can't describe them. They're not the kind that come as a result of fear or chills, but a different kind of shiver. The kind that leaves me warm once they're gone.  The kind that only linger on my body for the fleeting amount of time that Peeta's hands do. Once my apron is tied around my back and my neck, and I've braided my hair off to the side, Peeta gets out all of the ingredients for us to bake a simple chocolate cake. He tries to walk me through it, step by step, but I'm hopeless. He has to help me with everything. The funny thing is that I don't mind one bit. I don't mind his hands on mine as he helps me crack an egg, or stir the batter, or apply chocolate frosting. When we finally manage to pour the cake into a pan and put it in the oven, I look at Peeta and smile at him.

"You were right Katniss."

"About what?"

"You're a really terrible cook."

He gives me a serious look, but he can't hold it for long, because he breaks out laughing.

"Peeta! That wasn't very nice!"

"Okay okay I'm sorry!"

"You're not!" I playfully scream back at him. And as he doubles over laughing, I stick my hand in the bag of flour.  When Peeta lifts his head, I flick the flour in his face, which becomes spotted with little white dots. In the next second, He grabs an entire handful and throws it right at me. It hits me square in the face, and I sprint around the kitchen counter, laughing the whole way. 

"You can't run!" Peeta yells.

He takes a step to round the counter as well, but as he comes around, I pull my hand out from behind my back and smear frosting all over his face. I smirk at him, thinking I've won. I couldn't be more wrong. Because in one movement, Peeta grabs the giant sack of flour and dumps the whole thing on me. And our whole world goes up in a big, wonderful cloud of white.