Chapter Text
She was drunk when she said it. But that didn’t make it any less true.
“I’m fucking desperate, Jo. I can’t go home for the holidays this year without a date to bring. I NEED to not look like the pathetic fifth wheel this time.” She groaned, turning around fast in her swivel barstool and ending up right back where she started.
Jo snorted into her glass, and swayed a little in her seat to the music. She was halfway past buzzing herself.
“Unfortunately I have run out of acceptable acquaintances to try and foist you off on, Brainless,” she told Katniss with a shrug. “Besides you’re too picky.”
“Am not. I’m just not interested in any of your kinky friends.”
“They’re not that kinky,” Johanna argued. But then she laughed at herself. “Well, maybe they are. But that’s neither here nor there. Nor is it your real issue.”
“What is, then?”
“You need a holiday stand in. A boyfriend prop. To distract your family from the fact that you are still single, still an intern, and still figuring all your shit out. He doesn’t have to be your ideal guy. He just has to look…good on paper. Clean cut. Passively attractive. Good at bullshiting.”
“Are you suggesting I get a—fake boyfriend? Like go on Craig’s List or something?”
“I mean, you’re the one who used the word desperate.”
“Jo, people get killed for answering ads on Craig’s list.”
“Yeah, but you’d be posting an ad. Not answering,” Jo said.
“I’m not that desperate,” Katniss bit back, angry with her for even suggesting it.
Jo dropped the topic after that.
But the idea whirled around and around in her head. Long after they called an uber and pulled away from the bar.
She almost opened up her laptop when she got home but then she stopped herself. Because even the thought of contemplating a fake relationship made her terribly afraid. The thought of all the things she’d have to do. Like talking to the person. Sharing her history with them. At least enough to get their story straight. And then in front of her family she’d have to be—affectionate. She’d have to do all those things that couples do. Hold hands. Hug. Kiss and be close. The idea was just too much. She hadn’t allowed herself to be that vulnerable with anyone in a long, long time.
She slipped under her covers and closed her eyes, tight. And she thought, it would be better to not have to do any of those things. Even if it wouldn’t be real. She’s such a bad actress, anyway. She knew that she couldn’t do any of that convincingly and feel nothing. It would be too confusing. So she decided it was smarter to just leave things alone.
.
.
.
.
Work on Monday was hectic.
It was a busy time for the medical device company she worked for.
D12 Bionics was the world’s most advanced prosthetic technology provider, and Katniss was lucky they took a chance hiring her for a paid internship right out of college. The ink on her degree in engineering barely had time to dry.
They had a ton of scholarship candidates to interview that week, and even though Katniss didn’t have to do any of the interviewing (per the perks of being an intern) she did have to help their receptionist, Annie, get everyone situated.
She worked quickly along with Rue and Thresh to organize everyone’s files, to escort the candidates to the interview rooms, and to organize the snack table.
Most of the candidates were former military, first responders, upstanding citizens with families. People that were admirable. Their files were filled with stories of heroism, accolades, and the like.
But one of the files stuck out to her.
It belonged to a blond guy. He was twenty-five like her. He wasn’t former military, or a fireman. He was a baker. Just an average person. In fact the more she skimmed his file the more she noticed that there was nothing overtly remarkable about him.
Except maybe what he wrote in the section of the written interview where he was asked: Can you think of any other reason or circumstance in which your daily life would be better if you were selected to test the Mockingjay prototype?
He had written:
I used to be more social. I liked meeting new people, and making friends. I guess I was just an outgoing person in general. After I lost my leg, meeting new people and socializing has been a lot harder. I get nervous about having to explain about the prosthesis. I still have friends, but most of them don’t fully understand what my new reality is like. I have family, my brothers and my dad that understand about my accident and my disability. But I feel kind of stagnant. I feel like I lost a little part of myself that used to take chances, strike up a conversation or make a joke. I know that the prototype isn’t going to be magical or anything. I know it probably won’t be like having my leg back. But I guess I’m just hoping that if it was easier to function in my everyday life, easier to move around without getting curious looks from people, easier to play sports and pick my old hobbies back up, I might feel more confident? I don’t know. It might just be psychological. But being able to take a five mile hike on my favorite trail when I go home for the holidays without having to give up in the middle of it because my skin is chafing raw and my leg is locking up…that might help me move forward with more enthusiasm. More hope.
