Oliver groaned, his legs tangling in the thick down comforter as he rolled over onto his back and blinked into the early afternoon sun streaming in through the window. Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned onto his side, his hand coming to rest on the warm expanse of skin beside him.

He grinned, his eyes still closed tight, as he ran his palm down and over the smooth curve of what he knew was probably a great ass. He couldn't quite remember who the ass belonged to or what he'd done to wake up next to it this morning—or afternoon, whatever—but he knew that even blackout drunk he still had impeccable taste. Oliver rubbed his eyes, sneaking a peek of whoever he'd brought up to his room last night.

Sprawled out on her stomach beside him was a brunette that he vaguely recognized from around campus. It was funny, he didn't remember her being at the party last night, but he did drink a whole bottle of tequila so… There were probably a lot of things he didn't remember.

He leaned in, sinking his teeth into her shoulder while his hand ghosted up her side. She flinched, probably ticklish, but murmured a hushed sigh, wiggling that perfect ass in his direction as she rolled onto her back.

"Mmm, good morning," she whispered breathily, shifting her legs apart to accommodate him as he moved to hover over her.

Oliver lowered himself onto his elbows, using his weight to press her into the mattress—which, judging by the way she bucked her hips into his, she did not mind—and brushed his lips over hers. "Hi."

Just as he was about to kiss her and go for round two, a phone dinged diverting his attention for a moment. Just enough time that… Ashley? No, Alexa? Whatever her name was, she was officially distracted from sex and brought her hands up to push on his shoulders. He rolled off of her, plopping back onto the mattress with a disgruntled huff as she rolled over and leaned down to retrieve her phone from the floor beside the bed, giving him an excellent view while she was at it. He reached over, running a hand up her thigh. There was a possibility he could still salvage the situation if he could distract her from her phone long enough, and he'd always been told he was good with his hands...

"Shit, Ollie!" she cursed suddenly, pulling away from him and jumping out of bed. "I told you to set an alarm! My economics final started forty-five minutes ago."

Oliver sighed, propping himself up against the headboard as she moved around the bedroom, frantically collecting her things. He couldn't recall her asking, but he knew he'd probably been more concerned with getting her into bed last night than getting her out of it this morning. She'd barely gotten her dress back on, but was already grabbing her purse and her shoes in one hand, her phone in the other, and running for the door.

Oliver couldn't help but wonder why she was even bothering if she was that late. They could have stayed in bed and gone another round or two. He supposed it was easier this way though. At least now he wouldn't have to worry about kicking her out later.

"Hey, Allison," a voice called from the hallway, and he turned to see Lewis Li standing in the doorway.

Allison—that was her name!—grumbled something Oliver couldn't make out, before he heard the clicking of heels on the stairs.

Lewis turned to lean against the door jamb, waving a cellphone in Oliver's direction. "Hey, Queen! You left your phone downstairs last night. It's been blowing up all morning."

"Oh, yeah?" Oliver grinned, gesturing to Lewis to throw it over. The phone arched through the air and, despite Oliver's attempt to catch it, landed with a plop on his blanket covered thigh.

"Yeah." Lewis smirked. "You've got, like, a thousand missed call from your mom."

He glanced at the screen with a groan, causing Lewis to bark out a laugh before walking off in the direction of his room.

Oliver got out of bed, twisting the blanket around his waist for modesty's sake, and closed the door. He loved being part of a fraternity, but he wasn't all that fond of the lack of privacy that came with living in a frat house. He twisted the lock, then pulled on a pair of boxers before sitting down on his bed to call his mom back.

Lewis had been exaggerating about the thousand missed calls, but four was still more than enough to have Oliver worrying about what his mother could possibly want. She usually only called once or twice during the week, and almost never on the weekend.

The phone rang three times before he heard her voice over the line. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mom!" He kept his tone as cheery as possible, hoping this was just a friendly social call. He doubted it, but he might as well hope for the best. Something he'd picked up from his best friend, Tommy Merlyn, over the years.

"Oliver. It's nearly noon here, which means it's the middle of the afternoon there. Please tell me you weren't still asleep."

