A/N: So this is more high school Olitz. I just love them. This is not the same high school Olitz as the ones in the "Cop Car" series.
Fitz flicked his finished cigarette out onto the sidewalk, not watching where it flew as he checked the time on his phone. He had skipped the bogus "Religions of the World" course offered by his new high school, thinking that his time would be better spent having a much-needed hour-long smoke break during which he could wallow in the fact that he'd had to move in with his aunt because his mother was "fed up" with his "delinquency."
"What the hell?" he looked up at the high-pitched shriek and frowned at the sight of a petite brown-eyed girl clutching her forearm. His glowing cigarette butt lay at her sandaled feet.
"Shit. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" he asked, walking over to her to look at her arm.
She let go of her arm and examined the half-moon sear on her arm. It didn't look like she'd been burned badly his absently tossed cigarette, but he was sorry he'd hit her with it. Upon looking over her short, shapely frame, he decided he wasn't too sorry because otherwise he might never have met someone so beautiful. She frowned at him. "I think so. I can't believe you threw your cigarette at me!"
"I didn't throw it at you," he replied. "You were just in the wrong place."
"You're not even supposed to be smoking out here!" She glared at him. He was handsome but what the hell was his problem? She couldn't believe he'd flicked a cigarette at her then had the nerve to blame her for getting hit by it.
He grinned at her. "Are you gonna tell on me?"
She felt warmth spread through her at the sound of his southern drawl wrapping around his honeyed baritone. She blinked at him. "I'm not gonna tell on you. Just watch it." She smirked. "And maybe apologize when you burn people."
"I said sorry." He smiled at her.
She didn't return the gesture. "Then you blamed me for being in the wrong place. Who are you anyway?"
"Fitz Grant." He extended his large hand. "I'm new."
She shook his hand. "I'm Olivia Pope. I'm a burn victim."
He extended her arm, examining the red crescent burned on her arm. "Shit. That's gonna leave a mark. Sorry."yh7
"Why are you smoking anyway?" She found herself wondering about the softness of his sun-bleached sandy brown curls when he ran his fingers through them.
"Because it's cool, obviously." He smirked handsomely. He leaned back on the school's bare brick back wall. "What are you doing out here?"
"I came out here to smoke too, obviously," she replied with a smirk. She imitated his relaxed posture leaning against the wall. "I just needed some alone time."
"Well it's just you and me." Something about the way he looked at her made her not want to be alone with him. He made her feel exposed in her yellow spaghetti-strapped A-line eyelet-hemmed sundress. He seemed too hot, too molten, like he was waiting to spark and ignite her like a tinder box.
"I think I'll just head back inside." She needed to get away from him.
"Why? I'm not gonna hurt you…again." His smile was sinfully handsome. Her father had always preached that the devil did not come in some terrifying form that scared you shitless. He showed up as everything you'd ever wanted, like boys with gorgeous blue eyes and lazy smiles that set off tornadoes in your stomach.
"It's not you." It was absolutely him. "I shouldn't be skipping class."
"Afraid you'll miss something riveting?" She could practically see the sarcasm dripping from his deliciously pink lips. She wondered what made him feel so smug. "Like that 'Religions of the World' class? I guess calling it 'Only Straight, Hard-Line Christians Go to Heaven Because Everything Else is Savagery' wouldn't have gone over too well."
"Small towns breed small minds. My dad's been trying to get the church to more inclusive and welcoming, and it's like trying to make a soup sandwich."
He smirked. "You're the preacher's daughter?"
She nodded then tensed up when he reached over to take hold of the little diamond-studded Tiffany and Co. cross necklace that had been hanging around her neck since she was baptized. His calloused fingertips brushed the soft exposed skin of her collarbone and she almost shuddered. She should never have come outside. Her father had always told her that sin was waiting for her where she least expected it. She needed to remember to take his teachings more literally.
"Cute." He let the cross go, his fingertips whispered over her skin once more as he removed his hand.
"What's cute about it?"
He grinned. "You know what they say about preacher's daughters."
She sniffed. She should have known what he was getting at. "I'm not like that."
His eyebrows raised then lowered quickly as he smiled at her. "That's too bad. You're sexy."
Her eyebrows shot up as her eyes widened, her whole face hot. "I am not!"
Fitz looked at her curiously. "Never gotten that reaction to calling a woman sexy." He chuckled a little. "Maybe I should choose a more fitting word for such a pristine girl. You're…virtuous. Pure as the driven snow. Better?"
