The Night We Met

Chapter 2

(Olivia's POV)

Brooklyn, New York. December 17th 1941

It wasn't until we were nearly back into the den of wolves (as he affectionately labeled the party we ditched) that I realized there was absolutely no plausible way for me to see him again. If my mother's death glare when I danced with him was any demonstration, then leaving my house to see him would be laughable.

When I told him as much he smirked, and I noticed a new mischievous glint in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "Of course there is."

"And what would that be?" I asked as we both stopped short of the door to go back inside, stepping into an alcove nearby in case anybody came out.

It was dark enough I couldn't really see him well anymore but his hand was still in mine and the reminder made me happier than I'd been in years.

"Well Olivia, I have my ways but first off, will you be able to break out of your house on your own?"

~~~

The plan was made and then we both slipped inside the room, no one seeming to notice our absence. Most likely because of my earlier comment, though he claimed it was only to cement our "cover", he pulled me out onto the floor again. Spinning me around in time with the music, he pulled me close just long enough to say ""You are not the worst at this."

I smiled, shaking my head, "You're blind then. Or idiotic."

He just smirked, shaking his head slightly, "Am I? I got the prettiest dame in the room to like me."

"Oh and so humble about it too," I teased, feeling pleased when he laughed.

It was disappointing when the music died down and people began to leave. I knew he had to go as well but he still hadn't let go of my hand, walking with me towards the door, not caring who saw. I realized I didn't really care either. It was a nice feeling. Like home.

At the entry hall, when I really couldn't go any further, he stopped and pulled us both off to the side. The silence wasn't very awkward anymore.

"Good night, James." I said quietly, a little worried about the informalness of it. I hadn't addressed him by his first name (only his first name) all night.

But he smiled off at something, "That's a first."

"What do you mean?" Worried I said the wrong thing.

And he sensed it because he simply shook his head, "Don't go crazy. I just never figured I'd like my name is all." Taking my hand, he spun me around once more, grinning. "Good night Olivia."

~~~

Avoiding my parents the rest of the night was easy, even though I knew I would pay for it tomorrow. But I wanted time to just myself, to realize that everything had truly happened. I really met a guy, one who wasn't some smug, handsy friend of my fathers. Someone who wanted to know me, who wanted to see me again.

It really was unbelievable to me.

As I took the pins out of my hair, I hummed under my breath, considering my reflection in the mirror. Normally I seemed like a dead girl walking by this time of night, especially after some shindig of my parents. But I was...brighter.

I'm not really sure how to explain it. All I know is that as I lay in bed that night, I couldn't go to sleep, replaying the conversation, the looks and every touch in my head. Again and again and again.

And through it all thinking: he wanted to see me again.

~~~

Breakfast the next morning my parents were just as cheery and sweet as the night before. Which is to say when I came down five minutes late they exchanged disapproving glances with each other and my Dad audibly sighed and went back to reading the newspaper.