A/N: This story is off and running. I hope you enjoy this!

Chapter Two

Felicity wanted to go to MIT for as long as she could remember. Most little girls had pictures of actors or boy bands on their bedroom walls, but Felicity had an MIT flag and torn pages from the MIT brochure she'd picked up after she'd passed through the campus during a family vacation. It almost felt like a personal rite of passage when she sent in the application, and it was an absolute dream when her acceptance letter came in the mail. For years she'd fallen asleep to the halcyon image of that acceptance letter, and now it was reality.

Roger getting in was an added bonus. Not only would she get to live her dream, but she'd get to do it with her best friend. For all the years she'd spent dreaming about MIT and imagining herself there, the first day was nothing like she'd imagined. She thought she'd be taking MIT by storm. She knew the brochures by heart, and she'd read up on her professors and came up with the perfect small talk topics for after class when she introduced herself to them and proved, yet again, just how much she belonged there.

Instead of the complete confidence she was certain she'd feel she was terrified. What if MIT didn't live up to her dreams? What if she didn't live up to them? Sure, she was smart, but everyone just seemed smarter. She found herself wishing Roger could be with her for her first class. It would be nice to have something familiar with her.

This was very much on her mind when she walked into Statistics 101, her gaze quickly flitting over the class and the honing in on a nice secluded seat pressed against the back wall. She settled there, reaching into her bag and pulling out her computer.

The room was empty save for her and one girl seated smack dab in the center of the front row. She didn't have a computer with her – only a notebook – and Felicity noticed that the girl sat perfectly still, back straight and chin proud. She didn't tap her pen on her paper or even glance around. Felicity was about to question whether or not the girl was human when Oliver walked in. The girl's head shifted to the side just a bit, and Felicity noticed her grip on the pen tighten.

So she was human after all.

Oliver grinned when he spotted Felicity and he walked over, settling into the seat beside her. She could feel her nerves begin to settle.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said, reaching into his bag and pulling out his laptop.

She tilted her head to the side and mused, "Of all the classrooms in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine."

Oliver chuckled. "Did you just Bogart me?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"I have to say. I'm surprised by your choice of seat," Oliver said. "I would have pegged you for a front row type." The girl already seated in the front row turned her head ever so slightly. Felicity tilted her head toward the girl and Oliver quickly added, "Not that being a front row type is bad."

Felicity grinned. "I prefer a more passive seat in the classroom. When you're that close you get a lot of aggressive eye contact. Also, an occasional spray if the professor gets too excited about a given subject."

"You've really though this through."

"It's experience, actually," Felicity returned. "I used to be a front row sitter. But I learned. Now, you I would have pegged as a the back row type."

"And why do you say that?"

She glanced down at the book he'd pulled from his bag. "Well, for starters, you have the wrong book."

"What?" He glanced down at his book and then leaned over, looking at hers. Sure enough it was different.

"I think you got the advanced book," Felicity said, picking it up from his desk and flipping through it. "If you still have the receipt you can probably return it."

Oliver vaguely remembered stuffing it in the pocket of the jeans he'd been wearing when he bought his books. He'd have to check when he got back to the dorm.

"Don't worry, I'll let you look on with me," she said. "Although, I will warn you, if you're a mouth breather that offer is revoked."

With feigned solemnity he told her, "I swear to you that I am not a mouth breather."

"Good. I'm glad we settled that."

The rest of the class trickled in, and then the professor made his entrance, looking stereotypically collegiate in his tweed jacket and bowtie. He walked over to the chalk board – Felicity was surprised dry erase boards weren't installed in the building yet – and wrote his name: Professor Danforth.

"Good morning everyone," he said. "I am your professor, Richard Danforth, and this is Statistics 101. If your textbook title does not include that word, you are likely in the wrong classroom and may make your exits as you see fit."

Felicity smirked, glancing at Oliver and his incorrect book.

He rolled his eyes and mumbled, "You're going to do this all class, aren't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, watching Professor Danforth as he scrawled something else on the blackboard. "Yes, I am."

Oliver sat through two more classes – which he luckily had the correct books for – before he returned to his dorm room. Roger was stretched out on his bed, flipping through a comic book. He glanced up when Oliver walked in and gave him a sort of salute as a greeting.