She smirked at him. "Has anyone ever told you you're an ass?"
"Ooh preacher's daughter's got a potty mouth." He sneered at the cute frown on her beautiful face.
"Is this how people act where you're from? I thought southerners were supposed to be nice and polite."
"I was nice. I called you sexy. You just didn't wanna take the compliment."
Olivia smirked. "I think you need to learn to be better at complimenting people."
He shrugged cutely. "Maybe. I've never been real good with manners. I didn't mean any disrespect though. You really are sexy." She glared at him indignantly. Fitz raised his hands in surrender. "It's just my opinion. I'm just saying what I feel."
"Well I suppose you're entitled to that." The bell rang and she pushed herself off the wall, not looking at him. She made a deal with herself and the Lord to never be alone with him so long as she could help it.
"It was nice meeting you," he said as he held open the door for her. "We should hang out again."
"Maybe." There wasn't a chance in hell that she'd be around him again, not until the sapphire of his eyes stopped setting off fireworks in her veins. She walked into the school, feeling his eyes on her. Fitz grinned as he admired the sway of her hips. He wasn't sure if he was so drawn to her because she didn't seem to like him or if she was just that sexy. He guessed it was a mixture of the two. He wasn't going to stop talking to her until he figured it out. He headed down the hall toward his next class, taking note of her locker number so he could hopefully see her again.
XXXXX
That night, Olivia emerged from the shower and cursed herself for thinking about Fitz. She hadn't been able to keep thoughts of him away for more than a few minutes at a time and it bothered her that he had seemingly crept under her skin. He hadn't said anything gentlemanly or even that polite for her to be interested in him. She knew there was better out there. She decided she'd just fallen prey to his bad boy charm. Girls like her always found themselves intrigued by boys like him and it never led anywhere good. After a few days, he would be out of her system and she could get back to focusing on more important things, like applying to colleges far away from the small Virginia town where everyone had branded her a social pariah—a nonthreatening one, of course—but an outcast nonetheless.
She stood before her full-length mirror, clad in a lace-trimmed burgundy camisole and matching shorts, and looked over herself in a way she normally never did, wondering if she really was sexy. She supposed it was possible. But no one other than Fitz had ever said it, so how true could it be? She had been called many things—pretty, sweet, smart, charming, well-mannered, and a host of other vanilla compliments—but only his words had struck a chord in her. She appraised the soft swell of her breasts, much fuller than it had been the last time she'd looked, and the spread of her hips. Turning to the side, she looked over the arch of her back, the shapely curve of her bottom. Though slight and lithe, her figure was shapely. She let her inky black wavy hair loose from the banana clip holding it up and watched it fall around her face, tilting her head slightly and admiring the angles of her face. She was certainly attractive—there was nothing vain or prideful in that knowledge—but sexy? She wasn't sure. Maybe. He had no reason to say it if it wasn't true so she supposed it was. A smile spread across her face as she accepted this new knowledge. She, Olivia Carolyn Pope, daughter of Rev. Eli Rowan Pope, was sexy.
As she pulled her hair up and took her contact lenses out, she wondered if he was thinking of her, if she'd gotten under his skin too. She shook the thought away just as quickly as it materialized. Not today, Satan. She turned off the lights in her room then climbed into bed, muttering, "Lord give me strength."
XXXXX
The next morning, she was surprised to find him waiting at her locker. She almost smiled but decided against it. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She had already lost a little respect for herself when she got up that morning and pulled on the snug-fitting dark skinny jeans that she rarely wore because they made her feel sinfully sexy. She wore a coral tank top that her best friend Quinn had given her which had immediately been placed in a pile of clothes she'd never wear because she felt a little too exposed in them. The scoop neck of the tank top stopped just above her cleavage—cleavage she hadn't had until she finally put on the push-up bra Quinn insisted every girl needed—and showed off her shoulder blades via a braided racer back strap. She'd even put on a little makeup, mascara and slightly smudged black eyeliner to make her eyes pop and a little soft pink lipstick, for him. It amazed her that she was doing so much for a guy she swore she wanted nothing to do with.
She reached her locker, butterflies scraping her ribcage in a frenzy, and gave him a half-smile. Fitz grinned at her, moving off her locker door. "Hi."
"Hi." She brushed her hair back from her face, wanting him to notice her makeup. When had she become that girl? Flipping her hair and preening for a boy's attention.
"You look nice today." He smirked at the color that rose in her cheeks. She was just like the others, no matter what she said about herself. "Dressing up for me?"
