Chapter 7: Where Olivia and Steve Become Spies. . .Kinda

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Steve whispered, and I reveled in the fact that we were crouched shoulder to shoulder, knees touching as we kneeled into the grass, peering into the kitchen to make sure Edward was nice and busy. We were hidden behind the bushes that were placed in front of the window, so we could see him but he couldn't see us.

"Mmhmm," I answered. "Well, kinda. Think of this as some kind of. . .top secret Avengers mission." He glanced over at me, arching an eyebrow suspiciously. I flashed him a grin. With a smile, he looked back at the window. "Hey, you never told me why you look like you're seventeen." I said.

He sighed, not taking his eyes away from the glass of the window. I watched the intent look on his face, still fascinated by him. "That's because I don't know," he murmured. "Who's this we're spying on? And why are we spying on him?" Well that was an easy question. "Oh, this is just Edward, he's my—"

I glanced back at the window and was very surprised to see Edward turning away from the stove and towards the window. I gasped. "Oh shi—" Before I knew it, I was tackled to the ground, my back on the grass and the branches of the bushes obstructing my view of above. Steve was above me, eyes still on the window, also hidden by the bushes.

Great. I just got tackled by Captain America, who was currently—literally—lying on top of me.

He had his arms on either side of my head and I was half lying on my side. HEY, BRAIN! I thought quickly. Remember breathing? Yeah, let's figure out how to do that again. "Umm. . ." I whispered, my heart beating so fast I thought he'd be able to hear it. "Is he gone?" "Yeah," He answered quietly. "And. . .he just left the room. C'mon, we gotta move." Before I could so much as gather my bearings, Steve was quickly helping me to my feet. . .and this time he was holding my hands. I felt all the blood rush to my face as my palms got sweaty.

Oh God, why did you give me sweaty hands? WHYYYY. What is the use of sweaty hands?!

Steve didn't seem to notice, however, he seemed more intent with following Edward. There was a window almost every five feet along the brick wall, which made spying almost entirely too easy. And there was a bush below each window? Way too easy. Steve stayed low as he moved forward, peering inside at Edward and seemingly watching his every move. He kept a tight hold on my hand, probably to keep me from falling behind, but all I could think about was how sweaty my palms were.

"Was tackling me necessary?" I whispered sharply as we moved, trying to treat him as if he was just a normal person and not a fictional superhero. "Sorry," he apologized. "But you said to treat it like an Avengers mission." He paused just below a window, and since I was behind him I was stuck with not being able to see a damn thing. Great. "Look," I began in exasperation. "If you're going to be living with me, you have to understand that you can't listen to a word I say."

"Uh-huh," he said absentmindedly before frowning at me. "Who did you say this guy was, again?" "He's my butler, Edward," I explained. "And he. . .well, let's just say that you staying in the house has got to be a secret." I took my sweaty hand away from him, standing up and brushing the grass off of my skirt. "C'mon, we can get in through the front door since he's all the way in the sitting room."

We trekked around the house to the front door, Steve walking behind me as I still struggled with comprehending the fact that I was with Captain America. I glanced over my shoulder at him, noticing that he seemed very intrigued with the architecture of the house. In fact, he seemed intrigued with everything. I couldn't help but smile; the way he looked at the house like it was some kind of palace was sort of flattering and cute.

The only sound going between us was the sound of our shoes against the grass. I decided to fix that. "I heard that the Wilde Manor has been in my family for generations," I said quietly. "Wow," Steve said in awe, brushing a stray strand of blonde hair out of his face. "It's a beautiful manor, really. It's just. . ." The confused look on his face troubled me as we rounded the corner towards the front lawn.

"What?" I asked, starting up the marble staircase towards the door. Steve was looking around at everything as he walked a few paces behind me—the flower vases that stood at the landings of the railing, the white marble stairs themselves, the white verandah, the French double doors, everything but me. Maybe he doesn't like me, I thought pessimistically. Like, at all. Maybe he's only doing this because he has to. I gulped at the thought. God, if that was true. . .