His words touched her heart. Deeply, for some reason she didn’t quite understand. She wasn’t a people person. She’d often been described as prickly and antisocial. She didn’t make friends easily. But reading his answer made her want to be different. Made her want to hope, the way he wanted to hope. Which was weird. And she felt silly for being so affected by something as simple as a written essay portion of a questionnaire.
So when Annie sorted his file into her stack of applicants to escort to the interview rooms, it made her feel sort of embarrassed and nervous at the same time.
And when she called the name, “Peeta Mellark” and a blond guy of slightly above medium height stood up somewhat stiffly, and turned in her direction, she had to rein in her reaction.
The small square picture paperclipped to his file hadn’t prepared her for how broad his shoulders were in real life. Or how blue his eyes were.
She forced a professional smile onto her face and beckoned him forward. She noticed he has a slight limp.
“Please follow me,” she told him. He swallowed a bit nervously and nodded. They walked to Dr. Beetee Latier’s office side by side.
.
.
.
.
She came back to collect him after 25 minutes, the official time allotted for each interview. But when she went to knock on the door she didn't hear Beetee’s usual closing speech.
Instead she heard snatches of a relaxed conversation. So it seemed his interview had run late.
“I can still manage the rowing, with very little difficulty, other than getting in the boat,” an unfamiliar voice said, finishing with a small self-deprecating chuckle. It was Peeta’s voice. And it was different from what she’d imagined his speaking voice would sound like. For some reason she’d imagined a midwestern accent. Maybe because of the blue eyes and blond hair. But his accent is actually slightly southern. It's deep and warm and soothing. And she’s pleased to hear him continue speaking.
“And biking is just fine. But running and hiking are significantly more difficult,” he admitted and Katniss nodded even though she wasn’t a part of the conversation.
If her impression of him was correct, his upper body seemed very strong, even though she only had looked at him briefly in the lobby. But still, she knew because of her training and from her work with amputees what Peeta was speaking about.
Rowing wouldn’t be too much of a problem for those with lower limb amputations. Even biking was achievable with the proper attachments. But running and hiking required a balance and weight distribution system that was much more difficult to replicate for amputees.
“Right. That’s because the prosthetic you currently have has a rigid, encapsulated design. It’s a little outdated currently, for even an average wearer. It certainly has drawbacks for anyone who wants to have a highly active lifestyle. The Mockingjay is different from your current prosthesis because when you move your limb the pressure in the socket is distributed more evenly throughout the stress of such activities, supporting the limb all the way down. Providing enhanced stability through our osteo-stabilization technology, enhanced comfort with our sockless grip design, and overall more usability for wearers with rigorous lifestyles,” she heard Beetee explain.
“Right. I’m going to just pretend I completely understood everything you just said,” Peeta agreed, with a funny tilt in his voice that almost made her laugh out loud.
Beetee actually did laugh out loud and then Peeta did too. The sound of his laugh was pleasant and slightly captivating.
“Alright last question, I know you answered it in your questionnaire but, can you tell me a little bit more about how you think being chosen for the scholarship could help you improve your what did you call it? Your social goals?” Beetee asked and Katniss pictured him shuffling through his papers on his desk looking for the specific section of Peeta’s answer that had captured her attention.
