Routines were her bread and butter. The clock didn't have to remind her about what to do and when to do it. She was conditioned to live, breathe, and sleep dance. Everything in its rightful place, at the correct time. It was Biblical — " A time to dance…" The moment to dance was always present.

Of course, her body didn't fail her. Every morning, at 8:03, her eyes would open, slowly preparing to start the day, which usually included several hours of dancing, a little bit of emailing, and the rest of the day networking or "resting". No matter where she was, this was her life. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

But her head felt so fucking heavy when she tried to lift herself up. Extremely groggy, Olivia gathered her bearings.

Wait.

The mattress was too firm. The walls were not bright enough. Sunlight wasn't boring into her face. She was in a bed that clearly was not her own. That sense of knowing she wasn't alone was terrifying, so Olivia shifted her body over at a glacial pace to the other side, to hopefully disregard any assumptions.

It's him. Shit.

"Hey, beautiful."

Her eyes finally adjusted to find her companion from the night before, lying beside her. But to her surprise, his face was getting closer; his lips touching her cheek.

"What the hell?" Olivia muttered, wiggling against the confining sheets. Did they hook up? Did she meet this man not even 24 hours earlier, and then they were in the same bed? At this point, she wasn't going to find out. She had to leave.

"Wait, don't go," he touched her wrist delicately. "We had such a great time last night."

"I don't know about that. I don't remember much. I must have been drunk."

"So was I."

Olivia's body stiffened and her eyes grew wide, shifting between the bed and the floor, where clothes had been tossed around.

"Did we?"

"No, we did not."

Sighing deeply, Olivia was relieved that the combination of liquor and lust didn't make too much of a fuzzy recollection the morning after.

"But, I do remember you screaming after I— "

They did do something. More than something. For a split second, she recalled his head between her legs. Touching her like no one else, making her fall, just the way she liked.

Olivia covered her face, in total e mbarrassment, while Fitz softly chuckled. Fucking and ducking was her go-to. It didn't happen often. Olivia didn't make time for relationships or spur-of-the-moment hookups, but she knew when the right connection was made — either emotional or physical — with a man who was highly attractive and had a snark level she was turned on by, she would forgo logic.

"I'm sorry. Let me get you some breakfast," he replied, reaching over to the hotel phone. His lower back and behind became exposed from his side of the sheets slipping off. Ugggh, that firm ass felt so good holding to... Shit. Olivia was beginning to remember more of the activities from that night. Giggling over the lame jokes at the bar, whispering in his ear. A small kiss here. A nuzzle there. Then, asking him if they could go somewhere...

"I should go."

"Wait, Olivia."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she thought about how he said her name. His voice was husky, in that special way the morning creates. It had a beautiful ring in her ears. But that was the last thing she wanted to fantasize at that moment.

"What?"

"Don't go."

"Fitz."

"Wow, it's been 24 hours and this is the first time you've said my name. I'm impressed." His blue eyes were friendly and a crooked smile appeared. Olivia didn't want to hear him getting all sappy. It wasn't what she was used to, while being with someone for the first time.

"Why are you doing this? You don't owe me anything."

Another light chuckle escaped from his mouth. "Oh, c'mon. I wouldn't kick you out. That's not who I am. Let me take care of you. Please? Just a bite to eat."

Olivia conceded, allowing him to have his way and stayed for breakfast. While she waited, she rested, snuggling the covers. He smiled as he set the tray over her lap. Olivia quietly worked on a short stack of pancakes, while he chomped on a massive omelet. They didn't speak, and Olivia wasn't going to indulge. She didn't want friendly banter, but it was nice to feel his touch.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, without looking back at him. If she gazed into his soulful eyes, she'd be a goner.

When he finally left for the shower, Olivia fumbled out of bed, searched for her phone, and thought of a plan to escape. What he wouldn't know, wouldn't hurt him. Numbers hadn't been exchanged and there were no attachments so there would be no way he could find her. At least for now. That's if she didn't accept the job offer.

