Somewhere Only We Know

They had seen a half dozen movies between the morning they met for coffee and the two weeks to follow. He always let her choose, and her choices were always the stereotypical ones - chick flicks, teen dramas, zombie movies with good-looking guys. Olivia admired the way he just sat through them, never complaining or suggesting something different.
Their evenings together always went the same way, too. They met at the theatre, Jeremy bought the tickets and the snacks, and after the movie, they would give each other a hug goodbye and go their separate ways. With such a routine, it was nearly impossible for them to have a decent conversation, and this fact was not missed by a concerned Jeremy.
"Hey, what do you say we go out to dinner?" He asked her.
"Like, out in public? Together?"
"Yeah," he answered. "You're my daughter. I don't care who knows it."
She felt a little strange. Her mother never wanted her in the public eye. She was convinced people would become obsessed with her, although Olivia never understood why. "I guess," she answered, quite unenthusiastically.
"What kind of food do you like?"
"I don't know... food. Any kind of food as long as it doesn't taste like crap."
"Well, I know a few places you might like," he smiled. "Do you have something nice to wear?"
She threw a burning glance his way. "What the hell is wrong with my clothes?"
"No - nothing! Nothing, just, I mean, I wanted to take you to one of those fancy Beverly Hills places, you know, where you might want to, you know, wear a dress or something."
"A dress? I don't know, Jeremy. That's not really my style."
"Oh, okay," he told her. "That's okay. Yeah, not a problem." He wanted her to feel comfortable. He knew he'd have to take it slowly. "You can wear whatever you want," he smiled.
"I don't know," she said, twisting the arms of her hoody as she stood across from him. "I don't want to look like a weirdo."
"Seriously? Look at you. You're not a weirdo. You're so beautiful. No one's gonna be looking at your clothes. They're gonna be looking at that pretty face and wondering who the up-and-comer is!"
She grinned at the floor and blushed a bit before answering. "Okay, I'll go. But I'm not gonna dress up!"
"That's not a problem," he told her in a comforting voice. "We can just go and if anyone has a problem, well - "
"Fuck 'em!" she finished for him.
He smiled. "Exactly. Fuck 'em!"

Tuesday nights in Beverly Hills are like the most amazing Friday nights anywhere else. Everyone is out partying, drinking, living, spending money they have far too much of as it is. And this Tuesday night was certainly no exception.
"Where are we going?" She asked as she looked at the streets of fancy, snobby joints they passed.
"It's an Italian place. You like Italian?"
"I guess. I mean, I like pasta, so..." she let her words trail, realizing she was trying to make a conversation that didn't need to be made.
They pulled up to the restaurant. She had never seen anything like it. It was tall and old and beautiful. There were vines up the sides, beautiful wooden trellises lining the wide walk, tall glass windows dressed in satin curtains. This was no Olive Garden.
Jeremy stepped out and over to Alexa's side, opening the car door for her. She stepped out, clutching her coat tight around her frame, seeming as though she wanted to hide herself from the attention that suddenly surrounded them. Handing the keys to the valet, Jeremy put his arm around Olivia and led her inside as photographers asked "Who's the pretty girl?"
Once inside, she looked at the beauty surrounding her - beautiful people, beautiful design, beautiful food. Every person and every thing inside there was a work of art.
"Here," Jeremy said as he reached for her coat, "Let's check this. Why are you wearing a coat, anyway? It's like 70 degrees outside."
She hesitated to slip out of it. "I-I just, um, I like wearing coats and jackets all the time," she said. "Um, you know, they're, like, they're comfortable."
As he pulled her coat away, he noticed she was wearing a very familiar item. It was a yellow and white chevron print dress, and she wore a long-sleeved black cardigan over it, and black converse sneakers on her feet.
"That dress," Jeremy spoke, "It's..."
"It's my mom's," she smiled. "I know it's super old-fashioned, but I love wearing retro. Also, it was the only dressy thing I could find."
He just stared at her as she stood there wearing the dress her mother had worn on a day very fond in his remembrance. It was strange seeing it on Olivia. It was like he'd traveled back in time nearly 20 years. She looked so grown up all of a sudden.
"You look beautiful," he told her. "Perfect."