He couldn't say he was surprised it was going to be one of those calls. He was aware he wasn't the best student, and that his parents weren't exactly pleased with that fact. Still, he scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed at her tone.

"It's Friday, Mom."

"You don't have classes on Friday?" she asked, pointedly.

"Not today," Oliver said, kicking his feet up on the bed and leaning back against the headboard. "My last final was yesterday."

Not that he always attended class when he did have it, but at least he wasn't lying. All of his classes had wrapped up for the semester and he was officially on winter break.

"And how did you do?" she asked, a challenge clear in her voice.

"I don't know," he said, noncommittally. "The professor hasn't sent out grades yet."

His mother's sigh filled the line and he felt all the weight of her disappointment. They both knew he wasn't waiting on an A or a B.

"I'm trying—"

"Like you were trying in your last school?" she asked, her voice sharp from frustration. "Or the one before that?"

He tensed, bringing one hand up to brush his fingers over his left eyebrow. "Mom..."

"This is your third school in less than a year and a half. Oliver, I'm paying for your education, not for you to live a life of debauchery."

"What?" he laughed, but quickly sobered when he was greeted by nothing but silence from her. "Mom, that's…." He sighed. "Look, I know I haven't always tried my hardest, but I'm doing better this time, I promise. And going to parties and making friends is not debauchery. I have a girlfriend—"

"Oh," she said, and there was something in her voice that set Oliver's teeth on edge. He was certain that, if she'd been standing in the room with him, she'd have one eyebrow raised in that knowing look she always gave him right before catching him in a lie. "It's funny you should mention that. Guess who I ran into at Capone's this afternoon?"

Oliver felt his stomach drop to his feet.

"Thea and I dropped in for lunch and who should we see but Laurel Lance," Moira continued. "She's already on break and had some very surprising things to say when I invited her over for a family dinner when you get home."

"Mom—"

"She said you were more focused on meeting girls at fraternity parties than your relationship so she broke up with you."

"It wasn't like that—"

"But tell me again why we should keep paying for you to do the bare minimum at Harvard when you could be home failing out of community college and sleeping with women who aren't your girlfriend?" Moira sighed, and he could imagine the look she probably had on her face. It would be the same mix of frustration and disappointment she always wore when talking to him. "Oliver, I think your father and I need to rethink how we are parenting you."

Parenting…? "I'm an adult!" he argued.

"Who lives off of our money!" Moira retorted. "If you aren't going to take college seriously then maybe it's time for you to come home, get a job…"

"Mom, it's not like that," Oliver found himself saying. "I'm… I'm... "

"You're what, Oliver? she asked.

His mind spun, desperate to figure out some way to talk himself out of this. He couldn't go home. He might not be the biggest fan of college, but he enjoyed the freedom of living on his own. No way was he going to go home and have his parents dictate the rest of his life for him the way they'd been trying to do since he was a kid. But he had no leverage, no excuse to stay. He'd done better than he had the previous semester, but only barely. He'd made friends, but not like the friends he had at home, no one to justify staying for. If Laurel was here it'd be different. He could say he wanted to make things work with her and his mom would understand. She'd always wanted him to be in a happy relationship, and she'd always liked Laurel. It wasn't as if was dating anyone else, but—

"I'm seeing someone new." He'd barely thought over the decision before the words were tumbling out of his mouth.

Moira huffed a breath. "This isn't about who you're dating, Oliver."

"I know that," he said, and he knew he was grabbing at straws with this defense, but… "I'm just saying, I have a girlfriend. A serious one, so I'm not out partying all the time. And I'm… I'm going to tutoring. Because I'm trying to do better for next semester."

His mother only grumbled something he didn't quite catch, so he continued, "Things went south with Laurel, but… I learned my lesson. This girl I'm dating now…" He trailed off, not knowing what to say, since the girl in question didn't actually exist. So he stuck with a line that usually worked on his mother. "Please, Mom? Give me another chance."