"Harrison."

"Good morning."

"Harrison," she repeated his name with urgency.

"Yeah, sis?"

"Hurry up and get me."

"Why?"

"Because," she whispered, "I gotta go."

"You didn't seem that way when you bitched me out when I tried to detach you from that Grant fellow. Y'all were sucking face like none other."

The honest truth was a hell of a stinger. Olivia couldn't stand it when her brother would was right. But he always looking out for her well-being. That was fine and dandy, but Olivia didn't call for a guilt trip and a "told-you-so" lecture.

"I need a favor," she tip-toed find her pants, shoes, and anything else that was hers in the spacious room. "I need you to come to the hotel so I can go. I can't stay here."

"Why not? You were having fun. Probably the first time in a long time that I've seen you look extremely happy, outside of dancing. You don't have to be anywhere until 1, so enjoy yourself."

"What are you talking about?"

"There's nothing wrong with having a good time."

Olivia sucked her teeth, "Are you serious? You are not listening to me. I need you to meet me downstairs."

"Uh, yeah, I am, and don't you dare shut me out. Don't tell me that you hated being with him."

Stammering through words that were extremely foreign, Olivia replied, "I can't be bogged down by a quick emotional attachment, or a…relationship."

Harrison taunted melodically. "You said a bad word...ha-ha-ha-ha-ha."

"Fuck you. You know what, forget I even asked."

"Sis, you put up a good front, but you know I'll be there."

Olivia decided to send Harrison the address of the coffee shop they liked to visit, before redressing. It was a walk of shame, but she didn't have time to fuss over her appearance. Scribbling a note on the bed, Olivia gave Fitz her best regards and made a beeline for outside. In a three minute span, she scurried down the stairs and hailed a cab. Smoothing down her hair, re-applying some mascara, then gargling mouthwash, she made herself presentable, feeling like Holly Golightly on the way to the airport.

Harrison was standing in front of the coffee shop as the cab pulled up. Handing the driver a wad of cash, she said, "Please keep the change."

He gave her the familiar look of judgment she knew about whenever she was doing something sketchy.

"Seriously, sister?"

A purse of the lips, with a firm middle finger being lifted sharply, Olivia adjusted her large sunglasses, letting it be known that she was not the one.

"Do. Not."

They found a table after ordering their drinks. Harrison preferred a dark roast with cream; her go-to was a personalized latte. It became a game when they would give the barista each other's orders. The cafe's owner knew them well so depending on the day, they would receive their coffee for free. It was nice to go to places where people knew who you are, and reap the benefits.

"Did you enjoy yourself," Harrison inquired, blowing off steam from his cup.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Olivia fiddled with her sunglasses, not knowing what to think. Only met this man yesterday. He pretty much wooed me at the bar, made her feel amazing, and made sure she slept well and ate. And still, she ran off. Of all the people to hook up with...it's the guy she loathed, from the moment she laid eyes on him at the studio.

"What's going on next week?"

Harrison sighed, catching her drift. He pulled out his iPad and gave an itinerary for Monday's rehearsal. All before they were rudely interrupted.

"Olivia Pope?"

"Yes," she casually replied, not even bothering to make eye contact. Everyone knew who she was., no need to talk to the neighborhood "littles." Plus, she was in last night's outfit. Not an ideal situation to be getting recognized.

"You left this."

The smirk on Olivia's face vanished when she realized who the voice's owner was and what he brought.

Her phone.

"Oh. What an idiot I am."

He nodded and moved awfully close to her ear. Too damn close. "I took the liberty to save my number in your contacts and yours' is in mine. Payback. For ditching me."

Olivia slowly nodded in gratitude, but not before she saw her brother shaking his head in amusement, and then rising from his seat, hand extended. She shot a dirty look, silently forbidding him to continue his scheme, but to no avail.

