A/N: A bit of writer's block on my other fics has led me here. No I am not starting another full blown story. What I am starting, however, is a solidly two part fic. Now, the second part might end up being five thousand words (it's already at 3,000 - for reference, that's about 8pgs) but it will only be two parts. Here's part I. Hopefully this heat will lead my boss to telling me to stay home again on Monday and part II will get done soon.

Thank Lizzo's Truth Hurts for this.

I hope you enjoy!

Every time Olivia closes her eyes, she is in pain. Each time her eyelids drop she's assaulted by an image she can't get out of her head. Her boyfriend. Her best friend. Her couch. HerboyfriendHerbestfriendHercouch… The tequila on her tongue tastes like fire, but that doesn't stop her from knocking back her third shot and tapping the bar top for another.

The bartender eyes her with a raised brow and shakes his head. "You're a very small woman and I don't want anyone passing out at my bar."

Olivia scoffs. "I could easily drink ten of these without batting a lash. Don't be a dick."

"Lady, I don't care if you tell me you could drop thirty of them, I'm not giving you another."

Hot anger ripples through her and she pushes away from the bar. Despite the fact that she's inhaled three shots in the matter of twenty minutes, her knees are all too sturdy and she is nowhere near drunk. Her eyes meet the bartender's and she sighs, deciding to change tactics. Flies and honey.

"Look, I'm having a really bad day, can I please just have another?" Olivia tries. Her hands curl against the countertop and she gives him the saddest look she can muster. It's not hard as the corners of her mouth drop down and she feels tears rise to the surface.

She and Jake have been together since her sophomore year of undergrad and she's now in her final year of law school. She and Simone have been friends longer.

"I'm sorry, but it's a hardline I draw, miss." He reaches for her empty shot glass, but Olivia's hand gets there first. She seizes it in her right hand and holds it up. Her eyes meet the bartender's. He cocks his bushy, fire red brows, as if to say really? Tongue out, Olivia lets it slip from between her fingers. It hits the ground and splinters apart. She snatches her purse from the back of her stool and takes off.

Once outside she screams in frustration, batting the side of the building an open palm. The tears are immediate and her face is hot. She kicks at the brick, continues hitting it with her hands and lets out a low sob. Her hair curls against her temples in the mid summer's night heat. How stupid could she be? Something told her ages ago something had been going on between Jake and Simone.

"Boxing with a brick wall isn't exactly a good idea."

Olivia's stops mid swing. She looks down at her hands to see her palms are beat red and scratched. Tiny bits of brick stick to her palm. She looks over at the sound of the voice to find a somewhat familiar looking stranger staring at her. He wavered in the bar entrance door, the neon light of the bar sign bouncing off his dirty blonde hair.

"If people could mind their own business tonight instead of mine, that'd be really great." She shoots back, pivoting on her heels and leaning against the wall. If she's going to cry and rage, she wants to do it in peace. She can't fall to pieces in the presence of a stranger. No matter how familiar he looks. "Just keep walking."

And he does, but instead of heading into the bar, he takes a few steps towards Olivia.

"Hey, do I know you?" he asks as he comes to a halt next to her. He leans against the wall and hits something against his palms for a few seconds.

Olivia watches in curiosity, eyes following his hands before she realizes he's packing cigarettes. A lighter flickers and then he takes a drag. The smell of sulfur cracks the air and Olivia crinkles her nose. He slips the pack of cigarettes back into his jeans pocket.

"You're Jake's girlfriend. Right?"

A sudden burst of anger blooms in her chest at Jake's name. She cuts her eyes to the stranger now next to her and scoffs, pushing away from the brick with her arms now folded across her chest. "And who the hell are you?"

The stranger holds his arms up. "Hey, I didn't mean any harm. My name's Fitz. Fitzgerald Grant. I work with Jake at Jones and Day. You were at our New Year's party. You seem like you're in distress and I just want to be a listening ear."

Olivia sizes up Fitzgerald Grant. Her eyes wash over his face, down his body. She remembers him. He'd been at the party with his wife. What was her name? Melanie? Melody? Whatever it had been, the woman had looked like a Norman Rockwell painting; perfectly coiffed her, a perfect red lip. In all honesty, Olivia had found it to be a bit pretentious. She'd even dragged her feet a great deal before Jake managed to talk her into going to talk to the couple with him.

Her shoulders relax slightly and she feels a hot tear slip down her cheek. She quickly reaches up to wipe it away, hoping beyond belief that Fitz hadn't seen it. "I'm fine."

"You say that, but that tear tells me otherwise." He holds his cigarette between his fingers and brings it to his lips.

