So I finally started the prequel for Another Chance. They're slightly different in this version of the story - being 20 years younger and all, but that's what makes it fun.

For this chapter I kept thinking of this Ryan O'Connell quote: "I don't believe in love at first sight but I do believe in seeing someone from across the room and knowing instantly that they're going to matter to you." For me it's the epitome of Olitz.

She doesn't want to be here. The music is too loud and she's tired from packing and moving in. It's too crowded and too stuffy; it's too – everything. She needs a drink. Because if she's going to do this – be social and outgoing, she really needs to have some alcohol in her system, some tequila pumping through her veins. She heads straight to the bar, pushing past people on the dance-floor; a girl on a mission.

"Wow, you've become quite the alcohol enthusiast." Abby says in her patented tone, the one that sounds like a joke, but really, it's not.

"You insisted we go out, I'm insisting we do tequila sho-" But she's cut off by the redhead's hand pulling her arm back.

"Wait." She's yelling into her ear, trying to talk over music. "There's the guy. The one I've been telling you about." She gives her a pleading smile, the one that lets Olivia know her friend's already made up her mind.

"Fine. Go. I'll just head home."

A flash of horror. "No! Liv, you can't leave. I need you here. And more importantly, you need to be here. You've had a hell of a year, you need to let loose for a bit; have some fun, have a one night stand; do something." She tugs at her arm gently, her lips forming a pout. "Come on!"

It's not charming or adorable, it's irritating. But it's also true. She did have a hell of a year, and it's her last year before Law School, so she really should – stay, socialize, dance, relax. Maybe, find a cute guy to make out. Find someone. To make her forget, even if just for a moment, that she's completely damaged. "Ughhhhh. Fine! But you'll owe me big time. I'll be at the bar if you need me. Drinking." She turns around and pushes her way through the crowd, finally reaching the bar. As she slaps her hands on the sticky surface, she exclaims, "Land." Someone behind her laughs heartily, but before she can turn around and see she feels someone's hand on her ass. She turns around, her mind on fire – she hates this part of going out, the annoying drunk guys who think it's all fine, drunkenness making them cross the line,hell, making them forget the line was ever there.

"What do you think you're doing?" She's faced by a handsome, tall guy, dark hair falling into his eyes, making him blink erratically.

"Hey, chill babe. Let me get you a drink."

"Not interested." She says through a plastered smile, annoyance seeping from her narrowed eyes.

"Hey, hey, now. You got to give guy a chance. What you drinking, lemme get it."

"I'm fine. Really!"

"No, you're not." He reaches for her arm and she flinches, stepping away, walking into someone – his chest to her back. She looks up to apologize and is met by a pair of warm blue eyes and a sympathetic smile. "You need to relax babe."

"Hey baby, this guy bothering you?" She looks up, confused, but he just winks at her. She turns around and chuckles as the guy who harassed her looks half-terrified. "She's taken, you have a problem with that?" And there's a tone in his voice, a silent threat that sends out the loudest message. The guy steps away, and stumbles onto the dance floor. She doesn't realize she' leaning into the Guy from the Bar, until he steps away, giving her space.

"Thanks."

"No problem." She turns around, so that she's finally facing him, and instantly their eyes are locked for a moment, a moment of eternity. She reminds herself to blink, turning her gaze to the floor, trying to think. "You're the girl from the cafeteria."

"What?" She can barely hear him, the music overpowering.

"Nothing. It's just that… I saw you in the cafeteria this morning. I watched you." She gives him a look. "Not creepy or anything. It's just that you were reading. And I mean a guy tripped and dropped his tray and you just never looked up. You just… I mean your focus. It's pretty impressive."

She blushes slightly, but the darkness covers it – she gets to keep her cool, to try and play it cool. "Problem from hell."

"What?"

"That's what I was reading."

He smiles, "It's one of my favorite books."

And suddenly, before she can think better of it she's asking him, "Can I get you a thank you drink?"

Before he can answer a guy slaps his shoulder, "Sorry we're late. Mellie took forever to get ready."