"Harrison."

"Fitz."

"Excuse my manners, but your last name is Grant, right?"

Fitz smiled at the recognition. "That's me. Nice to meet you, Harrison."

"How did you know where I was?" Olivia interrupted, figuring out Fitz's detective work. Then it came to her. "You son of a biscuit-eating bulldog. You read my texts?"

Fitz's eyebrows rose. "No. But I called the last number to make sure it was your phone."

Her eyes squinted in rage at her brother. He playfully shrugged his shoulders, very amused by her major fail.

"What was I supposed to do? Let you not have your phone? I thought it was you calling me!"

"May I join you?"

Harrison and Olivia responded at the same time.

"Yes!"

"Absolutely not."

Frowning at each other, quickly communicating with wiggling eyebrows, they were stuck.

"Come sit, buddy."

Olivia sipped on her coffee, which now tasted extremely bitter, as she revised her getaway plans.

"Did you decide?"

"I guess."

"I knew you would!"

Another day at the dance studio, trying to get her life in order. After the cell-phone/morning after ordeal, Olivia was very hesitant to accept any more social invitations. She had a job to do: kick ass at rehearsals and future auditions and make it big in this industry.

Stephen found out (probably through Harrison) that she was upstairs, and he surrounded me with rapid questions about the music video. She hadn't made a firm decision about anything, but several days had passed since she was asked on-the-spot.

As soon as she saw him bolt through the doors, Olivia knew he wanted to know. When he heard the answer, Stephen extended his arm and waited for her to slap him five. She released a half-ass "woohoo" in return. Stephen jabbed her shoulder, laughing at her dull response.

"C'mon, it will be great. Everyone was counting on you to be in this video. The newest It Girl on the East Coast, being seen nationwide? Its stock will rise tremendously."

Olivia's eyebrows furrowed at the thought of the bullshit Stephen was spewing out of his mouth. How would he know that the addition would create so much buzz for a video?

"Oh, seriously? The music video will be popular because of an unknown dancer and not because of him," she smugly inquired, dropping her bag on the ground.

Stephen talked a big game, and as much as she wanted to feed into the hype, and revel in the potential of becoming a star, Olivia had to consider all of her options. To notice if she being told lies in order to feel better and jump in head first, and then get screwed over. Either financially or physically. That already happened and she was not going to let it repeat.

She lifted her foot off the ground, pushing her calloused ball down, stretching her tendons, while waiting for his answer.

"Olivia, don't do that. I thought of you first. I could care less if Fitz was involved. This is your chance to make it huge. Do you know how hard you've been working for this? It would be in your best interest to take this opportunity. Who knows where this will take you? Justin. Gaga. Demi. The best of the best. I heard Janet is going back on tour. Hell, the possibilities are endless! Think of it as Fitz supporting your campaign."

Inwardly, Olivia wanted to throw so many profanities at Stephen and call him a phony. She knew better than to receive this crap. But, some press is better than no press. It was her desire to be seen by anyone who could help my further my career. It just wasn't what she wanted to do.

"Have you seen Fitz since I introduced you two?"

Her stomach flipped, only having a few seconds to decide whether to lie or not.

"Once. Harrison and I went to get coffee and he just showed up out of nowhere, and had the audacity to sit with us."

Stephen chuckled while shaking his head. "Really? Fitz told me a different story...but whatever."

Olivia's eyes widened with fear. He would snitch. She couldn't be surprised by anything that man does anymore. If he even mentioned anything that sounded like the truth, she would drop everything.

"Don't worry. Nothing crazy. I'll leave you be. I need you to get excited," Stephen shouted, walking backwards, pointing at her. Olivia waved him off.

When the door slammed, she returned to the task at hand. Sliding into a chassé towards the stereo, she plugged in the iPod Olivia searched for an appropriate song to use for this audition she had in the afternoon. After setting everything up, she slipped off her sweats, revealing a cut-up t-shirt, blue leotard, and black dance shorts. She needed to embrace the exclusive time to herself.

