"Stop looking at him!" Olivia Pope squealed, swatting her best friend, Abby's arm. "He's going to see you!" Abby sat back down in her chair, leaning into Olivia's ear.
"That's the point, Olivia! He's hot. I want him to see me." Abby loosened the already loose top three buttons of her regulation white collared button up and adjusted her powder gray sweater vest- also regulation.
Olivia shook her head as she turned a page of her History textbook, taking notes for their presentation that afternoon. Abby had been semi-focused before a boy's class came into the library. Of course Abby had to take the appropriate time to ogle each of them, until her eyes swept onto the brand new transfer and resident bad-boy- Fitzgerald Grant III.
"Do you think he's got money? He looks like that rugged, angry at Daddy rebellious type." Abby observed, biting her lip.
Olivia finished her margin note and set her pen down.
"Of course he's got money. Everyone here has a little money. And that's just what we need at this school; another spoiled, sad, entitled rich boy." Abby raised an eyebrow, turning around and taking her pencil back in her hands.
"Since when has the topic of boys pissed you off so much? I thought you just had a great date with Jake over the weekend."
Olivia shrugged noncommittally; the truth was, Abby had set her up with her cousin's best friend. Jake wasn't bad looking, but he lacked personality, and only wanted to talk about superficial topics. Olivia was bored their entire date, through the dinner, movie and the uncomfortable parking of Jake's car outside of her house. Olivia wasn't a bitch, but she also wasn't one to pretend that she liked someone, when she knew she didn't. She couldn't hide her displeasure as Jake, clearly feeling a moment exclusive to his own mind, leaned over and tried to kiss her. Of course Olivia moved her mouth in the nick of time, and his kiss landed on the edge of her face.
"Well, bye Jacob." Olivia had said, her annoyance trickling into her voice, as she pushed the door open.
"Wait!" He'd said, as Olivia turned, one leg already out of the car.
"What?"
"Can we do this again sometime? Can we try to maybe do something at my house? Maybe I'll have a party and we can cohost." Olivia cleared her throat, uncomfortable.
"No, Jake I don't think that's such a good idea." Olivia responded, trying to be gentle about it. But Jake would not relent, he called her back again.
"Why not? I thought we had a good time. And you're good-looking. I'm good-looking. We'd have a lot of fun together."
Olivia shook her head, hard, annoyed beyond belief.
"Look, this will never work. We have different interests and you're kind of… not my type. I'm sorry."
Olivia left the car, running into her house quickly as Jake started to call her name from the car.
"Oh gosh, Abby," Olivia aid, pushing her fingers into her hair. "He was horrible. And boring and made me feel like I was on a date with a brick wall. I'd actually rather have been on a date with a brick wall." Abby sighed.
"I'm sorry I sent you then. My cousin speaks so highly of him. I'll consider the source next time, cause he's also kind of an idiot." Olivia laughed gratefully, dropping her hands.
"I'm glad I don't have to pretend it was fun anymore, because that nearly killed me."
"You go on another date," Abby declared,
Olivia shook her head. "Abby, the days of you trying to set me up are over." Olivia turned back to her book, as their other best friend, Quinn appeared, her uniform almost as loosened as Abby's, wearing knee high black boots.
"So. How'd the date with Jake go?" Quinn asked, dropping her Physics textbook on the table and sitting. Olivia smiled at Abby, twisting her pen around in her hand.
"Not well. I'm not seeing him anymore." Quinn nodded.
"Cool, I kinda called that. Even though I'm not sure what your type is, I was pretty sure Jake wasn't it." Olivia laughed appreciatively.
"Well, I don't have much of a type. I'm absolutely not looking."
Quinn smiled mischievously.
"The word on the street is that Fitzgerald Grant is free." Olivia threw down her pen in annoyance.
"Do you realize that we have a presentation on the Cabeza De Vaca seventh period?" Olivia asked Abby, as Abby's attention had shifted back to Fitzgerald. Quinn had started looking at him too. Olivia rolled her eyes.
"Come on," Olivia said, as Abby took her hand and squeezed.
"Olivia, just look at the guy. He's gorgeous, and he just knows that he is. My God."
Olivia turned slightly in her chair, to look at the table of boys in the back of the library. Fitzgerald was sitting there, intently listening to his teacher. He sat at the end of the table, lounging in his chair, and twirling a pen in his hand.
Now that Olivia was getting a good look at him, she realized that he didn't look like the rest of the boys at their school. Unlike every previous bad-boy type; clean cut but a little rugged around the edges (that ruggedness only went as far as growing an amount of scruffy facial hair and haphazardly combing their hair) - Fitzgerald had a number of interesting tattoos. His uniform shirt was rolled a quarter of the way, revealing that his tattoos probably went all the way up his arms. Olivia wondered if they did. Fitzgerald's hair was a messy brown mass, unruly, and curly and swept to the side, as if he'd just raked his fingers through it that morning. He was clearly tall, his limbs were stretched out, taking up as much room as he could, and his face was chiseled to perfection, his eyes a perfect blue. Olivia broke her eyes away from Fitzgerald.
