by Kit Graves
She wasn’t sure how long her newfound boldness would last, so luckily he turned the conversation to their date. He suggested a few restaurants that Olivia knew were pricey, and when she teased him about wanting to be wined and dined, he teased her back. Surely you know you're not actually paying - I know you're in school, and you have no idea how much I can eat.
She hadn't thought of that. Well, when should I find out about your competitive eating powers?
Tomorrow? That this text came quickest of all sent Olivia spinning. Tomorrow, though…
I have a study group at around 5 and I'll probably be beat afterward, actually. I'm kind of an old lady.
If you’re old, then I’m ancient. How about before your study group? I can pick you up in the morning.
Oh right, because he’d taken her home already. Olivia was a little disappointed at downgrading their dinner to a lunch, but it would still be good to see him. Maybe it would be even better to keep their first date casual - even thinking the word date, after all, was a long-forgotten thing to her.
Sounds good. Just let me know when you’re headed over.
Can’t wait.
Me either.
No response came, and Olivia imagine he’d finally gone into work. It was only much later, when she got home, that her phone buzzed one more time.
Do you trust me?
Surprised, she stared at the screen, stock-still in front of the oven where she’d been standing over her dinner. It wasn’t that she mistrusted him, it just seemed so soon to declare that she trusted anyone. It was hard for her to trust - in fact, it was the whole reason she hadn’t agreed to a date like this in four years.
But maybe trusting was always a leap of faith. Maybe she had to start somewhere. And despite the part of her brain that pointed out how big Harlan was, how much more he could hurt her than Tomer if he decided to, there was another part of her that felt instinctively safe with him. It went back to the feeling of being in his arms. Being warm, cradled, protected from everything around her and even from her own inner anguish.
Olivia came to a decision, entirely conscious. She would trust him, wherever that lead. If he didn’t end up deserving of that trust, she would never date again. Officially. And if he did…
I trust you, she answered, feeling a thrill go through her at hitting send. His only response, a winky face that mirrored her first one, made her smile.
It felt like a trust fall. First you trust. Then you fall. And she already knew that his arms were built for falling into.
Chapter 12
She barely slept, excited beyond reason. She felt more energized, stronger than the day before. Like a line had been drawn, before and after, and she was on the right side of that line. She woke up early, not knowing what time he was going to come over, and considered her entire closet while waiting for her shower to warm up.
She was showered and made up, back in front of the closet in her underwear when her phone buzzed from the bed. Surely that’s not him already.
It was. Be there in 20. Dress code: pajamas.
Pajamas? She snorted, sitting down on the bed to pick up her phone. It was pretty early, but where could they go without being properly dressed? She was actually pretty hungry, maybe a drive-through? Weird date though.
PJs? Really? she texted back, already looking through her drawers for her cutest clean pajama pants.
Trust me, remember?
She was downstairs when he pulled up. She felt a little silly in her purple pajama pants, white thermal and college sweatshirt, carrying her purse. When a truck pulled into the parking lot of her building, she didn’t look twice at it, but it parked next to her and Harlan popped out.
Olivia laughed. He was wearing blue and green plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt that said PLATINUM GYM, looking just as underdressed as she did. He held his arms away from his body and did a slow spin, grinning. Now that she was in control of her senses she could take it in to full effect: his shirt clinging to his obliques, skimming over his torso. His pants, the plaid disguising the bulge enough that it was all she could do not to look a minute longer.
“No bike?” It hadn’t occurred to her that he would drive anything else, but the truck made sense, too.
“No helmet for you,” he answered, coming close enough now to put his palm atop her head. She grimaced up at him, but he just cupped her head in his hand like a basketball, grinning again before letting go. “I shouldn’t have brought you on the bike without it, but it seemed like an emergency.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, biting her lip. She didn’t really want to talk about that night, not yet. “So explain the PJs thing?”
“Hop in,” he said, walking backwards to the truck to open the door for her. “I’ll explain on the way.”
The truck was fun, Olivia decided. She liked seeing over the other cars, feeling tall and powerful. It must be how Harlan felt all the time, just walking around. From the passenger seat she had a full view of his scars, and it was pretty incredible how much of a difference it made seeing him only in profile from one side to the next. She was taking them in when he glanced over and caught her. “Penny for your thoughts,” he rumbled, and she turned red all over.
“I was just - I was just wondering if it was easier or harder, people knowing you’ve been through something just by looking at you.”
Harlan raised his eyebrows. Apparently he hadn’t expected that answer. It took a long minute before he said anything else, and Olivia watched him watch the road as he thought. He was a careful, deliberate driver, and he steered them out of her neighborhood like he’d been there a hundred times before.
“I can tell by looking at you,” he said finally. She fiddled with the tie of her pajama pants. Somehow their conversations just wanted to be serious, even when they were dressed for bed. “It’s on your face, too. Just not like mine is.”
She pressed her forehead against the window, suddenly tempted to give up. Of course it was obvious. Of course she was clearly damaged. She didn’t know why she thought she could date again in the first place.