Olivia's eyes follow and she thinks back to New Years, to six months ago when she'd met the man now in front of her. He'd been sneaking a cigarette outside when she and Jake had made a break for it. When Fitz had seen them he'd hurriedly butted his cigarette and sheepishly begged them not to tell his wife because he was 'quitting.'

"Your wife know you're smoking still?" she hits him with, hand on her hip.

He chuckles and works his free hand over his jaw. "I don't know, but something tells me she probably doesn't care."

"I beg to differ," Olivia starts, but then her eyes catch his left hand and she notices his wedding band is gone and while the sun's setting, it's still light enough out to notice there aren't any tan lines. His wedding band's been off for some time. Still, Olivia doesn't back down. She pops her hip out and waits for a response, hoping that she's pushed a button that'll send him running inside and out of her business.

But it doesn't. Fitz flicks his cigarette and folds his arms across his chest. "I don't think her boyfriend would. Actually, I think after they had sex in our bed, he lit one of my cigarettes. The ones I had tucked into my nightstand to hide them from her." Something between a smile and grimace falls across his face.

Olivia bites down on her bottom lip and she feels her spine loosening, shoulders slacking. Well, now she feels like shit even more than five minutes before. The bar door opens and loud music fills the air. A couple speeds past them, giggling and laughing. She sighs and tucks a fly away strand of hair behind her ear. Any fight in her deflates and she finds herself posting up against the wall next to Fitz once more.

"Jake's fucking my best friend." She confesses. If anyone is going to understand the pain she's in right now, it'll probably be the man next to her. "I caught them. On our couch. In our apartment. I came home early to tell him that I got an offer from Schultz and Kit and there he was; ass in the air, dick in my friend."

Fitz nods. "Want to go inside. Grab a drink or thirty and forget about it?"

"I was trying, but three shots in and Officer Buzz-kill in there cut me off."

"Yeah, Evan is good for that. He's very into the whole counselor side of the bartender bit." He turns and leans his head against the brick. "Wanna get out of here? Go celebrate your new job even though it's at a competing firm?"

Olivia turns to face him. His slate eyes catch her attention immediately and for some reason she leans a little too close. Her heart is currently in pieces; sharp shards threaten to split her chest open, but what reason does she have to say no? Fitz isn't a bad looking man. Actually, it's quite the opposite now that she's facing him, her eyes roaming over his broad torso, the navy polo stretched tightly over his chest. Plus, she'd had every intention on celebrating before her big day had turned into her worst nightmare.

/

When he'd set out for Jack Diamond's earlier that night, he never thought he'd find himself here, sandwiched into an undergrad dive with a woman he's had several explicit dreams about. She's always been off limits, though, and months ago so had he but… now.

He blinks those thoughts away as she drunkenly shoves another shot glass into his hand. The music's too loud, the bass too heavy, and there are university students everywhere, but one look at the smile on his face encourages him to toss the shot glass back. He's going to pay for this in the morning; he's thirty-seven, not twenty-one.

"We both need some water next!" he shouts over the music.

"What?" Olivia yells back.

He leans over, cupping a hand over her ear so that she hear him. "Water!"

"Yeah, we probably should. Five shots of tequila is nearing my limit is kinda a lot…" She throws her head back and laughs as if what she's just said is the funniest thing in the world. Fitz's eyes follow the smooth column of her neck, down to the cleavage that spills out from beneath the V-neck, thin, white cotton t-shirt she wears.

Fitz taps the bar top as Olivia falls forward, into his shoulder. She sets her shot glass down and grabs his bicep to steady herself. "Can I get two waters?" he asks.

The bartender nods and makes quick work of Fitz's order. He sets two glasses of ice water on the counter and then disappears to the other side of the bar.

Fitz hands Olivia one of the glasses and nods to a couple vacating a both feet from them. They make their way over before the seats can be snagged with Olivia holding tight to his arm the entire walk. She's been a good sport, pretending since they walked into the bar an hour or so ago that she's unbothered by the news she's shared. News that hadn't really surprised Fitz who'd noticed Jake's roaming eye nearly a year prior, when the younger man had been hired.

"To Jake and to Simone and to…" Olivia starts as she slides into the both. She holds the water glass up, "to cheaters. Your wife, my boyfriend. My best friend…you know, Simone and I have been friends since we were fifteen. She was the weird new girl that no one else wanted to be friends with. I was so happy when she moved to D.C…I introduced her to Jake."

Fitz reaches for the water glass that tilts a little too far to the left, barely managing to catch it in time. He brings the glass down. Her eyes are sad again and it makes his heart hurt.

"I should've stabbed them both, but noooo, I backpedaled it out of there. My apartment. I left my apartment!"

He grimaces at the visual. "You don't mean that. It wouldn't have been worth it in the long run. At all."

