A/N: Hear that? That's the sound of you becoming a better person. I'm gonna paint a picture of a bird on your beige wall without your permission and you're gonna love it. And you thought you hated birds. - Olivia Gatwood
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.
Olivia stepped carefully over the legs and feet flopping in her way, avoided beer bottles and soda cans, popcorn tubs and bent elbows, finally making it to the spot in the bleachers reserved for her by two of her...were they really her friends? Once she sat, she brushed the hair out of her eyes and exhaled. The bleachers on both sides of the field were packed. She was sitting between Abigail Carmichael and Trevor Langan right behind the front line of benched players, cheerleaders, and the marching band. "Is it always this crowded?" she asked, not expecting an answer.
Abigail, an older girl with slightly angular features, nodded as she rubbed her hands together. "Yeah," she laughed and pulled on her maroon and grey sweater. "Football is pretty huge, around here." She shrugged and added, "Kinda has to be, since there's really nothing else to get excited about." She nudged Olivia with her elbow and said, "You're dating one of the star players, you know that makes you Northwood royalty, don't you?"
"Had no idea," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "Is that why everyone at The Loop…"
"Was so nice to you?" Abigail laughed again. "Yeah. And also they were fucking high as hell." She rubbed her hands together again and looked Olivia up and down, taking a good look at her hands. "You, uh, you're not wearing any tells, what's that about?"
Olivia ran her eyes over her own clothes, from the bottom up. Classic black and white Converse All-Stars, light denim jeans, a Northwood Academy hoodie at least two sizes too big on her, a uniform sanctioned ID badge lanyard, and the heart-shaped locket Elliot gave her that she hadn't taken off in almost a year. She shot Carmichael a confused glare. "I don't know what that is, so…" she pressed her lips together in a flat smile, giving a slight shrug. "You said...uh, what's a tell and how do you even wear one?"
The girl rolled her eyes and smacked herself lightly in the forehead. "Duh, I keep forgetting you're a first-year." She rolled the sleeve of her left arm up past her wrist, revealing a few friendship-style bracelets. "These are called tells. Because they tell everyone what you've done, or are willing to do, kind of like merit badges." She gripped the first one between her thumb and forefinger and tugged a bit. "Each color means something different, and they come in like, eighty different colors. There are even patterns that mean different things, so, like, this one's purple, right? So that means you drink. Green, which is, uh, smoking up, obviously. Black means you're almost straight-edge, you won't go harder than beer and pot. Yellow is having a guy go down on you, light pink is you've been fingered, light pink and white stripes is, uh," she bit her lip and blushed a little, "It means you've fingered someone else. This dark pink one...means you've jerked a guy off, blue is you've given a blowjob, red is fuck…"
"Hold on," Olivia held up both of her hands, palms out, as she shook her head and shifted in her seat. "You're telling me you guys wear friendship bracelets to tell the world about your experience with sex and drugs?" She winced and licked her lips. "This place is so messed up." She folded her arms and slumped a bit. "You really spend time making those things to tell people if you're a prude or not?"
Abigail chuckled and tugged on the last bracelet she had. "Not just," she said, "This maroon one tells them I'm in the National Honor Society."
"Oh, well, that makes it all okay," Olivia intoned sarcastically. She bit her lip and said, "No, I don't wear tells, and I don't plan on doing it any time soon." She shot her eye over to the gate, spotting Elliot in the front of the line with his team ready to come out onto the field. She smirked slightly. "That's personal, ya know? No one else's business."
"How very proper of you," Carmichael teased. "So say you wanted to wear them," she started. "Which ones would you have?" She leaned in as if waiting for a thrilling bedtime story.
Olivia furrowed her brow and turned up the corners of her lips. "What part of 'it's no one else's business' did you not understand?" She shook her head again, then focused on the field as the announcer started to rattle off names. "Game's starting." She tried to turn away but Abigail grabbed her shoulder. "What?" she snapped, irritated.
"You and Stabler...you have...you know," she dipped her head and raised her brows a bit. "Haven't you?" She let out a puff of air and said, "I've seen the way you two look at each, and he really can't keep his hands off of you."
Olivia glared, then relaxed slightly. "I'd have a mildly colorful wrist, okay? But I wouldn't have the red one, if that's what you're asking."
"What are you waiting for?" Abigail asked, scooting closer to Olivia as the players took to the field. "If you're scared, I can tell you, it only hurts for maybe a minute, and then it's...pretty fucking cool" She laughed but didn't see any sign of a smile on Olivia's face. "Hey," she nudged Olivia again. "Is that it? You're worried about…"
"No, that's not it," she looked down at her feet again, tilted her head, and said, "I have a ridiculously high tolerance for pain, so that's the least of my worries." She picked her head up and watched the coin toss, smiling when their team won it. "You don't think...he's a week away from sixteen, I've got a couple of months to wait...I can't…"
"Do you love him?" Carmichael asked suddenly, and her voice wasn't as playful or as prodding as it had been. Her head was down, her lip caught between slightly crooked but perfectly white teeth.
Olivia looked over at Carmichael as if she'd misheard her. "Sorry, what did you just ask me?"
Abigail looked up, she sniffled and felt her eyes begin to water. "I asked you...do you love him?" She saw the light in Olivia's eyes brighten, her smile widen, and she watched her nod emphatically. She offered a sad sort of smile back to her and said, "God, you're so lucky, Benson. I wish...I wish I would've been in love with…" she dropped her gaze again and tugged almost angrily at the red string around her wrist. "I didn't even know his last name. We were at a party, I was a freshman he was a junior, and, uh...I was surprised, ya know, because he could have been with anyone else and he was with me. I was excited and nervous and scared and...he poured me a glass of...I don't remember what it was…and he pulled me into one of the empty dorms."