"He's okay, not my type." Abby turned away from Fitzgerald again.
"Please Olivia, no guy is your type. They haven't made your type of guy yet." Olivia grinned and stood.
"I'm going to go see if I can find more books on the Cabeza De Vaca; leave it to Professor Beene to give us such an annoying presentation topic."
Abby waved Olivia off dismissively, clearly annoyed at Olivia for calling Fitzgerald less than the Adonis she thought he was.
Olivia disappeared into the maze of books, the library had two major sections on each side of the space. Olivia knew the nonfiction section like the back of her hand, she wandered into her favorite area; the bookcases towered over Olivia by at least five feet. There was a solid wall of books, cut off from the rest of them, these books were so interesting that Olivia dreamed about reading all of them before graduation next year; she hoped she could manage it.
Olivia pulled a stool over and climbed up to the third stair, examining the titles as she reached the section she was looking for.
"By any chance, do you see a book up there about the Côte d'Azur?" Olivia turned around, seeing Fitzgerald standing in the doorway that the bookcases created.
"Yeah, there are tons about the Côte d'Azur, do you want me to just grab a few? I'm up here anyway." Fitzgerald laughed and walked over to where Olivia was standing on the stool. Even with Olivia up on the topmost step, Fitz was taller.
"I think I got it," He scanned the row that Olivia had indicated and pulled a few out.
"Thanks," Fitzgerald started to leave.
"Are those for an assignment?" Olivia asked, Fitz turned and shook his head, leaning against the doorway.
"Nope, I just like to read. The Côte d'Azur is a very interesting place to read about." Olivia crossed her arms indignant.
"Oh, really? Do tell." Fitzgerald smiled slightly.
"Well, its historic, it started as winter spa for the British, before flourishing and becoming a hotbed for artists, writers and bohemians. A lot of amazing things happened there." Olivia nodded, trying not to appear too interested.
"Right, cool. That's… interesting." Olivia turned back around, taking down three books on the Cabeza De Vaca.
"You don't find it interesting." Fitzgerald accused. Olivia shrugged, not facing him.
"I'm not particularly interesting in geography I guess. Not my thing."
"Hm. What is your thing?" Olivia pulled down another book, then stepped down from the stool, clutching the books to her chest.
"I like to read. Mostly fiction. The classics, the discarded classics, books most frequently banned, lesser known works of famous authors… stuff like that." Fitzgerald watched Olivia intently as she spoke.
"That's also interesting. Why do you enjoy that?" He was testing her; they both knew that the kind of students that went to their school were snooty, entitled and overly compensated for their lack of intelligence. An answer like Olivia's wasn't uncommon. Most girls just read so they could say that they read. That wasn't Olivia. Oftentimes, books were the only things she could count on.
Olivia squinted at Fitzgerald.
"Why do you care?" He shrugged.
"We were having a conversation, did you want me to not have a conversation with you?" Olivia's eyes traveled to Fitz's arms again.
"How many tattoos do you have?" She asked this impulsively. Of course she wanted to know, but she hadn't meant to blurt it out like she had.
He seemed taken aback by her question, but, almost without missing a beat, he started to unbutton his shirt, setting his books down on the edge of a nearby shelf.
Olivia panicked.
"Wait, what are you doing?" Fitzgerald didn't stop, he reached the last of the buttons and slipped off the shirt.
"You can stop now, it was just a question!" She insisted, as he stood in front of her naked from the waist up. Olivia briefly wondered why he didn't wear an undershirt.
Fitzgerald took a step forward and stretched his arms out.
"Why don't you count?"
Olivia blinked, her eyes sweeping his chest.
Oh, they're everywhere.
She met his eyes.
"Are you serious?" Fitzgerald nodded.
"Very."
Olivia discarded her books on a shelf and moved to stand in front of him, her fingers reaching out hesitantly to point to a specific tattoo.
"One," Olivia said, looking up at Fitzgerald.
"Count to yourself, "
He prodded, smirking. Olivia grinned despite herself and began counting; she counted over ten on his front, including his arms, and as she turned around to count his back, she paused
Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
Her fingers traced the words as she rounded back to Fitzgerald's front.
"Edgar Allen Poe? Why?" Fitzgerald leaned down to retrieve his shirt.
"I like to read too."
Olivia blinked, stepping back as he dressed again.
Fitzgerald knew he'd thrown her for a loop. Her expression was confused. She crossed her arms. Fitzgerald realized he hadn't caught her name.
"Can I guess your name?" He asked. Olivia's brow furrowed.
"Why don't you just ask me?"
Fitzgerald smirked.
"Clearly I don't like doing things the easy way."
"Or the correct way," She countered.
Fitzgerald shrugged. "Maybe. So can I?" Olivia nodded.
"You can try."
