* I'm going to flag this chapter as underaged, just because the characters are currently seventeen here. Nothing too serious though. Read on at your discretion :)

23 YEARS EARLIER

Meredith walked down the halls of Gotham Academy, nose deep in an economics book. She had a presentation for the GAIA the next day, and had to make sure all of her information was correct— not like it always wasn't, but preparation never hurt.

She glanced up as she turned a corner to make sure she didn't run into anything. Down the hallway she spotted Bruce, leaning against a locker and offering a bright grin to some blonde named Chelsea. Meredith rolled her eyes.

Bruce and Oliver had recently ventured into the concept of being "playboys," as Oliver so coined it. She wasn't entirely sure what had happened to Bruce— at first, he was adamantly against it, but slowly Meredith watched the boy become more responsive to his typical plethora of followers— specifically the girls. And very specifically the attractive girls.

She watched the blonde giggle and hand her books to Bruce, who so graciously offered to carry them as they traveled down the hall.

Meredith narrowed her eyes. Bruce had never offered to carry her books before. (Not that she wouldn't decline— because she could definitely handle herself— but the offer would've been nice, regardless.)

The bell rang before Meredith could dwell any further on the subject.

Later at lunch, she was walking to her usual table where she, Bruce, and Oliver sat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver laughing with two of Chelsea's friends, some brunettes Meredith couldn't remember the names of.

She sat down at the table with her bookbag beside her. Oliver seemed busy, and Bruce rarely ever showed up at lunch these days. She exhaled in irritation. Both boys had gotten their licenses and now were never home— always at some party or seeing some girls or at some event.

And Meredith was invited, of course, and of course she declined because she had better things to do than waste her time with underaged drunks, but she rarely ever saw Bruce or Oliver anymore. Even when she did, they were always talking about this girl or that girl or blah blah blah— why didn't Meredith get that kind of attention from Bruce?

Or Oliver. Oliver, too.

Not that she only cared about Bruce because she most certainly didn't.

Meredith eyed the two girls Oliver was talking to. What about them made him want to talk to them so badly?

She noted their uniforms for the very first time. Their skirts were slightly shorter, with higher socks and tighter blazers. All not technically allowed by school dress code, but if your parents had enough money the rules never truly applied to you, anyway.

Meredith glanced down at herself. She'd never thought she was unattractive, she'd honestly just never really noticed her physical appearance. She liked to dye her hair darker. And wear pink lipgloss. And pluck her eyebrows thinner. But that was all mostly to look presentable at her dad's office— never to impress a boy.

She looked back up at the girls. She'd admit, they did look cute.

Meredith narrowed her eyes again.

She could probably do it better. Meredith Elias always did everything better, after all.

Perhaps... perhaps it was time she changed up her look.

* * *

As the week had gone by, Meredith did what Meredith did best and conducted a study of why Bruce and Oliver were so attracted to the girls they talked to. It was the only logical way to figure out what she needed to do to improve her appearance.

She'd compiled a list: tight blazers, short skirts, high socks, pretty makeup, and pretty hair.

It's what they all had in common, and it seemed simple enough.

So Meredith recruited her head maid Nancy's daughter, Elizabeth, who was the only girl Meredith would consider her friend, even though they saw each other sparingly.

Elizabeth was a few years older— a spunky redhead who had a fling with Devin a time or two— and fit all the requirements of what Bruce and Oliver apparently deemed "an attractive girl."

Elizabeth had jumped at the chance to help Meredith— the older girl was ironically a seamstress and knew how to perfectly hem all of Meredith's skirts to the appropriate length, and sinch her blazers to fit tighter around the torso. A little uncomfortable, in Meredith's opinion, but she was never the curviest girl and she supposed it made her waist look nice.

The redhead drove Meredith out to purchase new socks, and on the drive there, informed her of all the appropriate techniques to "flirt" with a guy. Apparently being cold and passive made men want you more, and Meredith already was, so at least she had that going for her

Uniform upgrades, check.

Elizabeth had recommended that Meredith dye her hair even darker, closer to pure black— something to do with bringing out her eyes. And then, while they did just that to her hair in the bathroom, the older girl showed Meredith how to apply a heavier eyeshadow than what she was used to, and introduced her to the wonders of red lipstick.

Meredith knew women in power always wore red. She liked that part the most.

It was now the following Monday morning, and with all of her upgrades over the weekend, Meredith was slightly nervous to go to school.

She stared at herself in her bedroom's full mirror. She looked... appropriately seventeen, with accentuated cheekbones and curled hair. Elizabeth had suggested vanilla perfume and black heeled boots, which made her legs appear longer coupled with the ankle-high socks.

She slung her book bag over her shoulder. She flashed herself a smile. She really did like the red lipstick.

On her way out of the house, instead of taking her usual gray Mercedes, she glanced towards the black mustang that Devin used to drive. It was two-door and not exactly Meredith's style, but it was Bruce's. Maybe he'd like that.

Not that she cared what Bruce thought.

She grabbed the keys and got in the car.

When she finally arrived in her designated parking spot, it was 7:55 in the morning. Everyone had to be in class by 8:15, and Bruce typically got there at 7:50, mostly so he could flirt with that Chelsea girl again. Ugh.