Their waiter, a young man in his twenties with slick jet-black hair and steel-gray eyes, had been giving Olivia the eye all evening. At first, Jeremy believed it to be because the waiter was nosey about who Jeremy was keeping company with. But when he saw the way Olivia looked at him, he could see there was some mutual interest there.
"May I bring you some dessert this evening?" the waiter asked Jeremy, though he was looking at Olivia.
She blushed. "No thanks, I need to watch my figure," she flirted.
"Smart girl," the waiter winked.
"There's nothing wrong with your figure," Jeremy interrupted loudly. "You can have as much to eat as you want, don't you worry about what anyone thinks."
She shot him a glance he knew must have been inherited from her mother. "Shh!" She hissed.
"Just the bill, please," Jeremy said, shooing off the waiter.
"Are you trying to kill me?" She barked at Jeremy.
"That guy's a douche bag," he told her. "You don't need that."
"What's your deal? You've been so rude to him all through dinner. Are you one of those famous people who just treats all the little people like shit? Because I'm one of those little people, too, you know."
"No," he said as he tried to remain calm, "It's just that... I... You know, I think of you as that little girl you were the last time I was in your life. I guess I'll always think of you that way."
"Well, I'm not a little girl, anymore. I'm 18. Get over it." She wasn't yelling, but she was stating her point quite clearly, and Jeremy was hit with the reality and the truth that he never wanted to face.
"I know," he shook his head. "I know."
The waiter returned and dropped the billfold to the table. Without saying a word, he simply turned and left.
"See? That guy's an ass. You can date any other guy who isn't an ass, just not someone like that."
"Who said anything about dating?" she smiled. "I just wanted his phone number. I still need to have that crazy summer fling before college."
As he looked at her, sitting there in that dress, he couldn't help but think of how he had seen Alexa when she wore it. And that must be how men were seeing Olivia now. He couldn't help that she was as beautiful as any woman in the room, and she did it without trying. And he couldn't blame a guy for being interested. Yes he could. This was his little girl. No guy's allowed to have dirty thoughts about his little girl.
"Besides," she continued, "I have a boyfriend already."
"You do?" he hesitated to ask. "And what's that guy like?"
"Well, we're in a long-distance relationship right now. He's so sweet, though. And I can't wait to meet him in the fall."
"Wait, you haven't met him?"
"Well, no, not exactly. But I feel like I have."
As she went on and on about her cyber-boyfriend, Jeremy just watched her talk. Her eyes lit up, her face was flushed, her hands flew about in excitement as she described him. She thought she was in love. Boy, was she in for a surprise, Jeremy thought.
"Where does he live?" He asked.
"In Chicago," she smiled. "I've always wanted to go there to visit him, but my mom never let me go anywhere."
She kept talking about how her mom had kept her guarded from so many things, and he wondered how this could be true. He hadn't remembered Alexa as the protective type. But that was thirteen years ago, and people are bound to change.
As the left the restaurant and walked through the crowd of photographers, Jeremy held her close, guiding her through the blinding lights, something Jeremy could do with his eyes closed at this point.
As they sat in the car, Jeremy looked over at her. Her face was like Alexa's had been the first time she ran from the paparazzi. The similarities between them stunned Jeremy as they drove away.
"You know, I bought your mom that dress."
"THIS dress?" she looked down at it, as though se had forgotten what she was wearing. "Really?"
"Yeah," he smiled. "I'll never forget how she looked in it. So beautiful. And it hasn't lost it's effect, apparently."
She blushed and smiled with the corner of her mouth. "That's so cool," she straightened out the skirt and admired it even more. "I had no idea - "
"What?" he asked, noting she had stopped short of finishing her thought and was now looking at him with an odd expression.
"Um, maybe I don't want to know the answer to the question I'm about to ask, but... did you guys, you know, do it while she was wearing this?"
"What? No! Why would you even... I don't know where that's coming from! No!"
"Oh, thank god," she sighed.
"No she took that off first, for sure."
"Ew, ew, ew, ew!" she screeched. "Why would you tell me that? Just lie next time!"
"I'm sorry!"
"Ugh, well, I'm never getting dressed up ever again. Ever!"
"Fair enough," he smiled.