Chapter 2

August 30, 1997 - Present Day

When he first thought about going to law school and put Harvard at the top of his list, he knew the steep tuition would be a barrier. His grades at NYU were excellent enough to help him get in, and he knew even before taking it that he would ace the LSATs. Letters of recommendation would be more of a mixed bag, as he had plenty of professors who would rave about his intelligence and drive, but less that would speak of his character. Donna was the only one who didn't make caring feel like a weakness and arrogance and anger were the best barriers from letting anyone else in.

Getting into Harvard was realistic, but being awarded any kind of financial aid was not. He didn't stand out quite enough for an academic scholarship and wouldn't qualify for a need-based grant. The only option was to save up for it, as he certainly wasn't taking any money from his mom.

One concession he was willing to make was to live at home during school, especially during summers for the inevitable clerkships, to save on rent. Harvard would keep him busy enough that he wouldn't have to be there for much more than showering and sleeping. When he wanted to stick around longer, it would be good to spend more time with Marcus, and his dad when he was in town, especially if his mom was out of the house.

Saving for his tuition wasn't easy. He was an attractive man in his early 20's, who appreciated the finer things in life, but was existing on a low paying job and living in one of the most expensive cities in the world. The amount of beautiful of women in NYC certainly wasn't helping. Closing members of the fairer sex wasn't challenging, but he had his standards for the time they spent with him. Buying dinner or drinks for a new conquest most nights of the week, renting nice cars, looking the part, it could really add up. Then he met Donna.

It wasn't just that he was saving on bar tabs and car rentals. Sure, date night wasn't every night, but he still did want to show her a good time. Motivation was really what changed for him. She looked at him like no one ever had before and he wanted to someday be able to see himself the same way she did. He also wanted to be the type of man that could provide reliability and stability for their future, especially after everything she told him about her dad.

Saving money became a lot easier when he tightened up and really focused. He hadn't set aside nearly enough to pay for three years at an Ivy League law school before Jessica generously stepped in, but he did have enough put away to rent an apartment right off campus instead of going back home.

Stop thinking about her. He really needed to. It was over. She was going to be an actress, he was going to be a lawyer, and what he needed to do now was channel all the feelings that could cripple him into energy that would carry him. He didn't want to just be a great lawyer, he wanted to learn how to bend people to his will and destroy everyone. His shoulder prevented him from becoming the next Mariano Rivera, but nothing could stop him from being the next Johnny Cochran, Clarence Darrow, and Scott Boras all rolled into one. Nothing except for Donna, if he couldn't put her out of his mind.

His thoughts cut to the dream he had the night before, coming home from a big case he had just won to a waiting Donna, and it immediately put him on edge. He didn't want to think about her, he didn't want to miss her. He already had to stop himself from calling her when he woke up and he didn't want to let himself be weak because of her.

There was a moment when he almost decided to stay, to keep saving up and worry about law school later. He called her, several times, to apologize and take back the breakup but she never did answer. Peggy had promised to give her a message when he stopped by, but even still she didn't call him back.

Moving on from a woman in the past had always meant moving into bed with another, but that was with brief flings and shallow feelings. He loved Donna and he was still so angry that he ever let himself believe that was enough. His dad had loved his mom, and look where that got him, not that he even knew it.

Donna still tormented his mind to the point that he couldn't fuck his way out of it. The brunette in the blue dress across the courtyard, she was the type of woman who might have stopped him in his tracks before. She was gorgeous, that much was undeniable, and if being at Harvard wasn't clue enough, she looked like she was razor sharp with a feisty streak. She looked like the kind of woman who would challenge him, one that he would normally file away for a later manufactured encounter. The desire just wasn't there since Donna.

He walked over to the coffee cart, looking for anything that would stop his brain from churning out memories of her, but the strong aroma only made a particular one surface. Again.

September 21, 1996

The idea was to take the leggy barista to his usual Italian spot, maybe go for a nightcap, then take her to bed. When he called her apartment to confirm their plans and she mentioned having a fondness for the theater, he decided to make a slight adjustment. She was hot, but she wasn't spring for "The Phantom of the Opera" or "Sunset Boulevard" on Broadway level of hot, so the adjustment wouldn't have to break the bank.

Off-Broadway tickets would actually be cheaper than the dinner he would have taken her to, and if she questioned his choice of "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," he could always claim that he mixed it up with "Cats" and thought he was taking her to one of the famous ones. A sheepish smile and soft apology followed by a well delivered cocky line always seemed to do the trick.

Normally, he wouldn't sit through a show that was likely to make him want to stick his letter opener in his eye, not even for a blonde with mile high thighs, but Pete, his coworker, had bet him. The mailroom was mostly made up of young men still figuring out life and guys, usually older, looking for a second chance. Pete fell into both categories, as he was about Harvey's age and had already spent time on the inside for hosting illegal poker games.