“Oh, well, my concerns seem paltry compared to some other people’s stories, but I guess I just want to have the confidence to put myself back out there. Adjusting to the way society views people with disabilities was hard for me at first after my accident. It made things that used to be so simple, really difficult. Especially….dating if I’m being honest. My um, girlfriend at the time broke up with me after I lost my leg. That really took the wind out of my sails for a while. And I really haven’t had the confidence to be vulnerable like that again. With anyone. Not even to make friends. Much less date. I just keep thinking, it's better to save myself the hurt you know? But closing yourself off gets lonely and can make a person resentful. I don’t want what happened to me to change me into someone I’m not. And I know, I know that it’s more psychological than it is physical. But the physical aspect does play a part. Receiving the scholarship would help in a lot of ways. It would help me function better in my everyday life. It would help me reclaim my interests, especially my athletic ones. But more than anything it would give me hope that no matter how bleak things looked in the past, the future could be different. Like, despite the fact that there was no rhyme or reason why I lost my leg at 23 years old, there was also this hope. That the universe is somehow working to balance out the unfairness of it all. Doctors like you, who are working to give out these scholarships to amputees. People doing good things. People helping each other. I have this hope that life can be good again, despite our losses. Just coming here and seeing how real it is. How you’re changing the world for the better is enough for me. I would love to get the scholarship. It would be great. But I think more than a new leg, I really needed a different perspective. And you’ve given me that. Just by considering me. So thank you, Dr. Latier.” Peeta finished speaking and Katniss stood in awe outside the door, her heart pounding, filled with this strange, unnameable feeling.
She barely heard her boss’ reply, the blood was pounding so loud in her ears.
Who was this man and why did his words reach so deeply inside of her to disrupt her equilibrium?
She didn’t have time to work it out because then Beetee was beginning his closing speech. The one where he revealed that every single one of the applicants today would be going home at the end of the week with a new top of the line D 12 Bionics prosthesis, regardless if they were one of the twelve selected to test out the new prototype.
“Honestly, Peeta I feel you have a very good chance of being selected for the testing program. In the next few days the directors review the lists of recommended candidates and then will deliberate all together to make a decision by the end of the week. The good news is that everyone being interviewed today will receive the current top of the line flagship prosthesis, the Jabberjay, even if they aren’t one of the twelve selected to test out the Mockingjay. So, congrats on receiving a scholarship with us either way. We have 120 scholarships to give out in the next few days. 108 Jabberjay scholarships and 12 Mockingjay ones. That’s why we asked all the candidates to take two weeks off to dedicate to the process. After this you’ll be escorted to our physical therapy and our amputee assessment center, on the other side of the building. There you’ll be scanned and fitted for your new prosthesis. The initial scans will take about two hours. And then after lunch you’ll do another two rounds of scans, that will take another two hours each. But snacks and beverages will be provided for everyone throughout the day,” Beetee said in a jovial voice.
“Really? Are you? What—Seriously?” Peeta floundered for words but Katniss heard Beetee reassuring him quietly.
“I-wow. I just can’t tell you how grateful I am right now,” Peeta said, and his voice held a depth of emotion that never failed to make Katniss feel proud of herself and her work, and her team and their accomplishments while working with amputees.
“You deserve this, you and everyone interviewing with us today,” Beetee told him firmly.
“Thank you, very much Dr. Latier,” Peeta said, his voice thick.
“Please call me Beetee.” She heard her boss' request and then to her surprise he heard her call her name.
“Katniss, come on in. We’re just about done here,” Beetee said.
Sheepishly, feeling guilty for eavesdropping she cracked open the door cautiously.
“Sorry for running late my dear. I know you all have a schedule to keep, but this young man is just such an intriguing conversationalist,” Beetee apologized.
Katniss just shook her head. “No problem sir,” was all she could say. She glanced at Peeta in her peripheral vision and saw he was looking at her. She couldn’t fathom why for a moment until she remembered she was supposed to collect him and escort him to get scanned for his new prosthesis.
“I’ll take you to the assessment center now,” she said, finally turning to him.
His blue eyes settled on her with a weight she felt like a heavy cloak, despite their bright, crystal clear, vivid color.
