Love On A Record

Chapter 3

Katniss

I carefully curl my hair and apply soft but subtle makeup, enjoying how my dark lashes look with the black eyeliner. It makes the dark ring on the outside of my iris so much more noticeable. I laugh at the girl in the mirror, wearing nothing but a towel.

The Katniss that lost her band would be happy to go out to a bar all night in sweatpants and an old T-shirt and get wasted, maybe even end up taking her top off. That's one of the reasons my band did quit on me. I was self destructive. I kept attacking my reputation and while I could party, my band didn't really get my approval if they wanted to.

But now, I'm actually going to try to stay presentable. I'm trying to look nice for my night out with Peeta. I don't really know what sparked this. But when I heard him sing today, I don't know why, but it took my breath away. It's like our voices mold together perfectly. He's become my best friend in the matter of a few weeks. His smile, it just makes me feel so safe, so secure. I like the feeling I get singing with him.

I go to my closet and look through the clothing my stylist designed for when I go out in public. I search through the dresses when I find a knee length orange sundress. I put on some underwear and slip the dress on and look at myself in the mirror. I find myself adjusting my breasts so they are more noticeable but then slide most of my hair over my shoulders, hiding them anyway. I give myself a once over again in the mirror before slipping on my cowboy boots and sliding my wallet and phone in them.

I walk to the bar that is just around the corner from my apartment. and see Peeta waiting for me.

"I didn't know you lived right over there," he comments.

"Well, I picked this place for a reason," I say. "If I get drunk, it's just a football field of a drunken stumble to my apartment." He just laughs and opens the door for me. I walk right up to the bar and order myself a shot of whiskey. The bartender just smiles as she hands me the glass. Peeta sits down next to me and orders the same. We try to talk, but people keep saying hi to me. I just ignore them eventually.

"You're popular," Peeta says.

"Yeah, half of them have seen my bra," I say. "I was quite the party girl before we met. I lost my T-shirt every other night."

"Wow," he says. "That doesn't sound like you."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," I reply.

"Like what?" he asks.

"How about we play two truths, one lie," I say. "I'll tell you three things about myself and one of them will be a lie. I bet you ten bucks you won't figure it out." I reach into my wallet and pull out a ten, slapping it on the bar. Peeta pulls out his own ten dollar bill and lays it beside mine.

"I'd take that bet," he says. I smirk and think for a moment and then open my mouth.

"One: I didn't get my growth spurt until I turned eighteen. Two: I used to work here, singing and dancing on the bar. Three: These," I say grabbing my amble rack. "Are fake." Peeta laughs and rolls his eyes.

"I'm thinking one," he says. "No girl shows her moneymakers off the way you do unless they're fake and you've already admitted to being a party girl." I smack his arm and grab my twenty bucks off the bar.

"You really think I'm the kind of girl who would waste her money on fake tits?" I ask. He just blushes.

"Well not really but," he starts and then cuts himself off, looking very embarrassed.

"But what?" I ask.

"They just look a little too perfect to be real," he says and I laugh.

"Have you been checking out my rack Mellark?" I ask him and he just looks at his drink. I laugh again. "Awww! Did I embarrass you?"