They had done a coffee run together, and Pete apparently hadn't fully bought in on the legend of Harvey Specter. When Pete spotted her, not for the first time but the first time together, he challenged Harvey to bring to work one of the thongs that Megan the barista was always flashing above her acid-washed, low-rise jeans.

Was it Megan? Or Tiffany? Cindy? The name didn't matter as much as ending their date with a lacy souvenir and proof that he's the wrong person to wager against. Pete would work Harvey's Saturday shifts for a month if he got in her pants, and Harvey owed him a bottle of scotch and a baggie of pot pre-rolls if he failed to.

Coffee carts and hot dog stands were becoming the locations of choice for burgeoning Marijuana entrepreneurs and Harvey was going to have to make a stop at one on Monday, after the liquor store. Harvey had the bet in the bag the second he made it, but that all changed when the curtains opened, and the redhead center stage stole his breath away. He was no expert, but he was pretty sure she stole the show too.

The second the curtains closed, he put the blonde in a cab and talked his way backstage. If anyone asked, he probably couldn't tell them the plot of the play, but he could recap her performance in great length and detail. Thankfully, his charm didn't just get him backstage but pointed in the right direction of her dressing room.

Leaning against the wall in the most casual pose he could strike, he waited patiently for her to come out of the room. Hitting on women was never a big deal to him. It was seldom that he struck out, and on the rare occasion that he did, he would just find an even more attractive option. Right now, his whole body was buzzing with a nervous excitement he hadn't felt since the first time he stepped up to the plate or was put in to get the final three outs of a baseball game.

When she emerged, he realized that the distance and stage lighting only detracted from her beauty. She was even more incredible up close. He wasn't sure if he ever got his breath back, but if he had, she certainly took it again. Something was different… he felt a connection to her, and they hadn't even exchanged words yet. There was a level of desperation to change that, to talk to her. He didn't want to risk not seeing her again.

Landing on the right words to avoid that risk wasn't coming easily. Time was on his side thankfully, because it took her a bit of it to realize there was someone else in her presence, while digging in her purse. That gave him enough of it to recover and remember that he was supposed to be suave.

"I know you already had two standing ovations tonight, but I thought you might appreciate one with a more personalized touch." He finally broke the trance with the first line that came to mind and added a few slow claps to make his point.

His voice came out low and flirtatious, as he had intended, but her barely perceptible jump revealed that it had startled her. She recovered quickly with words of her own and he realized he was going to enjoy her brain even more than the gorgeous package it powered.

"I do tend to appreciate when my greatness is recognized, but when strange men appear outside of my dressing room, I tend to appreciate that we have a full-time security staff even more." She paired her comeback with a look that suggested she would give him the time of day, but only just barely.

"Harvey Specter," he announced and extended his hand. She stared down at it without extending hers, but he was neither discouraged nor offended. "Now I am no longer a strange man, and we can get back to me recognizing all of that greatness." He looked her up and down with a devilish grin. She rolled her eyes in return.

"Fancy that, I do know your name now. I am still willing to bet that even though you're here backstage at my show, you don't know mine."

One glance and she knew he was no theater buff. It tracked that he likely lacked the foresight to peek at the playbill to learn her name but still possessed the confidence to approach her anyway. She wasn't complaining. He was extremely handsome and there was something about him that gave her butterflies while simultaneously putting her at ease.

"How did you know?" He assumed that he wasn't the first person to linger after a curtain call and that those who did, sought her out for reasons more related to her performance.

"Let's see...," she paused to give him the same up and down except with a scrutinizing eye instead of an appreciative one. Though she still couldn't deny that her subject was visually pleasing. "The suit jacket with the untucked button up, all that hair gel and the, I am assuming, extra spritz of cologne screams date night. The fact that you're talking to me right now means that you brought her here on a first or second date and you blew her off when you found something, someone, that interests you more. You're back here now, but you didn't come to see me and you're certainly not a connoisseur of the arts."

"You're not just a pretty face, are you?" Pretty was an understatement, and he was gathering that intelligent might be too.

"No, I'm not. Did you really ditch your date to come talk to me?" She looked incredulous and he hoped flattered was mixed in as well.

"What can I say, you are much more fascinating. Let me take you out for a drink." An answer never frightened him before, but he felt like he was on pins and needles waiting for her to say yes, or at least leave him with room to keep trying.

"You still don't even know my name, and that might prove difficult." She crossed her arms but didn't move away from him. He took that as a good sign.

"And why is that, Debbie?" he asked, shifting just a little bit closer.

"Debbie?" she responded with a raised eyebrow.

"It's as good a name as any to use until you wish to enlighten me with the real thing," he shrugged.