"Is that a new one?" Oliver asked, gesturing toward the comic book.

"Yeah. Although the writers are messing up everything, per usual."

Oliver nodded, as though he understood his roommate's strife – which he didn't – and settled on the edge of his bed. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, groaning when he saw the home number flashing on the screen. Roger glanced up from his comic book.

"Bad call?"

"You could say that," Oliver muttered, standing up and heading out to the common area. He settled on one of the uncomfortable armchairs and then swiped into the call.

"Hello?"

"How much MIT swag have you bought me?" a high-pitched voice asked. "Because I expect at least a sweatshirt by Halloween."

Oliver grinned, relaxing.

"Is that any way to greet your brother?" he returned lightly.

"I prefer crewneck sweatshirts, by the way," she said. "But, if you already bought one with a hoodie I'll take it. Unless you still have the receipt, of course. Then you should return it."

"Thea, did you seriously just call to harangue me about MIT apparel?"

"Maybe," she said leadingly. "But, no. I didn't. I'm calling on behalf of mom and dad."

"And what do our lovely, disapproving parents have to say?" he asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Mom just wanted to make sure you're eating enough, getting sleep – you know, Mom stuff," Thea said.

Oliver could just imagine his mother fretting about what he was eating and whether or not he was having balanced nutrition. He wouldn't put it past her to send him a meal plan through one of those meals-on-wheels services, just to make sure he ate something green once in a blue moon.

"And Dad?"

"The same. Although, there was some grumbling about why you aren't taking any business classes. I believe the phrase 'head up his ass' was used."

"How poetic," Oliver grumbled.

"If it makes you feel any better, Mom did not actively engage in that part of the conversation. She excused herself to make a tension breaking cup of tea."

A few people passed in the hallway, their exuberant conversation contrasting starkly with what was becoming a rather drab exchange between Oliver and his sister.

"So, how else are things at home?" Oliver asked. As an aside he added, "You're not missing me too badly, are you?"

"No," she said promptly, causing him to chuckle. "Although Roy asks about you at least once per conversation."

Oliver grinned. Thea's boyfriend Roy and him had always gotten along well, even after a particularly scathing talk Oliver had with him at the start of his and Thea's relationship, which involved rather graphic illustrations of what would happen to him if he hurt his sister.

"But things are fine at home," Thea said. "I mean, it's different without you. We go through milk a lot slower."

Oliver snorted. "That's what you notice is different? The rate at which you go through milk?"

"You'd always flood your cereal bowl," she argued lightly. "So, we went through milk fast. Now, we easily can stretch it over a week. Especially now that Mom's switched to almond milk."

"She drinks almond milk now?" he asked in confusion. Last time he checked his mom wasn't lactose intolerant or vegan.

"Yep," Thea said. "All the women at the club have sworn off dairy. Apparently it's bad for the skin or something. Anyway, I give this one a month."

"That even seems a bit long," Oliver said. "Remember when they went on that chia seed kick? That only lasted for two weeks."

Over the years, Oliver and Thea had watched their mother be subjected to the club's preferential whims. The entire group would suddenly find themselves on – or off – a certain practice or food, and then just as suddenly – usually in a month or less – it'd be forgotten, the entire group trudging on to the next fad.

"Mom actually likes the almond milk, though," Thea said. "She hated the chia seeds. And for good reason. Sometimes I still feel like I have some stuck in my teeth."

Oliver had to agree with her there. The chia seeds were not one of his favorite club benders.

"How are things with you?" Thea asked.

"Good. I like it here.

"How's your roommate?"

Oliver thought about Roger and answered, "Different. I like him, though. Meeting people who are different from you is part of college, right?"

"Definitely. So, any nice potential sister-in-laws there? I do have to warn you, I will immediately veto anyone if they're a drama major. Do they even have that at MIT?"

Oliver laughed. "I don't think so. And, um, no, I haven't met anyone." His thoughts drifted to Felicity momentarily, but then Thea spoke again.

"That's surprising. Don't they know you're basically business royalty?"

Oliver swallowed hard. "About that…"

He told her what he'd done with using their mom's maiden name and how he hoped to keep his true identity a secret.

