It would almost two weeks before Olivia and Fitz saw each other again.

Their schedules just didn't mesh. She went back to work, and he was in full swing on set. As much as she wanted to see him, she didn't have the energy to meet after 10:00 when she had to be at work the following morning at 7:30. They spoke every day, even if it was just for a few minutes, but as the second week began she realized that it was starting to feel normal, the missing him coupled with the acceptance that another day would pass without seeing him.

As she made her way home at the end of the first week with students, she felt her phone vibrate in the large leather tote she used for work. She had splurged on it while she had been shopping with her mom in the Hamptons. She appreciated well-made items, which tended to be expensive. She couldn't help herself.

"Hello?" she said. She had grabbed the phone without looking at the caller i.d.

"Hi, it's me." He didn't announce himself. He hoped she still recognized his voice.

"Hi there," she said. "How are you?"

"Doing well. I'm actually just about to leave. I was wondering, hoping, that you might be free? I can come over, or we could grab a drink."

"Let's meet somewhere. Or did you drive? Is that too much work?"

"I took a car today. I was hoping to reach you and didn't want to have to deal with driving. Where are you now?"

"I'm about to get on the train."

"Should we meet at Henry's?"

"Sure. Now?"

"I'm leaving now if you are."

"Sounds good. See you soon."

"See you."

It was a very businesslike conversation. Fitz stared at the phone in his hand when he ended the call. It had to be done, and really, the sooner they made plans the sooner he could see her. He grabbed his backpack, put on his Michigan hat and texted the car service to let them know he was ready to go.

45 minutes later, he walked into Henry's and saw that Olivia had beat him to the bar. Friday traffic in Manhattan could be unpredictable, but he still hated to make her wait. He always made it a point to be early to meetings so the people he was meeting knew how much he valued their time. He shook his head again, trying to center himself. This wasn't a meeting. He was annoyed with himself for even equating the two.

Henry wasn't behind the bar yet. He didn't usually arrive until much later on Friday nights so he could help close out the busy evening. The kid working the counter didn't recognize him, which gave him a chance to observe Olivia for a few seconds before approaching her.

She didn't look nervous, but she didn't look exactly the same as he had been imagining in his head for the past two weeks. She was wearing slim jeans, gold sandals and polo shirt that had an emblem over her left breast. It was the most casual he had ever seen her dressed. Her hair was down, and it looked like she was only wearing lip gloss. She was staring into space, barely blinking. When she licked her lips and turned her head to scan the bar, she spotted him watching her and began to stand.

He started toward her and as soon as he was closer she looked like his Liv. The same shy smile, the same wide eyes, the same open arms. She put her arms around his waist and he enveloped her in an embrace.

"Hi," she said, her voice muffled from his chest where she had buried her face in his t-shirt.

"Hi there," he said. "This is nice." He rested his chin on top of her head.

"Really nice. Sorry I didn't have a chance to change," she said, stepping back and smoothing out her shirt. He noticed the emblem was for her school.

"Casual Friday?" he said, running a finger over the embroidery, an excuse to touch her again.

She nodded. "You too?" she said, looking at his hat.

He nodded. "Precautionary. And I need a shower. Lots of product today."

They talked about his film. They talked about her students. They shared a basket of fries and a pitcher of sangria. After a couple of hours, Olivia caught Fitz checking his watch.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" she asked.

"I do. Early call. We're more than halfway, and they want to keep pushing. Normally I don't mind…" he trailed off.

"We should settle our check then." She found her wallet in her bag. Fitz tried to stop her.

"Liv, you are not paying for this."

"Let me treat you."

"You being here is the treat."

She rolled her eyes. "Nice try, sir. Come on, I can get this."

He decided it wasn't worth the battle and let her pay for their snack. When she got back from the bar, she stood next to her chair and sorted through her things.

"Does that bag happen to have a toothbrush and clean shirt in it? It could definitely fit," he said, smiling.

"You think you're the first person to comment about my fabulous bag? Please. And for your information, it does contain clothes. Gym clothes."

He raised his eyebrows. "A little presumptive of you, Ms. Pope, don't you think?"

She put the bag over her shoulder. "Not at all. If you aren't going to man up and ask me over, I'll go to the gym and head home to my book and my bed." She pursed her lips, proud of herself.