Amongst the sea of parking cars and bustling students, she saw Bruce's gleaming McLaren right next to her spot as she pulled in. As usual, the boy leaned against the driver's side of the black vehicle, displaying his best million-dollar grin as he laughed at something the blonde said.

Nerves welled in Meredith's chest as she stopped the Mustang and clicked off her seatbelt. She exhaled. Then she popped open the door handle and stepped out, purposely ignoring the two teenagers to her left.

"Oh my God, Brucie, you're so funny!" Chelsea giggled.

Meredith pretended to crack her neck and fix her hair, staring off at some students in the distance.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the smile fall off of Bruce's face as he turned to her.

"I'll, uh, be right back," Meredith caught him saying.

She bit down a grin and reached into the car again to grab her leather book bag. Although she had made sure all of the contents could perfectly fit inside, she purposely pulled out a few books, just in case a certain someone happened to offer to carry them.

"Hey, Mare," a voice greeted her.

She pulled out of the vehicle and put her bag over her shoulder, brushing her hair down again.

Be cold and passive. Cold and passive. Cold and passive.

She raised an unamused eyebrow as she closed the door. "What."

She turned to see Bruce's eyes trailing up her body. When he realized she was staring at him, he noticeably flushed red. His gaze snapped to her face. "Oh, uh, just wondering... how you were doing?"

"Fine." Meredith locked the car. "Can I help you with something?"

Please say yes. Please say yes.

"I just, well, was noticing that you... did you do something different with your hair?"

Her heart swelled in delight. He noticed.

She stared at him blankly. "Not really."

"Oh. You look... different."

"I just changed my lipstick color. Usually, it's pink."

And I cut my hair and dyed it and hemmed my clothes and changed my socks and drove a different car all so you would notice me.

"Right. Well, uh, it looks good."

It looks good. He said it looks good! Screaming. Literally screaming. Oh my God.

She hummed in disinterest to distract from the smile that wanted to pull at her lips. "If there's nothing relevant you have to ask me, I'm going to class."

Follow me. Please follow me.

She began to walk away, and disappointment welled in her throat with each step she took.

"Hey, wait up!" He suddenly called from behind her.

With her back turned to him she allowed herself a small smile.

In a few large strides, Bruce was easily gliding alongside her. Meredith made her face fall flat again. Although her eyes were on the entrance to the school, she noticed classmates turning their attention to her. She ignored it.

"What do you want, Bruce?" She sighed exasperatedly.

"I was just going to class, too. Figured I'd walk with you."

"Don't you usually walk with Chelsea?"

"I mean, sometimes, but it's hardly a consistent thing."

Liar. You walk with her every day.

"A huh."

They fell into silence as they ascended the steps at the front of the school.

"So," Bruce continued. "You're actually allowed to drive Devin's car?"

She most definitely wasn't— Devin never let anyone touch his cars— but he was away at Oxford right now, and it's not like Bruce needed to know she'd stolen it.

She shrugged. "Mine was in the shop. Figured I'd borrow it for a while."

"What was wrong with it?"

"Just an oil change," she lied smoothly.

They walked through the doors into the rather grand entrance for a high school. People were still turning and staring at her— what was up with that?

"Oh, well, you could've asked me to do it, you know. It wouldn't have been that hard."

"I thought you and Oliver were at some country club party thing last night."

Bruce paused for a moment. "I probably could've found time to swing by."

"Mhm."

"I could show you how to do it sometime, too! It's pretty easy."

"Uh, I'm good, thanks. There's a reason we have mechanics to do things for us."

They fell into silence again, which gave Meredith time to tune in to all the whispers suddenly floating around the corridor. All eyes seemed to be on her and Bruce. Was her changing a few things about her appearance seriously that big of a deal?

Not that she couldn't deal with a little attention from the public. She was Meredith Elias, after all.

"I could carry those if you want," Bruce suddenly offered, gesturing to the books in her hands.

Meredith just about flatlined on the spot.

She played off the smile she could barely contain as an amused smirk. She playfully raised a brow. "I can handle my books, Bruce."

"No, I mean, I know you can, I just—"

She cut him off as they started walking up the stairs to the second floor. "Don't you have math right now?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Isn't that on the first floor?"

"Well, yeah, but I can just take the long way."

"I can walk myself to class. I'm a junior now— I'm not going to get lost."

"Can't I just spend some time with you, Marrie?"

Marrie. That's a nickname he hadn't thrown around in a long time. She'd be a liar if she didn't say her heart slightly fluttered.

She paused as she reached the landing, turning around so he was still a few steps below and eye-level with her. They were close. She smirked softly. "Wouldn't want you to be late for class, Brooch."

She watched his stormy blue eyes widen into two bright crystals as red exploded across his face.

"I'll see you at lunch," she added before whirling around and leaving him standing there.

Meredith made a quick detour into the bathroom right before her history class. She could hardly contain the grin that burst out on her face from his reaction. Everything went exactly as planned. She stared at herself in the mirror. Something about this red lipstick made her feel bold.

She played back their interaction, and couldn't help the tiny squeal that crept out of her throat as she stomped her feet repeatedly.

There was commotion from next to her, and she turned her head to find three girls walking in, all giving her bizarre looks.

