"You're home early," Olivia's father commented, as Olivia walked into her living room after depositing her satchel in the foyer.

"Yeah, I decided not to go to Abby's. Did Michelle leave already?" Olivia's father, Jackson Rowan Pope crossed his arms and turned down the television as he took in his only daughter's presence. Jackson sat on the couch in a pair of wrinkled slacks and a button up shirt. Olivia remembered when he used to work as a historian, and he wore a three piece suit every day. He was a lawyer before she was born, but he stopped. According to Jackson "lawyers don't make it home for dinner, historians do." She used to tie his tie for him in the mornings. It had been over a year since her father went to work consistently. When Olivia's mother died, everything fell apart, including her father.

"I sent her home this morning. I don't need some coed to babysit me all day, Bee." Olivia mirrored her father and crossed her arms as well, her eyes scanning the cluttered living room. His nickname for her, Bee, always made her soften toward him, and he knew it. When she was a little girl her favorite color was yellow. It was hard for it not to be, as Olivia's mother, Maya had painted her room yellow before she was born. Maya and Jackson had taken to calling her Bee, because she refused to dress in any color but yellow the entire year when she was three.

"Dad, Michelle is here to help you. What if you forget the stove is on again? Or you try to drive and you get lost? Michelle is here so she can take you out and get you home safely when I'm not here."

Jackson's mouth pressed in a thin line and he didn't answer Olivia. "I'm not an invalid," Jackson responded finally, avoiding Olivia's eyes.

"Dad. I know that. No one said you were. But Mom isn't here anymore and I need you to let me take care of you." Olivia sunk down onto the couch as she pushed her head in her hands; she hated having these battles with her father, and they were becoming more and more frequent since he'd started forgetting simple things, things he should remember, like his address or social security number.

"Daddy. Please. You can't keep sending Michelle away. I need her here with you. Please. Just do it for me." Jackson let out a heavy sigh, his body seemed to deflate slightly.

"I'm supposed to take care of you."

"You do, Dad. You do." Olivia insisted. "But you can't when you don't take care of yourself." Jackson sighed once again, and turned the television back up. Olivia tried to meet his eyes again, but he was gone, his mind disengaged from reality and reengaged in static. Olivia bit her lip and turned to face the TV, pulling her shoes off and scooting close to her father, her head rested on his shoulder.

Later that night, after Olivia helped her father to bed, she returned downstairs to watch TV. She bit her lip, worrying about her father as she realized that she hadn't even started her homework. Her entire life was exhausting, from having to lie to her friends about her father, to killing herself in school, pushing harder, the harder she pushed, the more she felt like it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

She'd been so wrapped up in Fitz and all his Fitz-ness that she'd been slipping on her responsibilities. Normally she would have remembered to call Michelle at lunch to check on them. Had she done that, she could have prevented Michelle from leaving. Instead she spent her lunch mulling about apologizing to Fitz. After her date on Friday, Olivia could finally get back to normal, her normal routine, her normal schedule and her normal feelings.

Pulling her Trig book toward her, Olivia bit the cap of her pen, wondering about Fitz. Why couldn't she get him out of her head? Olivia decided she didn't want to know that answer as she started her homework problems.

O

"Can I borrow your car?" Cecelia asked, leaning into the doorframe of Fitz's bedroom. Fitz looked up from his book.

"What's wrong with your car?"

"Can I borrow your car or not?" Cecelia asked again. Fitz marked his page and sat up, throwing his legs over onto the floor to stand. He took his keys from his nightstand and held them out to Cecelia, but pulled them back before she could grab them.

"Cece. What do you need my car for?"

"I just do. You ride your motorcycle every day anyway. Why does it matter? I'll have it back before you know it." Fitz rolled his eyes and handed Cece the keys.

"Have it back before two, okay? And take it easy on the clutch, she's sensitive."

Cece nodded and kissed Fitz on the cheek.

"Thanks."

Fitz watched Cece go, his mind immediately flipped back to Olivia as he closed his door. He'd buried himself in a book, as he always did when he didn't want to think about something, or in this case someone.

He remembered that he had her phone number, on a crumpled piece of paper on his nightstand. He wanted to call her. He needed to call her.

Fitz sat down on his bed and picked up the phone, spreading Olivia's number out so he could dial the numbers.

Shaking, he held the receiver to his ear and waited, unsure of if Olivia would even answer; it wasn't late, but maybe she went to bed early.

After another ring, Olivia answered.

"What?" Her voice was brisk, and Fitz couldn't help but laugh at how Olivia answered the phone. It didn't surprise him though. He'd learned not to be surprised about the quirks that Olivia had.

"Livvie. It's Fitz."

"I know." Olivia replied, her voice hadn't changed after finding out that it was him.

"You know? What, do you recognize my voice already?" Fitz chuckled.

"No. You're the only one who calls me Livvie."

"Right. Right." Fitz said, slightly let down.

"Why are you calling me?" Olivia asked.

"Honestly? I can't stop thinking about today."

Olivia was silent on the other end, Fitz hoped she was softening.

"I just… I know I didn't apologize for tricking you. But I am sorry. I didn't know how else to get you to go out with me." Fitz said quickly.

"It's okay." Olivia finally replied.

"It is?" Fitz asked, surprised.

"Yes. It is."

"I didn't think you'd forgive me. But I want to start over. When we have our date on Friday, I want us to be different. More open. How we were today."

"Fitz, it's late." Olivia said, not commenting on Fitz's assertions.

"Right. Well…See you tomorrow."

"Ok." Olivia replied, hanging up the phone.

Fitz grinned and hung up too, laying backward on his bed. He wondered if she was sitting on her bed, surrounded by books, her curly hair messy for once, her school uniform still on. Or maybe, she had just showered, and was in her pajamas watching TV. Whatever she was doing, Fitz couldn't help but think about her and how much he wanted to be with her.

Olivia walked into school the next morning, cradling her English Lit and Trig books in her arms. She barely got any sleep the previous night. She'd been up replaying her phone call with Fitz in her head. Why he was stuck in her head, she couldn't be sure. She stuffed her notebook into her bookbag and shoved her coat into her locker as she noticed an arm hovering over her head, and turned to see a grinning Fitz standing close to her.

"Déjà vu." Olivia commented dryly, as she turned back around to shut her locker.

"Can I walk you to class?" Fitz asked, grinning and holding out his arm.

"You want to walk the halls with me on your arm?" Olivia questioned, her eyebrow raised.

"Yeah. Is that not allowed?"

"I don't know." Olivia admitted.

"Maybe we try arm and arm next time? How about I just hold your hand?" Fitz suggested, motioning to Olivia's right hand that clutched the strap of her satchel.

"I don't know." Olivia stammered, looking up at Fitz with wide eyes.

"How about we try it?" Olivia nodded, as Fitz pulled her hand from her strap and intertwined their fingers.

Olivia bit her lip, looking down at their hands.

"Ready?" Fitz asked, as some of their classmates were already noticing that they were holding hands.

Olivia smiled nervously. "Ready."