Best Man, Chapter 2
“I don’t just kiss people for fun, Peeta.” I tell him, taking a long sip of my wine, while attempting to convey my superiority by squaring my shoulders and narrowing my eyes. It’d be easier to do if he didn’t look so good right now—casually reaching for his own glass of wine, comfortable and relaxed in the late evening glow of summer sun. So I look past him, unable to meet his gaze, instead taking in the hues of red and orange and wisps of white in the sky behind him. And I breathe in the breeze that comes with the warm scents of summer while attempting to ignore that tension that hangs in the air along with the smell of cut grass and fresh flowers. All while trying not to think too much about what the something else Peeta thought was.
I hear Peeta chuckle, and he sips his drink before putting it back down on the table, leaning back into me and requiring my attention again.
“Why do you kiss people then?” he asks. “Because I’d hate to be the guy who you don’t kiss for fun.”