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Katniss settled down comfortably onto the thick branch she’d ascended to, resting her back against the dark bark of the tree’s trunk. She looked up, enjoying the leaf covering and the way her jeans were becoming dappled with the spattering of sunlight that made its way through the canopy. She reached into the messenger bag resting against her hip, the strap for which was still slung across her chest. She pulled out the book she’d begun to devour in bed that morning before Prim and all her eagerness to go volunteer for the local pet shelter’s adopt-a-pet day had interrupted her and kept her away from the tempting pages for hours. Now, it was mid-afternoon and, while she would admit that she had had fun helping Prim care for the animals and helping to assemble adoption congratulations care packages, she was grateful for the opportunity she’d found to go off for some much coveted solitary time. The woods were her sanctuary, her escape from the day to day, and so were books. In various literary worlds, she could get lost. She could be intrigued, amused, aroused, touched, provoked, calmed, inspired, or informed by the pages she chose to turn.
Today, the pages were full of adventure, time travel and romance…a guilty pleasure for Katniss, for sure. And if she were honest with herself, the A+ smut the book had been touted for having was kind of a big draw for her. She didn’t know what was up with her lately, but she’d been gravitating to these types of books more and more. She found them somewhat…educational.
She hadn’t exactly had any great romances or great real life smut herself. Sure, she’d dated Gale Hawthorne for a while, had let him get as far as second base, but it hadn’t really done that much for her. It was pleasant enough but she’d known from the start that Gale wasn’t going to be “the one.” She had no idea when or if “the one” would actually happen. She wasn’t in a hurry or anything, but these books she was reading certainly did make it all sound more appealing than she had initially thought it would be. Quite a bit more appealing.
She pushed onward through the book, imagining the male love interest in her head as she read his description — wavy blond hair, blue eyes, muscular, of medium height, charming — a nice change to the stereotypical tall, dark and handsome. She did appreciate the fair-skinned, light-haired look. It worked for her sister and mother, who were both beautiful, and from what she’d seen of the male variety, she was a fan. Now if only she could end up stumbling into a secret old elevator in an old mansion and landing in the same house a few hundred years earlier at the feet of its hot former owner, who may or may not be a pirate. Okay, so the book was a bit far-fetched but that was the fun of it, wasn’t it?
As the characters worked past their initial distrust of each other and explored their also immediate attraction, she reached into her bag again and produced a bottle of water and a bag of orange slices she’d tucked away earlier. She nibbled away at her favorite fruit as she continued getting wrapped up in the unfolding story. She thought the characters were finally getting close to a first kiss when she was surprised to hear the crunching of brush and sticks nearby. She didn’t think too many folks came all the way out here like she did. Slowly and quietly, she shifted on her branch so that she could look around. One of the perks of the branch she’d chosen was that it was surrounded by a handful of others, so she was kind of cocooned by foliage. She found it comforting and even more so now when she didn’t really feel like being spotted by whoever was shuffling around below her.
The first thing she noticed was his blond hair. Unlike her book’s male protagonist, his wasn’t merely wavy. No, he had full-fledged curls. He looked to be of average height and his build looked strong but not massive. He was wearing a simple Henley and jeans and he appeared to have a paperback book stuffed into his left back pocket. He carried a small paper bag in his right hand. His eyes were to the ground and just a bit higher to the surrounding tree trunks. She watched as he moved toward one next to her own, paused to pull the book from his pocket, and then slid down to his bottom right in front of the wide base. He leaned his back against the bark as she had and settled himself, turning to a page of the book he’d dog-eared.
Katniss forced herself to look back at her own lap and the book she held her finger inside of currently, holding her spot. She guessed she wasn’t the only one with this grand idea of enjoying the beautiful spring day with some quiet reading time. She partly felt disgruntled that she was now sharing her peaceful copse. Another part of her felt kind of intrigued that a potential kindred spirit had found his way to the exact same spot. A third part of her wanted to know if he had blue eyes or was even remotely charming.
She shook her head quickly, mentally chiding herself for letting her romance novel give her silly notions. He was just a guy who liked to read out in the woods like she did. And really, there was no reason they couldn’t both enjoy doing so in their respective spots. She just hoped he decided to leave before she was ready to. Otherwise, that could be a bit awkward.
They both sat lost for some time in their reading, both quietly partaking of their chosen snacks. His paper bag had contained what looked to be some kind of delicious cheese filled rolls. Katniss’ mouth had almost watered at the sight of them. She wondered where he’d gotten them. She could ask but then she’d have to reveal her secret presence. After a long while, he tilted his head back against his tree, his eyes closed, and she wondered if he was planning to take a nap. Instead though, after a minute or so, she sucked in a breath as he opened his eyes and looked up into the leaves above his own head. A breeze blew through them and his lips curved just slightly. He had nice lips, she determined, but they were no match for those eyes…deep blue and beautiful.