The floor was cold to the touch. It didn't matter because she loved moving barefoot. Olivia was trained in ballet - ten years being in the studio four-six days in the week, hair pulled into tight buns, pink tights, black leotards, and leather slippers that transformed into beautiful pointe shoes. But once the chance was given, she gravitated towards jazz and contemporary. The training was exceptional and she did not regret all the time put in, but she found it freeing to do other techniques. She craved the passion in a choreographed piece. Contractions and extensions. Curving her body forward and backwards to form new shapes. Articulating her feet. Pouring whatever emotion she was experiencing into something I could create.

After a deep plié, Olivia launched herself into a weighted firebird jump. As she arched back, her right leg sharply swung behind her. Landing only to rebound into a lunge and inside double pirouette. Several combinations later, the music succinctly ended as she slid her leg in and brought my foot into a bevel, creating a solid pose to finish the combination.

Her breath slowed down, feeling satisfied with her work, when her ears perked to the sound of hands clapping.

"You are such a beautiful dancer."

Olivia's heart stopped, gasping, and whipped her body around. Fitz was leaning against the wall, presumably waiting for her to stop so he could officially barge into her world. His eyes shone with enthusiasm and she didn't know whether to blush, scream, or ignore his intense stare.

"What are you doing here? I didn't hear the door," she asked, exhaling heavily.

Fitz replied as he respectfully advanced to the center of the room. "Stephen told me to come and meet him. I got here a few minutes early. Sorry for startling you."

Olivia wiped her forehead with a towel. "It's alright. I don't know why I bother to think I can ever be alone when I dance."

A minute of silence elapsed with me trying very hard not to hiss at him or plan some type of abrupt exit.

"So," Fitz started, "How long have you been dancing?"

"How long have you been nosy," she replied, with a smirk.

Fitz stuck his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, with a shocked look on his face. "Woo, sass! You got me there. Sorry for prying, Olivia Pope."

Olivia felt a little uneasy for snapping at him. Probably didn't mean any harm and still, she wasn't sure why he was here, talking to her. About what she loved. Shrugging her shoulders and waving off his apology, she relented. "Sorry. Since I was 3. So…26 years."

"That's amazing." Fitz's reply surprised her even more. That same enthusiasm she heard on Friday. She couldn't tell if he meant it or not. Olivia dropped the towel into bag, nodding to quicken our conversation.

"Yeah. Long time."

"Teach me a step or two," he asked, attempting to make puppy-eyes. Sounded like a way to please and say anything that would get him on someone's good side. In this case, Olivia's side.

"Are you actually dancing in the video?"

"I think so at some point. I haven't heard much but I would assume"

Olivia stared at Fitz incredulously. His body shape — tall, with a broad set of shoulders and thicker thighs — didn't register as a "nimble mover". Maybe a casual athlete with a history of some agility. Was she really about to waste her time with this actor who was hired for mass appeal and consumption?

Fitz began to step-touch, bobbing his head and moving his hips in an erratic way. "I have rhythm, you know."

She wasn't ready for this lame attempt at flirting or whatever this was. Everything he said made no sense and she didn't care for it. He was in her territory now.

After seeing her lips curl in annoyance, Fitz chuckled, "You're not impressed. I'll prove you wrong, Miss Pope."

"Okay," she replied with no enthusiasm. There was no reason to play head games any longer; she mentally checked out to sharpen a leg extension; one that she needed to perfect for the show.

"Whoa, that was high!"

Olivia didn't bother to respond, but was glad to know he thought her less-than-stellar kick was praiseworthy. She continued to practice, starting with a small flick called a dégagé to the back, and lifting it higher into to a ponché. Looking over her shoulder, she witnessed Fitz blowing out a harsh breath and then crazily fling his leg in a weird fashion. Almost like a karate chop, not a graceful grand battément.