Harlan’s hand found hers where it rested in her lap. Their fingers curled and caught, his hand heavy on her leg. She didn’t look up from the window, but smiled. So what if she carried her pain on her face? Harlan did it, and he was strong. She was too.
“So tell me where we’re going,” she said finally, trying for light and teasing.
He glanced over at her before merging, a smile lighting his grey eyes again. “Well, you said you were kind of an old person, right?”
“Right,” she agreed.
“Well, I’m taking you on an old person date. Starting with an early bird breakfast special.”
Olivia laughed loud and long. “Oh god, that sounds great. You can order black coffee and oatmeal.”
“We can talk about moving pictures and kids these days.”
“We can just skip all the dating and get straight to being an old married couple.” She meant it as a joke, but bit her tongue upon hearing it aloud.
Harlan’s eyebrows shot up again, but when he looked at her, his eyes were soft. “Sounds good.”
He took her to a sweet little café that felt like a grandma’s living room, with decades-old tablecloths and a cat sunbathing in the front window, although that definitely couldn’t be up to code. They sat under a vintage framed newspaper with a headline from Robert’s Rebellion and ordered coffee and orange juice in carafes. Olivia got pumpkin pancakes with homemade cinnamon butter, and Harlan ate his way through two omelettes and three sides of potatoes as she watched in impressed horror. Now she really was glad he’d warned her about how much he ate.
When they were done, they walked over to a pet shop and feed store on the same block, and Olivia cooed at bunnies while Harlan bought something at the counter. She felt weirdly comfortable hanging out in their PJs together. Trust paid off. At least so far, she was having fun.
It turned out that he had picked up wild bird food, and their next stop was a nearby pond
. “Feeding ducks,” Harlan announced, handing her the bag. “Another old person classic.”
“Best date ever,” Olivia said with feeling. “You could go pro.”
Harlan laughed. “Good to know. It's not something I actually do often, so I appreciate the feedback.” They were walking toward a bench, and as they sat, ducks started looking at them hopefully. The bench was under a grove of beautiful trees, their leaves sheltering the bench from view of everything but the still, cool pond. It was a peaceful place, filled with feathered locals.
“You don't date often?” Olivia asked as they sat. He hesitated, and she could feel her heart speed up. Did neither of them know what they were doing? “When was your last date?”
He shrugged finally. “Probably a year ago when a well-meaning client set me up with a trainer. Not a love match, but I don’t blame her. I’m not much of a prettyboy.”
Olivia smiled. "You're not a prettyboy?”
Harlan almost choked, scaring the ducks that were gathered around them. He waited for them to settle again, tossing or another handful of birdseed, before answering. “I’m not and you know it.”
Olivia wanted to keep teasing him, but he seemed serious. She reached for his hand, and he let her take it, dumping the rest of the birdseed on the ground with his other hand and crumpling the bag to put in his pocket. They were swarmed with ducks, a few brave ones coming up to their feet, making Olivia shriek and jump. He chuckled, a few ducks flapped, and one angry one squawked at her. She laughed with him, glad the uncomfortable moment had passed. She wasn’t good at heaping compliments on men, but she didn’t let of his hand all the way back to the truck, willing him to feel those compliments instead.
“It’s only one?” She was honestly shocked at the dashboard clock when they slid back into the cab, and looked up at him in surprise.
“Sick of me already?” He smiled at her, but she could tell now that his eyes were unsure.
“Definitely not,” she assured him. “I’m just surprised, it feels like we’ve been together all day. Do you have anything to do later?”
“Not a thing all weekend, past getting my workouts in and maybe doing some grocery shopping. Do you want to see a matinée next?”
“Very old people,” she said approvingly. “Although I don’t know - I’d really rather keep talking, if you don’t mind, and a movie would take up the rest of our time together.”
He looked at her for a long minute. His eyes were the color of ashes, fringed by dark eyelashes and darker eyebrows, and his mouth curled in a permanent frown on the scarred side, silver lines rippling up over his cheek and temple. His uneven beard was a dozen colors, rust and black and chestnut brown, little greys peeking out here and there. He is pretty, she decided, although she didn’t say it out loud.
“I’d like to keep talking, too,” he said quietly. She started - she’d gotten so lost in looking at him that she forgot they were talking. He didn’t seem to notice. Belatedly, she wondered if that meant he had been looking at her.
Chapter 13
“Do you have a library card?” Harlan asked her as they pulled out of the lot.
“A library card?” Olivia hadn’t known what to expect, but this was so different - and so much more fun - than she’d anticipated. “I don’t think so, actually.”
He shot her a mock-horrified look before he put his eyes back on the road. “You’re an English Lit major. You don’t have a library card?”
She laughed. “You got me. I use the campus library! Different system.”
“I remember you had books in your bag the other day, so I thought we'd go there. You can get a card while you're there, actually. It's a great free resource, and worth supporting. They close if no one goes to them, you know.”
