Content warning: Though there aren't graphic details, this chapter contains mentions of sexual assault.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Ricky ran a hand through his hair, tousling the longer length while he waited, trying to think of how to start the conversation. Olivia wasn't Sebastian, after all. He had no way of knowing if she would, or even could, help him.

It was a black woman who answered—the housekeeper in a uniform, wearing an apron. "Yes?"

"Hey, um, is Olivia home? I need to see her."

"I'm sorry, Miss Davenport can't have any visitors."

"Listen, I really need to talk to her." Ricky pleaded with his eyes, putting a hand on the heavy door to prevent the housekeeper from closing it on him.

Inside the penthouse, Olivia descended the stairs with her arms full of books, heading for the terrace by the kitchen to study. She had changed out of her school uniform, wearing slippers with a pair of three-quarter sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, dressed to see no one and do nothing but stay grounded at home with her hair pulled up in a messy bun high on her head.

Listening to music through a pair of earphones, she was completely unaware the doorbell had rung.

Heading toward the open dining room, Olivia noticed Jamila was by the front door in the vestibule, getting a shock when she saw that it was Ricky standing at the open door. Surprised at catching his eyes, Olivia stumbled over her feet and lost her balance. Books fell through her arms with a clatter, and she accidentally stepped on one of them, making her yelp as she slipped and landed flat on the floor with a tumble, scraping her chin on the rug, her teeth smacking painfully together.

Please, don't let it be Ricky. Please-please-please, she thought as she groaned quietly, hoping her eyes had deceived her. But, of course, it was him.

Ricky came rushing in, throwing his school bag off his shoulder on the way, looking at her with concern as her earphones fell out.

No... Olivia turned red in the face from embarrassment. Why couldn't the ground have swallowed her when she was already down?

"Shit, are you okay?" Ricky asked with a soft voice, looking concerned and squatting in front of her as she sat up.

"Um, yeah," Olivia said in a small voice and carefully laid a hand on the stinging rug burn to soothe.

Jamila walked around them and gathered the books. Some had managed to scoot all the way into the dining room from the hall.

"You need a bandage or something?" Ricky tilted his head to see the scratch under Olivia's chin.

"No, uh, I think I'm fine," Olivia dismissed and pushed her glasses up her nose.

Jamila apparently thought differently. "I'll get you one," she said kindly and put the books down on the dining table, disappearing into the household's quarter of the penthouse.

"Here, let me help you." Ricky held out a hand. Olivia took it hesitantly, and he pulled her up, suppressing a groan from the strain it put on his ribs. He really messed them up again when he wrestled free of his father's grip.

"Thanks." Olivia lowered her gaze and saw the white wire to her earphones dangling out of her pocket. She took her iPod out to stop the music and twisted the wire around its body before putting it back.

"Sure." Ricky ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck, and then pointed to her pocket. "What were you listening to?"

"Just some indie stuff."

"Cool."

Olivia smiled gently but kept wondering why Ricky was there. He needed to leave, or she would get in trouble.

"So, uh, what are you doing?" Ricky asked awkwardly. He didn't know how to start the conversation about his need for her alibi. The topic of being accused of rape wasn't exactly your everyday conversation.

Olivia furrowed her brows in confusion. Surely, he hadn't come to ask what she was doing? "Uh, I was just," she began spinning her ring around on her finger, "I was just going to study out on the terrace." She made an awkward wave in the direction of the swinging door for the kitchen in the corner of the dining room.

Ricky nodded his head in its direction as if to say 'lead the way,' and grabbed his bag.

Olivia hesitated, glancing toward the vestibule. He really needed to leave, but at the same time, she was curious to know what he was doing at her house. Gathering her books from the dining table, surrounded by high-backed upholstered chairs, she led him through the white colonial-style kitchen with its marble countertops and to a glass door that led onto a wide terrace.

The terrace was decorated with kept bushes and small trees standing in pots along the edges. A round wooden table with cushioned chairs stood under the shade of a large parasol in the middle. Jamila had set out a tray of refreshments in the form of a large pitcher of iced water with lemons and a plate with fresh slices of melon.

