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As I walk down the mile long aisles in Panem’s very own generic Walmart, I notice the conversation hearts need to be restocked. Shit. I really don’t want to have to do that. As massive as this Walmart is, we have few employees seeing as Panem has a population of 1200. Wait, that old man, Haymitch? died yesterday…make that 1199. Anyway, that means that I have to go to the back, find the darn candies, take them out of their boxes, walk all the way back up here, and place them on the shelf. I know, I know. I’m lazy. Get over it.
As I am swiftly jogging back to the display to stock more conversation hearts, I notice a man in his late 20s, his large, calloused hands running through his blond unruly curls. Agitation swept across his features causing me to ask him, “Hello, sir. What can I help you with?”
“Uh, do you have any more of those heart shaped candies with writing on them?” He says as he leans back and forth on each foot. “I’m sorry my niece is begging me for them and I can’t find any.”
I blink and pause before saying, “Do you mean conversation hearts, sir?”
“Yes, yes, that’s exactly what I need,” the man says as sucks out a breath of relief.
“Well I actually-,” I say while turning around so quickly, my raven hair hits my cheek, “-have some right here.”
“I’ll take 2 packages thank you so, so much…?”
He was inquiring after my name so I give it to him, “Katniss. Katniss Everdeen.”
I shake his warm hand causing tingles to run up my arm and down my spine. I take a second to admire his clean-shaven jaw and the tiny freckles dotting his nose. He certainly is handsome, I’ll give him that.
“Peeta Mellark.” He tells me with a crooked grin.
“Well, here you go. Two packages of conversa-” Just as I am about to finish my sentence, the bag rips and all of the countless words spill to the grimy floor.
“Fuck, I’m sorry Peeta.”
“No, I’m sorry Katniss. There must have been a rip in the package,” He says as we both kneel to the ground and pick up the hearts.
“You don’t have to help, really. I’ve got it. I’m getting paid to clean this up anyway and you are not so…” I try to dismiss him so I can clean this up and save myself from even more utter embarrassment. At this point, my cheeks are blushed enough to look like the sky at sunrise.
“I don’t mind,” Peeta tells me with a sympathetic look on his face.
“O-Ok.” I say of course with a hideous blush.
We both work together in tandem, silently until I feel a light tap on my back. Peeta hands me a conversation heart that says Don’t Be That Way. I start to giggle. Giggle. Katniss Everdeen does not giggle. What is this deliciously handsome man doing to me. I clear by throat abruptly and am about to speak when he throws a handful of candy hearts at me.
“Peeta!” I squeal. This man who I have known all of an hour has made me giggle and squeal. Oh, it’s on.
In return, I scrounge up some of the candies and aim them right at his nose. they hit in target and, well, let’s just say that’s all we did for the rest of the day. Hey, conversation heart fights are more fun than they seem.
After what seems like a year of throwing the hearts at each other, and many weird looks, we stopped and finally cleaned up the mess we made. It came time for Peeta to leave. He stood up and wiped his hands on his tight fitting jeans. I wanted to ring him up because, after all, he needed what he came here for.
“Ok, so two bags of conversation hearts with no lacerations and the fight of a lifetime. Anything else?”
He then opens his palm and faces it towards me. A white conversation heart saying those 2 words that would change my life forever could be seen. Date Me it said.
Without warning, I leaned across the register and gave him a languid kiss.
“Out of the 1199 people in this town, a bag of conversation hearts and Walmart brought us together.” Shaking my head happily I answered, “Yes of course, Peeta.”