A Moment in Time - Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Late Night Haven

Ever since I got home that night, the night I met Dove, time has begun to become an untrustworthy companion. Some moments seem to quite literally flash by my eyes, and other moments cannot seem to come to an end. The next few days pass agonizingly slowly taunting me, and I find myself daydreaming all too often, something I never really used to do. My daydreams most often circulate around none other than Dove to my exasperation, and all the things I've suddenly come to associate with her. Whenever I see someone with sunglasses, or a messy bun, or someone rushing somewhere, for a split second I think it must be Dove and my heart literally feels like it skips a necessary beat.

A few weeks ago I'd apparently felt charitable enough to pick up more shifts at the coffee shop -which I am now vehemently regretting, what with having to try to get through my last few classes at college before calling it a year for the summer. My teachers have decided to overload us with work, apparently feeling like we've not suffered enough over the past year, and the customers at the coffee shop have decided to be the most entitled assholes I've ever had the pleasure of serving. Even New York is getting on my nerves, apparently having decided to try to bake everyone in the city alive. Even sleeping is horribly uncomfortable in the sweltering heat. Tossing around in bed, not able to fall asleep, all I do is try to shrug off thoughts of Dove and whether or not she's worked it out with whomever she was having trouble with.

When at the coffee shop pouring the umpteenth cup of oat latte of the day, I keep wishing I knew who Dove was, or had some way of contacting her. Dove. That's all she left me with; a stupid fake name. As cute as it was in the moment, I can't help but feeling slightly sour since there is absolutely no way for me to figure out who she is now. My way of shooing her away from my thoughts is telling myself over and over again that wherever she is, I hope she figured her shit out, at least somewhat. She seemed like such a kind person.

My friends have noticed me being more quiet than usual, but I've kept Dove's and my meeting a secret, feeling like it would be more special to me that way, if that is all I'll get, I'll make damned sure the memory is all mine, at least.

So, between the heat, stressing with college stuff, and being overworked at the coffee shop and never knowing who Dove is, I've been feeling rather cranky lately.

Finally having half a rare day to myself free of lectures, I've decided to spend the day at the library, hopefully getting a little more caught up on reading for my Art History class, which has proved itself to be the most tedious class I've ever taken and keeps me wondering if I really give a shit about 12th Century Eurasian painting styles. I've been on the same page of the same boring book for the past hour and a half. Instead of focusing on the small typed letters in front of me, I've been watching the library slowly empty of people as the evening approaches inevitably, bringing with it the close of the vastness possibilities of the day.

Suddenly deciding I in fact do not give a shit about 12th Century Eurasian paintings, I slam closed my computer and begin haphazardly tossing my belongings into my bag, not really caring in what order they go in. I quickly make my way out of the library and out into the sweltering heat of the city. I instantly go clammy, but I just need to get away from those dusty old books filled with unnecessary words written by people who thought the ink they were putting down on paper would make them live forever and be admired for decades to come.

I rush down the street, plopping my AirPods into my ears, instantly feeling relieved as they filter out the sounds of the bustling city around me and all I can hear are the soothing chords of some John Mayer song. I close my eyes and breathe out, feeling tension ripple off me.