Olivia placed her books on the table. "So, um...?" She looked up at Ricky, who was glancing around the place, taking in the view. He was about to say something when Jamila joined them, handing a bandage packet to Olivia, who thanked her as Jamila went back inside. Olivia pulled out a bandage but then realized she needed a mirror to see and put it on.

"Let me," Ricky offered kindly, taking the bandage from her. Olivia blushed a bit when he put it on the bottom of her chin, rubbing it with his thumbs to make sure it stuck. It was awkward but also very sweet the way he was so gentle. It was a small glimpse of the Ricky she remembered from the First Dance.

"There." He smiled down at her when he was satisfied the bandage would stay in place, noting her sweet innocence as she stood with a light color to her cheeks. Meeting her gaze, Ricky felt the odd sensation in his stomach again—the one he felt in class. Considering the disastrous day he was having, it was pretty impressive that standing with Olivia still made a surge go through him.

Ricky ran a hand into his hair, feeling frustrated with himself. He didn't need this. Not when he was there to talk about her friend's rape, which was bound to make Olivia upset. As always, his timing was inopportune.

"Um, so...?" Olivia halted as she spun her clover ring, hinting for Ricky to tell her why he was there.

"Uh, yeah." Ricky gestured at the table and chairs. "Could we sit?" Olivia hesitated, biting her lip. "I'll be brief," he promised.

"Okay." She nodded and sat down in a chair, dropping the slippers from her bare feet, and pulled her legs up, hugging them to her chest. Ricky placed his bag on the ground and sat across from her, resting his arms on his knees.

"See, um, the thing is," Ricky stopped, scratching the back of his head, and then started over. "Have you heard what happened after I was called out of class?" He forced himself to look at her.

Olivia nodded timidly. She had had an awful day when she heard what everyone was saying about Ricky raping Josephine at the First Dance. How could it be true? She was the one who'd been with him. But who would believe her if she tried to tell people the truth? Even she knew how improbable it sounded that she and Ricky had been making out in a toilet stall.

Talking about it with Roxie, they had agreed it was more likely someone from the wild bachelor party, which had taken place next to them, was involved, rather than someone from school.

Back at the dance, Olivia had meant to look for Josephine because Blaine said she'd gone missing. But then everything with the water and Ricky happened, and she completely forgot. She felt incredibly guilty about it now, her stomach in knots.

She had tried calling Josephine from Roxie's phone several times during school, but she hadn't picked up, and Olivia had no way of contacting her herself because of being grounded with no phone or Internet privileges.

"I didn't do it," Ricky said, looking Olivia straight in the eyes with a severe face. "But, see, the thing is, I can't prove that because I don't remember anything that happened that night."

Olivia's jaw dropped a little from surprise. He had kissed her, put his hand on her, and he didn't remember? A moment she would never forget, and he had no recollection of it at all? That explained why he had acted so indifferently toward her. To him, the kiss never happened.

"Not-nothing?" she stammered, clearing her throat when her voice caught.

Ricky shook his head. "Baz filled in some of the blanks for me. But I need an alibi for what happened in the restroom."

Olivia could feel her cheeks heat up. Where was that hole to crawl into when she needed it?

"He told me to go and ask you. He said you might be able to prove my innocence in this fucked up situation. So," Ricky took a breath, looking at Olivia, "that's what I came here to talk to you about."

Olivia's face was burning as he held her gaze, but then a slight movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

"I thought we had been clear about this, Liv," her mother said sternly, standing in black heels and a tight red designer dress, wearing diamond jewelry that matched her large wedding ring. She looked like a typical Upper East Side mom with an attractive slender face and figure. Everything was pampered to perfection.

Christina crossed her arms, looking at Olivia and Ricky, sitting in the shade of the parasol.

Ricky looked back over his shoulder when he heard Christina's voice and quickly rose from his seat. "Mrs. Casini," he greeted politely with a small nod.