Olivia hid a smile. He was very thoughtful, but she hadn’t expected him to be a defender of public libraries at first sight. Maybe she’d underestimated him. “I’m sorry, of course I’d love to go to the library.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re such a polite little dove. I'm sorry to nerd out, I just spent a lot of time in the library as a kid.”
“Oh, big bookworm?” she asked, thinking about her dorky younger self.
“Not really, I preferred gym class. Didn’t really read much until high school and the army. But the library was open late and on weekends by me, and it was a good place for a kid who didn’t want to go home most days.” He cleared his throat, but was clearly not trying to make a big deal out out what he’d said. It made her sad for him, curious, but she wasn’t about to pry. She had enough she’d have to tell him, if they kept dating. Let it come in its time.
“That makes sense,” she said softly. They were rolling through suburb after suburb, and she decided to move the conversation forward as smoothly as she could, calling on every Viola Everett manners lesson she’d received. “I imagine we’ve passed a library or two by now, don’t you?”
“We have. There’s a beautiful historic one in the foothills, though.”
“Oh! How lovely.” Olivia snuggled back into the seat, resisting the urge to tuck her feet underneath her. “You must be an old soul, you’re nailing this lineup.”
He laughed. “Old soul, huh? I’ll have to switch it up next time so you know I’m not just some fuddy-duddy.”
“See, only fuddy-duddies say fuddy-duddy,” she teased. It was nice to joke with him about their age difference in a casual way. Now they’d acknowledged it, but moved beyond it. It warmed her to feel how well things were going, almost to the point that she was nervous that the next minute would turn everything on its head.
The next minute, they pulled into the library. She released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. It was beautiful. Arches, columns, spires. Maybe even a gargoyle or two. “It’s positively medieval,” she breathed, craning her neck to take it all in. “I love it!”
Once inside, Harlan had another trick up his sleeve. “Want to pick out books for each other?” he asked under his breath, once they’d stepped inside and Olivia had quietly ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the high ceilings and dark wood.
“No pressure,” she joked back in a whisper.
He reached for her hand and gave it another squeeze - it almost felt normal, by now, like hand-in-hand was their natural state.
Olivia spent a few minutes just wandering, marveling at the stacks of books, the majestic silence of them. It really was a beautiful library, and timeless. She entertained herself for a few minutes by imagining that she was a lady in a beautiful gown, sweeping through hallways in her noble castle. It was a fun thought, but the day she was having was already far beyond her imagination. There really was nowhere she’d rather be.
She hadn’t realized what a good task Harlan had set until she’d starting looking. She really had to think about him, make guesses based on the minimal amount she knew about him already. It made her realize how much there was to learn. I hope I like it all. But that wasn’t her real concern. I hope I can handle it all was. And yet, she’d handled everything in her own life so far. Maybe it hadn’t been so easy lately, but maybe if she could share it with someone, she’d have the space to take on someone else’s issues too. It was a heartening thought. Not because it was a fantasy, but because it felt realistic.
She’d thought to get him a history book, and spent some time looking at a book about knights, but couldn’t be sure about what parts of history he might be interested in. Certainly nothing about any war.
She was looking at the self-help next, but had to remind herself that she was looking for Harlan and not herself. Next she checked fiction, where she caught Harlan between two shelves. He was flipping through Outlander, seemingly intrigued. “I’ve read that,” she confessed.
“So it was a good pick,” he defended, putting it down. “How are you doing?”
“So great,” she lied, making a face to show him she was kidding. “I’m having fun, though.”
“Me too.” He rested his hand easily on a shelf Olivia could barely reach on her
tip-toes, leaning in toward her. “Want to call it?”
Her body wanted to lean in to his, she could feel the pull of it. But she’d liked his idea so much, she didn’t want to give up on it, either. “No, let’s find something!” She whirled away, looking back at him before she turned at the end of the aisle.
He’d already sunk into a squat, clearly determined to find something. She took in the firm press of his legs against his comfortable pants, his t-shirt. She’d practically forgotten they were wearing their pajamas, so comfortable had she felt, the way he looked at her. Tomer had sneered at her nicest dresses, laughed at her taste in shoes and jewelry if it wasn’t the most expensive, the most current brand. She already felt better with him in her college sweatshirt than she ever had with Tomer in those beautiful outfits. Although she’d love to see what Harlan looked like all dressed up.
Thinking about their conversations led her to the Philosophy section. She browsed for a bit, not sure what school of thought most suited his style. Finally she settled on a copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and started a slow wander to find him again.
She found him in the last place she looked. He was crouched down again, this time sandwiched between two children perusing the picture books. When he saw her, he stood, scattering giggling children with the motion.
“I’m not that young, you know,” she teased, walking up to him with her pick hidden behind her back. “Unless you’ve just underestimated my reading level.”
He snorted. “Fat chance. You know more about books than I ever will, so I realized I couldn’t get you a novel, and I thought of this.” He handed her a heavy book of fairy tales, the pages gilded, the illustrations beautiful.