"I mean, if you have plans, I'd hate to get in the way. But I've missed you. And I'd prefer you in my bed."

Olivia couldn't help but blush. For the first time, really, since she'd met him, Fitz seemed fully confident and forward. She kind of liked it.

"Okay then." She turned and started walking toward the door. She could hear him laughing as he adjusted her hat and followed her out.

It was a Friday evening, and there were a lot of people out and about, and almost instinctually Olivia and Fitz knew the drill. He very quietly offered to carry her bag, and she gratefully accepted his request, but they walked silently. Heads down. No physical contact, no eye contact. When they got to a corner and had to wait to cross the street, Fitz stepped closer to her so that their bodies almost touched, but they still didn't talk. They were surrounded by maybe a dozen other people, heading out for their Friday night plans. It felt normal, and also wrong, because she wanted nothing more than to loop her arm through his. And he would have preferred to be leading her with his hand on the small of her back, or holding her hand. But this worked, and a few minutes later they were entering his building. His doorman greeted them both my name. They waited for the elevator. When it got to the ground floor, they stepped in and waited for the doors to close.

Fitz set her bag down and faced her at the same time that she faced him. He put a hand on either side of her cheek, and she held onto his t-shirt as their lips finally met. It was immediately intense. They knew they only had a short time until the elevator got to the penthouse. She stood on her tip toes and put her hands on the back of his neck, and he moaned and walked her backward until they were in the corner of the elevator. When the doors opened, they separated, breathing heavily. He picked up her bag and put his other arm over the door to hold it open.

"After you," he said, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you," she said, reaching up and kissing his cheek as she passed him.

He stepped around her to open the door, and she took her bag and set it on the kitchen counter. She took a deep breath and looked around. It was exactly as she remembered, for the most part. It was different at night, especially because this time the pool lights weren't on, so she could see the lights of nearby buildings and a little sliver of sky.

"Do you mind if I shower?" he asked after setting his keys on the counter.

"Not at all. I might just have my way with your bookshelves though."

"By all means," he said, kissing her softly.

Twenty minutes later, he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and found her in his office. She had changed into a t-shirt, too, and was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by books.

"You weren't kidding," he said, watching her from the doorway.

"Fitz, these are first editions. You've been holding out on me. I need more time. Like hours or days."

He walked over and sat on the chair that faced her. "I'm glad you like them. I had to search far and wide, and in some cases beg excessively, but it was worth it."

"Oh, totally." He ran her fingers over the early 20th century literature.

"I like to think about the first time the books were purchased, who first picked it off the shelf. And then what happened. Was it passed from one family member to the next? Or sold in a yard sale? Or donated?"

She nodded and agreed as she held one. "Who else has sat on a comfy chair and poured over this?"

"So you get it. I'm not surprised."

She looked at him. "You're not?"

"You were content to go home and read tonight, apparently. It makes sense you'd appreciate rare books."

"Hey," she said, standing and walking toward him. "I was just trying to get you to invite me over."

"Is that so?" he asked, smiling. "In that case, shall we read together?"

She shook her head in playful frustration. "You're an ass, you know that?"

"Whoa! The gloves come off."

"You're being so pompous right now. You must realize it." She crossed her arms.

"Okay, I will admit it is kind of fun to see you riled up."

"Thank you for admitting it. In the spirit of honesty, I will admit that your confidence is kind of sexy."

He stood. "Kind of?"

"That's what I said, yes."

"Your confidence," he said, put a strand of her hair behind her ear, "is absolutely sexy."

She tilted her head into his hand and stepped closer to him, uncrossing her arms and putting them low around his waist. Before she had a chance to really embrace him, he leaned down, hooked his arm under he knees and she found herself being held like a child.

"We can read later," he said, kissing her and walking her to his bedroom.

There wasn't time for reading, though. After they thoroughly made up for lost time, twice, they both fell asleep after a busy work week. Olivia woke at 7:15 the next morning to complete darkness except for a sliver of light coming from the bathroom connected to Fitz's room. She fumbled for a light, and then realized he had black out shades on his windows. Raising one, she had to squint to adjust to the autumn morning sun.

Fitz exited the bathroom and put his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.

"Morning," he said. "How'd you sleep?"

She turned around and faced him, and he kept his arms around her waist.

"Well, thanks. You?"