"So, you're basically lying to everyone," Thea said in disbelief. "Oliver, how can you not see this will blow up terribly in your face?"

"I'm not lying. I'm just…concealing a part of the truth."

"Yeah, you're concealing it with a fake last name," she pointed out.

He ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. "It's Mom's maiden name. So, technically I have some claim to it."

"What about your roommate? Does he at least know who you really are?"

"No. I told you, Thea. No one knows."

He heard a low whistle on the other side of the line and rolled his eyes. His sister's voice filled his ear again as she said, "Yeah, this is going to backfire in a major way. At least tell your roommate."

Oliver thought of Roger, and how if he told him he'd in turn have to tell Felicity. He could just imagine their reaction, and even if he wasn't completely certain things would change between them, he wasn't willing to risk that.

Almost as if she could read his mind and see that she was on it, Felicity walked down the hallway toward him, textbook clutched to her chest. She smiled at him and he gave her a small wave.

"Look, Thea, I have to go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you, too," he said.

"And remember – crewneck!"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Bye Thea."

Felicity was standing in front of him when he hung up and she asked, "Who was that?"

"My sister Thea," he said. "She wanted to check up on how much MIT apparel I was stockpiling for her."

Felicity laughed. "I can see she has her priorities straight."

"Roger should be in his room," Oliver said, glancing back over his shoulder at their room. The door was wide open. "He's reading some comic book that he thinks the writers messed up."

"Roger always thinks the writers are messing things up," she returned easily. "But I'm actually here for you."

Oliver blinked in surprise. "You are?"

"I figured you might not get your statistics book today," she began, sitting beside him and holding the book she'd had clutched to her chest out toward him. He recognized it was the one front their class. "So, I am letting you borrow mine."

"Don't you need it?"

She shook her head. "I did all the readings for this week over the weekend. So, I'm good."

"Thanks," he said, taking the book from her. "This is really nice of you."

"You're welcome," she said with a small nod. She watched him flip open the book and hastily added, "Just be careful with it. Try not to drop it or, you know, shove it anywhere. Definitely no pen marks inside. I like to keep my books in pretty good shape."

Oliver nodded. "I will treat it well. So, how was the rest of your first day?"

"A blur," she said, leaning back in the seat so that her shoulder blades touched the stiff cushion. "To be honest, it's not what I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"I've dreamed of going to MIT for as long as I can remember," she said. "I just thought I'd feel more…comfortable. At home. I don't know, it's probably normal for the first day, but all I've really felt is a strong need to vomit."

"You seemed fine in statistics."

He was right. That was the one class where she'd actually felt moderately in control of herself.

"It was because of you," she told him.

"Because of me?" he said immediately.

"Yeah. Having someone that I knew – even minimally – made all the difference. It was like you were my anchor or something. You grounded me." She saw the look that flitted on his face at that and she quickly said, "And that is something really creepy to say to someone you've known for less than a week."

"No," he said immediately, reaching forward and touching her arm. "It's not creepy. Not at all. I'm just surprised."

It was the truth. He was surprised, and oddly touched that his presence had such an impact on her. He could see where she was coming from, though. There was something about those first connections he'd made on campus, when everything was new and foreign, that felt particularly strong. They'd gone through something together – an initiation of sorts – and he remembered the loosening in his chest he'd felt when he walked in Statistics 101 and saw her seated in the classroom.

"Well, I better go," she said. "You have reading to get to."

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Thank you again for the book."

"You're welcome," she said with a succinct dip of her head. She stood up, clasping her hands behind her back. "Just bring it to class tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Okay. Well, I will see you then. Tomorrow."

He grinned slightly at her stilted formality. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He watched her walk from the small seated area, taking the long way back to the stairway past his dorm room, peaking her head in briefly to say hello to Roger. After a few moments, his eyes lingering on the spot where she'd disappeared around the corner, he glanced down at the book in his hand and sighed, opening up to the next day's chapter.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this! Next chapter will have some fun college hijinks. Think parties and rowdy coeds.

If you want the next chapter, please leave some feedback. I'd love it if we could match (or even beat!) last chapter's number!