Katniss POV
Style of the Day: Black Chucks, Vintage MTV hoodie
Song of the Moment: Falling by Haim
It was the solitude that had initially drawn me to the opportunity.
Some university students had converted the long abandoned firehouse into a grassroots radio station nearly thirty years earlier. A picture of the four founding members was still hastily draped from a wall hook, directly above my hanging mic. They were my only company on nights like these, when by 10 PM, all of the other volunteers were long gone, ready to take on whatever college adventure awaited them. I'd never been particularly great with people, so the loneliness suited me just fine.
"And that was Red Eye by Kid Cudi and Haim from the album Indicud. Next up on the Midnight Ride playlist is LES by Childish Gambino." I pressed the red button that signaled the beginning of the next track and simultaneously muted my microphone. I spoke as little as possible when live.
With my limited narration I allowed my audience –if I even had one- a certain distinct privilege, the ability to be lost in the music. It had never been about me, this radio thing, but the playlist. That's one of the reasons why I never used my name on air- not in the three years that I'd had the show. Creating an escape was something a little more familiar to me than I'd have cared to admit. And music had always somehow managed to mitigate the risks associated with direct participation with any and everything around me.
It was a Godsend finding the flier for WCUX my freshman year.
They were calling for someone to take over the late-night shift for a senior studying abroad during fall semester. I showed up at the house a day later with nothing but my ipod classic and my signature sunny disposition. It didn't take much convincing, after all. The current manager was amidst some serious relationship issues and didn't have a lot of time to interview a freshman with pretty low aspirations and even lower tolerance for people. He took one scroll through my "Top 25 Most Played" and gave me the gig on the spot.
I'd been filling the airwaves with my favorite tunes ever since.
There were lots of benefits to both having your own show and doing it at a time where
The eerie calm that overtook the studio during my show was something that I had grown to depend on. So when my best friend's oversized fist started rapping at the sound booth's window, I nearly fell out of my chair.
"Jesus, Gale!" I mouthed, once I had regained my bearings. I checked how much longer was left on the preprogrammed tracks and took off my headphones before yanking open the door. "You know I hate it when you do that." I rolled my eyes as he followed me into the booth, shutting the door back behind him.
Gale wiped his eyes furiously, a result of his hysterical laughter. "Sorry, Catnip, I couldn't resist. You about pissed your pants this time." I punched him in the shoulder before flopping back down into my well-worn leather chair. "Anyways, are you ready to go? That 8AM lab is gonna bite you in the ass tomorrow."
He pulled up the folding chair in the corner, turning it around so he could cross his arms over the back. "I know that, Hawthorne, but what was I gonna do? I have a rep to protect here, blessing the masses with good music. Unlike that shit you listen to." I put my headphones back on and unmuted my mic. Gale didn't dare respond with a snarky comment when the green light came on, announcing that I was live again. If there was one thing Gale could respect, it was the amount of care I put into my show.
"Well, that's it for this evening, folks. Hopefully you've had an evening worth remembering, or forgetting if that's what you're into. As always, I'll be back tomorrow night, and until then- happy Midnight Ride." I muted myself again and switched on the station's overnight playlist. Around 9 AM, Cato Aronson would be in to start the Early Morning Rock Block, so I prayed that whoever had made the playlist today had included plenty of Jack Johnson or John Mayer.
Something had to balance out the amount of Nickleback the student body would have to contend with in the morning.
"Don't be sour, Kat, you know you love Pearl Jam just as much as the next guy." I snorted, grabbed my leather messenger bag from the floor and tossed it over my shoulder. As much as he could manage to get under my skin, I couldn't help but be grateful to have a friend with a car, willing to pick me up at 2AM everyday. There weren't many people that would do that. But then again, there weren't many friendships that had been through the amount that Gale and I's had.
"I'm not having this argument again. It's too late to listen to your dissertation on 'Daughter' again. 'Oh Katniss, it's so beautiful! Eddie Vedder is a poet'" I spoke in the highest pitch possible, mocking his admiration and effectively earning myself a headlock. I attempted to wrestle myself out but my uncontrollable laughter and Gale's sheer monstrous size was making it virtually impossible. Finally I had to concede by admitting to having a secret obsession with the song and tell Gale that his musical tastes were far superior to my own.
Some lies were worth telling if it meant getting home and to sleep before my 8AM class.
I locked the doors behind us, checking and double-checking to make sure everything was secure. The station had become my home away from home, really, and I never felt quite right walking away without giving it the proper precautions. "I don't know why you bother anyways. Nobody wants to steal your crap circa 1980's soundboard."