He did leave first. And she couldn’t decide if she was more relieved or saddened to see him go. But the following weekend, he was there again, arriving shortly after she did, sitting down in the same spot beneath the same tree. And she smiled as she brought her knees up and leaned further back against her tree trunk, turning the page on her book and continuing on the journey with its riveting characters.
…
Katniss found herself on her favorite branch in her favorite tree reading alongside her favorite none-the-wiser silent reading companion just about every weekend that spring, delving into mysteries, family dramas, biographies and more romances. Sometimes, she could tell what he was reading and other times, she couldn’t. He seemed interested in suspense, adventure, travel, psychology, humor, and art. Sometimes, he brought a sketchpad instead of a book and drew fantastical scenes of places and persons imagined, or she supposed real — she didn’t know him, after all, so she didn’t know what he had and hadn’t seen in his life. She couldn’t always see what he was drawing too clearly but she could see how comfortable he was drawing it, how the pencils expertly scratched lines into life within his skilled hands. She wondered what other skills those hands might have.
And then she thought about how crazy it was for her to think about such things. What was she going to do? Swing down from her perch like some horny female Tarzan and request he show her? No, she was going to sit up in her tree and continue to admire him and make up stories about him in her own mind until he left. Those were probably better than the reality anyway, right? She still couldn’t help but wonder if they weren’t though.
…
As summer dawned, she climbed into her familiar sanctuary more often, the demands of school not keeping her tied to her desk at home. She half expected to only continue seeing her talented co-escapist on the weekends but often, it seemed to work out that he was wandering around the woods at the same time she was, intent on having some stolen moments all his own as well. She nibbled on grapes and strawberries as he munched on carrots and celery. She popped bits of candy into her mouth as he savored more cheese buns and made short work of a variety of cookies. From time to time, she noticed him reading a book she had already read and she watched him, seeing him react to it in much the same ways she had. She also found herself exploring books she’d seen him enjoy or be puzzled by or set down with a sigh. Sometimes, she left things out and about, as naturally as she could, to inspire his drawings…a unique discarded flower, a few stray berries, or a random colorful piece of litter, which he always took with him, to discard she presumed, though she would have done so herself when she left anyway.
It was the fact that he was so conscientious about not leaving litter behind that gave her pause one day when he stood from his well-worn spot and headed back in the direction from whence he always arrived, leaving his brown paper bag from the day half crumpled beneath his tree. She waited a while but when he didn’t come back, she climbed down from her perch and moved over to the other tree to pick up the forgotten bag. She presumed it was forgotten anyway. Nothing about the boy she’d observed for months now suggested he would have purposely disrespected the forest. She needed to get going anyway, so she figured she’d just throw it in her bag to discard in town or back at home. When she picked it up, she was surprised to find it still held some weight. Curious, she unrolled the top and peered inside. She felt a pang in her stomach as she saw that he had left behind a perfect cheese bun. She’d been eyeing them for so long now, imagining what they tasted like. Now, here was one just tempting her to devour it. Should she? It wasn’t hers. But he didn’t show any signs of returning near as she could tell. And, it had to be safe, right? She’d watched him eat one earlier.
She couldn’t resist and when she sunk her teeth into the moist roll, she couldn’t bring herself to regret her decision. It was every bit as delectable as she’d imagined it would be. She ate every last bite and licked her fingers, looking around and feeling a bit foolish for her gluttony, though there was no one save a few tree squirrels to witness her small carb-fest. As she went to roll the bag back up to shove in her messenger bag, she noticed a small logo on it and unrolled it enough to view it. ”Mellark Bakery” was printed surrounding the small picture of a tiered cake, a loaf of bread and a couple of cookies. A memory jogged in her brain — her mother and Prim returning home one day from a shopping excursion in town with a half dozen cookies and a story she’d vaguely paid attention to about one of her mom’s old classmates moving back into town and opening up a new bakery downtown. Come to think of it, she thought she now remembered her mom saying something about them having a son about her age but about them homeschooling him, which would explain why she hadn’t met him in school. That was a shame really; he seemed like he might be more intellectual and interesting than most of the other guys in her class, assuming the avid reader and artist she’d been sharing her woods with was indeed this younger Mellark and not just a really loyal customer.
Whoever he was, he didn’t leave another half-empty bag behind again in the weeks to come, much to her admittedly unreasonable disappointment. Of course, she didn’t venture in to the bakery either to get herself any treats or to investigate her blond companion further. One day, she had finished her latest book, a classic Jane Austen novel, and was just relaxing in her spot, watching some playful squirrels in a neighboring tree and sneaking glances at the boy below. He was sketching again and he looked to be concentrating quite a bit. He was angled such that she couldn’t really see what he was drawing at all. He’d been at it for a while though. She’d noticed him moving between his different pencils before she’d gotten ensconced in the final chapters of her book. She put her head back against the bark and closed her eyes, just listening to the breeze and the rustling leaves and the quiet sounds of him scratching finishing touches into his paper. When she heard him stop and everything grow more silent, she spared a glance back downward and saw that he was now reclining in a similar position, his own eyes closed, his head tilted back against the tree trunk and up toward the sky. She saw the smile form on his face, a smile she was becoming well-acquainted with and that made her feel as though the day’s warmth had increased by a few degrees.
