Thanks for the reviews, here's some more

What happened the night of June 14, 2003

Fitz ran up the stairs to his best friend's room, he'd been looking for Andrew for the past 20 minutes, wanting to do another celebratory shot. They were finally graduated, no more classes, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks.

Fitz walked down to the end of the hall to Andrew's door, he heard moaning and groaning through the door. Smirking, he pushed the door open slowly, he waited to see if Andrew was fucking a blonde or a redhead, for some reason he was anti-brunette.

Once Fitz opened the door, he saw why, there was Mellie, his girlfriend getting drilled doggy-style by Andrew. She was a brunette, she'd been his girlfriend since their sophomore year. He'd been thinking he'd break up with her before they left for college, seeing as they were going to different colleges anyway.

He watched them for a minute, Andrew was in his glory, fucking a hot young pussy. Mellie looked more animated than anytime Fitz had fucked her in the past. Her hair was a mess, whenever Fitz fucked her, she whined about her hair getting too messed up. Andrew and Mellie were facing away from him, Fitz cleared his throat. Mellie squeaked and tried to dive under the sheets. Andrew turned, a smirk on his face, which froze when he saw Fitz.

"This is the only time it's happened, I swear," he looked at Fitz, waiting to be punched. Fitz had punched another guy last year for trying to kiss Mellie at a beach party.

Mellie's head popped out from under the sheets, her cheeks dark red with embarrassment. "Fitz I-" she started to say.

"Save it, we're done," his eyes glinted, his tone fierce as he glared at her.

"You're welcome to her, she seems more animated than usual," he looked at both of them with disgust as he walked out of the room, slamming the door on his way out.

As he walked down the hall, he passed Gina Marriott, she was Andrew's current fling, "Andrew's in his room, if you're looking for him."

Fitz strode out of the house, which was pumping with booze and music and writhing bodies. He was over this high school shit. He was going to Yale University in the fall. He couldn't wait to start a new chapter of his life. He threw himself into his Range Rover and drove home.

Olivia was so glad that high school was over, officially she was free. They'd had their high school graduation this afternoon, her parents had attended, been proud and clapped, but they were absentee parents, more than attentive and interested in what she did.

She couldn't wait to start college in the fall, Princeton. Her dream had come true, she'd gotten in on her own achievements. Her father hadn't had to bribe or make donations like most of her fellow graduates who were going to a college with a distinguished reputation.

Her parents both had jobs that took them out of town days at a time, they had a housekeeper that was around during the week but had the weekends off. Olivia had a few friends from high school, but she was a nerd as defined by high school hierarchy.

Eleven bells echoed from the grandfather clock in the foyer, as Olivia stood up to go into the kitchen and get some milk, then head up to bed with the latest Jackie Collins novel. Her secret vice, she did everything her parents had ever asked of her, get straight A's, honor society, debate team and other various activities. But she loved reading trashy novels.

There was a knock on the door, wondering who the hell it could be at this hour, Olivia opened the door and there he stood, Fitzgerald Grant. The golden boy of the high school. He had lived next to her since he was 12 and they had maybe exchanged 10 words over the course of their high school existence.

After their enlightening conversation, Olivia shut the door behind Fitz as he walked outside. She went back to grab her book and milk and head up to her bedroom. Halfway up the stairs, the doorbell started pinging and Olivia dropped her book, as she stomped down the stairs, wondering what the entitled golden boy wanted now.

Ripping open the door, hands in his pockets, casual posing against the side of her door, his brown curly hair rumpled on his head, he looked adorable and it irritated her, "What?" she demanded.

He looked straight at her. "Want to play a game?"

"Why would I want to play a game with you?" she yelled in exasperation.

"For fun, I never saw you at any of the soccer or baseball games or the dances that we went to, you kept to yourself, don't you want to do something fun before high school is over for good?" he shrugged his shoulders at her, his eyes doing probably what he thought was cute puppy eyes but he needed some more practice before that happened.