"Same. I'm going to grab some granola and head out. Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. There are towels for you on the shelf in the bathroom. They're new. I ordered them and they were kind of scratchy so I washed them and they're nice and fluffy now. Sorry, I'm rambling."

"You bought me towels?"

"I bought you towels."

"When will you be done today?" she asked cautiously. She didn't want to sound too desperate to see him again. She wasn't. But she was hopeful.

"I hope by late afternoon. And," he trailed off.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Are you free later? You never got the set tour, and the film is less than a month away from being finished. I hoped maybe you'd still be interested in seeing where I've been spending my time."

She smiled. They were on the same page.

"Yes."

He smiled. "So I'll call you when I'm done?"

"Sure."

"Feel free to swim, cook, read, whatever."

"Oh," she said, somewhat startled. She had been planning on doing a personal walk of no-shame back to her apartment.

"I mean, you're more than welcome to stay. You don't have to. But you're welcome."

He unhooked himself from her and walked to the kitchen. It might be irrational, but he really wanted her to stay. He liked the idea of her being in his home. But he didn't want to push it.

"I'd love to have my way with the pool and the books, but I don't have any clothes, so I'll have to go home at some point."

He downed a quick glass of water and set the glass in the dishwasher.

"Whatever you want. Hopefully you'll hear from me around 3:30 or 4:00. I'll text you the address."

She nodded.

"It's good to see you," he said, kissing her softly on the cheek. "It had been too long."

"It had," she said, running her hand through his hair. He sighed.

"Mmmm,"he moaned. "I don't want to leave you."

"Go," she said. "I'll see you this afternoon. And it's good to see you too, Fitz."

They shared one more kiss and he quietly let himself out of his apartment.

Later that day, Olivia finished brushing her hair and heard her phone vibrate from her coffee table. She had showered at Fitz's place, because his bathroom was admittedly much more comfortable and luxurious than hers. The steam shower had been amazing, and the towels were the perfect amount of fluffy. She ate some granola and yogurt at his place, cleaned the kitchen and left. She felt silly for cleaning, but she had so much nervous energy that it had just sort of happened without thinking.

In Queens, Fitz stared at his phone waiting for her reply. It was exactly the time had told her, and that made him happy, because he wanted to prove to her that whatever this was – were they dating? was it a blossoming relationship? – could work. He could make plans and keep them. And he really wanted to. Seeing her again and had been better than he had imagined over the two weeks they had been apart, and he had imagined her a lot. But he had also settled into a routine of work, sleep, and missing her, and he hated to admit the truth: that though he missed her, and was incredibly happy to have seen her again, the missing her had sort of become his normal. And because it allowed him to continue living his life the way he liked, it had worked for him.

Fitz was smart, though. He recognized he was going to have to make some adjustments, be flexible, if he wanted to pursue something with Olivia. He also knew that missing her would likely overpower his contentment with his solitude at some point. He could already feel it happening, slowly. He was just assuming that he was going to have to get there a little quicker so he didn't lose her.

He was surprised that the idea of picking up his pace to match hers didn't scare him. That in and of itself was enough to make him understand that she was different than anyone he had seen in his 20s. He had had two relationships, and both times he had felt an immense amount of pressure to be the perfect boyfriend. In the defense of the women he had dated, both of whom were generally lovely people, they had simply been asking for more attention and effort than he had been willing to give. He hadn't really considered for a second that he should make an adjustment to his life when they had both been forced to give him an ultimatum: start making an effort, or go back to being single. In both of those situations, the decision had been easy.

It would not be easy to leave Olivia. It was hard enough leaving her in the morning when he knew they were going to see each other again the same day. She replied to his text, and he went to his trailer to wash off his makeup and change back into his own clothes.

40 minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and a production assistant announced her self and "Ms. Pope." Fitz called for them to come in.

"Anything else you need, Mr. Grant?"

"No, Haley, thanks."

"Enjoy your day," she said, nodding and closing the door to the trailer behind her.

"I do not make them call me Mr. Grant," he said as he closed the gap between himself and Olivia.

"Sure you don't," she said giggling.

He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

"Missed you," he said, honestly.

"Me too. Thanks for earlier," she said, glancing around. The trailer was like a smaller version of his bedroom. Blues and greys, simple, comfortable, relaxed.

"For what? I left you."

"You left me with an incredible shower, amazing towels," she winked at him, "and a lovely walk home. Trust me, it could have been much worse."