Fitz peered into her eyes, searching, as if her name was hidden in her irises. Her creamy milk chocolate skin, large brown eyes and curvy physique offered no clues. He looked at her small wrists for a bracelet of some kind. Then, unable to help himself, he looked at her shapely legs in her knee highs, her cute Mary Janes and her short uniform skirt.
Fitz bit his lip tentatively before making his first guess.
"Naomi." Olivia laughed, clearly taken off guard.
"Nope." Fitzgerald crossed his arms authoritatively.
"Hm… Kenya?" Olivia raised an eyebrow.
"Come on now. Not every black girl is named Kenya." Fitz put his hands up in a surrender.
"Okay, fine. I have one more guess. But I want to wager you something."
"Oh yeah? What's the wager?"
"You go on a date with me if I my last guess is right."
Olivia shook her head before he'd finished his sentence.
"I don't think so. I don't really date and…" Fitzgerald held up a finger to silence her.
"But there's no guarantee that I'll be right. The statistical probability that I could actually guess your name is not in my favor. Seriously, I could be completely off base. What if you're a namesake? What if your Mom just read your name one time and loved it? What if your name is in the top hundreds of most common names? How would I possibly be able to account for all of that? The odds aren't in my favor here, so you're really only placating me if you say yes. You're enabling my statistically reckless behavior."
Olivia chuckled, disbelieving.
"Okay. If your guess is right, I'll go on a date with you."
Fitzgerald smirked,
"Great, Olivia. I'll pick you up Friday night? Seven o'clock?" Olivia's eyes narrowed.
"Who told you my name?" She should have known that Fitzgerald wouldn't bet something like a date if he wasn't sure he'd win. This was a classic prep boy trick.
"You're the prettiest girl in this school. And no one's ever even really talked to you. I heard your name in my first class here. You're almost famous."
Olivia blushed; she had maintained an air of mystery, but she hadn't tried to do that by any means, it was something that just happened.
"And what if I said I don't want to go out with a tattooed guy who probably only got those tattoos to piss someone off?"
Fitzgerald shrugged.
"Too bad, you lost. Meet me in the parking lot after school? You can give me your address then."
Olivia watched him pick up his books and walk off, his swaggering walk clearly the result of tricking her.
"You thought it was cool not to mention that you have a date with Fitzgerald Grant? We've been best friends for how long? You know I'm living vicariously through you right now since David is out sick." Olivia shut her locker, looking at Abby affectionately. Olivia twirled one of her carrot orange curls around a finger.
"Oh come on, it's not a big deal. He's probably a jerk anyway. And he'll end up not being my type like Jake. Don't worry, I'm not holding out on you." Abby scoffed and shut her locker; they were wooden and old, the school hadn't had a decent remodeling since 1915. The walls were paneled in dark wood, and the halls were carpeted in navy blue.
"Nope. This is going to be different. You two had a connection. You counted his tattoos- how bad ass is that?" Olivia shook her head, laughing as she pulled on her jacket and tossed her bookbag over a shoulder. They made their way outside and into the parking lot, Quinn appearing as they walked to Abby's car.
"Aren't you supposed to meet him?" Quinn asked, after Abby filled her in.
Olivia subtly scanned the parking lot, looking for Fitzgerald and his motorcycle.
"Yeah. He said he'd be on his motorcycle. He should be around here somewhere."
"Hey Livvie," Olivia turned,
Speak of the devil.
"Hey ladies, nice to meet you, I'm Fitz, you are?" He asked Quinn and Abby.
"I'm Quinn-"
"And I'm Abby- Olivia Pope's best friend and personal ass-kicker. Just fyi." Olivia rolled her eyes, even though she was appreciative.
Fitz chuckled good-naturedly and nodded.
"I'll keep that in mind. Livvie, can I talk to you for a second?"
Olivia stepped over to the side with Fitz.
"Before you say anything, I just wanted to correct you; my name is Olivia. I don't really like nicknames."
Fitz smiled.
"I like Olivia. The name is pretty. But Livvie is what I call you. Isn't that nice too?" Olivia blinked, slightly dazed.
"Um. Did you want my address or…? I need to get going." Fitz nodded, pulling a pen from his back pocket.
"Here,"
Olivia scribbled down her address and phone number and handed it to Fitz, along with his pen.
"Well, bye." Olivia said, still slightly flustered.
Fitz grinned at the piece of paper.
"You signed it 'Livvie'"
Olivia shrugged. "Who am I to spoil your nicknaming fun?" She lingered only a moment before walking back to where Abby and Quinn stood.
Carefully, Fitz folded the piece of paper in two and pushed it into his front pocket. He walked to the edge of the parking lot and climbed onto his bike.
Olivia watched him from inside Abby's car. Sighing as he sped out of the parking lot.
Olivia turned back around from the window, only to be met with Abby and Quinn's stares.
"What?" Olivia asked, surprised.
Abby chuckled, starting her car.
"Guess you've found your type."