Meredith immediately frowned. "What?"

They appeared taken aback, quickly exiting the bathroom.

Meredith exhaled again, the pleasant smile still on her face.

Bruce had looked handsome— like he did every day— tall and lean with messy black hair and a fitted uniform. And he was extra attractive, Meredith realized, when his attention was all on her.

She let out a sigh.

She was so excited for lunch.

* * *

Bruce found himself drifting down the hall to his next class in somewhat of a daze. The space in his mind was currently taken up by red lips and long legs and dark hair. He'd spent the entirety of the last four periods thinking... very not-school-appropriate things.

It was all he could do but keep himself in his pants.

"Dude!" A voice called.

Bruce relatively snapped out of whatever trance he was in to see Oliver walking towards him, blond hair falling all over the place, as it usually was by this time of day. Oliver stopped a few feet away and fell into stride with Bruce.

The blond lowered his voice. "Hey, why the hell is everyone talking about Meredith? I can't figure out what's going on."

"She..." The words died on Bruce's tongue. She what? She was currently the most attractive thing Bruce had ever seen in his seventeen years? She was currently giving him the most inappropriate thoughts he'd probably ever had? She was currently making him desperately want to invite her over to the Manor after school to...

His mind suddenly switched to a scenario where she'd come over to use the indoor hot tub. Bruce nearly started drooling. His pants were beginning to get uncomfortable.

He shook his head rapidly. "I don't know."

"You don't know? Why the fuck do you look like that then?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Look like what?"

"Like you're freaking out or something. What gives?"

"I-I'm not freaking out!"

"Hey!"

The voice Bruce had been dreaming about for the last four periods echoed down the hall. In his head, it had preferably been saying his name, but this wasn't bad, either.

They turned around to see Meredith Elias storming down the hall in her typical fury and it was official— Bruce had never been more attracted to a girl in his life.

Next to him, Oliver's jaw hit the floor.

"Holy fuck," the blond muttered as she approached them.

Meredith was glancing around like she was disgusted. "Ugh. I don't get why everyone keeps staring at me!"

Oliver looked bewildered. "You don't?"

"No! Like, Jesus! I change my lipstick shade for one day and suddenly everyone thinks it's okay to gossip about me!"

"Uh, I don't think it's just the lipstick." Oliver was repeatedly glancing up and down her body. Bruce would be a liar if he said he wasn't doing the same.

"Then what else could it be?!"

"You really don't know?" Oliver questioned.

"No!"

The blond stared at her in confusion. "Uh, it's 'cause you look sexy, Mare! That's why!"

Meredith's mouth fell open. She seemed appalled at the sudden, albeit true, statement. "Oliver Jonas! Don't be disgusting!"

"Disgusting?" He asked as she walked in between them and they followed her towards the cafeteria. "I'm just telling you the truth! I'm not saying you don't look good, because believe me, you do. Pretty Boy over here is drooling all over the halls."

Bruce quickly turned a glare over Meredith's head and towards the other boy. "Am not!"

Meredith scoffed. "Both of you are just ridiculous. So I got some new socks and wore different boots. Big deal. You're blowing this out of proportion, Oliver."

They pushed open the doors to the large cafe and the usually loud room nearly fell dead silent. Bruce immediately bristled at all the attention clearly aimed at Meredith— specifically the male attention.

Oliver leaned in towards her. "Oh, really? Blowing this out of proportion?"

Meredith looked stunned before adjusting her shoulders, tilting her nose up, and flashing her coldest look towards the room. "What are you all staring at?"

There was a moment of hesitation before everyone turned back to their meals and chatter rose into the air again.

Bruce nearly groaned. That was just typical Meredith Elias. Was it bad that he found it so unbelievably hot?

They walked up to their usual table to see it already occupied. Bruce's blood pressure shot through the roof at the sight of a grinning Johnny Prescott with three of his friends.

"Hey there, Marrie," Johnny drawled.

Bruce clenched his fists behind his back. Marrie was not Prescott's nickname to use.

Johnny whistled quietly. "I thought the rumors were fake— but you look stunning, Meredith. Really."

"Thanks," Meredith deadpanned, looking unamused. "Now get out of my seat."

She moved to sit down, expecting Johnny to get up, but the brunette simply put an arm around her waist and tugged her down next to him. "It's like you knew red was my favorite color or something."

Bruce was about two seconds away from losing it. He caught Oliver shooting him a cautious look out of the corner of his eye.

Meredith scrunched her face up and shoved Johnny away. "I heard you telling Jessica Fenton last week that your favorite color was green like the color of her sweater."

Johnny frowned. "C'mon Mare—"

"Don't call me that."

"—I wanna take you out to dinner. I got an incredible place, you'd love it—"

"Fuck off, Johnny."

"—as long as you're wearing that skirt there—"

"She said," Bruce found himself stepping forward and gripping the other boy's collar, yanking him off of the bench. "Fuck off."

Johnny, who had begrudgingly grown up to be relatively attractive, must to Bruce's dismay, regained his footing and stood up to full height. He was immediately scrunching his brows with a challenge, face directly in Bruce's.

"Oh?" The brunette spat. "I don't remember asking you to dinner, Wayne."