"I guess it's your lucky day then, because I've been known to enlighten a lost soul or two. It's Donna, and while I am the kind of woman who only needs one name, my last is in the program, if you're curious." Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a program that she was intending to mail to her mom and tucked it into his blazer pocket before continuing.

"And to answer your question, it might prove difficult because I am only 20, for starters. So, unless you have the keys to the DeLorean and plan to us back to before they established a federal drinking age, I don't think any bars are going to let me in."

"Oh, I could talk us in. Anywhere you want to go."

His connections weren't that great yet, but he did know a place or two that wouldn't card a woman he was with. If need be, he could probably add another few bars that his dad performed at, when he landed gigs in New York, to the list. His dad might not be too keen on helping him skirt the law the with young women, but he was a sucker for romance and Harvey had never asked him for help with a lady before. Gordon would immediately know that she was different, and Harvey was currently figuring out the same.

"I play by the rules, Mr. Specter."

The way she said his name, she was flirting back, and he loved it. It emboldened him to step further into her space. He risked placing a hand on her forearm while he looked her in the eye and delivered his next line.

"As hot as that sounds coming from you, Mr. Specter is my dad. I am still young. Although, now that I think about it, I could be your daddy." The accompanying wink was well timed, and he hoped well received. She was playing along, but she wasn't as easy to read as the others.

"You're an idiot." Shaking her head, she smiled with the retort. She got the sense that it would not be the last time she told him that.

"An idiot that still wants to take you out. I could rent a car, drive us to Toronto. I heard the drinking age is only 19 there." He needed her to say yes more than he needed her to give him his breath back, even if he didn't understand why, and he was willing to pull out all the stops.

"You heard, or that's where you started going when you were16 or 17 knowing your fake ID would only have to be a couple years older." Her gut and her gift convinced her that he was a good man, but she could tell that he still got into mischief.

"I plead the fifth," he responded and could only grin. God, he might love this woman already, she gets him. "Hey, what's another reason?" he asked after her earlier words penetrated his thoughts.

"What do you mean?" She was a little distracted herself. He only touched her arm, but it sent chills down her spine. She didn't know what she wanted yet, but she wanted something from or with this man.

"You said for starters. I do listen, you know." He grinned at her and shrugged again when she gave him a playful but doubting look. "Well, I listen to beautiful redheads who are totally into me anyway. So, spill it Miss… Paulsen, why else would it prove difficult?" He had paused and made a show out of removing the program from his pocket and finding her surname before he added the last part.

"That's the thing, I'm not sure I am interested in going out with arrogant pretty boys who attempt to upgrade in the middle of a date." She was lying. She already wanted to know what it felt like to kiss the pretty boy, but that didn't mean she was ready to tell him as much.

"I knew you thought I was pretty. And to be fair, I waited until the end of the date to try to upgrade." There was that grin again.

His response only confirmed that she needed to make him work for it, but she had long decided she would go out with him.

"That doesn't inspire any confidence." She was proud of anything resembling a good comeback that left her mouth, because his proximity made it hard for her to think. It was usually her that was rendering men unable to speak, and while she could tell she was affecting him, it felt like she finally met her match.

"Take me up on my offer, and I am confident you'll be inspired."

When she screamed yes in her head, she decided that it was probably time to say it out loud as well.

"You only get half points for that one, but I am going to go against my better judgment and give you my number. Give me a call sometime, Hotshot, if you don't get distracted by the next mini skirt you see."

She'd just recently started carrying a sharpie in her purse. This was her very first role and only her third performance of it, but she'd be damned if she got asked for an autograph and didn't have the needed tool to sign one. Considering that the only people likely to approach her for her signature at this point in her career were young girls or married blokes looking for an excuse to talk to her, she could hardly count on them to have a marker at the ready.

After retrieving said sharpie, she popped the top off with her teeth and proceeded to write her number on the program and tuck it back into his pocket.

"Trust me when I say that's never going to happen. Not with you."

It was a line he would have fed anyone he was talking to without a second thought, but he also would not have really meant it. With Donna, there was something he couldn't identify, and it terrified him. What he did know was that she might be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and he hadn't noticed a single other person, let alone a woman, since he laid eyes on her. It didn't feel like that was going to change.

Present Day

"That'll be a buck fifty," the man at the coffee cart stated, snapping Harvey out of his unwelcomed stroll down memory lane.

Harvey handed him two dollars and briefly debated whether letting him keep the change and thus a 33% tip was the kind of precedence he wanted to establish while not taking a job his 1L year. At the ridiculous mandatory orientation that he almost didn't attend, they had warned that the first year of law school was the hardest. Most students found it easier to balance school and work their second or third year, but it was highly recommended not to attempt to during the first.

Harvey wasn't most students and he thought about bucking the advice just to prove he could. While managing his workload was something he knew he would be able to do, managing his emotions he was less sure of. Maybe if there was another mailroom job in which he rarely had to talk to people, but he knew a job with the student union or anything customer facing would be a disaster.