This led to a funny conversation about previous walks of shame. Not that she had many stories to tell, but she had a few. Fitz shared a story about he and Oliver trying to sneak home one summer after spending an entire night out. Fitz checked his watch and realized half an hour had passed.

"We better get going before everything gets closed down," he said, grabbing his sunglasses. "Ready?"

The simple gesture of turning at the door and offering her his hand almost took her breath away. Her look of surprise and happiness did the same to him.

They strolled the set. Fitz showed her different backdrops, and they goofed around in front of a green screen. He casually introduced her to an assistant director and an editor. It was her first time on a movie set, and she found it intriguing. She closed her eyes and tried to picture what it would like brought to life, and then wondered the same aloud.

"Well, when it premieres, we'll find out," Fitz answered.

"When will that be?"

"They're shooting for Memorial Day. It'll be in L.A., probably. We could make a weekend of it, though, go for walks and spend time at the ocean after the actual premiere night. Before that I'll probably have to do a press tour. There's a lot of promotion expected for this film."

She took a moment to decipher all that he had said. She couldn't help but focus on his idea, that they would be together in May, eight months from now. She took a deep breath. Planning that far ahead would normally suit her just fine, because she liked having a plan. But this particular plan scared her. In a good way, but she was still scared.

"That sounds nice," was all she could muster.

Fitz finished showing her around, and then shared a kiss on a piece of set that depicted an old library.

"This is fitting," she whispered as he held her.

"What is?"

"We just made out in a library, and last night we almost did the same in yours."

He guffawed then, and just about doubled over with laughter.

"I hadn't thought of it. But what does it say about us that books put us in the mood?" he asked, taking her hand again.

"We're highly intellectual, obviously," she said.

"Of course," he said, taking one step toward her and then in one motion picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

"Fitz! You're crazy. I'm going to crush you. Put me down."

"This is how highly intellectual people get around," he said, making his way toward his trailer.

"I'm so embarrassed," she squealed, smacking his behind and laughing.

"Keep doing that and I'll just carry you like this from now on," he said.

She put one of her hands in his back pocket and relented. He was strong, and his arm was wrapped around her thighs, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Later, as they lay in a heap on the tiny couch in his trailer, sweaty and out of breath, she finally broke.

"Earlier, you mentioned Memorial Day."

He kissed her shoulder. "Yeah."

"You're okay to just say, 'hey, let's get together for Memorial Day weekend?'"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, trying to sit up. He wasn't being purposely obtuse. He was missing her point.

"It seems far away right now. We haven't really talked it, but …" she trailed off, and it hit him.

"Liv, I'm sorry. I wasn't making assumptions, I was just talking. And maybe hoping a little bit. But we can take it one day at a time. That's probably better for me anyway."

"One, don't apologize. Two, what do you mean, better for you?"

He sighed. "One day at a time seems less daunting, that's all. I haven't been in a relationship in a while, so I don't really know what I'm doing. It's only going to get more complicated. But I don't want to stop seeing you, so I'm hoping we can figure this out."

She contemplated that while she brushed some of his curls off of his forehead.

"Look," he said, shifting so that they were sitting cross-legged and facing each other. "I realized earlier that I want this work. I want to figure it out. We don't have to define it. In fact, it might have a better chance of working if we don't. But I'm willing to try, to listen to what you need, if you want to."

"Of course I want to," she said, rolling her eyes.

"It's not that obvious, Liv!" he said exasperatedly. "I'm not an easy person to be around, all of the time, and my life can be kind of unpredictable. I don't live in New York full time. I like to be alone. Why on earth would you want to be with me?"

"You're kidding right? Please tell me that was rhetorical."

"I mean, it wasn't, but if it makes you mad, we can pretend it was."

"Okay, Fitz. I'm only going to say this once. For starters, if we're going to build something, you have to stop tip-toeing around me. I'm not perfect, and despite the way I can come off I don't expect everyone around e to be perfect either."

He nodded.

"And stop apologizing when you don't need to. Ask me questions. Say what you mean. I'm trying to do the same thing. Asking for what I want, having realistic expectations."

He looked at her, staying silent.

"I want to try and be with you. I have no idea how we're going to do it. But I want to try."

He exhaled. "Thank God," he said, leaning over and kissing her.

They didn't know how they were going to do it, but they were going to try.