"I don't remember caring, Prescott. Leave us alone."

Johnny barked out a laugh. "Us? I'm only asking the chick you wish was your girlfriend."

Bruce's blood boiled. "I don't—"

"Aw," Prescott pouted mockingly. "Poor Pretty Boy, heartbroken over the only girl he can't have. Boohoo. Just because you failed doesn't mean I can't have a turn."

"Prescott, you better get the hell out of my face or—"

"Or what? You're gonna hurt me? I'm so scared." Johnny snickered. "I just wanna see how she is beneath the sheets. I bet she's—"

Bruce's fist suddenly nailed him directly in the face and the brunette was sent crashing into the table.

All hell broke loose in the cafeteria.

Clamoring erupted from the crowd as everyone quickly realized there was a fight. Meredith stood up, shouting at Bruce who didn't care about anything else other than Johnny, who was now blazing mad and pushing himself up off of the ground. Johnny's friends were immediately rushing to his side, and Oliver was pushing them away as Bruce reached for Johnny's collar again.

"You take that back, Prescott!" Bruce shouted.

"Fuck you!" The brunette nearly screeched. "You're still such a piece of shit! I swear to you I'm gonna—"

Johnny tried to lunge at him and Bruce stepped to the side. He was about to go for Johnny again before Oliver had his arms around Bruce and was dragging him away.

"Chill, dude!" Oliver yelled over the commotion and the chants to continue the fight.

Bruce struggled against the blond. Damn Oliver— the boy had too much upper body strength.

"Wayne! Prescott! Queen!" The distinctive and deep voice of Gotham Academy Dean Thomas rumbled over the crowd, causing everyone to fall silent. "My office! Now!"

Bruce stopped straining against Oliver. He heard Oliver sigh, saying something along the lines of not again.

As the blond let him go, Bruce could only think one thing: Meredith was so not going to be happy, and he could kiss his indoor hot-tubbing fantasy goodbye.

God damnit.

* * *

Bruce sat in the uncomfortable, crappy wooden chair outside of the Dean's office. He and this chair were rather familiar with each other, though it had been a while since they'd last met. It was a bitter reunion.

Oliver sat next to him, arms crossed and scowling at the wall across from them. Johnny was currently in the office with Dean Thomas.

"My dad's gonna be mad at me for getting in trouble. So thanks for that, asshole," the blond grumbled.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "You didn't need to get involved."

"You didn't need to get involved!" Oliver retorted, gesturing widely with his hands. "Of course I'm not gonna leave you out to dry! But what the hell, man? Johnny says one offhanded comment and you're suddenly losing your shit?"

Bruce glared at him. "You heard what he said about her."

"Oh, c'mon, you know Johnny's just blowing smoke like he always does. And if you didn't step in I'm sure Mare would've given him shit for it on her own."

It was true, she definitely would've.

"Whatever."

They were silent.

"Mare's gonna be mad at you."

"I know."

Silence.

"And what happened to the plan?" Oliver finally asked. "You were doing well."

Bruce scowled. After the dance sophomore year, Meredith had never shown much interest in Bruce (which definitely totally did not make him disappointed at all). Oliver had then decided a few months later when junior year began that the only way for Bruce to properly get over Meredith would be to find someone else.

Not that Bruce was opposed to flirting with pretty girls— although it was a little nerve-wracking at first— but Oliver had also brought up the point that it may make Meredith jealous. A long shot, considering she didn't care about much other than business, though the thought was enough to make Bruce go along with the plan.

Also, he'd started to enjoy the reputation it gave him— it made everyone believe he was nothing more than a wayward billionaire's son— it made everyone underestimate him. Bruce liked to be underestimated.

"I..." Bruce sighed. He had been doing well— Chelsea was slowly proving to be pretty fun to talk to, or at least that's what he convinced himself of— but how could Oliver expect him to even function when Meredith showed up looking like that.

"You thought she looked hot."

Bruce groaned quietly and slid a hand down his face.

"You're a dog, Bruce."

A pause.

"You're gonna try and ask her to hang out after this."

Bruce glanced at the blond who was giving him a knowing look. The son of Gotham couldn't control the guilty smile on his lips. Oliver knew him well.

"I might."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Just use protection."

Bruce widened his eyes. "I'm not inviting her over for anything like that."

"Dude, you were like half-hard in the hallway!"

"I was not," Bruce hissed.

Yes, he was.

"Yeah-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Liar."

"Asshole."

"At least I'm an asshole who tells the truth!"

"Just shut up."

Oliver snickered. After a few moments, Bruce found himself chuckling along with the blond.

"Nothing about this is funny," Bruce said, trying to wipe the grin off of his face but failing, tilting his head back to rest on the wall.

"It's a little funny. You were totally sporting a boner earlier. It was so obvious."

Bruce punched him in the arm.

Oliver punched him back. "You're not even denying it!"

Bruce ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. "Whatever, Ol."

The blond's bold laugh echoed down the hall.

* * *

Meredith stood outside by the black Mustang, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. It was now the end of school, most of the parking lot had cleared out, and Bruce and Oliver were still in the Dean's office.

