Chapter Text
Katniss’s cell phone rings with the specific tone set for her personal assistant, Effie. Although she’s in the middle of the grocery store, using her precious, rare free time to do some much-needed food shopping, she decides she’d better get this. It sounds urgent, her instincts tell her. Then again, everything seems urgent with Effie.
“Hello.”
“Katniss dear, oh, I’m glad I caught you!”
So she was right.
“Relax, Effie. You got me. What’s so important?”
“You are not going to believe who just requested your services!”
“Who’s that?” Katniss asks casually as she stares at her nubby nails.
Katniss hears Effie suck in a breath before bursting out with, “Peeta. Mellark!”
Katniss’s eyes go wide.
Oh no, not him.
The guy with the voice of an angel and a heart of pure gold...
The guy the whole world wants to sleep with…
Peeta Mellark could make anyone‒anyone in the whole world, she’s sure‒swoon just by crooning a few notes in that honeyed baritone of his. He could liquify a girl into a puddle at his feet just by calling her ‘honey,’ ‘baby,’ ‘sweetheart,’ or her personal favorite, she thinks sarcastically, ‘Kid.’ Those blond waves, blue eyes, dimples, and boy-next-door good looks have surely broken a million hearts.
But hers came first.
And she will always and forever know him, not as Peeta Mellark the famous singer, but as Peet, the slightly nerdy boy from the church choir.
The one she always wanted to talk to, but never could.
“Tell me you’re kidding.” Katniss doesn’t mean for the words to come out with so much dread, nor even to say it aloud.
“Do I kid, dear?”
No, Effie does not.
“Are you surprised?”
“You could knock me over with a feather,” Katniss utters honestly.
Naturally, Katniss has heard of Peeta Mellark’s success. He’s currently the hottest singing sensation, not just in his genres of Contemporary Pop and Pop Jazz, but across all genres. He’s been topping the charts since his debut three years ago and has performed at such venues as The Blue Note Club, Radio City Music Hall, Carnegie Hall, and even the Royal Albert Hall.
He’s also been People’s ‘Sexiest Man’ two years in a row.
Recalling one particular magazine cover, Katniss tosses two boxes of one of the most sugary holiday treats known to mankind, Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes, into her cart. She always gets a major sweet tooth when she’s nervous or upset.
“Peeta Mellark wants me?” Katniss's cheeks warm at her choice of wording. Of course, she didn’t mean ‘wants’ that way. “For what?”
Katniss is a small-town music publicist, after all. She’s nothing compared to the incredible talents he’s worked with, on both the performance side and behind the scenes.
“Because, dear, he’s returning to District 12 for a tour!”
What?
Katniss peels open the box of cakes and takes one out. Although she’s used to eating on the go, she’s not normally the type to open her treats before they’re paid for‒she usually, at least, makes it to her car‒but she suddenly has such a craving for sweets.
“He’s eager to get back to his roots,” Effie continues. “He misses home and wants to give a special holiday performance here.”
Katniss tears into the package and takes a giant bite off the top of the Christmas tree.
“Well, he said he read all about you, dear, and he wants to work with you.”
Katniss mumbles through a mouthful of Christmas cake.
“What was that, dear? I didn’t understand.”
She finishes chewing. “I said, doesn’t he have his own publicist?”
“Yes, yes, he does, but he wants your input. Truthfully, I think he really wants to see you. You two knew each other as children, I understand.”
So he told her that.
“We did.”
Katniss recalls those stolen glances between them. She’d caught him looking once, and after that, she couldn’t help doing the same.
He was cute.
He wore glasses back then, but given his latest picture, she assumes he must’ve gotten contacts at some point. She's glad he did. Not that she minds glasses in the least, but those beautiful blue eyes should not be hidden behind a pair of thick black frames.
“We were six years old,” Katniss tells her assistant. “We were in the church choir together.”
“Aww,” Effie cooes.
Katniss finishes off her Christmas tree cake and licks her fingers clean.
Not that she wants to admit it, but she had a major crush on Peeta Mellark back then. She’d thought he might have liked her, too, but she figured it was all in her head. And certainly now, what with him being a colossal celebrity and all, there’s no way he’ll be interested. She’s shocked he even remembers her, let alone wants to see her and work with her. She’s sure it’s all business for him, perhaps mixed with a tiny bit of nostalgia.
“So, what do you say, dear?” Effie interrupts her thoughts.
She certainly wants to see him again; the problem is, she never had the guts to talk to him back then.
But she’s a different person now. She’s all grown up and far more confident-not that that’s saying much…
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful! I’ll make the arrangements!”
Katniss heaves a sigh. She’s going to need at least a pint of ice cream and a tube of raw cookie dough for this.