Olivia rolled her eyes. She hoped he kept up the attitude. It'd be easier to get rid of her thoughts about him that way. "Not even a little. What are you doing at my locker?"
"Waiting for you. Can I walk you to class?" He fixed her with that charming Grant smile and she lost every word she'd ever learned. She turned and opened her locker, putting in the books she'd taken home the night before and pulling out the ones she'd need for her first class. She handed him her Calculus textbook and the binder that contained her notes, smiling at the way he just took them without comment. She shut her locker and looked at him with her first real smile. He offered his hand and she looked down at it then back at him.
"Not just yet." There was no way she was touching his hand after the way it had made her feel the day before when he touched her necklace. She'd sooner do laps in the lake of fire. She guessed it would cause her less distress.
"Fair enough." He shrugged his broad shoulders, making his fitted gray t-shirt flex over his muscular form. "So how was your night? Did you dream about me?"
She smirked at him as they wove through the clusters of students talking before their classes started. "Not even a little."
"I'd like to say I'm hurt, but I sense you're lying. Bad behavior for a preacher's daughter." He grinned. She wanted to smack him, then maybe plant soft kisses on his plump bottom lip. She had to get away from him before she lusted her way out of salvation.
"Asshole," she muttered.
"Does your daddy know you've got such a dirty mouth?" he teased. If she wasn't so uptight, he wouldn't have had nearly as much fun teasing her.
"Does your mother know you spend all your time accosting women who want nothing to do with you?"
"You want nothing to do with me but you're letting me walk you to class, just like you stood outside and talked to me after telling me you wanted to go inside. I believe those are what we call mixed signals." His hand grasped hers, interlocking his fingers with hers. She tried to wriggle her hand away but he was much stronger than she'd thought.
They reached her classroom door and after checking the time on her phone, she discovered she had a full 25 minutes before class started. She leaned against the wall next to the door and looked at him expectantly. "Are you going to give me my books?"
"When it's time for class," he answered. "Do you not want me to stay here and wait with you?"
Olivia smirked. She wasn't sure what to answer. She wanted him to stay but she didn't want to tell him she wanted him to. "You can stay if you want."
He took a seat on the floor next to her and after a moment she sat next to him. She breathed in his clean, man-ish scent, pulling her knees up to her chest as she looked at him. "So where are you from?"
"Baton Rouge," he answered. "You?"
"I was born in D.C. but we moved here my 9th grade year."
"My mom sent me here to live with my aunt. She said the quiet would make me a little less unruly."
Olivia smirked. "What makes you so unruly? Other than the smoking, I mean."
Fitz grinned mischievously. "I do what I want. That's the beginning and the end of it."
"I can see why that attitude would land you in trouble." She watched as he took hold of her hand, playing with her fingers. His hands were much larger, with calloused fingertips that contrasted soft, warm palms and a thin layer of chestnut hair on the backs. He toyed with the pearl ring on her right ring finger.
"Is this one of those purity rings?" he asked. There was nothing mocking or accusatory about his tone, just curiosity.
"No. It was my grandmother's. She smuggled it out of Poland during World War II."
"Cool." He turned her hand over and began tracing the lines of her palms. There was something incredibly tender about the way he touched her hand. It was a stark contrast to the way he talked to her. "You have really pretty hands. They're very feminine."
"As opposed to being calloused and hairy like yours?"
He laughed. "If they were anything like mine, I don't think I'd like them nearly as much."
She needed to get away from him. She was enjoying his company too much. She hoped the bell rang soon so that he could go away and she could get her shit together. As if God smiled on her, the bell rang a moment later. Fitz stood then offered his hand to help her to her feet. Olivia smirked as she accepted it. "So you do have manners."
He grinned. She was a firecracker. "Occasionally. What class do you have next?"
"Religion," she answered somewhat reluctantly.
"Me too. I suppose I'll go since you're in there too."
"What difference does that make?"
"I can stare at you instead of listening to Adolf wax nostalgic about the time when you could kill people for being different and no one said anything."
She didn't want to, but she laughed. He was funny in his crass way. Or maybe he was just cute and she was mooning over him. A few students shuffled past them, some tossing curious glances at seeing the prim and proper Olivia Pope talking to a boy. Fitz handed over her books then asked, "So are you gonna let me walk you to your next class too or is this the end of our brief romance?"
"Romance? This was you being romantic?" She blinked at him. Fitz smiled as he reached over to wipe a stray eyelash from the apple of her cheek. Olivia decided she definitely had to stop letting him touch her if her body was going to insist on buzzing with excitement at his touch. More than that, she needed to stay away from him, at least until she didn't want to run her fingers through his hair.
