As Fitz drove to set on Thursday morning, he smiled thinking about his date with Olivia. Two dates, really, if you count Saturday. He had gone to get bagels from his old place, had survived it, and then gone to Olivia's house with breakfast and flowers in tow. They had watched the previous weekend's Sunday morning news program over bagels and good conversation. Olivia had errands to run, and had invited Fitz to join her, but he had declined. He was having some work done around his house, trying to squeeze it in before he started the new movie. He hadn't realized at the time that it would be his last opportunity to see her in almost a week. He missed her. A lot. They had kissed goodbye, and had spoken every day, but already it wasn't enough.

He called her when he pulled into the parking lot at the filming location in Queens.

"Hey there," she said. She was breathing heavily.

"Hi. What're you up to?"

"Walking up the stairs from yoga and a swim. Where are you?"

"Just pulled into the lot. I was thinking about you."

"Stop, I'm blushing."

"Deal with it," he said, laughing.

"What does your day look like?" she asked, unlocking her door.

"More rehearsals. We start shooting next week. You?"

"I'm not sure yet. Just enjoying these last few days before the school year starts."

"Speaking of enjoying the days, what about tomorrow? Are you free?" he asked.

"Yes. What'd you have in mind?"

"Well, I actually just finished having the pool at my place resurfaced, and I thought we could spend some time there. Let me check the weather, hang on one minute."

He took his phone from his ear and did a quick check of his weather app.

"Sorry about that. It looks like tomorrow should be warm and sunny. What do you think?"

"It sounds like a good idea to me. What time should I come over?"

"Now?" Fitz said.

She giggled. "Lunch time?"

"Sure."

"Okay. See you tomorrow, then."

"Looking forward to it."

"Me too. Bye Fitz."

"Bye."

The next day, Olivia found herself standing in her robe in the middle of her tiny Manhattan bedroom. There were four bathing suits on her bed, one bikini and three that were one piece. She really wanted to wear the bikini. She wanted Fitz to see her in it. That's how she felt, deep down. But she was incredibly practical, perhaps too practical, and she was leaning toward the white one-piece with a side cutout. It was stylish, but still somewhat modest. She groaned to herself, grabbed the white one-piece and finished getting ready. Twenty minutes later, she found herself in the lobby of Fitz's building.

Not surprisingly, the lobby was modern and quiet. The doorman was skeptical at first. Olivia got the feeling that Fitz didn't often receive guests. She made nice, waited for Fitz to give the okay and then took the elevator to the 18th floor. The penthouse, as it turns out. Something Fitz had failed to mention.

When the elevator door opened, Olivia found herself in a foyer of some kind. There was only one door, surrounded on each side by two small chairs. A stunning photograph of a surfer, presumably Hawaii because she knew Fitz had a home there, was to her right. She was admiring it when the door in front of her opened.

Fitz was the most casual she had ever seen him in loose fitting jeans, a tighter grey t-shirt that showed off his muscular chest, and no shoes. He flashed a genuine, full-teeth smile when she turned her head to greet him.

"Hi, come in," he said, swinging the door wide open and motioning for her to enter his apartment.

"Thanks," she said, standing up on her tip toes to give him a short kiss on his cheek. "How are you?" she said as she walked past him.

"Better now. I'm sorry for my appearance, the morning got away from me. You can set your stuff on the table, I can give you a quick tour."

She set her pool bag down and turned to face him, finding he was much closer to her than she was expecting. Before she could second-guess it, one of his big hands was on her cheek and he was kissing her.

This kiss was certainly more passionate than her quick greeting at the door. It reminded her of their kiss on the bench during their date. It felt loaded. Like there was a week of longing behind it and they had both just been waiting for this moment. The strength of Fitz's body inadvertently caused Olivia to take a few steps backward, and she felt the kitchen table press into the back of her thighs. Instinctually (she truthfully did not even think about it, and later as she did think about it she would smile at the thought of allowing her self a moment or two to not think) she sat on the edge of the table and put her legs around Fitz's waist. He moaned and exhaled at the same time, bringing his other hand to her face and continuing to kiss her in a way she had only been kissed once, and many years ago. She held onto his forearms, his muscular and sexy forearms she had noticed the first night at Henry's. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. But her brain kicked in, and she left a little bit of distance between them so as not to go too far, too soon.

A minute later, maybe 20 minutes for all they knew, they stopped kissing and looked at each other. Fitz dropped his hands to his sides, grazing the outside of her thighs on the way. He ran one hand through his hair and she was struck by the look on his face. Was he unsure? Was he nervous? Was he sorry? His eyes were focused on an area just over her head, and it seemed intentional, like he couldn't look at her. Or wouldn't. She hopped off of the table and he started to turn away, but she put her hand on his forearm (because, of course) to stop him.

"Hi," she said, "it's good to see you." She hoped this would bring him back. Back to the moment, back to her.

He gave her another genuine smile and stepped toward her and kissed her slowly and softly on the cheek.

"Hi," he said, "thanks for coming over."

"Thanks for inviting me. Now how about the tour?" she said, linking her arm with his. She couldn't be sure, but she felt his muscles relax. He seemed less stiff. He gave her one more quick kiss.