Opening the door, she let him back in, "What kind of game?" He walked through the foyer and back into the living room where he'd spied the liquor cabinet earlier. "Truth or dare."

"Every truth gets one shot and every dare gets two." He pulled out a couple shot glasses from the bottom shelf. "What's your poison? Tequila, whiskey," he listed off a few more. Looking at her quixotically, he settled on tequila, "I'm guessing you're not much of a drinker."

Sitting down on the couch, he patted the seat next to him. As she sat down, not looking at him but at the bottle of tequila, he noticed that she was beautiful in an understated way. She obviously didn't wear makeup, her skin was flawless and smooth, smooth milk chocolate. Her eyes looked at him, she was nervous, he could tell.

"No pressure, we're just going to have some fun. I'll even let you go first," he poured some tequila into a shot glass for her and for him. "Cheers, now what's it to be, Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," her tone was soft and quiet. "I dare you to take your shirt off and give me a lap dance." Tossing back the shot, she poured herself another one and tossed it back.

He looked at her, surprised by her gumption. "C'mon golden boy, dance for me," she took his shot glass from his hand, sat back and waited.

A little nervous, thinking she'd start out with a Truth question, he stood up, walked a few feet backwards and simply took off his shirt. He heard a sharp intake of breath, he tossed his shirt at her and watched as it fell at her feet, her gaze was riveted to his chest. He knew his body looked good, he worked hard to keep it that way. It was nice to have someone appreciate it.

Crooking her finger, she sat back on the couch and put her arms on the back of the couch, "Dance for me." She threw down the gauntlet.

He stalked toward her, his movements slow, watching her reaction, her lips slowly parted, her chest started rising and falling faster as she inhaled and exhaled sharper, the closer he got. Her eyes moved up to his face and she waited till he stood right in front of her, held up a hand and she stood up. "Sit." One simple word and he obeyed.

Taking her warmed seat on the couch, he watched, while she undid the belt of her robe, tossing it to the floor, he saw that she was wearing a thin white tank top, he could see the outline of her nipples through it, they were hard, like little raspberries and all he wanted to do was suck on them. His gaze moved down to her tiny sleep shorts, he couldn't see but his brain sketched in the details.

He could feel his cock getting hard in his jeans, he felt restricted by them, but all he could focus on was her. She slowly draped herself over him, her soft tiny hands touched his broad shoulders as she straddled his lap. She leaned close to him, her hair tickling his ear, as she whispered, "I know I said a lap dance, but I just can't wait for you to give me one, so," she leaned back to the table and grabbed his shot glass full of tequila, tilting it to her lips, she swallowed it.

That liquid burn down her throat felt so good. Her hands returned to his chest, where she sketched the structure of his chest with her fingers, stroking over the ridges of his abs and pecs. Listening to his soft grunts and groans at what felt good. Her lips drifted close to his and when he moved to kiss her, she leaned down and nipped on the throbbing pulse on the side of his neck.

His skin tasted delicious as she let her tongue slip out and taste him. She felt him groan, felt his hands shake as they grasped her ass firmly. Her hands touched him so gently, whispering over his body, needing to feel his strength. She enjoyed what came next.

She felt him start to move against her, his hips started that sinuous ritual of thrust and parry. He groaned softly as the softness of her legs gripped his hips and his cock nestled in the soft valley between her thighs.

"Liv, you feel so good," he rumbled huskily in her ear. His lips traveled up her neck and this time, their lips met, softly at first and then hungrily as he took ownership of the kiss. His mouth ate at hers gently, his tongue sought to dance with hers, at first she denied him and then she gave in. It felt so good.

Soft little touches at first, she was shy and he was bold. He tasted like scotch and she tasted like tequila, together, delicious.

She froze in that second, unable to believe that she and the golden boy were basically dry humping in her living room.

Her brain screamed at her to stop, but there was another voice in her head that she usually repressed that screamed at her to go for it and take what she wanted.

More to come soon…