Hi there! This is my first Olicity fanfic. I haven't written in a while, so I'm still a little rusty; but I felt the need to pen down these thoughts. What I've written so far stems from exisiting olicity scenes, and contains spoilers (this chapter up to 2x08). However, in the following chapters I'm steering away from what's seen on the show and advancing in a direction of my choosing.

I'm currently looking for a beta reader. English isn't my first language, and I could use the help of someone to look over my writing and give me some pointers. So if anyone feels like giving me a hand it would be greatly appreciated! :) You can contact me here or in tumblr (link is in my profile)

Hope you enjoy it! If so, please like/comment. Encouragement or constructive critisms is always welcome :)

HAUNTED

You and I walk a fragile line
I have known it all this time

It started slow.

A lingering look.

She stood up straighter; Barry's hand on her back, hesitant, much like the boy's demeanor and stuttering speech. Seconds ago she'd felt so comfortable, happy even, lost in the music and the welcomed company. Barry whispered nonsense in her ear –much like she usually did– while they swayed in the middle of the room. Then she had to look behind Barry's shoulder and meet his eyes.

Oliver stood at the corner of the room, an empty glass of champagne in his hand. He was upset; even from across the room she could see the tension in his jaw. Over the last year she'd learnt how to read every line of his face, the subtle changes, and the facades. Right there he was impersonating pre-island Oliver, the one his guests were expecting to see; yet his stance and fixed stare resembled more her Oliver. His eyes pierced at her from across the room; she couldn't look away.

Barry lightly squeezed her hand he held to his chest, breaking the spell. She gave him a faint smile, feeling guilty, and confused about why.

When she looked around again he was gone.

Troubled thoughts swarmed her head. It wasn't the first sleepless night she'd had because of him, and surely wouldn't be the last. Even before finding out about his secret identity, the riddle that was Oliver Queen kept her awake. Over time curiosity turned into worry and now confusion.

She'd long ago come to terms with her affection for him, as well as the impossibility of ever acting on it… there were far too many reasons not to, which she had to remind herself time and again.

Still all it took was a look from him and she was gone. The gentle touch of his fingers against her neck. The warmth of his palm against her lower back. His deep, gravelly voice in her ear after a long night. It unnerved her to no end how he could disarm her so easily. The worst part was he wasn't even aware of it.

Sure, from the moment they met he knew how flustered she got because of his presence, especially by how she let words tumble from her mouth in a flurry, a stream of consciousness she most definitely wasn't intend on sharing. Yet he failed to notice –or consciously ignored– when his closeness or intensity made her speechless.

She shut her eyes tightly trying to forget the guilty look he gave her in Russia, at the door of his hotel room; or the apologetic tone with which he explained to her why he couldn't really be with anybody. She tried to do away with the memory of his hardened features when the count had her hostage, and the warmth of his palm against her cheek, telling her she was safe, that she was with him. And then there was the intensity in his eyes, as he took her hand in his and told her there wasn't a choice.

With an exasperated sigh she opened her eyes. She was reading into those little moments, the ones that helped her believe it wasn't all one-sided. Although he was an expert at pretending to be unaffected most of the time, she knew how to read him. What kept her up at night was the thought that he didn't care for her that way, the way she did for him, and was misreading the signs.

So she put on her poker face, as best as she could, as she always did, sat behind her desk and worked away, trying her best not to let the thoughts wander to the man next door who had taken over her life.