The Night We Met

Chapter 3

(Olivia's POV)

Brooklyn, New York. December 24th 1941

It took me a little over a week to finally stop finding reasons to not go out with him. For all the excuses about my parents finding out to stop mattering, or at least not matter as much as they did before. I saw him nearly every night, either for a few minutes or as time went on a few hours. It really was all him, every night it was the same question "Can I see you again?". And my answer never changed.

So now I was staring at myself in my bedroom mirror, trying to decide what to wear on a first date that technically wasn't. Truly, the doubt that was always in my head no matter how I looked was most likely my mothers fault. No matter what I wore, she seemed to always feel the need to give me her two cents on what was wrong with it.

The floral dress made me look lifeless, red made me look like a whore, pink was out of the question because it clashed too much with my eyes. It was maddening. Finally, I just settled on a white one, mainly because I was running out of time and also because I couldn't recall anything bad she'd ever said about it. If nothing else, just because it made my lipstick stand out more.

With that taken care of, that only left a few minor issues. Mainly the fact that I was supposed to be outside in ten minutes and my parents weren't even in their bedroom yet, let alone asleep. It really was ridiculous, twenty-four nearly twenty-five and still trapped in my own house like some damsel in distress.

For the third time in as many minutes, I shut off the lights and opened the door, glancing down the hallway. No signs of life but I could still hear them somewhere in the house. I looked at the clock again, knowing full well that if I waited any longer I was going to be late and I really hated being late.

"Screw it," I mumbled, grabbing my shoes and closing my door behind me. Thank God my parents never have been the type to come and knock on my door or check in on me.

Tiptoeing down the hallway, I paused at the top of the stairs, making sure the room below was clear before scurrying down the steps as fast I could manage. As I hit the smooth wooden floors, my bare feet slid and I almost fell barely catching myself on the railing.

I grinned before smothering it and looking around again. No folks.

Stepping into the servants hallway, I heard voices and panicked, ducking into a familiar alcove. As the servants passed, I could've sworn one of them saw me but when I looked again they were gone. Taking a moment to catch my breath, I continued down the passage until I reached the back door, stopping again to slip my shoes on.

When I finally got outside, I felt the cold chill set in quickly and smiled, loving every second of it. I made my way down the footpath, surprised and also not to find him already leaning up against the wall. Normally he was always a few minutes late which he claimed was because getting out of his house was hard but more and more I was beginning to suspect it was doing his hair.

He smiled as soon as he saw me, kicking off the wall and meeting me halfway."Well, fancy meeting you here."

"Someone's fancy, yes. Not me though." I replied, gesturing to his suit and hair, the look making him more put-together than I'd seen him since the party.

He looked me over, rolling his eyes at my comment, "Whatever you say, doll. How was it getting out?"

"Same as always," I said, smiling as he grabbed my hand, "Sorry I'm late."

"Don't sweat it, Steve won't think it's your fault. Ready?"

"Yes."

~~~