“Thank you,” he said in that charmingly warm and gently lilting accent of his.
He thanked Dr. Latier again, and then they left.
.
.
.
.
Later when she was home and in bed she thought again about his words.
I don’t want what happened to me to change me into someone I’m not.
I have this hope that life can be good again, despite our losses.
And she wondered how someone who had lost so much could be so brave.
She knows she couldn’t be that hopeful, if she had gone through everything he had.
And if she dreamed of his weighty blue eyes on her, she said nothing to her reflection in the morning.
.
.
.
.
The following days passed quickly. She assisted her team in whatever way she could.
She looked over prosthetic specs with Johanna, who was her direct supervisor in the engineering department. She helped their resident physical therapist specialist, Dr. Odiar, as he rotated his list of patients so that everyone gots fitted properly and prepped on the new prosthesis. She helped the other interns, Thresh and Rue, replenish the snack table.
She caught glimpses of Peeta during the week.
One time he actually waved to her and smiled. His smile was so brilliant. It was radiant, really. It lit up his whole face. He was one of those people who was born to smile, she realized.
But then his smile faltered slightly and he lowered his waving hand. Because she hadn’t reciprocated, she realized with a jolt.
She waved back, a little late but he saw it. Her lips, which always naturally curled themselves into a static frown, actually twitched into a semblance of a smile.
He smiled back at her, more enthusiastically than before. And directly behind him, Thresh raised his eyebrows in surprise at their interaction.
She turned away after that. Before she could blush. But she didn’t stop waving back to him when he waved to her in the days afterwards.
.
.
.
.
The new week crept up on her before she knew it.
All of the candidates had been interviewed and had finished their required scans. So it was just a matter of Beetee announcing the 12 recipients of the Mockingjay prototype scholarship.
He did so first thing Monday morning.
She should have been surprised when Peeta’s name was called alongside the likes of former green berets, triathlon champions, and other everyday heroes. But she wasn’t.
There was just something about him that stood out even in a crowd of accomplished people.
Some inherent goodness that couldn’t be denied.
She clapped enthusiastically when Beetee handed him the framed scholarship document.
She thought her mind was playing tricks on her when it felt like his eyes searched for someone in the crowd. But his gaze landed directly on her, and then stayed there for a long while.
.
.
.
.
By Wednesday, two thirds of the scholarship recipients had departed for home with their new prostheses. Only the 12 prototype testers, and a few of the other Jabberjay users stuck behind.
She watched as Peeta went through the additional training to learn how to use the advanced technologies he’d be receiving when he got his Mockingjay.
At first he stumbled. A lot. He even fell a few times. But he always got back up. Half the time he was even grinning, like it was funny.
He made friends with Dr. Odair, Thresh, and even Johanna took a liking to him. Said he had spunk and then proceeded to crack a joke about his plump baker’s buns.
Katniss didn’t agree out loud but privately she thought he was a lot more than that.
.
.
.
.
Friday rolled around and she got up with a heavy feeling in her limbs.
She dragged herself to work and went through the motions. She didn’t know why she had a feeling of dread tying knots in her stomach but it was there and it was hard to ignore.
She was happy for a moment when the twelve testers got to put on their prostheses for the first time. She couldn’t stop smiling when they all gushed and applauded the team for all their help. They seemed so grateful. It made her feel warm all over.
But the feeling quickly faded when she caught a look at the time. The day was almost over. The testers had a few hours to fine tune things with the engineers and the physical therapists, but then the work day would finish.
At that thought the heavy feeling returned.
But then, Finnick and Johanna invited the remaining group of prototype testers to come out and have a celebratory drink with them after work. She was surprised by how she reacted.
Her eyes automatically found Peeta. It felt like she was holding her breath, waiting for his answer.
He looked right at her when he said yes.
.
.
.
.
Jo handed her a margarita and tipped her head in Peeta’s direction.
“You should talk to him,” she said to Katniss.
