Drabble Challenge

Day 11

"Person A has given up on love. Nope. Love is not for them. Forget that... And then they meet Person B and think: 'Annnd this is the asshole who will ruin everything.'"

After a particularly brutal breakup with a childhood friend who should have stayed just that, I had decided I wasn't meant for love. Approximately five relationships had gone down the drain since I'd joined this "game". So, yep. I was done. I was.

'Was'. Past tense. Ironically enough, I'm currently teaching this exact lesson to my kindergarteners. No one you'd ask would ever guess that I'd become a teacher. But I practically raised my little sister myself, so I'm good with children. Besides, they're much easier to interact with than adults.

I've just asked the twenty-or-so kids in front of me to please raise their hands if they know the answer when Peeta walks past the door, leading his own line of chubby child legs down the hall. My breath catches in my throat when he glances up and smiles at me, that beautiful, familiar smile, and I return a weak one of my own.

It was only two months ago that I'd been wary of that easy, boyish grin.

X-X-X-X

I walked into the school auditorium, a map of the school still clutched in my only-slightly-trembling hands, and roamed the rows of seats with my eyes. To my utter despair, most every one of the teachers at the orientation seemed to know each other, if their easy conversation was any indication. My heart sunk further in my chest the longer I walked up and down the aisle, trying in vain to find an open seat, and pretty soon I wanted to either puke or cry or sprint out the way I'd just entered. Maybe all three.

"Hey," a voice called out from behind me.

I swung around, willing myself not to do any of previously mentioned things, and was met with gold and blue. Gold and blue. It was like freakin' Hanukkah.

The man had a mop of tousled curls the color of straw, and his heavenly cobalt eyes smiled at me from behind his solid square frames. He was sporting that sexy-professor look, with a royal blue sweater thrown over a white button-down. Sleeves rolled up. I found myself unconsciously licking my lips.

"Hey," he repeated, and my eyes quickly darted up to his. A flush quickly overtook my cheeks, both under his intense gaze and out of shame that he might have caught me staring.

"You must be Katniss Everdeen, yeah?"

"Uh, I- yeah. How did you know?" I asked.

"I knew there was supposed to be one newbie, and you're the only one here I didn't recognize." Anyone else could have made the words condescending, but he punctuated his with a smile so dazzling and genuine that I immediately felt myself relax a few degrees.

"Peeta Mellark, by the way," he added, holding out his hand, and I grasped and shook it. It was so large and warm, enveloped around my slender, constantly frigid one, and how was he making me feel this way?

"Katniss- Well, you know me," I replied nervously, but he just chuckled and gestured to the seat next to his.

"Sit here, if you want. This is usually where the kindergarten teachers congregate during these things, anyway."

My chest flooded with an unexpected warmth when I realized he would be in close proximity with me, possibly for the rest of my career here. I offered him a first small, genuine smile since I had walked in, and then I took the offered seat.

I felt much more at ease with these thoughts in my head and Peeta sitting next to me.

X-X-X-X

Over the course of the next few weeks, Peeta and I became fast friends, mostly because we contrasted each other. He could socialize easily; I slowly came out of my shell. He was funny in a sweet and self-deprecating way; I was sarcastic and snarky, which he told me was new to him. He talked, a lot; I listened, especially enjoying it when he was the one I was listening to.

We were able to interact mainly through the (seemingly hundreds of) mandatory workshops we attended, almost all of which Peeta had been through a million times, as he told me. I sought him out as soon as I got there, because I had a hard time making new friends and he always pretended to be enthusiastic in speaking to me, which I appreciated. He had dozens of friends at this school, but somehow he was always willing to entertain me.

And slowly, oh, ever so slowly, I began to feel it. The affection. The excitement in seeing him the next day. The eagerness to just hold a conversation with him. The readiness to laugh at every single joke he made, no matter how corny.

And, pretty soon, the straight-up... love. And the fear that immediately followed it, because hadn't this exact thing happened to me so many times before? And hadn't I just vowed against feeling this way forever?

So I denied it, pushed away those god damn feelings, refused the idea with all of my strength.

And for a while, it had worked.

X-X-X-X

But the knowledge is always there, and now, as Peeta looks over his glasses to crinkle those eyes at me in greeting, it niggles at the edges of my mind.

I come back to reality soon after, when a small, precious little girl named Acacia waves her hand impatiently in the air, trying her best to follow the rules Miss Everdeen had worked hard to instill.

I mentally shake myself and come to my senses.

"Acacia?" I ask, and she answers my previous question of:"Can anyone give me a sentence using the word 'was'?"

"Very good, Acacia," I reply, and write her sentence on the board behind me, mentally coming up with some of my own.

I was convinced I was done with love.

"Now," I continue, "can anyone give me a sentence using the word 'am'?"

A boy near the back raises his hand and gives me his example, which I praise and copy onto the board.

I am so fucked.