"Mom, this is—"

"I know who he is," Christina cut in. "Hello, Frederick." She inclined her head at him. "What I don't know is what he's doing here." She looked back at Olivia with a cocked, perfectly arched eyebrow.

Olivia didn't know how to explain it without making the whole thing sound terrible. It was terrible. But her parents would never hear her out if she tried to explain that it wasn't her fault. That she'd been caught in the middle of it. They would immediately jump to a conclusion and think the worst.

"I..." she tried to think of something to say.

Christina sighed. "Frederick, I need to ask you to leave. Liv has an understanding with us at the moment, so I'm afraid she can't have any visitors."

"Oh." Ricky furrowed his brows and looked down at Olivia, who was sitting, red in the face.

"Mom, I—"

"We will talk about this afterward," Christina stopped her with a strict look.

"Uh, okay?" Ricky ran a hand through his hair, trying to understand the exchange between mother and daughter. He was clearly missing something. "I'm sorry I disturbed you," he said, uncertain if that was indeed what he'd done. "Will you talk to Father Correll for me?" he asked Olivia, picking up his bag from the ground while looking at her. But before she could reply, Christina cut in again.

"Frederick, I would appreciate you leaving now," she said in an unyielding voice, holding the glass door to the kitchen open for him.

"Yeah, okay." He gave Olivia a last glance before going inside. Jamila stopped her cooking and led him back to the front door. "Wait." He turned to her. "Could you give Olivia my number and ask her to call me? It's really important." He opened his bag and dug around for a pen and some paper.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you," Jamila declined, shutting the door on him.

"Fuck!" Ricky cursed loudly and threw his pen across the hall. If he didn't have Olivia as his alibi, he was screwed.

"Mom!" Olivia protested from her chair. "I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't invite him over." She gestured at the door Ricky had disappeared through. "He came on his own because he needs my help."

"He should have talked to you at school then." Christina crossed her arms.

"It isn't that simple," Olivia argued. "He's in pretty serious trouble, and— I'm going after him," she decided on the spot, hastily putting on her slippers and got up, heading for the door, and going inside.

Christina grabbed her arm to stop her when Olivia tried to run past. "Liv, your father—"

"I don't care!" Olivia pulled her arm free and ran into the house after Ricky, almost colliding with Jamila when she came back into the kitchen.

When she reached the marble hall, the door to one of the elevators closed, and Olivia ran to push the button as fast as she could in her slippers. But it was already on its way down to street level. Olivia stood tapping her slipper-clad foot impatiently, waiting for the other elevator to arrive, glancing nervously over at her front door to see if her mother was coming after her. She rushed in when the second elevator arrived and slammed the button for the lobby.

"Come on-come on-come on," Olivia repeated impatiently, watching the numbers fall. When the doors finally opened, she ran to the front door, which the doorman pulled open for her. "Did a tall guy in a school uniform come through here?"

"He went through the hotel lobby, Miss." The doorman gestured at the fire door leading into the hotel's lobby from the private residents' lobby.

"Thank you." Olivia quickly turned for the heavy door, heaving it open with an effort. She came out next to the hotel's reception. The lobby was a big open space with brown marble floors and columns. Several sitting areas were spread throughout, but she couldn't see Ricky anywhere. Olivia hurried toward the main entrance, excusing herself when she bumped into people entering the hotel. Outside, she glanced up and down the sidewalk before she spotted him on the street corner.
"Ricky!"

Ricky spun around, a lit cigarette between his lips while he stuffed his phone into his pocket. Olivia stayed under the hotel's maroon awning, pushing her glasses up her freckled nose, waiting as he came back.

"Uh." Olivia looked down at her slippers but decided it didn't matter. "Come." She waved for him to follow, and they went down the street a little, away from Lexington and the hotel entrance where people kept coming and going.

"So, what just happened up there?" Ricky asked when they stopped, breathing out a stream of smoke that quickly floated away in the air.