Katniss’ eyes went wide and she shifted in her seat, so it wouldn’t appear that they’re looking at Peeta from across the room. Or talking about him.
“Are you kidding? He’s a scholarship awardee, Jo,” Katniss hissed under her breath.
Jo made a sound between a scoff and a snort.
“Yeah, but you’re just an intern. So it really doesn’t matter who you screw as long as it's not one of the bosses,” Jo said.
Katniss wrinkled her nose in disgust, at the thought of any sexual impropriety connected to her bosses. Dr. Latier, Dr. Aurelios, and Dr. Wiress. As far as she knew they were all married. And considerably older than her.
“Jeez, roll it back Kit Kat. I can see your brain malfunctioning at the thought of Beetee in his underwear, or out of it.” Johanna said with a snicker.
Katniss frowned at her, annoyed.
“Just, leave it alone Jo,” she told her friend.
Jo shrugged her shoulders, seemingly giving up.
But then she said, “He’s been staring at you all week,” before picking her drink up and sliding off the barstool. “Almost as much as you’ve been staring at him,” Johanna added, before walking away, her round hips swaying to the loud music.
To test the theory, Katniss looked over at where she last spotted Peeta. He was still over by the pool tables, talking with Thresh and Finnick. His eyes flitted away from her quickly, but Jo was right.
He had been looking.
.
.
.
.
He approached her as the evening started to wind down. After Finnick beat Johanna at pool and everybody pitched in to order two rounds of nachos.
He stood next to her, instead of trying to hoist himself up onto a stool. Probably because he was still getting used to his new prosthetic.
“Hi,” he said quietly. His cheeks were a little flushed from the alcohol and the ends of his slightly overlong blond hair were curling up, from sweat due to the temperature in the crowded bar.
“Hey,” she replied, taking a sip of her third drink. She’d been nursing it, and trying to pace herself.
“So, I think I’ve talked to everyone here but you.”
“That’s not true. We’ve talked over the past two weeks.” She countered, already defensive for some reason.
“Purely surface stuff. Introductions, and work titles. You gave me directions to the restroom once, and I think you warned me about trying to use the coffee maker.” He said with a shrug.
“That thing is as complicated as a damn spaceship. I’ve burned myself countless times trying to work it. No one knows how to use it other than Beetee and Finnick,” she interjected quickly.
Peeta smiled at her, that warm, big, bright smile that blinded her a little and made her feel slightly stupid.
“Nobody else bothered to warn me about it. Probably saved my life with that advice.” He joked and she didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything, she just tried not to get lost in those blue eyes.
“So, I guess, I was thinking, isn't it funny that I know you’d go out of your way to do something like that but I don’t know anything else about you?” He said with a tilt of his head like he’s studying her.
“What do you want to know?” She asked dryly, hoping this wasn’t the prelude to some lame pick up line. She really couldn’t handle it if he turned out to be one of those guys.
“What’s your favorite color?” he said, looking away, at a spot somewhere over her shoulder.
She cocked her head at him, confused for a second as to why he would want to know something so…trivial. But then he swallowed, thickly, and she realized he was nervous. He was trying to do that thing, where he put himself out there and made friends. And it all clicked.
She placed a reassuring hand on his forearm. He finally looked at her.
“It's green,” she told him.
And that was how it started.
.
.
.
.
They talked almost all night.
They talked about what Peeta dubbed ‘the deep stuff,’ which just happened to be more innocuous ‘get to know you’ questions, but were for some reason infinitely more entertaining than she had ever thought they could be when paired with the correct company.
They ran the gambit on topics ranging from where they grew up (in the same state, just a few counties apart, surprisingly enough), went to school, (Bluefield State for him and MIT for her), to their favorite kinds of music (they both liked indie rock and hated jazz), to what they wanted to be as children. (He wanted to be a painter. She wanted to be an Olympic archer.)
Eventually the topic of family and the looming holidays came up.
“Is it bad to say I’m dreading going home for the holidays?” he asked with a groan.