"Sorry," he said.

"For what?" she asked.

"I can't stop kissing you. I was hoping to play it somewhat cool today and I'm failing miserably."

She rolled her eyes. "You can never give a girl who wants to be kissed too many kisses. Is that what's bothering you?"

"You want to be kissed?" he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall in the hallway. They hadn't even gotten to the first stop on the tour.

"I believe that's what I said. Answer my question," she said, playfully poking him in the shoulder. "What was bothering you back there?" she said, nodding toward the kitchen table.

"I'm out of practice. I had hoped to make you feel welcome here, not maul you within the first minute. But I saw you, and I had to kiss you. It's awkward. For me."

"I'm not going to tell you how to feel. I get it. But you should know, when you're analyzing this later, because I think we're the same in that way, that I agree."

"That it's awkward?"

"No. I agree that you had to kiss me."

She blushed, and so did he.

"That's good information to have. For later. When I'm replaying every part of today in my head."

"Will you also be writing in your diary?" she asked, smiling.

"Maybe I will," he said, closing the small gap between them and kissing her again. "Will you?" he asked, his lips less than an inch from hers.

"I don't have a journal. Used to. I was mocking you, but I actually think writing at the end of the day can be really useful. To decompress. I swim now instead."

"Right, swimming. That's the rouse I used to get you here. Maybe we should get to it."

"What about the tour?"

"Oh, right. Shall we?" he said, holding out his arm for her.

Fitz's apartment was the biggest she had seen in the city. This didn't surprise her. Even though it was large, it still felt modest. It still felt like Fitz. There were four bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. One of the rooms was being used as an office. It had built in bookcases on three walls and a small window facing south. She could see the Statue of Liberty if she squinted. Two other rooms were set up as guest bedrooms. She saw reading glasses on one of the nightstands. Fitz must have been watching her closely.

"Those are Serena's. This is where she usually sleeps when she visits."

Olivia nodded. "Serena, second oldest sister."

"Yeah. She's a teacher too, actually. She didn't stay here this last trip because my parents were here, but when it's just her, this is her room."

"Do you see your family often?"

"More often than you might think. My parents rarely travel here. It's still hard for my mom to be here without Oliver. But my sisters like to visit. We stay in, play games, watch movies, that kind of thing."

"So Serena's a teacher. Madeline is a doctor. What about Juliette?"

"She's an accountant. Which is so bizarre, and it even feels weird to say that."

"Why?" Olivia asked.

"She's such a free spirit. She's the female version of Oliver. She didn't go to boarding school like we did, but she wanted to. When she finally settled on a major in college, I would have bet a lot of money that it was a prank and that she was really studying medieval poetry or journalism or botany. But, she's an accountant."

Olivia considered this. She had more questions, but decided it wasn't the time to ask them.

"Let's see your room." She said this because she really did want to see where he lived, but of course it sounded like a proposition.

"How forward of you," he said, laughing and leading her out of the room. He squeezed her arm, acknowledging they were both kidding.

Fitz's room was exactly like she would have pictured if she had pictured it. The walls were painted a light grey. The bedspread was grey with a navy blue trim. There was another photograph of the ocean over his bed. On the wall opposite the bed was a large television framed with more bookcases. A sitting area with what looked to be extremely comfortable leather chairs and a small table was at the far end in front of a sliding glass door and a small balcony.

"This feels like you. Where did you get the photographs? This one and the one in your lobby."

"I took them, actually."

"Really? Wow. Fitz, they're fantastic."

He tried to shake his head, and she held up her hand.

"No, no, no. Just say, 'Thank you,' and give yourself a little credit."

"That's difficult for me."

"I gather," she said, crossing her arms.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm waiting."

"You really want me to say thank you?"

"I want you to accept a compliment, yes."

"Fine. Thank you. I love the ocean, like I've said before, and occasionally I get lucky. Right place, right time with a camera."

"This is Hawaii, then?"

"Yep. That's the view from my house, actually. I was standing on the rocks in the front yard."

"Wow."

"Anyway, this is my room. Let's go to the other side. I want to show you the pool."

The living room was cozy, the kitchen was decently-sized and well appointed, and it might have been more impressive if the pool didn't exist. Olivia wondered why she had ever assumed it was a pool shared by the building. This was more typical, but it wasn't Fitz. She didn't picture him hanging out at a public pool, but she had never seen a private, full-sized pool before. Maybe on television. But not in person.

There was a sliding door in the corner of the living room, and it led to a full-sized pool, a patio with six lounge chairs and tables, two tables for eating or playing games, a barbeque, an area for yoga and, judging by the music playing, a hidden sound system. The pool was done in an incredible mosaic tile pattern. She turned to Fitz.

"This is what you just had resurfaced?"

He nodded. "The tile is old. They aren't sure if it's original to the building, but it's at least 50 years old. Some of it had to be replaced for safety, but some of it just needed to be cleaned and polished. The water was just added last weekend. It took all summer, but they wanted to work during the warm months to protect the tile as much as possible."

"It's amazing. This is a gem. Is this why you live here?" she asked.