Fitz held the eyelash, poised on his index fingertip, to her lips. "Make a wish." He chuckled. "This is me being romantic, Livvie."
Something inside her broke. Her grandmother was the only person who called her Livvie. And now the beloved nickname was falling from the sinful lips of the blue-eyed devil who had wormed into her life and made her feel reckless and out of control. Suddenly her feelings were running wild and she knew he was under her skin to stay. She leaned over and blew the eyelash off his fingertip, wishing that he turned out to be better than she hoped. Fitz smiled at her. "What did you wish for?"
"I can't tell or it won't come true," she answered with a smile.
"There you go doing that thing with your face." He reached over and tucked her hair behind her left ear. "A woman's smile is the most dangerous thing in the world. A man'll fall all over himself just to get one."
"Is that your way of complimenting my smile or are you just running off at the mouth as usual?"
"Can you stop being so sassy for a minute?"
"Why?"
He leaned over and placed a sweet mint-flavored kiss on her lips that made her starry-eyed. He didn't linger, just brushed his lips on hers, his hand holding the back of her neck. He grinned at the surprise in her eyes. "I'll see you after class."
"Bye," she croaked, her throat dry. She stumbled into class, not even cognizant of her tardiness and sat down. Her eyes fell to the little red half-moon on her right forearm. She bore the mark of the beast and now he was claiming his prey. She didn't know what it meant that she was so eager to be conquered.
XXXXX
Olivia tried hard to focus on her religion teacher's lecture but it was no use. Her notebook page was blank, as was the expression on her face. Fitz's hands were snaking from her scalp to the ends of her hair, making her feel like a properly scratched cat. She bit her bottom lip to keep from purring. It was so deliciously wrong, the way he made her feel. She wanted to crawl out of her skin and live inside his for a little while, to hook her lungs up to his and breathe him in. He began weaving her ebony locks in a thick braid that he raked his fingertips through to unwind, and she had to reach back and swat his knee to make him stop before she dissolved into a puddle of contentment. He grabbed her hand and held onto it, tracing the lines of her palm. She decided to leave her hand there with him since that's where her mind was.
After class, he cornered her in the newly-empty room, her back against the wall next to the light switch and kissed every thought from her mind. She finally got her chance to run her fingers through his hair, enjoying his body against hers. He was solid but soft, and he smelled so good that she could hardly keep herself from stripping him out of his t-shirt and well-fitting jeans. He managed to slip his hand down the front of her jeans, groaning in her mouth when he found her warm and wet with excitement that he'd caused. She wasn't like other girls. He knew her excitement was all him. His finger came in contact with the nub of nerves nestled between her slick folds and she bit his bottom lip, choking out a startled sob of surrender.
He couldn't make out what she was mumbling against his neck as he explored the secret garden where he was the first to roam. She was whispering something against his Adam's apple, her hands clutching his hair desperately. He strained to hear her, wanting to know what words he coaxed from her lips.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Her eyes were shut tightly and she said the only thing that came to mind. She wasn't sure if she was walking through the valley of the shadow of death or if she was on the verge of seeing heaven. Tremors rocked her body and pleasure so intense it was almost painful swept through her body and threw her over the cliff into blessed oblivion. She bit his lip to keep from screaming, hard enough to draw a little blood. When her shaking subsided and her breathing seemed to normalize he looked down at her. Olivia blushed at the awed look on his face.
Fitz had never had a girl react to him that way. He could only utter, "Wow."
"I've never…"
He cut off her excuse with a kiss. "It's okay. I know."
She reached up and touched the red spot on his lip where her teeth had punctured it. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he repeated. He slipped his fingers out of her and brought them to his nose, first inhaling her sweet scent then licking the essence off them. She tasted like heaven. Olivia watched him with awed eyes. He pressed her into the wall for a moment, letting her feel what her writing body had done to his. Contrary to what some believed, she wasn't quite so pristine. She knew the ins and outs of desire.
"Will you walk me to lunch?" she asked in a definitely softer tone. It was the first time she spoke to him in such a sweet voice.
"Of course I will, Livvie," he answered with a grin. His grin widened when she interlaced her fingers with his and clutched his hand. "Well I'll be damned. The preacher's daughter likes me."
"Shut up." She smiled at him just so.
A/N: I'm working hard on the second part of "Southern Grace." It should be up within the next week. Don't forget to leave your thoughts!