"What the hell," she exclaimed, half-amused, half-horrified.

"Gotta get to your level." He winked before running to the barré.

The last thing Olivia wanted was Fitz to be acting extra silly on her behalf. She couldn't let him act a fool in her sanctuary and defile the space she hold so dear. Not on her watch.

"Fitz, come here. Stand next to me."

When he returned to where she was standing, Olivia placed her hands on her hips and looked him straight in the eye. There was about a seven-inch difference between them, but she wasn't going to her size take away from what she wanted to say.

"What do you want to learn?"

"How to dance with you."

It was an odd request but Fitz had this sincerity in his eyes. Olivia didn't want to immediately shut him down, but she was the last person to be assigned as Fitz's dance partner.

"Why? I'm not easy to work with. You'd get tired of me so fast."

Lifting his shoulders slightly and grinning, Fitz answered, "Because I want to. I think I can manage. And no, I won't."

Not knowing what to do with this admission, Olivia racked her brain for something to do. A move that wouldn't be too difficult, but still impress and throw him a bone. She couldn't disappoint him, right?

"Grab my waist."

"Huh?"

Letting out a short grunt, Olivia repeated, "Grab my waist." It wasn't bizarre to have a secure pair of hands on her body, or get offended with being touched by strangers in the name of dance. "Just put your hands here."

Fitz gingerly placed his hands around her. A bolt of nervous energy ran through and caught Olivia off guard. It immediately reminded her how he caressed her in bed a week before.

"Relax," she instructed. Not only to Fitz, but relaying the information to herself.

He cleared his throat. "Okay..."

"I'm going to plié and you will need to plié with me."

The silence prompted an explanation. Olivia suddenly remembered he wouldn't have known any of those phrases. She was never a teacher, but she recalled how her instructors would guide her — training, going slow but this time, with no condemnation.

"Bend your knees."

"Oh yeah," Fitz muttered, along with "plié, plié".

He was trying and Olivia was pleasantly surprised by his new commitment.

"Then," she continued, "You're going to lift me, push me up so your arms are wrapped around my legs, and turn at the same time. I'll use my weight to keep steady. I wouldn't let you get hurt."

This lift was a basic partner move, something that anyone who was stronger than she was could accomplish. Fitz had a great upper body and strong legs; it wouldn't be an issue to hold her.

"Okay, are you ready?"

Having her eyes set on the mirror, Olivia watched Fitz nervously nod, his head resembling a Bobblehead.

"I'll count to three, and then we'll do this."

Feeling Fitz's fingers press into her sides, she began to count.

"One. Two. Three!"

Fitz grunted as he lifted her off the ground. A quick shift of weight brought her higher, as his arms gripped her thighs.

"Turn slowly, if you like," she instructed, watching themselves as the rotation occurred. By the feel of his stronghold, Fitz was obviously scared to drop her or whatever; she could feel it. But she pulled herself up through her abs, and let him take control.

"Alright."

After ten seconds, they came to a stop. Fitz cautiously released her, as she slid down. when she turned to face him.

"Wow."

"Yeah. Want to try it again?"

Fitz's cheeks rose while he beamed. "Yes, please!"

They added a small partner combination before the lift, and repeated two more times. Olivia curled herself in his embrace. The connection felt better each time. While she gave instructions, watching him take correction extremely well, was encouraging for Olivia. If they were going to work together, they might as well feel comfortable with each other.

His hand caressed the small of her back for support as she leaned back into a layout, as he lunged forward. Their faces were becoming dangerously close. Olivia could smell the cinnamon mint he probably was chomping on, before he walked into the studio.

"Look at you," she softly purred. Her eyelids lowered as she studied every one of Fitz's expressions, while her leg was still in the air "You're becoming a pro." She had to admit, there was a sexiness about him that was very appealing. Whenever he licked his lips, in concentration or maybe who knows, lust, that made her weak in the knees. Somehow he broke through her tough demeanor, and allowed her to relax around him.