She knew she should've been mad like she always was when Bruce used to get in fights. But this time the fight was over her, and it was maybe just a little attractive when Bruce got aggressive like that.

She should dress like this more often, she decided.

Faint voices pulled her attention and she turned to finally see the two of them walking down the steps at the front of the school. All things considered, they seemed to be in a good mood as they chuckled amongst themselves.

As they got closer, she started to walk up to them. "So how bad is it?"

Oliver waved her off. "Not horrible. I worked my magic and had it reduced from a suspension to two-day detention. Prescott got it worse for provoking it."

She furrowed her brows. "But Bruce is the one who threw the first punch."

The blond shrugged. "I dropped your name and said you'd be very upset that Johnny made some 'derogatory remarks' towards you."

She rolled her eyes. "If it works, it works, I guess."

"Yeah, well, anyway, I'm outta here." Oliver abruptly gave a two-finger salute and began walking towards his car.

"Wait!" Meredith called. "You aren't gonna stay to hang out with us?"

He turned back around and glanced at Bruce for a second. "Uh, nope. You two have fun though!"

Meredith stared after him quizzically. She tilted her look to Bruce, who simply shrugged.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Bruce, you don't always need to defend me like that, you know. I can handle myself."

The boy scoffed, crossing his arms and staring off behind her. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

"What?"

He locked eyes with her. He sighed. "I... I don't like when he talks about you like that."

Meredith decided to cut him a break. Just this once, and only because he looked ravishingly handsome. She smiled playfully. "I can tell."

Bruce appeared surprised. She assumed it was because he was used to her typically berating him for being a dumbass after a fight.

"I guess I should say thanks for looking out for me, Bruce."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure."

There was a long stillness.

Meredith started to turn around. "Well, I'm gonna get home then. I have some work for a GAIA meeting tomorrow morning—"

"Do you wanna come over?" Bruce suddenly blurted out.

She stopped. She hadn't hung out with Bruce alone in a long time. It was true, she did have a lot of work, but she noticed him pulling at his fingers and biting the inside of his cheek, meaning he was probably nervous. She studied his face.

Fuck— Bruce was handsome. She didn't know when he had gotten so attractive.

She angled her body to face him again. "Uh, sure. What did you have in mind?"

He shrugged again. "Well... I think Alfred's actually gone for the afternoon. We could use the pool, if you wanted?"

She blinked. "The pool? You hate the pool."

"Just thought it would be a fun change."

She narrowed her eyes. "Right... well, I'd have to stop at home and find a bathing suit if I even own one, and I guess I need to wash this lipstick stuff off. It's apparently causing too much conversation."

"No!"

She stared at him like he was crazy.

"I mean, uh, I just don't think you should listen to what others have to say. I... I think you look pretty good."

"Alright, then," Meredith finally decided before clicking her car key and unlocking the Mustang, barely containing herself from exploding at the fact that he said she looked pretty good. "I'll be over in an hour."

He gave her one curt nod. "Sure. See you soon."

* * *

Bruce burst through the garage doors to the Manor in a state of panic.

What was he thinking? Inviting Meredith over to use the pool (cough, see her in a bathing suit, cough) while they were alone would definitely not be allowed by her parents or Alfred. But the butler was in the city for the day, attending Lucius Fox's engagement party— Bruce had only just gotten out of it by claiming he "had too much homework."

And Bruce assumed Meredith was smart enough not to let her parents know what they were doing, so there was theoretically no way they were going to get caught.

He was running up the stairs to the second floor, throwing open the door to his room— the one right next to his parent's master bedroom— and tossed his book bag on the ground. He made a beeline for his closet.

Bruce barely owned regular shorts, did he even have swim trunks?

He was deep into one of the many drawers, haphazardly throwing handfuls of clothes to the floor— he'd just clean it up later.

He was onto the third drawer before he heard the ringing of his cell phone. He groaned, hurrying back out of the walk-in closet, and praying it wasn't Alfred questioning what he was doing.

Bruce located the leather book bag and dug around for his phone.

CALL FROM: OLIVER QUEEN.

He sighed in relief, pressing answer and walking back to the closet.

"What?" Bruce asked as he went to the drawers again.

"Hey!" Oliver's voice came over the phone. "I was just wondering what you and Mare ever ended up doing?"

"Uh..." Bruce stepped back, looking around the closet to see where else the swim trunks could be. He moved to another section. "She's coming over to swim."

"To swim? Ooooo," Oliver teased. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "It's not serious."

"Please. You hate the pool. You just wanna see her in minimal clothing."

"Shut up."

Oliver laughed. "Do you even own trunks?"

"Looking right now."

"You wanna borrow a pair of mine? I can drop them off."

In the corner of one of the drawers, Bruce suddenly found what he was looking for. He pulled out the black shorts. "No. Just found them."

"Oh, good. You know—"

Bruce put the phone on speaker and left it on one of the shelves. He began to pull off his uniform tie and blazer.

"—you should probably get a lift in before she comes over. Make the muscles look good and all that."

As he took off the white-collared shirt, Bruce turned to the full-body mirror on the wall and inspected himself. He and Oliver had been in the gym recently, and Bruce thought he looked decent— but not where he wanted to be by a long shot.