She shook her head, but then stopped, feeling a little wobbly in her chair and pretty tipsy.
“Nope, it's very-understatable. I mean relatable. Or understandable?” she replied with a shrug. She knew he knew what she meant. He did, because he noded at her, before continuing.
“It's just. My family. They get so…overbearing. They’re always…prying into my life you know? Giving me advice. Making little comments,” he admitted.
“Mine too,” she confessed.
“Really? What in the world would your family be disappointed in you about?”
“Well, I always show up alone, which prompts endless questions about my dating life, and then I get asked how I’m ‘really’ doing, as if being single automatically means I’m secretly depressed.”
“You’re not depressed. You’re just a—reserved person!” Peeta almost shouted, sounding indignant. The barkeep shoots them a look, as if assessing if they’re about to get rowdy and Katniss sighs. Looking back at Peeta and petting his forearm, to calm him, before she continued more quietly.
“I don’t know. Maybe I am. I haven’t dated anyone seriously in five years. I don’t make friends that easily either. Maybe I just suck at making meaningful connections.”
“Bullshit,” Peeta said fiercely. “You and everyone at D12 are the friendliest, nicest bunch of people I've ever met! You’re changing the fucking world Katniss. The connections you make improve people’s lives everyday. Those are real, and meaningful. You—you do so much good, ” he added and the sincerity in his eyes almost broke her.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know that. And I’m proud of it. But that still doesn’t stop my family from looking at me like I’m a charity case because I don’t have a boyfriend or fiance, or whatever,” she said.
“That shouldn’t matter more than all the other wonderful things about you,” Peeta told her earnestly, his big warm hand sliding up to hold hers.
“Sometimes it feels like it does, you know?” she told him, looking into his eyes. They were slightly bloodshot from drinking. But that just made the blue a more interesting color. Almost violet.
“I know exactly how you feel. I mean, it's only been two years since I lost my leg but my parents are constantly pushing me to date again,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles soothingly.
She got lost in the sensation for a moment. She couldn’t remember the last time someone touched her like this. Maybe never.
“That’s terrible, Peeta. You need time to heal. Time to adjust,” she said. He gave her a weak but grateful smile.
“Yeah, well, tell that to my mother. She’s constantly talking about what a disappointment I am. How she expected me to be engaged or married by now. As if I had any choice in the matter,” he said sadly, and a bit resentfully.
“I would. I’d tell her,” she blurted without thinking.
For one brief moment she imagined it. Calling up his mother and ranting at her for putting such unwanted pressure on her kindhearted son. She imagined the things she would say. Scathing rebukes against her parenting style and praise for Peeta’s sunny disposition despite all he’s been through. His bravery. His sweetness. His strength of character.
The idea was intoxicating.
Then she imagined saying all these things to the woman’s face. She could almost feel the satisfaction of standing up to such an overbearing person. And all of a sudden the image shifted and she was holding Peeta’s hand, and he was by her side while she verbally chopped his mother down to size.
Peeta huffed out a laugh, saying how he’d give just about anything for the chance to see someone stand up to his momster-
And the world paused. In the span of a heartbeat she looked directly at him and held his gaze.
“What if, what if I did just that Peeta?” she breathed out.
His forehead scrunched in confusion.
“What? Tell off my mother? Katniss, as much as I’d like it. I’m a big boy. I can suck it up and just ignore her and everyone else’s comments for a few days,” he said.
“Yeah, but what if you didn’t have to. What if neither of us had to deal with that crap this year? What if—what if we both had significant others to take home this year?” She said, raising her eyebrows at him.
“You mean you want to—?” He was still confused, but there was an excited lift in his voice, a little glint in his eye.
“Pretend! Yes. I mean, just for a few days. Just to get everyone off our backs, you know,” she told him. And then she was thrown off when his face fell, just a little. Before evening out into something more neutral and less open.
“Oh, right. Of course,” he said, nodding almost to himself.
