“I don’t think there are many date options in the area,” I comment, as Isaiah leaves a girl named Chenelle near me after dinner. She folds her arms. 

“He told me you’re moody,” She says, then sighs. She’s wearing a strapless pink dress, and her black hair is curled and loose. “I feel like I deserve better than that, if we’re going out.” 

“Sorry, I-” I sigh, and put my hands in my pockets. “I’ve been trying.” Chenelle watches me, then gestures out of the cafeteria. I nod, and start walking, following her. 

“You’re too quiet. Aren’t you supposed to be a celebrity?” She asks, and I nod slowly. 

“If I say a lot as a celebrity, chances are that people will get offended by something I say,” I mumble. Chenelle ignores this. “Where are we going?” I ask, as she heads towards the edge of the base, where we put up the barbed wire and the barricade. We’re disguised as a cotton factory. This is false cotton in these fields. 

“Out. There’s better dates in town,” 

“I’m a national criminal, Chenelle, I can’t be sneaking out of the compound,” I tell her, as she climbs onto the barricade, getting her leg over. That… is an incredibly short dress. I think, looking down quickly. “I don’t think this is a good idea. What if the authorities see us?” 

“Ugh, you’re so whiny,” She mutters. “First date I go on with a rich guy, finally, and he’s a little bleep about everything.” 

“Well, you’re not being nice about any of this. It so happens that I like nice girls,” I tell her. Chenelle gasps. 

“I’m nice!” She exclaims. 

“You’re calling me names, and every single thing I’ve done since we met has been criticized,” I explain. Chenelle groans. 

“Fine, we won’t go out,” She says, sighing, and coming down the side of the barricade, putting her arms around my shoulders as she reaches me. I step back slightly. 

“Um….” I look around. This is a bit like Angel. I’m uncomfortable. I think, and take her hands off, setting them at her side. 

“You’re boring,” She groans, and starts walking off.

“I’m trying to be safe.” Chenelle turns and glares at me. 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” She says, sighing. 

“Chenelle, I’m trying to be a good date here,” I defend, and she ignores me, walking off. I look around at the fake cotton, and sit down in it, sighing. The sky is gray, and it’s starting to rain. My leg bounces quickly. 

◈◈◈◈

“I’m just glad that three hundred years or so hasn’t changed the weather. It’s familiar,” Harrison says, looking out the window. I nod, sitting next to him. 

“Can we have a fancy dinner?” I ask. “Not… just the meal though, I want to dress nice, and maybe dance?” Caden taught me dancing. I think. Harrison turns to look at me. “I’ll help with the cooking. There’s just a formal dress in my closet, and I really want to wear it at least once,” I explain. He smiles slightly. 

“I’d like that,” He says, then looks at the clock. “It’s noon. We can start looking through cookbooks and plan things out, and I can go shopping.” 

“Okay,” I answer, and he pulls me by the hand towards the kitchen, grinning. We’re both wearing very casual clothes as we plan the dinner, so it’s funny. 

Picking out a main course is easy, there are already pork chops in the freezer that we can season and cook. We just need to buy vegetables to roast, make some bread, and I’ll work on dessert, which is a recipe for chocolate cake with white frosting. 

After putting the chops in a marinade, then going shopping, Harrison comes back in. I pull the cake out of the oven, and set it on the counter to cool. 

“That smells so good,” He comments, walking over, and setting the paper bags on the counter. 

“Hopefully I mixed the ingredients right,” I say with a chuckle, turning both of the layers upside down, so they come out of the pan neatly, sitting on a tray. “We need to cool these in the freezer so they don’t melt the frosting,” I explain, and Harrison nods, taking the tray from me, and walking over to the freezer. I sit up on the counter, humming. 

“We can start cooking around four-thirty, then, so the vegetables are hot and fresh,” He explains, after setting the tray inside. 

“Okay,” I answer, and Harrison sits on the counter next to me, leaning back on his hands. 

“I found some candles at the store too, but they didn’t have plain ones, so I got some autumn-scented ones,” He says, lifting up a dark red candle from the grocery bag. I take off the cap, and smell it. 

“It’s nice,” I comment. It smells like cinnamon and cider, and some other spices. “Oh, we need to make spiced cider too,” I remember, and get off the counter. “I’ll find the stuff for kids, if you’re so worried,” I tell him with a laugh, as he gets a concerned look while I look through the pantry. 

I find a bottle of nonalcoholic cider, and move to the stove, setting a small saucepan there. With the addition of cinnamon and oranges and cranberries, it’s simmering and smells amazing. 

“Well, I just want to be able to stay sober, so I don’t make a fool of myself in front of you,” Harrison says quietly, walking over, and looking down at the burgundy color of the liquid I stir. I blush, and return to stirring. “What color’s your dress?” He asks, and I chuckle. 

“It’s light pink,” I answer. He nods, and stands near me, as I stir. 

“That’s nice,” He says quietly. 