"I don't need to—" Bruce stared at himself again. Maybe he was a little too lean. His arms could look better. His chest needed work. "You... you think?"

"I mean, couldn't hurt. Do you have time?"

"I guess. Do you think Meredith even cares?"

"I dunno— I was changing in the parking lot a week ago and she saw me with no shirt on. She didn't seem to care."

Bruce chose to ignore why the blond was changing in the school parking lot as he scoffed. "Says you."

Much to Bruce's chagrin, Oliver probably had the better upper body between the two of them. Bruce always blamed it on the fact that the blond was around two inches shorter than him, which contributed to his muscles looking more developed.

"Hey, don't be jealous, Pretty Boy," he could hear the cocky grin in Oliver's voice. "A lot of people wanna look like me— you're not alone. But if it helps, I think you look good!"

"Whatever. I've gotta go. She said she'll be here in an hour."

With the swim trunks in hand and the phone in the other, Bruce walked out of the closet.

"Okay, okay— remember to shower after and use cologne! Maybe the one I got you last year for your birthday!"

Bruce smiled slightly, shaking his head. Every year for his birthday, Oliver always got him a different, ridiculously expensive cologne. It was now a running joke between them since they were seven.

"Yeah, yeah. Bye—"

"And make sure to have drinks ready!"

"I know—"

"You can't let her get dehydrated, that's being a rude host."

"Okay—"

"And be personable! Sometimes you get quiet and brooding, so whatever you do, don't be yourself."

Bruce scowled. "Ollie—"

"And be smart! Do you want me to drop off condoms?"

His eyes widened slightly. "Goodbye, Oliver."

Bruce hung up in the middle of the blond's chuckles.

He shook his head again. What an asshole Oliver Queen was.

* * *

Meredith pulled up to the roundabout at Wayne Manor, pleased with herself that she had smoothly lied to her parents and told them she was "going to an extra GAIA meeting at school." They probably wouldn't like her going over to swim at Bruce's alone.

Alone! Them. Alone. Bruce. With no shirt. She was going to die.

She was a bundle of nerves as she stepped out of the vehicle, a towel stuffed in her usual bookbag instead of her actual school supplies. Had to be discreet.

Meredith locked the car and began walking up the long path. She had on a bathing suit disguised by her regular school uniform— it was Elizabeth's; navy blue tied with strings— Meredith had never had a bathing suit with strings before. Her parents would definitely not approve.

She reached the door. She took a breath before raising her hand and knocking it a few times against the solid wood.

A few moments later, the door opened and there was Bruce, standing in a gray shirt and black swim trunks. He smiled at her. Her heart dropped.

"Hey," he greeted, moving aside for her to step in.

"Hi."

"Your parents said it was okay for you to come over?" he asked as he shut the door.

"Yeah, of course."

They both knew she was lying. They both opted to ignore it.

He turned around and gestured for her to follow him down to the indoor pool.

"So," she started, hoping to fill the awkward silence. The Manor seemed oddly quiet— almost reprimanding them, in a way, for being there alone. "What made you want to use the pool? It's starting to get kinda cold for that, don't you think?"

"It's heated, Mare."

A light blush fell across her cheeks as she scowled. "I know that. But it's November, Bruce. That's not really pool weather."

He was silent as they turned another corner, with the doors to the pool at the end of the hall.

"That's... a pretty good point. We could, uh, use the hot tub, if you wanted?"

She almost faltered in her steps at the casual question. The hot tub was... a lot smaller than a pool. Meaning they were going to be in very close proximity to each other. With minimal clothes on.

Yeah. She was definitely dying.

"Sure, whatever." She waved it off coolly. "If you want."

They entered the pool area, with vaulted ceilings, expensive tile floors, and big windows overlooking the lush grounds of the Wayne Manor. Several lounge chairs and tables were surrounding the Olympic-sized pool— she remembered the large parties Thomas and Martha used to have in the summer here.

The water was still and their footsteps echoed around the room as they made their way over to the hot tub off to the corner. Still sizable, all things considered.

As they stopped at a set of lounge chairs, Meredith was suddenly astronomically embarrassed at the thought of taking her outfit off. It shouldn't have been a big deal. She'd been in a bathing suit in front of Bruce at her family's yearly trip to Miami, but that was around other people. This, with the two of them alone, right after he'd punched Johnny Prescott in the face for her, felt a lot more serious.

Bruce turned away, setting the brown slippers he had been wearing on one of the chairs. "You know, it was so ironic. Oliver was actually telling me about..."

She completely lost track of what he was saying as he absentmindedly took off his shirt mid-sentence. He didn't seem bothered as he continued with the story, while Meredith did her best not to start panicking on the spot.

Bruce was lean and tall and chiseled and good God— he had these arms— ugh. Meredith was going to look like a complete moron.

"Mare?"

She turned up. "Huh?"

"I said, isn't that funny?"

"Uh, yeah. So funny." She tried her hardest to keep her eyes on his and not trailing down to ogle his chest.

Meredith kept her face cool as she turned back to slip her shoes off, but internally she was absolutely panicking. She'd never been very insecure— for the most part, she just didn't care— but suddenly she found herself running through a list of every girl Bruce had ever talked to and realizing she wasn't the curviest or most full-figured girl, with pretty hips and cleavage to spare because that's apparently what boys liked— that's what Elizabeth had— that's how Chelsea was— that's how all of those models in magazines looked and Meredith didn't look like the models, not by a long shot.