She can see his face falling, instantly, and he just mouths sorry, before a tall, over-dressed girl wraps her arms around his waist, "You can't, he has a girlfriend." She notices him flinch slightly, but she's not sure if it's at the word, or at the girl's movement.

"I'm Jake." The guy on his other side extends his hand and breaks the silence.

"Olivia." She says with a small smile.

"I'd love to dance with you." And she thinks she sees Him shooting Jake a look, but then she convinces herself it's just in her head. She should say no, she should – he seems like a nice guy, at least nice enough, but she doesn't like him and she can tell just from shaking his hand – they have no chemistry. With the Guy from the Bar, the one eyeing her now, even bumping into him – she felt this crazy electricity; she felt her breath hitch without even seeing him. And then, when their eyes met, they just, they connected. But she's embarrassed, and she wants to get away from Mellie, so she just nods her head gratefully and takes his hand.

She chats to Jake and they dance. The music pulsing through the air, through them. They get drinks and dance again, and keep that pattern – rinse and repeat. He's nice, friendly, great company. But the whole entire time, she's looking at Him. Mellie disappears again, shortly after they get their third drink, but he stays behind, at the bar. He's leaning back, his elbows on the cool surface, drink in hand and he's looking at her too. At first it's occasional glances; both of them trying to stay away, trying to look someplace else. Occasional glances to look at the other's features. The way his hand is gripping the glass, his knuckles almost white; the way her hips sway, Jake's hands on them; the way he licks his lips unconsciously; the way she bites her lip while looking at him. They glance in each other's direction and notice the little things, the details, little bits of their personality. But then, then they start lingering – lingering gazes at each other's body. His muscles, and the way that T-shirt hugs him; the way his jeans fit perfectly; her face, the full lips and the satin-like skin; her legs, her curves – swaying. Their eyes linger, longer, until everything else disappears, and the two of them, they're the only people in the room – the only two. Their eyes finally meet, they lock and never let go. She's moving and he's standing still, fighting with himself, breaking – this girl; she's everything. She's lost in his eyes, they cloud her mind; they make it focus on him, forget about everything else, everyone else. All she sees is Him.

"He has a girlfriend." Jake says. It's not hostile, it's just a reality-check. He's trying to be her friend, he's trying to be his friend. She looks at him, and he gives her a weak smile, a reassuring one; a smile that makes her want to cry – what is she doing; he's just another guy and she, she's not this girl.

"I need some fresh air. I'll be right back." He just nods and steps aside.

Instantly, Fitz is moving. He steps in front of him, blocking his way, "You have a girlfriend."

"I know Jake. I just… I want to see if she's OK."

"She's fine, she just needed some air."

"Well, I need some air too."

"You'll hurt her. She doesn't deserve to get stuck in the middle of this. She doesn't deserve to be your last song before tying the knot. Don't do this." Fitz just looks at him; and then breathes in, but the air, it's too thick.

"Jake, it's sweet that you care. About me, about Mellie and the girl you just met, but I just need some air." And with that he pushes past him. He walks out into the cool Boston night. It's a lie. Of course it's a lie, it's not about the air, it's not about Oxygen; it's about her, about the girl.

"Hi." She knows it's him. She felt him. She's never met anyone like that, not a single person who's presence she could just feel, whose voice made her knees go weak; whose eyes could cloud her mind.

She opens her eyes, slowly exhaling. "Hi." They just stare at each other for a moment, quiet. "Sorry, about… earlier. I didn't know."

"No, I'm sorry. I… she, I wasn't sure she was coming. Sorry, she had no right to talk to you in that tone; she's just a little… she's just… Mellie." He's stumbling over his words, completely lost; a sad smile forming on his lips as he utters – Mellie. He plays with his fingers nervously, finally taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"Do you want one?" She smiles and nods her head.

She reaches for the cigarette, but then chuckles warily, "It's the last one."

"That's OK, you can have it." She takes it out and plays with it, rolling it between her fingers, pressing lightly, before looking up at him, daring him.