I straighten my hair in front of the mirror, then step out of my bedroom, shutting the door. The dress is long and sleeveless, made of pale pink silk. Harrison stands tying his black tie just outside the door, and turns to look at me, as I appear. 

“Oh, wow,” Harrison mumbles, as I walk over. He walks over and bows, so I laugh. “You’re nobility, Olive,” He says with a chuckle, straightening up. 

“I’m sure Angel’s stripped my titles by now,” I tell him, shrugging. He smiles, and offers me his arm. I take it, smiling, and he walks me into the dining room, where we set up candles and two plates, the meal in front of us, a bottle of cider next to it. Soft violin music is playing over a radio.

Harrison pulls my chair out for me, and I sit down, chuckling. He sits across from me, and I smile at him, my bare feet tapping on the big rug. I couldn’t find any nice shoes but my sandy boots from the beach. 

“So, the weather…” Harrison starts, after a moment of silence. I burst out laughing. “I don’t know what to talk to you about,” He mumbles, pouring some cider into two glasses. 

“Me either.” I take my glass, and sip from it. “We could try to be normal, just talk like we normally do,” I suggest, tilting my head. Harrison rolls his eyes. 

“You honestly expect me to be normal when you’re looking like that?” He asks awkwardly, and I blush deeply. 

“Looking like what?” I question. Harrison stares at me, then chuckles, looking down into his cup. 

“Distracting. I-” He smirks, and sips from the drink. “I should probably stop talking, I’ll say something dumb,” I blush. 

“Well, I’m definitely worse at talking,” I mutter, cutting a piece of soft squash with my fork. Harrison smiles. “We can just talk about normal stuff. What’s your favorite color?” I ask. Harrison watches me, then smiles. 

“Gray,” He says quietly. “What’s yours?” I shrug. 

“Yellow, probably,” I answer. “I don’t know why, I just like it.” He smiles. 

“I just like gray because it’s familiar, like the rain,” He says, blushing a bit, and starting to eat. I tilt my head slightly, and he changes the subject. “What was your favorite part of school before you dropped out?” He asks, starting to cut his pork. 

“Um, I liked history. It was interesting,” I answer. “Did you have school, three hundred years ago?” I tease. Harrison rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not from prehistoric times, Olive,” He says, then thinks for a moment. “I liked Chemistry class the most. Or Psychology.” He smiles. “Probably Psychology, yeah.” I nod. 

“So you’re a psychic?” I ask, and wave my fingers around. Harrison rolls his eyes, staring at me. “Ooh! Read my mind,” I joke, sitting up straight. Harrison blinks at me, then smirks. 

“You’re thinking about how absolutely devastatingly handsome I am,” He flirts back, lifting his glass. Actually, now that he mentions it… I bite my lip. 

“Close, I was thinking about how good the cake looks,” I lie, bouncing my leg as I point over at the chocolate cake that’s still untouched. Harrison smiles, watching me bite my lip again as my leg speeds out of control. Don’t hit the table with your knee, he’ll know. 

“That’s also distracting,” He tells me, quietly stabbing a bit of potato on his fork with a smile. I roll my eyes and look down at my food, my leg still bouncing. He watches me for a second, then sets down his fork. “Are you okay?” He asks, and I nod. 

“Just anxious,” I tell him. “I don’t know, it just started.” Harrison nods, and picks up his plate, moving over to the seat facing perpendicular to mine, so he’s closer to me. His hand finds my knee under the table. 

“Just breathe, it’ll be okay,” He says, telling me. I nod, taking deep breaths. He smiles, and pulls his hand away. My leg is still, and I open my fingers that I had closed tightly, and wipe the sweat on my napkin. Harrison starts cutting up some bread, and passes me a warm buttered slice. 

“Everything is so yummy,” I mumble, smiling. He smiles, and sips his drink. “Wait, what day is it?” I ask. 

“December eighteenth,” He answers. “Not long until Christmas,” He says with a smile. What? I tilt my head to the side, my brows furrowed. “Right. You don’t have Christianity here,” He says with a chuckle. 

Harrison sways gently, his hand on my waist as we dance in silence. The candles flicker around us, rain pouring outside, muffling the music as it slaps the windows. 

We’re both barefoot now, Harrison’s shoes piled over by his suit jacket and tie. The last crumbs of chocolate cake sit on our plates, the edible gold glitter I put on top glimmering. 

“I don’t like anyone but you, I think,” Harrison tells me quietly, his soft amber eyes finding mine. 

“Then why me?” I ask. He shrugs, humming. 

“You’re just perfect,” He tells me, and I blush. 

“I doubt that,” I mumble. Harrison shrugs again. 

“I doubt your doubting,” He says with a smirk. I roll my eyes, and stand up taller, kissing him. I hear him inhale sharply, and pull me closer, his hand behind my head as he tilts his. He pulls back for a second, and grins at me, chuckling.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while now,” He mumbles, tangling his fingers in my hair before bringing his lips down to mine.