He felt a strong urge to get back to his apartment and light up his current coping mechanism, but the weed would have to wait until after he purchased his textbooks from the campus store. Looking around to reorient himself with the direction of the store, he didn't see her strutting over.

"I've heard about you, you know."

Her voice reached his ears before his eyes found the speaker, but he wasn't shocked when he turned and found the woman in the blue dress behind him. She was in fact beautiful, even if she didn't have the cute freckles or the long legs.

"Give me a couple of weeks and I wouldn't say that's surprising, but we haven't had our first class yet, let alone mock trial." Cocky was the easiest routine to fall into.

"Of course you would come with an ego." She rolled her eyes at him, but she was smirking. Approaching him was a great decision, and one she almost didn't make.

He had caught her eye immediately even though she wasn't here to be distracted by boys. She enjoyed flirting, and the attention, but her level of focus was unmatched. This wasn't high school, or even undergrad where she could skate by with more brains than effort. She would really have to apply herself to achieve her goal of being ranked first in her class, and she would be ranked first in her class.

It remained a mystery to her why she always had to win. Getting into Harvard Law School was enough to lay the foundation for becoming a topflight attorney, but it wasn't enough for her. She wanted to be the best student to ever grace its hallways, she had to be. A therapist might be needed in the future.

It made friendships and relationships difficult. There were always trust issues and scheming. She wanted to know everything about everyone, because how else would she gain an advantage, but she shared very little in return.

The plan was to swear off men until after graduation. Casually blowing off steam remained an option, but she didn't look at him and see casual. She saw trouble. Still, he seemed like a worthy risk and distraction, so she approached.

"Already thinking about how I come, and I haven't even taken you out yet." He added an exaggerated wink to emphasize his double entendre. "And what's that supposed to mean anyway?" It wasn't like meeting Donna, but there was a spark. He would take any ounce of hope that he wasn't going to feel this way forever.

"Wow, I am going to ignore that first part, even though it's hardly surprising. In fact, it is exactly what I mean - that you don't look like you without sounding like that. Harvey, right?"

The fact that she knew his name without meeting him only added to her desire to do so. Initially, just to scout him out, but once she put a face to his name the intrigue only grew.

"It is Harvey, but it's not an ego thing. It's not being arrogant if it is true. The fact that I already don't need an introduction only speaks for itself." He tilted his forward and to the side with a look on his face that only heightened the idea of hubris.

"Well, you did make a scene by showing up the professor during the orientation mock lecture." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I can't help it if the man is an idiot." It was such a standard work but when it left his mouth he though of her again. She loved to call him one. Fortunately, this mystery woman didn't seem to notice his inner shift. He probably should ask her name.

"He's a professor at Harvard, he's hardly an idiot." He gave her another look and she relented. "Okay fine, you made him look like one, but don't let me admitting so go to your head. And that's totally not how it works, about the ego. But that doesn't matter. Being humble is for those who are too weak to take what they want and have to settle for playing nice instead." She winked at him this time.

"You sound like a woman after my own heart. And you are?" This was going somewhere he liked, and he figured he may as well leave the option open to see her again. Maybe he could fuck his way through his feelings for Donna. He reached out to offer his hand for a shake and was not surprised in the least when she squeezed hard with the gesture.

"Dana Scott. People call me Scottie, but I haven't decided if I like you enough for that yet."

"Oh, you like me. Why else would you cut across the courtyard just to talk to me," he spit out then took a sip of his coffee while waiting to see where she took the conversation.

"I see you noticed me from across the courtyard then. I must not be the only one who likes what she sees." She crossed her arms, but she wasn't feeling defensive. It was a power stance for her.

"I am a man after all, and I just looked. You approached. Care to share why?"

"I'd be remiss if I didn't take the opportunity to size up the competition. Besides, the rumor mill is already running and the word on the street is that Jessica Pearson plucked you out of some menial job and sent you here. Even the blue blood stiffs with their noses stuck in the air are curious and watching."

Her family wasn't struggling by any means, but her ancestors didn't come here on the Mayflower. She never attended cotillions growing up, and she wouldn't be joining the DAR any time soon. There also wasn't a lecture hall or library wing named after her.

"Then I am sure they will enjoy the show. And I'm sure I will see you around, Scottie. By the way, blue looks great on you, but you do know that's Yale's color, right?" He wasn't thinking about her now and even if this led to nothing more than harmless flirting, it was worth exploring.

Smug wouldn't even begin to describe the look on her face and he knew then that wearing their rival's color was intentional.

"You're not the only one who is going put on a show." She turned to walk away and called over her shoulder, "See you around, Specter."

Harvey remained planted as he watched her walk away. She wasn't Donna, but maybe when he closed his eyes to go to sleep, he would see blue instead of red.