Olivia shot out a hand and grabbed Carmichael's wrist. "Hold on, Abig…"
"Please, Benson, either use the last name or call me Abby," she said with a small sniffle. "That's what my friends do."
With a small smile, Olivia nodded. "Abby, did he...did he slip something in your drink? Did he…"
"No, I...I wasn't raped," Carmichael proclaimed with wide eyes. "He was really sweet about it, ya know? We were kissing and, uh, some other stuff, and then he pulled on my skirt. He asked me, three times, if I wanted to, and I remember...not necessarily wanting to, but just telling him yes and going along with it. He was gentle and after the first minute or so, I enjoyed it." She shrugged. "I just didn't really know the guy. We met an hour before we had sex. He, um, he never spoke to me again, but I don't think it was because I wasn't, ya know, good...I think it was because he realized I was a freshman and freaked out about it."
"He didn't know that when you, um, before?" Olivia gnawed on her lip and curled her lips to the side. She watched Abby shake her head. "I'm...I'm sorry." She gave her hand a squeeze and said, "Don't answer this if you think it's too personal, but…"
Abby stopped her with a laugh. "Hey," she jiggled her wrist. "I literally broadcast these things, so ask me anything."
Olivia chuckled softly and then asked, "Have you had sex since then?" She smoothed her hair back with her free hand. "I mean, have there been other guys? Better experiences?"
"Better," Abby nodded. And then she made a face. "Ugh, and worse! Man, I know I didn't have a horrible first time, but I just wish, sometimes, that I could have waited until I loved the guy. I've been in love, and I know sex when you're really in love...is so different." She cleared her throat and straightened up a bit. "But you always remember your first, most of all, and I hate that I didn't even know the guy. If I had been in love, it would be a treasured memory more than just a thing that happened." She saw the look on Olivia's face. "If you love him, that's what matters, right? If you don't think he's gonna leave you when it's over, if you know he's clean, if you're gonna be safe…" she lowered her voice. "I respect it if you want to wait, if it's some big decision you and Stabler need to make together, but sex is nothing like it was when our parents were kids. Now, it's…" she shrugged. "It's just another rite of passage. Especially at Northwood."
Olivia didn't reply, she just turned her attention toward the field and tried to figure out what she'd missed as Carmichael's words landed. She couldn't remember the last time someone had assumed she had a normal life, with normal parents, and she didn't know if she was relieved or offended. Her eyes fell on Elliot, she watched as he caught the ball and ran like hell down to the endzone. She shot to her feet as soon as she was sure he scored, cheered and clapped, jumping up and down for him.
She blushed slightly when he took off his helmet and looked right at her, blew her a kiss, and mouthed I love you. She screamed it back to him, and as she sat back down, her thoughts drifted to what Abby had said. Maybe she was ready. Maybe she'd been ready for months. They'd talked about it, planned it, and were only waiting out of respect for some archaic age requirement that no one ever gave them solid reasons for having in the first place.
Next to her, Trevor Langan watched as Elliot ran from the coach to the sidelines, then to the bench. He stared, awestruck, as Elliot hopped up onto the bench and leaned into the bleachers to kiss Olivia. The surrounding spectators whooped and hollered, some whistled, some clapped. But Langan growled. He wasn't sure why he was irritated, because one of his favorite pastimes was watching them fool around from their dorm room doorway.
Elliot pulled away from Olivia, brushed his hand across her cheek, and then turned. "What's up, man?" he held his hand out to Langan. After a high five and fist bump, he sat in his place on the bench, directly in front of Olivia, and took a swig from a water bottle.
Abby nudged Olivia forward and gave her an encouraging look. "You guys are so fucking cute!" She laughed again and then turned her attention to the cheerleaders on the field.
Olivia moved, then, and sat on the front edge of the bleacher, dropped her hands to Elliot's shoulders, and leaned over to him. "Did you know that the kids here wear yarn bracelets to…"
"Brag about all of their sinful, evil ways," he finished with a laugh, letting his head drop back to look up at her. "Found out in the locker room. The quarterback has an armful." He puckered his lips and waited patiently.
She kissed him softly and said, "You're not planning on…"
"No one else's business," he interrupted before she finished asking, "Same thing I said to McAllister when he asked. Why, you want me to tie a bunch of yellow, pink, and blue strings together for you?"
She laughed and shook her head, squeezing his shoulders, and she whispered, "Of course not, I just...wanted to know if, um…if you were ever gonna wear them, I wanna know..." she closed her eyes, kissed his forehead, and said even more softly, "If maybe you were ready for the red one."
He stared up at her, unblinking. He popped his head up and turned as much as he could, and he cupped her cheeks, kissed her sweetly, and whispered, "If you are, I am. You know that, we...we talked about this."
She scraped her teeth along her lower lip, looked out into the field and then checked the scoreboard. She smiled as she looked back at him. "Win the game for me?"
He grinned smugly and then looked into her eyes. The smug grin turned into a warm smile. "Everything I do is for you," he told her. He kissed her again, and as the loud buzzer sounded, he grabbed his helmet and stood up. He handed her his water bottle and winked at her and then ran out onto the field with a renewed energy.
It wasn't the promise of sex that excited him, it was the anticipation of giving something so special to her. Something he could only ever give once, could never get back. The permanence of it, the meaning behind it, the sacredness of it...that's what he'd been waiting for, and he was determined to win the game so they'd have more than one reason to celebrate when it was over.
A/N: Next, a celebration to remember...