"When you found your wife and her boyfriend…did you ever ask why?" Olivia questions. She reaches across the table, grabbing his free hand, the one curled against the plywood table.

He squeezes her hand back. "Don't . . . don't ask why, Livvie. It'll drive you crazy."

She nods. "Livvie…only my mom calls me Livvie."

"Olivia," he amends, moving to let go of her hand, but her grip tightens.

"No, no. Please call me Livvie. It just kinda caught me off guard. Do you…you wanna dance? Burn off some tequila?"

Fitz's eyes sweep towards the tiny dance space. He watches as undergrads of various sizes, shapes, and colors pack together, bodies gyrating to and fro to a heavy beat. He doesn't recognize the song, but thinks he's heard it before, probably coming from his thirteen year old daughter's phone ages ago.

"I-I don't know about that. I'm…I've got two left feet and no rhythm and I…"

"For me? I'm celebrating, remember?" she pouts, bottom lip hanging out and Fitz feels his dick jump in his pants. She's intoxicated and intoxicating; he yells at himself to keep it cool. He's had the same amount of drinks as she, but he has at least sixty pounds and probably a full mean on her.

"Fine, but when those kids start laughing at us, it's your fault."

She smiles wide and scurries out of their booth, pulling on his hand.

"But drink that water first…" he nods to her full glass.

Olivia's eyes roll, but nonetheless she lets go of his hand and reaches across the table. He seizes his glass and tilts it back, but pauses, watching in amazement as Olivia slams the entire glass in seconds. He'd expected her to struggle through it or drink half and stop, but…wow. He eyes fall to her throat as she sets the glass down and throws him a mischievous smile.

Well, fuck.

"Coming?" she asks as she takes a few steps away from him.

Fitz nods, slamming his own glass and taking off after her. They find a semi empty spot near a corner and Olivia hooks her fingers in his belt loops. She pulls him close, hips swinging side to side. She catches the beat easily, but Fitz struggles. He feels far too old to be out here and the placement of her hands leaves him fighting to keep it together. He hasn't been laid in months – five to be exact.

"Relax, I don't bite. Come closer," Olivia insists, drawing her to him. Her chest brushes against his and she turns around abruptly, pressing her ass into his groin. She slides down his body and then back up again and Fitz is amazed by how steady she is on her feet for someone who's has six shots tucked beneath her belt.

Once more, Fitz's dick jumps. He's been trying and fighting hard to be a gentleman tonight. She doesn't have to say it, but Jake and her hopefully former friend's betrayal is burning her from the inside out. And he refuses to take advantage of that. He's been in her spot and even though tequila's fogged up his brain, he still remembers the pain.

"Livvie…" His hands hold her hips as he tries to put some distance between them.

Olivia's hands slide over his and she drags them around her body, up her stomach, closing the distance he's tried to put between them.

His eyes slip closed and he groans as her butt presses into his crotch, over and over. He tries all the old tricks from teen hood to stop his mind from running wild. He thinks of his great grandmother's pantyhose slipping down her swollen ankles. He runs baseball stats over in his head. He thinks of his daughter and that time that she Exorcist vomited.

And it doesn't exactly work. Olivia's head falls back against his chest and she hikes his hands up hire, until they're skimming her breasts.

He pulls back, immediately regretting his decision when Olivia almost falls. He catches her just in time and she giggles as he helps her back to her toes.

Once more, she has a mischievous smile on her face and glint in her eyes. She slips a hand into his and leads him out of the bar.

The night air is cool on his face and he's having a really hard time walking with his dick nice and hard between his legs. He doesn't have much time to think about how he's going to get his erection to go away, either, because Olivia jumps into his arms. Her mouth is on his and her fingers yank at his hair. She bites on his bottom lip, draws it into her mouth and all he can do is respond. He spins her, backs her against the nearest wall and ignores the hoots and whistles from the stragglers standing outside the bar. One hand reaches up to cup her jaw and the other slides down her body, to her hip and he drags her against him until there's no such thing as space. She tastes like tequila, salt, and sadness, but damn it if he doesn't want to taste more. He kisses her back, snaking his tongue into her mouth and stroking hers, over and over again until he hears her moan.

This is wrong, wrong, wrong. So wrong. But God does it feel right.

They break apart after a few second later, both of their chests heaving as they fight to breath. Fitz's forehead falls against hers and he fights to find some clarity; something in him that will take a step back and focus in on her hurt and not the way his dick thinks it'll feel between her legs.

"Livvie…" he chokes out. "Liv, we should—"

She cuts him off, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. Her hips jerk upwards and she presses against his erection. "Take me home, Fitz. Make me feel good…"

"You don't—"

"Please. Fuck me until I forget…"