“I mean, you don’t have to obviously. It was just an idea. I was just being stupid-,” she stammered, backtracking.
“No, no. It’s a good idea,” he interrupted her, then, “Let’s do it,” he said, more firmly before squeezing her hand and then letting go.
“Are you sure?” she asked him worriedly. She kept replaying how his face fell and she knew the last thing she wanted to do was force him into some stupid scheme. He deserved better.
“Yeah,” he answered, draining the last of his drink and pulling out his wallet before throwing some bills on the counter.
She was confused for a moment as to why he seemed like he was getting ready to leave. She wondered if she pissed him off. Maybe by implying he couldn’t get a real girlfriend to accompany him home for the holidays? But that was preposterous.
Katniss thought he was wonderful, smart, and good, and handsome, and all the things that women would love given half a chance. She was just about to apologize, to say something.
But when he turned to her, he was smiling again.
“It’s late and I should get going,” he said and she felt something tighten inside her chest. “Give me your phone for a minute,” he asked and she handed it over promptly, and greatly relieved.
She watched as he programmed his number quickly into her contacts list. Then handed it back to her.
“There. Now you can contact me when we’re both sober. If you really wanna do this, that is,” he told her, before he bent to give her a quick hug.
He smelled like cinnamon and dill, and bread somehow, underneath the scent of the beer.
“Do you need me to call you a cab?” he asked. She told him no, but he waited while she called one anyway. He even waited until the cab arrived and she was driven away, before pulling out his phone to call for his own ride.
At home she dropped into bed like a stone, trying to ignore the nagging feeling like had missed something. But she was so tired, and her head hurt. So she gave up trying to figure it out and went to sleep.
.
.
.
.
She woke up the next morning, definitely hung over.
She popped some ibuprofen and drank copious amounts of water and ordered some greasy takeout from her favorite chinese place around lunch time. Her head felt better after that.
Jo called her to ask if she took Peeta home for a one night stand, and Katniss almost hung up on her. But then she decided not to. Instead she told her about their conversation and the deal they struck up.
Jo listened until she was done, and then let out a long low whistle.
“Well, I guess you’ve been a very good girl this year, because Santa couldn’t have given you a better gift than that.”
“I don’t know if I’m going to go through with it,” Katniss admitted.
“Are you insane? He’s the perfect stand in. Plus he’s not a creep or a loser. And you actually get along with him. And the two of you have chemistry. So it shouldn’t be that hard to fake stuff.”
“You think we have chemistry?” Katniss asked, surprised.
“From the marathon of eye fucking I saw going on last night between you two, I’d say yeah. Yeah you do. I’d say you two have the potential to turn this into something real, actually.”
“He’s only been an amputee for a couple of years, Jo. I overheard him tell Beetee about how he’s struggling to make friends, much less date. And he complained so much about the pressure his family is putting on him to date. I just don’t think he’s ready. And I don’t want to push him.”
“That’s too bad. In that case, he’d still make a great friend. And you could use more of those,” Jo told her.
“Yeah, yeah I think we could do that. But I just don’t know if this fake dating thing is gonna screw everything up.”
“I don’t see how it could. You’re both aware of the parameters. You both want to help each other out. It's a no brainer. Even you can handle it,” Jo joked.
“You’d think so, but I’m so bad at acting.”
“So don’t act. Just, be yourself. You’re comfortable with him. I can tell. He makes you smile. Makes you laugh. Just keep doing that. But with more hand holding and shit,” Jo advised.
Katniss thought about it. It sounded feasible. She told Jo maybe.
“Oh please we both know you’re gonna do it. Just call him and tell him you’re in before he books a flight home because you never said anything.” Jo ordered.
“Shit. You’re right.” She said and then she let Jo go, and dialed Peeta quickly.
His voice was as warm and friendly as ever. And when she told him she still wanted to be his fake girlfriend for the holidays she could almost hear him smiling over the phone as he agreed.
.
.
.
.