And then he opened his eyes and inclined his head toward her tree and she had to steel herself so she didn’t ungracefully fall out of it, which would be a first for her…a first in a long time, anyway. He seemed to be looking right at her but not. His eyes roamed over the leaves then and moved over the neighboring trees — he seemed amused by the playful squirrels too — before falling back to the tree trunks and the soft grass covering on the ground on which he sat. She let out the quiet breath she’d been holding and watched as he slowly rose and moved across the clearing to a tree that appeared to have a narrow hollowed out section. Her curiosity was piqued as she saw him tear his drawing from the sketchpad, roll it into a tube and tuck it into the hollow in the tree. Then, he tucked the pad under his arm, stuffed his crumpled paper bag into his pocket and left.
Katniss sat for several minutes waiting to see if he would return and when she thought enough time had passed, she slipped back down to the ground and quietly approached the tree with the hollow. Biting her lip, she reached inside and felt the light paper tube touch her fingers. She withdrew them and thought for another moment. On the one hand, it was an invasion of his privacy but on the other, he had left it here. Someone could just find it by chance anyway. That someone could be her. With renewed resolve, she reached back into the opening and pulled the paper from it. Unrolling it, she gasped.
The scene he’d drawn was one she was quite familiar with. He’d drawn a teenage girl sitting high up in a tree, lost in the pages of a book, her messenger bag resting against her hip and her dark braid hanging down over one shoulder. He’d drawn her. She looked the drawing over further and saw the teenage boy beneath the neighboring tree, looking up toward the tree in which the girl sat, oblivious to his stare.
He knew. And she had no idea how she felt about that.
Part of her wanted to meet him, to know him, and another part wanted him to remain this lovely mystery. He couldn’t be a disappointment if he wasn’t quite real. It didn’t seem like she had much choice in the matter now. She wondered how long he’d known. Had it been from the very start or had she made a bit too much noise once over the months that followed, causing him to glance up and notice her? Had he only just noticed her that day? Something told her that wasn’t the case, something about the way he’d smiled when he’d looked up. So, he had seen her then. Her breathing felt labored and her legs felt a bit shaky. What happened now? Was this a time for her to decide if she was going to come back here tomorrow or the next day or the next or if she was going to go find a new spot and try to ignore the special unspoken bond she seemed to have found here? Was she brave enough to come back and face him, ask what made him frown at certain book scenes and chuckle at others, ask where and when he’d learned to draw as well as he did, ask if he’d left her that cheese bun on purpose and why?
“Hi.”
She felt the goosebumps spread up her neck and down her arms. She’d been so caught up in her train of thought, she hadn’t heard him return. He really did affect her; that normally would not happen. She took a long breath before turning around. Some of her questions were void now. He’d made a choice for both of them. Oddly, even with her hand forced, she didn’t think she minded.
He was leaning against what she’d long since termed “his tree,” offering her a soft, curious smile. ”Hi,” she somehow managed.
“Do you like it?” he asked and she felt the color rush to her cheeks as she realized he was referring to his drawing, which she still held in her hands.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to look at it. It’s none of my business.”
He looked mildly amused and shrugged lightly. ”It’s of you. I hoped you’d look at it. It’s as much your business as you want it to be.”
She felt the warmth at the pit of her stomach. So, this is what his voice sounded like. It was wonderful. Smooth as the butter that coated the cheese buns of which he was so fond. She acknowledged what he’d said. She wasn’t very good at this, at conversing with someone new, let alone someone she felt such a crazy connection to and someone she also felt a crazy attraction to. Those eyes…so blue…were watching her, waiting to see what she’d say next.
“I…yes, I like it. It’s very good. You’re…very good.”
“Thank you. I just draw what inspires me.”
She inspired him. She did. Not just the items she left for his inspiration but she herself. She liked that.
“How long?” she asked him before she had time to censor herself.
He studied her for a long moment and then shrugged again. ”A while,” he answered evasively. ”It was nice and I figured we should both get to enjoy this spot if neither of us minded sharing it.”
She nodded. His thoughts had mirrored hers.
“I’m Peeta, by the way. Peeta Mellark.”
She smiled. So, he was the baker’s son. ”I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen.”
His lips curved higher. ”Well, Katniss, would you like to walk back in together?”
“Sure.” She adjusted her bag against her torso and tentatively moved closer to him, holding his drawing out for him to take back. He just shook his head and told her it was hers to keep. Blushing slightly, she tucked it into her bag and then started to move slowly out of the clearing. Peeta walked beside her, meeting her every step and looking at her like she was the very thing he’d asked for for his birthday and had gotten. No one had ever looked at her quite like that. It was something she thought she could get used to, something she wanted to get used to.
In the weeks and months to come, Peeta became more real and less and less a mystery to her…and nothing about him disappointed her…not even a little. He was charming and his hands… Who needed secret old elevators in mansions? Comfortable, old trees worked just as well.