"It was definitely one of the deciding factors. I moved in eight years ago, and the pool was a mess. I had it cleaned up to functioning, but last winter I decided to have it fully restored. I spend a lot of time out here during the spring and summer."

"So it's heated?" she asked, bending down to test the water with her fingertips.

"Oh yeah."

"Well, I'm officially impressed. This is an amazing space, Fitz. And it seems pretty private too," she said, turning in place. There weren't any tall buildings right next door that could see over into the pool area. Across the street maybe, but that was Manhattan.

"It is. Another selling point. Though honestly I can't see myself ever selling this place. Even if I'm not here full time, I don't think I could do better for myself. It has everything I need and nothing I don't."

She had learned so much about him and had only been at his home for half an hour.

"Should we eat?" he asked.

"Let's."

He grilled chicken and they had salads and iced tea. When they were done and there was finally a lull in the conversation, they both leaned back in their chairs. Satisfied. Almost. Fitz reached over and grabbed the arms of her chair and scooter her closer to him.

"Tell me something," he said.

"Anything?"

"Anything. Tell me a story."

She was sitting cross-legged in her chair and sat forward and held the arms of his. They were almost embracing.

"I worked with an interesting group of kids this summer. One in particular seemed lonely, and that's pretty typical, away from the usual routines and friends and family."

She continued her story about the relationship she had built with the high school girl over the course of the summer, how she had come out of her shell once they had built some trust, how the student was hoping to return to the project next summer. The entire time she spoke, Fitz looked in her eyes. This was different than hours before when he couldn't look at her. It was disarming. In a good way.

"You're a good teacher," he said, leaning forward and kissing her softly on the lips.

"I do my best," she said, kissing him back.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked, as he started kissing her neck.

"I don't know," she said, running her hands up and down his back. His t-shirt was thin. He felt every movement. She felt every muscle. With one move forward, she would be in his lap and straddling him. It didn't matter that she wanted that more than anything, her practical side kicked in and she sat back.

"Let's swim," she said, brushing imaginary crumbs off of her lap and standing.

"Sounds good," he said, standing. "I need to change into my suit. If you need the bathroom, feel free."

"I'm good. I wore my suit," she said, pulling the neckline of her t-shirt over to display the strap.

Before she could put it back into place, Fitz was kissing her exposed collarbone. She sighed and leaned into him, putting her arms around his waist. He was much taller than her, and broader, and she fit nicely in his arms. With his mouth still very near her skin, he exhaled.

"Swimming. Yes. Good idea," he said to her laughter. He couldn't help but laugh, too.

She removed her shorts and t-shirt and sat on the edge of the pool. It was the perfect temperature. Warm enough but not overwhelmingly so. That's how she felt about Fitz, mostly. It just felt right. She was just scooting herself into the water when he returned to the patio.

"Verdict?" he said.

"Perfect."

"Good."

The sight of him without a shirt changed the temperature of the water. Olivia was sure of it. She was suddenly very warm as he slipped in and made his way over to where she was treading water in the deep end.

They kissed and talked and did headstands and swam some laps at a casual pace. He tickled her on her side where the bathing suit was cut out. She tried to find a ticklish spot on him but was unsuccessful. After over half an hour in the pool, they decided to dry off, each taking a lounge chair. She used a towel to take some of the excess water out of her hair, which was curly and bound to dry frizzy. She wore her curly all summer, so this would just be a larger version of what Fitz had seen before.

"Do you want to have dinner?" he suddenly asked.

"Tonight?"

"Yes. Sorry. Failing miserably again."

"Stop! That's the third time you've characterized yourself as failing miserably. The first time was on the phone when you asked me out. I'd say that was a success. Earlier, when you couldn't stop yourself from mauling me. Which, I welcomed, by the way. And now. Social cues, Fitz. Of course I want to have dinner."

"You're right. Okay. I'm awesome, you're awesome, we're awesome and we're having dinner."

"Awesome," she said, turning to face him. She was smiling broadly.

"It won't always be like this," Fitz said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"At some point, when I start believing that you're real, I won't need to double-check. That's what my last therapist told me, anyway."

"You don't still see someone?"

"Not regularly. I did, after Oliver died, and then sporadically when I was back here. But if I'm working and busy or somewhere else, I can usually manage."

"So, dinner?" she said, taking a loose string off of his bathing suit and discarding it on the pool deck. It felt natural.

"Yeah. Where should we go?"

"I've been wanting to go back to the barbecue place near Henry's. I've only been once. We could meet there."

"Yes."

Olivia laughed. "This has been a good day. Thank you."

"Do you have to go right now?"

"No," she said, turning her face toward the sun. "I can wait a few minutes."

"Good." He reached for her and they held hands in between their lounge chairs. After another thirty minutes, Olivia said she had to go and freshen up. Fitz walked her to the door where they shared a kiss and he sent her on her way.

The feeling she had as she took the elevator to the ground floor was unlike anything she had felt. Her knees were slightly weak. Her eyes felt a little heavy. She might have been seeing stars.

As Fitz made his way to the patio to grab his shoes and the towels, he stopped as he looked at the pool. At the tile, some of it fragile, some of it more robust, but when put together, simply beautiful.