"It just feels like . . .like I've been here before," he answered quietly. "But I can't remember when." Whoa. That was weird. I frowned at him over my shoulder. "Can that happen?" I asked. "I mean, we live in two different dimensions." Finally Steve met my eyes, a solemn look on his face. "Maybe this house is present in both dimensions." He guessed. I shook my head though, stepping up onto the verandah. "No, I'm pretty sure you're wrong," I said. "Maybe you just know a house similar to this one or something."

I realized after I said it that it was kind of harsh. With my hand lingering on the doorknob, I looked over my shoulder at Steve, who looked kind of confused. "Sorry," I apologized, even though I didn't really sound like I meant it. "That was mean. No offense." "None taken," he said, even though he didn't sound like he meant it. Yeah we're. . .off to a rocky start so far.

I swung open the front door, glad to see that the foyer was empty. With its Beauty and the Beast staircase, decorative tile flooring and Picasso paintings on the walls, it was a sight to behold. Our footsteps echoed on the floor, but I wasn't worried about alerting Edward. This house was so huge, it was hard for sound to travel. I gestured for Steve to follow me as I started towards the huge staircase.

"C'mon," I said. "You can have one of the guest rooms on my side of the house; no one ever goes in those." "Thank you," he said, but he still seemed preoccupied with something; with what, I don't know for sure, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. Not because I didn't care, but because I feared that he. . .wasn't too fond of me at this point.

I started up the stairs, taking them quickly despite the fact that they were quite steep and covered with crimson carpeting. Steve was behind me, always about five paces away. Almost like he didn't trust me. Hmm, I wondered. What's up with that? When the staircase split two ways, I banked a left, continuing up until I reached the landing. Then I led the way down the hallways, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the walls.

And then my phone rang.

My ringtone was the chorus Shoot to Thrill (AC/DC), and if I knew anything about Cap, it was that he probably didn't like rock music. I gave him a nervous smile and chuckle as I reached into my pocket and snatched my phone out. "Umm. . .yeah, my ringtone, it's. . .corny, I know. . ." I fumbled over my words. "Oh no, it's fine," Steve shrugged uncaringly. I glanced at the screen. Emmy.

"Hello?" I said after pressing answer. "Olivia Zatanna Wilde!" Emmy hissed, seemingly between clenched teeth. I could almost see the bile in her voice. "Where. The hell. Are you?" "Uh—" I glanced nervously at Steve, who was watching my every move. I turned away from him, walking towards the wall and lowering my voice.

"First of all, that's not my name," I whispered. "It's Zahara. Second of all, something came up." I whispered. "Something?!" Emmy snapped angrily. "It better be a damn good something for you not to be at school! I almost ripped Savannah Crane's head off!" "She did!" I heard Jonesy's faint voice in the background. "Well don't do anything too rash until I get back there, alright?" I held back a laugh.

"I've got. . .someone here," I added. "Oooh!" Jonesy cooed in the background as Emmy said; "Someone? What kind of someone? A boyfriend someone?" "NO!" I yelled desperately. "No, not. . .not that someone, another someone." "Well who is it?" Emmy asked, being nosy as usual. "I can't tell you," I sighed. "Look, when you get out I'll tell you, okay?" Emmy sighed, reluctant to agree, but she did. "And you better tell me everything!" she hissed.

"Okay, I will, goodbye now," I said. I had barely hung up before I was tackled to the ground. The whole hallway went spinning, my phone flying out of my hand, before I hit the tile floor—hard. My right shoulder, hip and knee exploded in pain. Steve had tackled me. Again. But this time he straddled me and yanked my arms above my head and held them by the wrists. And, oh yeah, his shield at my throat.

And the look on his faced was anything but friendly.

He glared at me, his jaw clenched and fire burning in his blue eyes. "If this is about that comment I made earlier about you being wrong," I squeaked out, my voice filled with desperation. "I'm really sorry now! You're right! There, you win!" "I know what you are now," he hissed. "You're a spy." I could only gap at him.

Umm. . .where the hell had he gotten that from?!