"Um." Olivia looked down at her clover ring and twirled it around on her finger. "It wasn't your fault. You don't have to worry about it." She rolled her eyes at herself, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry. That was inconsiderate. You've obviously got a lot bigger worries to think about." Ricky simply arched a brow and inhaled deeply from his cigarette, nodding. "So, um, you really don't remember anything?" Olivia looked up at him with furrowed brows. Ricky shook his head, and Olivia blew up her cheeks, letting out a long slow breath.

"You only have to tell Correll what happened. You won't get into any trouble. I mean," Ricky scratched at a scar running through his eyebrow with a thumb, "I'm pretty screwed if you don't help me."

Olivia nodded, focusing on her ring. If only he knew what telling the truth entailed. But then something dawned on her. "I don't understand why you're even a suspect. Joey was gone before we... went to the restroom. She was never anywhere near us." She shook her head, looking up at him, squinting her eyes against the sun.

"I don't know." Ricky wrinkled his brows. "Someone claimed they saw us there and that Birch was a mess."

"But," Olivia kept shaking her head from confusion, "Blaine came looking for Joey while we were in the restroom. She was never there." She looked Ricky directly in the eyes to emphasize her words.

"And that's the kind of information I need you to tell Correll." Ricky was eager now, his blood pumping, happy things finally seemed to go his way.

"Right." Olivia's cheek turned pink at the thought of revealing to Father Correll what she and Ricky had been doing in the restroom, dropping her gaze to the ground.

"What's the matter?" Ricky asked, concerned. He seriously hoped she wasn't backing down now.

Olivia sighed and looked back up at him with a grave face, wanting to make sure Ricky wasn't playing with her. "You truly don't remember what happened?" Her eyes flickered back and forth between his. His face was solemn as he shook his head slowly, not breaking their eye contact. "Claudia already seems to have a problem with me, and if she finds ou—"

"Banks?" Ricky wrinkled his brows, looking confused. "Why the fuck would she care? We're not together." Olivia bit her lip, looked down, and played with her small ring again. "What the fuck did I do?" Ricky asked hesitantly. Could the used condom in his underwear have been from having sex with Casini? He would officially be the world's biggest douche if he'd slept with her and then proceeded to throw in her face how he didn't remember.

Olivia continued to look down. "You didn't do anything," she said in a small voice and felt him take a step closer, unable to hear her clearly. She looked up at him briefly.

"But?"

"No buts." She shook her head, still looking down. "It— It was more..." Olivia exhaled heavily, hiding her face in her hands, and mumbled. "I-kin-as-u-kiss-ee."

"Uh, what?" Ricky looked confused. "I didn't quite catch that."

Before Olivia could repeat herself, they were interrupted yet again—this time by the sound of her father's booming voice.

"Olivia Christine Davenport Casini!"

Olivia snapped her head up with a sharp intake of breath.

"Fuck me," Ricky muttered in a low voice and raised his dark eyebrows at the angry man coming toward them, automatically taking a step back from Olivia. Ricky wasn't a stranger to being shouted at, but he never got the full name thing.

Olivia looked desperately from Ricky to her approaching father, who was all red in the face. "Dad, I just need one minute, please. Mom knows I'm down here."

"Out of the question. You are coming with me right now, young lady." Olivia sighed and looked up at Ricky, embarrassed she got told off in front of him. "Now, Liv!"

"All right."

"What class are you in before the lunch break tomorrow? I'll meet you there." Ricky grabbed Olivia's arm as she passed him, ignoring her father's angry huffing and puffing.

"I'm in computer lab four," Olivia answered, but William's patience had run out, and he grabbed her other arm, yanking her with him.

"Hey!" Ricky protested, letting go of Olivia.

"Don't," William warned, looking back at him with hard eyes.

Ricky could feel the familiar rage starting in the pit of his stomach. How had he possibly managed to not only get himself into trouble, but also Baz, and now Casini? When this whole mess was done with, she needed to stay as far away from him as possible. And he seriously needed to knock those warm brown eyes out of his head.