Fitz hummed before replying, "I told you I'd prove it to you." Before she could find a smart-ass comeback, Fitz snuck in a kiss that was absolutely delectable. She let out a heavy sigh and snaked her fingers through his soft brown hair, which curled at the ends. The muscles in her foot were becoming too tight, and she felt as if she would cramp at any minute.

Without hesitation, she opened her mouth slightly and reached for his tongue. Fitz didn't draw back either; he grabbed the side of her hip and brought me closer, letting her center graze against his growing member.

"Hey, Liv, I wanted to show you- Whoa!"

Everything went haywire at the sound of Stephen's voice. Of all the people to catch her in a compromising position, it would be her director. Immediately detaching herself out of Fitz's arms, thrashing about, Olivia almost fell down. Her skills were to thank for breaking free without dropping to the ground and landing her in an emergency room.

"Hey, Stephen."

Their eyes met; in his excitement, Stephen greeted with a raised eyebrow and classic knowing smirk. Olivia watched his eyes survey towards her swollen lips, then following to Fitz's hands, which were casually covering the front of his pants. The level of embarrassment went through the roof, since the countless times of Stephen finding Olivia in less than savory situations, making it difficult for herself, once again.

"What's up?"

Stephen cleared his throat. "I'm so glad both of you are here. I spoke with the producers; they made an agreement with the choreographer, so we are meeting at BDC tomorrow morning at 11. Does that sound good?"

"For what," Fitz asked.

Olivia rolled her eyes; his naïveté was a killjoy. Couldn't he be sexy and not ask such random questions?

"Rehearsal."

"Ok, sounds great," Fitz replied. He shifted his eyes towards Olivia, looking for a reaction. Still feeling the rush of blood on her cheeks, she began to distract herself by drawing small rond de jambés, with my big toe on the floor, like forming circles in the sand.

"Mmhmm. Great."

Fitz must have seen her face become stoic, transitioning from flexible to difficult.

"Hey, Olivia was showing me a few moves that we might be able to use in the video."

Stephen refrained from bursting into laughter. "I bet she was. You appeared to be enjoying her instruction, Fitz."

The double entendres were not lost on Olivia. "Seriously? Fuck you." he retorted, lifting her arms in annoyance, turning around.

"Not my fault I walked in on a private lesson."

"Keep that going, dude, and you'll be searching for a new dancer," Olivia sassed, retrieving her sweats. The teasing had to stop, especially in front of a potential co-worker.

"Forgive me, Liv. I know you are always quick to call me on my shit." Stephen crossed over, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I went too far and that was unacceptable."

Olivia sighed, rolling her eyes. "I need to prepare for my audition, so if you need me, call Harrison. Y'all can joke all you want on your time. I'll see you all later."

"May I join you," Fitz interjected, throwing her off-balance.

"What? Why? Auditions are closed."

There was numerous reasons why a stranger couldn't tag along to an audition. Especially him. Distractions were not welcomed. Fitz Grant was now a huge distraction. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. It was only their fourth encounter and already, Olivia had allowed him see past this diva façade she was good at keeping up.

Stephen commented, "Would it be alright for him to at least walk with you to the audition? I think it would be fun, Olivia. Then he can see how serious you are about your craft. To prepare for tomorrow?"

Behind his serious tone, she knew Stephen was attempting to create more of a connection between her and Fitz. If they were going to physically move together, they had to find some common ground beforehand. Hoping he didn't know about what really transpired between the two a week prior, Olivia determined to just give it a shot. The torture he was inflicting on Olivia must have been entertaining, but she wasn't about that kind of amusement.

"Fine," she huffed. Turning on her heel, staring at Fitz, "But as soon we get there, you can't talk to me. I need to focus."

He agreed silently, miming to zip his lips.

Routines, be damned.

Thanks for reading. xo