"So, anyway, I heard that the..." he continued.

She bit her lip.

But she didn't care. No, she didn't. Because she was Meredith Elias, who was rich and smart and cunning and better than everyone else, and she didn't care what some stupid seventeen-year-old boy had to say about her— especially not the likes of Bruce Wayne because he was totally stupid and impulsive and hot and kind and had no shirt on at the moment and—

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It's just Bruce, who cried when he was three because you wouldn't share your toys. No big deal. It's just Bruce.

She pulled her tie off and unbuttoned the white collared shirt, back completely turned to him as she draped it over one of the lounge chairs.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

She had to get in the water at some point— and she wasn't going to admit to Bruce that she felt bad about how she looked.

She pushed her skirt down and left it on the chair as well.

Bruce had gone dead silent.

Her heartbeat picked up, and out of sheer nervousness, she turned around to face him with a scowl. "Weren't you saying something?"

His face was blank.

"Uh, r-right." His voice was breathy and she wanted to crawl up in her bed and die— he was definitely judging her.

She turned around and started walking towards the steaming water.

* * *

Bruce was panicked as they entered the pool area.

What if he didn't look good enough? What if he wasn't funny enough? What if Meredith liked someone else and was just here out of obligation— Bruce wasn't going to think about that because he'd probably have to go fight whoever it was that she liked and he wasn't really in the mood to get in trouble again.

They came to a halt by two lounge chairs near the hot tub.

He couldn't believe she'd given him the perfect opportunity to bring up the hot tub. He nearly had a heart attack when asking her, trying to sound as casual as he possibly could.

And then she said yes!

Oliver would be losing his shit at the moment. Bruce was trying to not lose his shit, but it wasn't working too well, so he faced away from her and started telling some random story to break the awkward silence.

"You know, it was so ironic," he began as he pulled his shirt off. "Oliver was actually telling me about the new hot tub that his parents are installing in his house, and then made fun of me for never using mine. But here I am, though. So jokes on him. Funny, right?"

He didn't receive a response.

Bruce furrowed his brows. "Mare?"

He turned around and saw her staring at the ground. She looked up. "Huh?"

"I said, isn't that funny?"

"Uh, yeah. So funny," she said in a way that told Bruce she thought it was anything but.

And... he was nervous again. She thought he was unfunny. And probably boring. And thanks to Oliver, a wayward playboy. Great.

"So, anyway," he started again as she took her shoes off. "I heard that the GAIA just gained another million in funding from Joseph Scarpelli's parents. That's pretty... uh..."

The words died in his throat as he pulled off her tie and unbuttoned her white collared shirt, revealing a strappy blue bikini top.

The hot tub fantasy was suddenly all too real.

She turned around and shot him a glare. "Weren't you saying something?"

Christ— that was so uncool of him. He felt his face heating up. At least he could blame it on the steam from the hot tub.

"Uh, r-right. The funding. For the club. It's really... um..."

Her skirt fell to the floor and Bruce just about flatlined on the spot, eyes trailing over her legs and waist. She placed it on the chair and walked towards the hot tub. Bruce somehow found it in himself to follow her— not like he needed much convincing.

If he wasn't so panicked, he would've found it a little fascinating how easily every insecurity he'd ever had about himself was suddenly pressing against the front of his brain because wow Meredith was... probably the hottest girl on the planet, and nothing was ever enough for her so Bruce doubted he would be, but he'd damn well try.

She stepped into the water, hissing slightly as she waded into the pool. He followed after her, the water on his legs honestly not as hot as... some other areas of his body.

He had to begrudgingly tear his gaze away from her as he turned around to face him.

She sighed softly, closing her eyes in satisfaction as the water reached the bottom of her sternum.

That was definitely not helping his situation.

"So, tell me about the funding for GAIA," he prompted.

She opened her eyes. "Oh. Sure. Well, the money from the Scarpelli's is going to benefit our long-term investments, but I came up with a plan to put the majority of it into more of our short-term stuff, actually. And it's going pretty well, save for the fact that..."

It was easy to fall into conversation with Meredith. He'd spent the last few months trying to spend time away from her— trying to talk to other girls and put on this persona of "Brucie Wayne" 24/7— which was exhausting if he had to admit. Meredith, on the other hand, knew him. He didn't have to put on a farce— Bruce was never much of a conversationalist, and she knew that. He simply got to sit there and let her do most of the talking, as he liked, occasionally adding in his commentary. It was nice to hear about Meredith's passions— a lot of the girls he talked to recently didn't have many passions aside from him or his money.

He chuckled slightly. "You really told Joseph that? After his parents gave you a million dollars?"

"Well, what am I supposed to do, Bruce?" she asked exasperatedly. "I can't just have him acting like an asshole! Besides, I could backfill the money with my trust fund easily. I don't need his family."

Bruce tilted his head back in a rare laugh as he leaned on the side of the hot tub. Throughout the conversation, he had somehow found his way over next to her. "But did you really have to add in the part where you said his father was a scumbag?"