Gale commented and started up his precious –albeit super crappy- 1989 Geo Metro. The irony wasn't even worth addressing. "Can you just shut your mouth and get me home, please? I don't have a modicum of the energy it would take to contend with that statement."
I must have drifted to sleep in the ten minutes it took to get from the station back to my apartment because when I opened my eyes, Gale had effectively carried me up to my door with one arm while unlocking it with his free hand. My arms had been draped around his neck unconsciously and immediately dropped them after realizing what was going on. "Oh uh, welcome back to earth, sleepy head. I felt bad waking you up."
If I didn't know him so well I would have sworn he was blushing. He carefully set me down on the ground and popped the door open. Even using the key, it was hard to get into my crappy place without kicking the thing in. We needed to call the landlord again, but our rent was too cheap to complain too much about the amenities.
"I uh, well don't worry about it. Thanks. I guess this late-night/early morning thing is starting to get to me." I straightened my hoodie, which had at some point ridden up to my navel.
It wasn't that Gale hadn't seen much more from me (and countless other girls, I'm sure), I mean, he'd been carrying me my entire life. It was just that something about him carrying me tonight had seemed different. Like the time when I was in 5th grade and he was in 7th that we'd gone sledding and an unseen ice patch had caused me to slip and break my ankle. He carried me in one arm and my father's old sled in the other for a mile, when I cried about leaving the old thing behind. He never once complained and had never once looked at me like he was now.
"Well don't flatter yourself, Catnip. You barely weigh a buck ten, soaking wet." With that the momentary awkward tension that had creeped in was shattered. I was back to being his annoying little sister.
"Shut up, Hawthorne. I've gained a little!" I whisper-hissed, careful not to wake my roommates. There wasn't really any argument. I had always been naturally petite. Gale smiled and turned to head back to his car.
"Go to bed, Everdeen. Wouldn't want you to miss class for once." My perfect attendance was always a joke among my friends. No matter how committed I was to my time slot or my actual job, nothing was worth missing a precious (and expensive) class day over. I rolled my eyes and shut the door behind me, the apartment just as messy as it had been when I left this morning. Of course none of the girls had bothered to clean. It was practically an unspoken rule around here. Without any preamble, I pushed the leftover Chinese cartons off of the couch and fell back onto it. I grabbed the quilt from the floor and wrapped it around myself.
I'd get on the girls for having no respect for my sleeping space in the morning.
Peeta's POV
Style of the Day: Red "The Bean Shop" polo, unwashed/ironed khakis, slip-on Vans
Song of the Moment: Alien Days by MGMT
There was very little that could make this job bearable.
The ungodly hour that I'd managed to pull all semester was starting to wear on my soul. And that was the simplest, least dramatic way to put it. Or at least that was the way I felt on this particular morning. The Bean Shop opened its doors at 7, which meant us morning shift folks were scheduled to arrive at 6AM to get everything prepared for the day. I kept reminding myself not to complain too much about the gig. It was, in fact, the only reason I could still attend State. Well, that and driving the Night Owl campus bus service from 11PM til 2AM.
But I mean, really, how much could a guy do with coffee beans at 6 in the morning?
"Peeta…Peet!" I was jolted out of my reverie when my coworker and best friend started shaking me by the shoulder. I was stocking the napkin holders in the center of every table, singing along to MGMT's newest album, probably a little too loud. "Jeez, Peet, I've been trying to get your attention from behind the counter for five minutes!"
"Sorry, Finn, guess I was so focused on stocking these napkins I just couldn't be shaken." I jested half-heartedly. His eyes crinkled with vague amusement at my joke. Finnick was the only reason I landed this job in the first place, having already been working here for a semester when I came into my financial aid troubles. We had been roommates freshman year and had instantly hit it off. So when I lost my wrestling scholarship a year later, he put in a good word for me with the pastry chef.
We'd been causing trouble and making overpriced beverages together ever since.
"Yeah, I'm sure. You look beat, by the way. Those baby blues are losing their sheen. But listen, Moira said it's time to open up shop and she's not taking any prisoners today, so you'd better get on it." I ignored his jab with a scoff. The bags that were sure to be forming under my eyes were no surprise. I was barely managing 3 hours of sleep a night.
I took out my headphones and glanced back over his shoulder to where our manager stood, staring impatiently.
"So you told her the 'Boss-with-benefits' plan wasn't working for you, I take it." I wrapped my earbuds around my old school ipod and stuffed it into my pocket. "I told you that was a bad idea from the start, bro."
