No Games Left to Play

21: A Rough Romantic Getaway (Part 1)

Peeta and I had to postpone our trip to District 4 by a couple weeks. He had taken time off from the bakery to take care of me after my miscarriage and got behind on paperwork, purchase and supply orders, and all the things that come along with having a business. I tried convincing him to cancel the trip instead of postponing it. I didn't feel like going anymore, so I started hyping up all the new activities popping up around the district. I thought that if I could stress all the fun we could have here, going on a trip would be unnecessary to help us get our mind off the grief. But he convinced me that a change of scenery was essential and vital to my— our— recovery.

So first thing in the morning, Peeta and I are getting on a train traveling to the calm beaches of District 4.

Of course I wouldn't be my usual self if I didn't wait till the last minute to complete the main task that comes along with traveling: packing. I know what I need to pack. That's simple, but there are so many options that come with that. Take pajamas for example. I could just go comfy. That's what I really want to do. But because this is supposed to be a romantic vacation, I feel the need to pack something a little sexier despite how unsexy I feel. Not to mention Peeta has this huge itinerary and that he refuses to give me any details on, which makes this whole situation more stressful.

"Peeta," I yell.

"Yeah?" he shouts back.

"Help!"

In the blink of an eye, Peeta has sprinted into our bedroom and rushed to my side.

"What's wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?" he asks, rapid fire. He grabs my hands, using them to raise my arms up one at a time to look me over and check for any injures.

I giggle softly, "Stop worrying. I'm fine."

He lets out a held breath and peers over at the inside of my suitcase, "Why is your suitcase empty? Katniss, we leave in the morning."

"I know," I frown, looking at the piece of luggage resting on the bed. It stares back at me, taunting me. "I don't know what to pack."

"Well then, you shouldn't have waited to do it at the last minute."

"Starting sooner still wouldn't have helped considering I have absolutely no clue what we are going to be doing. So..." I start, stepping closer to him and circling my arms around his neck. I place a kiss on his jaw and look deep into his eyes searching for his soul. "If you could tell me what to pack," I kiss the other side of his jaw, "I would love you forever."

"You already promised to love me forever if I remember correctly," he points out.

"Then I'll love you twice as much forever and ever."

He looks out the corner of his eye in contemplation, teasingly.

"Come on, Peeta," I beg. "Please."

"Alright," he gives in. "You'll need a dress—"

I interrupt him with an eye roll and he sighs.

He clears his throat, "You need a dress. It doesn't have to be fancy, just something you'd feel comfortable going to dinner in. Swimsuits of course. Pack more than one so you don't have to wear the same, wet, suit everyday. Pajamas. Your shower things. Shoes. Undergarments. Just pack what you want. This trip is for you."

"Can't you just do it for me?"

Peeta chuckles and steps away from me, going back to whatever it was he was doing before.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" I prompt, but I get no answer. Instead, he continues to walk away. "I'll cook dinner!"

He stops in his tracks and turns around. Before I know it, he's walking full speed towards me, lifting me up, and jumping on to the bed. He starts tickling me.