She looked taken aback. "Wha— it's true, is it not?"

Bruce shook his head in amusement. "You're horrible."

"You say horrible, I say cunning." Meredith shrugged. "Same thing."

They fell into silence, and Bruce was nervous again. He knew what the quiet meant— it was always the time where things got serious and... personal.

"I can't believe I wore lipstick just once and everyone at school freaked out." Meredith scoffed. "What small-minded idiots."

He studied her face. She didn't have makeup on anymore, which didn't matter because Bruce always thought Meredith looked pretty, but he had admittedly liked the red lips

He lowered his voice slightly. "I thought you looked good today."

She glared playfully. "Just today?"

"No." He rolled his eyes and hesitated for a second. "I, uh, think you look good every day."

She appeared appropriately stunned. Bruce wasn't very forward like that often, but it seemed called for at the moment.

"Oh. Um, well, thank you. If it helps, I think you look good, too." Her eyes fell away from his and towards his chest. Self-consciousness flamed underneath his skin. "You've been working out with Oliver recently, right?"

He chuckled breathily— too nervously for all the months he'd been pretending to be some womanizer. "I-I mean, yeah, but it's not like I— uh..."

Her hand was suddenly trailing down his arm.

"I can tell," she replied absentmindedly.

"I mean I, um." Bruce's voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't think I look that great or anything, really, I just—"

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Don't put yourself down so much, Brooch. You're..." She paused. "You're attractive."

He was definitely living on some other, foreign planet. A planet where Meredith Elias apparently thought Bruce was attractive. Meredith Elias. Thought he was attractive. Was he delusional? He had to be. There was no way she actually thought that and then proceeded to admit it out loud.

"Oh." He purposely had to remind himself to swallow. Bruce was never too good at accepting compliments, and Meredith was never too good at giving them.

He didn't know what else to do.

They sat in uncomfortable silence, and Meredith's face slowly shifted from one of placidness to irritation. "Oh my G— for crying out loud, just kiss me already, Bruce."

He was absolutely taken aback. "I— what?"

She looked like she had realized she made a mistake. "U-unless you don't want to..."

"No, I do! I just didn't realize that you wanted to."

She glared again. "Would I be alone in a hot tub with you lying to my parents about where I am and telling you that you're attractive if I didn't want to?"

"I don't know! I just—"

"Bruce."

"Right."

Bruce usually wasn't a fan of being told what to do, but he typically (begrudgingly) listened to Meredith— mostly because listening to Meredith earned him brownie points and Bruce liked to be in her good graces because it paid off in moments like this where he really enjoyed being told what to do.

And now he got to experience the best kinds of moments, the ones where he got to capture her lips with his and touch her waist and feel her skin— lots of skin, especially in a bathing suit, and suddenly in the back of his mind, he was reminded that he would be in a lot of trouble if he got caught but then another voice responded, saying that he didn't care.

She pulled one hand away from his chest and reached up to her neck. Bruce slid his eyes open briefly in confusion, only to be greeted with the sight of her pulling at one of the navy strings.

Her top slowly fell between the two of them and that was it, Bruce was sure he had to be drooling, like a kid on Christmas morning, as he started to understand that she wanted something— something more than a kiss, he knew that, but he wasn't sure exactly what. His mind, on the other hand, was happy to fill in the unknown blanks for him.

She chuckled at what his face must've looked like, her voice soft and dripping in bedroom rasp.

"You can touch if you want," she murmured as he reached up to kiss him again.

His eyes slid shut at the offer and he allowed his hands to roam around her— unexplored parts which he only sometimes dreamt about but figured Meredith would never do so much as even allow him near.

Her hand slid a little lower down his chest, grazing below his waistline and he groaned, pulling her closer— greedily grabbing at fistfuls of skin and the expanse of her back and he deepened the kiss as she sighed— Bruce loved when she did that.

He was very evidently enjoying himself as she pulled apart briefly and whispered quietly in his ear. "Should we take this somewhere... else?"

It was like being on top of the entire world and he barely stopped himself from grinning because she said that to him, not Johnny or Brady or some other irrelevant bastard who couldn't possibly treat her the way Bruce could. Meredith, with her soft lips and pretty skin and the way everything just felt like butter that molded so well against him—

"Sure," he replied evenly as he bent down and nearly pressed his lips to her before a loud sound rang out through the pool area.

They paused.

Bruce forced himself not to squeeze his eyes shut and groan in annoyance.

The doorbell.

"Crap," he hissed. "Alfred's home."

She pressed her lips into a pout and he sighed. They looked so very kissable. He found himself leaning in again.

Meredith chuckled, pressing her hands to his chest and pushing him away gently. "Maybe next time, tiger."

She moved to get out of the water and he huffed as he watched her pull up her top again. He felt a wave of disappointment at the loss of the nice view. God damnit.

Bruce quietly slapped the surface of the water as he got out.

It was always next time, wasn't it?

* * *

Hello again everyone! Thank you all so much for the kind responses on my last chapter- I really appreciated them! Just for that, I decided to post this one a little quicker than I usually would. I hope everyone is enjoying this story so far- we're about half way through as long as everything goes according to my outline :) Thanks for almost 29k and, as usual, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

xo Alexa