Finn ran a hand through his copper colored hair nervously. I'd seen him swoon many-a-woman in the time we'd known each other, and it very rarely turned out well for any of us in the end. So when he started sleeping with our new manager a few weeks ago, I had a feeling the job'd turn ugly pretty quick. "I know, man, I know. But hey, she's on the fast track to corporate anyways. So at best we only have to put up with this for what, one, two more years?"
"Hopefully we'll be out of here by then, buddy." I clapped him on the back and headed towards the kitchen, ready to take out the various desserts that I'd popped in earlier. Finn stood behind me, singing a song and bouncing from foot to foot. He did that a lot. He wasn't all that good at this job, really. All of our previous managers had kept him around for his winning personality and charming smile. That was all right by me, though, it felt like being back in the bakery with my big brothers.
Moira walked through moments later, shooting death glares in our direction, and if I hadn't missed it, flipping Finn the bird. This was starting to feel more like home everyday.
I laughed silently and we made haste putting the pastries on the shelf and readying the shop to open. Within moments, a stream of students and professors began pouring in, getting prepped for their morning classes. Since the shop was located within the Union, directly in the center of campus, we got a lot of business on weekday mornings. We were busy enough for me to forget how exhausted I was for a while. "Peet, dude, did you see those two chicks that just sat down?"
Finnick appeared next to me as I wiped down a table that my old 18th Century English Lit professor had just vacated. Everyone here seemed like a familiar face. "There are 20 people in here, Finn, you're gonna need to be more specific." I smiled at his antics. If there was one thing I could count on my best friend being enthusiastic about, it was a beautiful woman.
"I know you're lame, Peet, but you aren't BLIND. I'm talking about those two in the corner! Their regulars, I think. The brunette looks a little edgy for my taste, but the blonde, well, you know how I feel about blondes." I could practically feel Moira cursing us from behind the register.
We were so losing our jobs.
It didn't take long to spot them after he had pointed the two out, however. I could tell that wavy brown hair from anywhere. And I couldn't help but get a little flustered at the familiarity. "Oh uh, them, yeah. They're pretty cute." I turned my head back to the table, scrubbing at an imaginary spot, hoping that Finn would just let it drop.
"Peeta, my boy," He slapped my back, "you gotta go make a move! I'm telling you, I can read people, you know? And I'm reading that the brunette would totally fall for your artistic wit and self-deprecating humor. She looks like one of those hipster types."
I wanted to roll my eyes. For a generally wacky guy, Finnick was surprisingly good at reading people he hadn't met. He had been way off when it came to Katniss, though. "How about I just do enough work for the both of us this morning and let you take care of the ladies, huh bud?" I moved to the next table, purposely moving in the opposite direction of the girls, praying that the burning nerves weren't all over my face.
"Because, man, I can't let this go on any longer! You're young, you're handsome –if you don't mind me saying- and you're celibate! Something is wrong with that!" People were turning around to look at the two of us. The intimate setting of the coffee shop wasn't really a place for airing dirty laundry. An elderly woman reading Sylvia Plath coughed and glared at us out of the corner of her eye. Finn lowered his voice. "All I'm saying is, you're my best friend and I'm worried about you, man. You broke up with Ginger or whatever her name was-"
"You know her name was Clove."
He continued, unperturbed, "-eight months ago. It's time to move on."
He was right, not that I was willing to let on or anything. The only thing was, the girl I wanted to move onto, the reason Clove and I had broken up in the first place, refused to acknowledge my existence.
The only time she'd ever spoken to me was at midnight, from 12 to 2, on WCUX.
Katniss POV
Style of the Day: Thrifted boyfriend jeans, red plaid flannel and black chucks
Song of the Moment: Gone by Phillip Phillips (or whatever is playing over the speakers in the damned coffee shop)
Annie was doing that motherly thing she always does.
First it had been my lack of jacket when I arrived at our organic bio lab this morning, then it had been about my lack of sleep the night before and now it was my work schedule. It always ended up back at my work schedule with her. I was spending too many hours at the studio for her taste and she thought it was getting a little unhealthy.
"Annie, I've avoided 8AM's for the past four semesters. It was bound to catch up with me at some point." I yawned, but attempted to sip my drink to cover it up. While I didn't support the big business of commercialized coffee shops, this place was fantastic. The Bean Shop had a prime location after early morning courses and late night shifts, affordable beverages and that funny red headed guy who always added an extra cinnamon shot to my drinks for free. "I can't give up my show, you know that."