He knew it was a shot in the dark, hoping his mother would give in if she thought he was getting his life together. When he'd started dating Laurel during high school, his parents had eased off of him some, giving him more leeway because they liked her. He doubted they'd ever like anyone else the way they liked Laurel. She was smart and poised and kind. She was ambitious and had always fought for what she wanted, whether it was a grade or a job or for Oliver to take their relationship more seriously. That was part of the reason he'd decided on a school on the other side of the country from where she was attending. He loved Laurel, but college was supposed to be fun. She'd been trying to get him to look at apartments with her and he'd even heard her talking about engagement rings with her best friend, Joanna. No way was he ready for all of that and he'd… kind of let her know in not so many words. Actually, it had been less words and more like a sorority girl in just a pair of panties bursting into his dorm room while he was Facetiming Laurel. She'd broken things off immediately.

His mother sighed down the phone line and Oliver held his breath waiting for the verdict.

"Fine," she said, and Oliver nearly pumped his fist in victory. "But I want to see actual improvement this time, Oliver, or else I'm freezing your trust fund until you're responsible enough to deserve it."

"Thank you," Oliver said. "I'll make you proud, I swear."

He would just have to pay one of the nerds in his classes to do the work for him. He was sure it wouldn't be too hard to find someone willing to help. If he just laid some charm on the right girl, he was sure he'd get what he wanted. He usually did.

"Oh," his mother said, breaking into his planning, "and I want to meet this new girlfriend of yours. Bring her home for Christmas."

"Uh… no, I don't…" Oliver spluttered, sitting up in bed. "Mom, I don't think she's going to be able to make it on such short notice."

"Oliver, there's a week until Christmas and you said you were already on break. Surely she can rearrange her schedule."

"But she's, um… She's already made plans with her family for Christmas."

"So invite them, too. I'm sure they'd love to meet you and your family." Her tone turned suspicious. "If you two are as serious as you say you are, that is."

"Yes," he said, realizing that his mother was a lot smarter than he'd given her credit for. She wasn't fooled by his ruse in the slightest. "Of course we are. She's… she's amazing, Mom. You're gonna love her."

"So she'll come, then?"

"I'm sure she can reschedule her plans a little. I'll talk to her and let you know."

"Oh and Oliver! What's her name? If she's coming I'd like to have a gift—"

"Uh, I gotta go, Mom. Tutoring. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you. Bye."

Oliver hung up the phone and took a deep breath, trying to ease some of the panic coursing through him. Cheating his way into a decent grade was one thing, but how the hell was he supposed to fake a girlfriend? But what choice did he have? If he went home alone his mother would know he was lying—she obviously already suspected he was—and if she found out he was lying she'd make good on her threat to lock him out of his trust fund. Of that, Oliver had no doubt.

Maybe… maybe he could call Allison from this morning and see if she was up for being his girlfriend for a week. He could dump her once they got back to Boston and his mom would never have to know difference. She seemed responsible, if her reaction to being late for her final was anything to go by. Although she did go out drinking at a party the night before said final, so… Well, his mother would never have to know that part, either.

He started to unlock his phone before he realized he'd never bothered getting her number. He supposed he could ask Lewis. He seemed to know her, or, at least, he knew her name, which was more than Oliver had known.

His shoulders slumped and he knocked his head back against the headboard. Ugh, this was never going to work. He pressed his fingers to his forehead, smoothing his brow, and tried to think of anyone else he could ask to Starling for Christmas. Oliver had never considered having so many sexual partners a bad thing before, but right now he was having a really hard time remembering names. The few he did remember were more of the stay-far-far-away-from-this-chick variety. Carrie was a prime example. And Helena. And Susan. Why didn't he keep a little black book the way Tommy did? He'd always laughed at his best friend's collection of names—with star ratings next to them—but now—

"Yo, Ollie!" One of his frat brothers banged on the door, loud enough to startle him. "We're ordering pizza for the party. What do you want?"

"Surprise me!" Oliver said with a roll of his eyes, but then he remembered… the party!

His frat was throwing another party tonight. They were throwing parties all weekend to celebrate the end of finals. Here he was worrying about finding a girl to bring home with him when there was going to be a house full of them, ripe for the picking. He knew he could charm someone into going to Starling with him for the holidays. It wasn't like he was asking them to be his actual girlfriend, just to pretend for a week. It was basically a vacation.

And who wouldn't want to take an all expenses paid vacation with a handsome billionaire for Christmas?