"We can share it." And she puts it between her lips, bending her head slightly, so that he can light it. He looks at her as he does it, the way the small flame illuminates her face, the way there's a spark in her eyes, a fire not yet alight. She inhales deeply, the sensation of the smoke burning her throat instantly calming her, grounding her. She exhales and he draws it in – it's soothing; it's breathing her in. She offers it to him, and smiles as she notices him looking at the rim of red lipstick. She wants him to take it, she wants him to give in and she hates herself a little for it. He reaches for the cigarette and their fingers touch; his lingering over her delicate ones; their eyes in a duel – both refusing to look away, to look down, to even blink, to let reason in, to think. The cigarette is burning slowly, the hot ash bending slightly under gravity – until there's nothing left to hold it up and it falls down. It burns his skin; it makes them break their gaze; it shatters the moment. She drops the bud to the ground, watching her feet shift, as she presses it into concrete.

She can feel him watching her and she can barely breathe; she sees it before it starts happening. He reaches for her cheek, cupping it tenderly and then lifts her head, as he lowers his. He comes close, impossibly close – she can feel his hitched breaths. She closes her eyes and brings her hand up around his neck, closing the distance. Their lips crash. It's tender at first, new. But then their tongues are dueling, and it's passionate, desperate – lost all its innocence. They forget. They forget about the girlfriend, about Jake, about the club and the drunk guy; they forget that they just met, or that she doesn't know his name. They forget. Because he's never kissed anyone like this before, and he's never been kissed back like this; they've never been lost in a kiss. It doesn't feel like they've just met – he knows the spot on her neck that makes her lose her breath; and she knows how to nibble on his lip softly, how to bite it tenderly; he knows her eyes narrow when she's upset; and she knows he fidgets when he's sad; he knows she smells like lavender and she knows what his tongue tastes like. They finally pull away, breathless. She's dizzy and she doesn't know if it's the alcohol finally kicking in, or if it's the kiss; the mind-blowing, earth-shattering, most-amazing first kiss. His hand lingers on her cheek.

His phone vibrates and breaks the intimacy of silence. "Mellie" flashes across his screen, and she sees it, turning to the wall slightly, bending her head in frustration and shame. He shuts his phone off and pulls her to himself by the waist, but she puts her hands up on his chest and pushes him away. Reason finally coming in, she's been brought back to reality from a perfect dream.

"You have a girlfriend."

"It's complicated."

"So, you're not dating?" Her voice challenges him, but her eyes, they're pleading.

"We've been dating for years. Our families… we – "

"You're meant to get married." She finishes the sentence for him; her voice almost cold, but at least it's not breaking; it's steady. She turns around to leave, but his baritone stops her before she reaches the club door, "Please stay here, with me." The second part, she doesn't here – not the desperation, or the plea.

She doesn't turn around, no she can't look at him; she can't look into his eyes, they would change her mind. "Forget about me. And forget about this. It was just a drunken kiss."

"Oh come on!" He sighs in frustration. "We both know this is about more than a kiss!"

"It was a mistake." It's not a question, not for him anyway, and she doesn't give him a chance to speak before she walks away.

He pulls his hands through his hair and leans against the cool wall. He has to know her. He can't forget. He doesn't want to. There are pivotal moments, moments that define our lives – and this, meeting her, was one.

She enters the club; the sweat in the air making her lungs close up. She has to be around him. She can't forget. She doesn't want to. There are pivotal moments, moments that define our lives – and this, meeting him, might be a chance to turn hers around. She shakes her head in frustration and descends down the stairs; disappearing into the crowd, letting the loud beats empty her mind.

The moments that change our trajectory, that make us feel things we could only dream – those are the moments worth remembering, moments worth re-living; worth chasing. For them it was that moment, in the early morning when they stepped away with swollen lips and realized, breathlessly, wordlessly – that this, this was something more than just a kiss.

I really, really hope you guys liked that. I was super nervous about starting this, because so many of you like Another Chance, and I really didn't want to botch it. So let me know about your thoughts :)