There were few things that I was willing to change about my life, I'd realized. When I found a way that worked for me, I didn't find function in changing it. While this schedule admittedly wasn't ideal, it was workable. And I was okay with that.
"Katniss, sweetie," she began in her gentle voice, "I just hate seeing you like this. You're exhausted all of the time, you barely have time to do your homework," she lowered her voice even more, "and you wore this same outfit two days ago."
If it weren't so painfully true, it would almost be laughable. I had found these clothes lying on the floor of the living room -which currently doubled as my bedroom- and thrown them on this morning in a fit of exhaustion. They smelled clean enough, but observant little Annie noticed everything. "A, please stop worrying about me, I'm fine. You know I like a challenge. And besides, I have to work to pay for school and I have to do the show to stay sane. There aren't really many options, y'know?"
She leaned back in her seat, carefully examining my face. I suddenly felt self-conscious. If she had realized that I was re-wearing dirty clothes, what would I unconsciously give away next; the fact that the nightmares had kept me from sleeping at all last night, which was why I had barely been able to keep my eyes open during lab this morning?
"You need someone to cohost your show." She leaned back in her seat and smiled kindly. I had a feeling that she wanted to say more, but restrained. Annie was good like that, only saying what must be said. She didn't waste words. Wasn't frivolous with her speech. It was the reason why I took all of her suggestions in such high regard- because she meant every bit of it. "That way you can maybe get some homework done, focus on your reading, sneak in a little nap even."
It was a simple solution, and something that I had never considered. I hated the thought of bringing someone else into my territory and subsequently revealing a very intimate part of my identity (one that I'd otherwise managed to keep secret). "I'll bring it up with the station manager when I go to pick up my check today, okay? Now, stop stressing about me and let's focus on going over these notes. You know orgo is my worst subject this semester."
Annie was a science whiz. Having been an only child to two parents who had PhD's in Marin Biology and Human Psychology, respectively, she was raised in an environment that encouraged academia. Me on the other hand, well, it was a miracle I had even made it to college at all. My father was a jazz pianist before he died, never having been formally trained or educated; it was never a major contention in our house. It wasn't until after he died that I realized had he or my mother bothered with an education, maybe she would have been able to hold down a steady job and kept some food on the table for my little sister and I.
College was a decision of necessity more than choice for me.
We had barely cracked open our notebooks before the redheaded barista had appeared at our table. He had on his best and brightest smile, directed right at Annie this morning. If he weren't so disgustingly endearing I would probably yack. "Good morning lovely ladies! Perhaps I could interest you in a Cinnamon Croissant, on the house?"
Annie, as precious as she is, accepted the pastry with an equally vibrant smile. "Why thank you, um…"
"Finnick," he offered, puffing out his chest a bit.
"-Finnick. My name is Annie, Annie Cresta. These are my absolute favorite. Aren't they, Katniss?" She looked to me for confirmation. I nodded into my beverage, attempting to stifle my laughter. Annie never had any idea when a man was hitting on her. Her good nature was inclined to believe that every man went around offering women free things and helping them carry their books or whatever it was that happened to pretty girls with bubbly personalities. "I really appreciate it, Finnick."
I stole a glance at the barista, now identified as Finnick, who seemed completely thrilled that Ann had said his name, not once, but twice in the course of their conversation. "It was my pleasure, Annie. I'll make sure to let me buddy Peet know. He's the one who baked them, actually." He nodded back to the table in the corner where his busied himself with cleaning already spotless tabletops.
"FINNICK!" The woman at the register shrieked from behind the counter. "Get. Over. Here." He smiled sheepishly and winked at Annie before turning back towards what I could only assume was his manager. My eyes remained on the baker.
"Oh, wasn't he sweet? I love this shop. The people here are the best. Aren't they, Katniss? My goodness, I absolutely adore their sweets…" Annie went on and on about her affinity for The Bean Shop, but she had lost my attention.
When he met my eyes from across the room, I couldn't look away. Something about his gaze had me transfixed. Something about him seemed entirely familiar yet completely foreign at the same time. It took Annie gently waving in my face to capture my attention again. I quickly diverted my eyes and felt a blush creep up my neck.
"Are you okay, Kat? You look a little warm." The back of her hand had found my forehead.
I shook her off and shoved my things into my messenger bag. I had to get out of there. "I uh, no yeah, it's weird, this fall weather. It gets to me sometimes, you know like my allergies are acting up and stuff. And then like it gets hot and I'm cold or something…" I was rambling and I couldn't exactly pin why.
I knew this boy responsible for the bread from somewhere, but I sensed that he knew even more about me.
And I had to get away from him.