hi! i was wondering if you could write a high school drabble (junior/senior) where peeta is like typical smart, hot, and fuckboy and he always like teases and flirts with katniss in the hallways but katniss doesnt know if he likes her or its just him being a fuck boy and tells her friends and stuff and then they go to a party and make out? im so sorry i know its super demanding and shiz but i really need to read this pretty please? youll make my day! 💖
Never tried fuckboy-vibes Peeta before, but I’ll give it a whirl!
“I don’t know if I want to do this,” I say, holding my finger over the lock on the car door.
Delly just laughs and reaches over the console, unbuckling my seatbelt. “Maybe you should’ve said that before we were parked in front of the house.”
“I did. Four times.”
“Well,” she says, shrugging and kicking the door open, “maybe you should’ve said it louder.”
Even though my stomach is a breeding ground for butterflies, each one of them screaming, Go away, go away, I know I’m not getting out of this. If Delly was determined enough to beat the entire football team in a pie-eating contest, she sure as hell will be determined enough to get me into this party.
Though it’s nearly the end of my senior year in high school, I’ve never gone to any of these shindigs. This isn’t my scene—my scene is and has always been the woods behind my house, the warm, wool blankets in my room, or the field of lavender where Prim and I used to play. But strobe lights, cheap booze, and an army of fuckboys? Count me out. I’d rather plank on a bed of thumbtacks.
Delly knows this, so I’ve got no clue as to why she dragged me here tonight. Granted, this party is at the Undersee mansion—I’ve been friends with Madge since middle school, so at least the hostess is not a stranger—but Madge has thrown others before, when her father and mother were away at galas, and I’ve never been coerced into going then. So why now?
“How long will we be staying?” I ask when we reach the front door, and Delly rings the bell. Suddenly cold, I seal my knees together and hug my shoulders, still not quite sure why I allowed Delly to shove me into this miniature orange rag she’d called a “dress.”
“Kat, we haven’t even gotten through the front door. Maybe you’ll like it!”
I glower. It’s enough to make Delly shrink back a little, but not enough to make her iron-tough smile waver, and certainly not enough to make her give me the car keys.