A/N: So, for those who liked, followed, and reviewed this story and said that it's worth following through, here is the next chapter. This chapter and the ones that will follow won't be as long as the first one, which was originally meant to be a one-shot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or its characters, but I'm such a big fan of Olicity.
Chapter 2: Musings and Vanilla Ice Cream
Oliver did let go of her hand that afternoon, albeit hesitantly, because that handshake was not just any ordinary handshake to him. It was a hard-earned prize for exercising patience and restraint. He had waited. He planned for the perfect encounter carefully. He studied her and sought her out with a kind of self-control that he never thought he had, and it surprised him to discover that he had it in him to delay gratification out of respect for another human being, who, in this particular case, was an extraordinary female. To Oliver, Felicity was different. Unlike every other woman in his life who either ran after him recklessly or was a willing victim of his selfish whims and fantasies, she made him want to be a real man, a better man, and he determined not to do anything to ruin every possible moment he could seize just to get to know her more. The Oliver Queen of the past would have been hitting on this beautiful blonde on day one, and every day since, and he would have tried effortlessly and subtly, if necessary, to convince her to make out with him… or worse. Tried? Yes. Succeeded? Not a chance.
Because Felicity Smoak may be blonde, but she is not that blonde. Ever since her first and only major heartbreak, she had resolved that she would never again be someone else's fling, nor would she allow herself to be toyed with. She does want to be in a relationship, to love and be loved – she was sure of that – but not at the expense of her morals and her dignity. If she would be in a relationship, she would be in it for the long haul, and she avoided anyone and anything that would jeopardize her dreams of settling down with the right kind of man with whom she could start the right kind of family, one in which God-given children are cherished as blessings and not abandoned without so much as an explanation like she had been. She's been longing for… waiting for… praying for someone special to be her friend, and then her lover, and then her partner. For life. She believes in happily-ever-after, but she's afraid it may never come because she thinks that decent, well-meaning men must have gotten extinct in the last century, or at least have been enlisted among the endangered species on this self-destructing planet that has been making her feel lonelier by the day.
It didn't take a genius – although she was positively representative of one, based on her IQ test scores – to figure out that Oliver Queen was interested in her. Very interested in her. She knew it from day one, and it frightened her. She knew better than to drop her guard just because a gorgeously handsome guy from a wealthy, influential family is palpably attracted to her. Because she was a woman of her word, she had stopped avoiding him as soon as he broke the handshake. Three days since, each time she caught him stealing glances at her, she'd feel her heart flutter. The same heart skipped a beat whenever she'd see him smile, not necessarily at her every time. It soared up to cloud nine each time he'd offer to do something nice or thoughtful, even if it was for someone else. Like when he yielded a seat at lunch time the other day to Caitlyn, the female chaperon of the girls from Central City. Or yesterday, when he volunteered to stay behind and clean up the mess made by a boy who had an upset stomach and puked his entire breakfast in front of the buffet table, so that the boy and his group could make it to their soccer game in time and not lose by default.
These, and a few other incidents of chivalry courtesy of her gallant admirer in the past week at camp, had Felicity confused and baffled. Try as she might, she couldn't reconcile the Oliver Queen she had read and heard about with the kind, considerate, and well-mannered gentleman she's had the pleasure of meeting and observing in the last few days. If she were really honest with herself, she'd have to say that this particular Oliver Queen – although too good to be true – is really not that difficult to like.
"I don't understand," she had been musing one night. "I'm usually a very good judge of character, but this guy is starting to make me doubt my intuitive ability." To Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen has become a puzzle for her to solve, an encryption for her to crack, a firewall to hack into and demolish. She's decided that she would not let down her defenses until she's sure that he's for real. After all, it's highly likely that he's just being pretentious to get her to like him. "Am I being suspicious or judgmental?" she had asked herself. A question to which she had answered after some thought, "Nope." She was convinced that cautious, discerning, and wise are better words. She'd much rather be extra careful now than sorry and pathetic later if he ends up breaking her heart and making her cry. She remembered what her foster mom had taught her before she left for MIT – a piece of sound advice that she consciously ignored when she dated that jerk (whose name she wouldn't even bother to mention if anyone asks about her love life). This time around, she would heed it.
"Felicity," her foster mom explained, "our actions are based on choices, that are often dictated by our emotions and deepest longings, which are always determined by the way we think and by what we believe to be true. If, for example you believe that your life is only worth something if you are wanted, you'll do anything… anything to please that person who matters most to you… even if it's wrong. Wrong thoughts lead to wrong feelings, that lead to wrong choices, that make you do wrong things. That's why your head is on top of our heart, Felicity. Use it! And then your heart will be grateful that you did." Felicity had learned from firsthand experience how true those words are. She had understood how fragile the heart is. So, before she invests genuine emotions on a guy she thinks she could like and have a relationship with, she better be sure he's the right kind of guy.
And that's what had been bothering Oliver Queen for an entire week. It bothered him that no matter what he tried or did, Felicity simply responded with a polite but sweet "thanks" or a guarded, but nonetheless, winsome smile. Nothing more. He'd push doors open for her in the session hall or in the mess hall, offered her and her girls help in several different ways, and even hinted a couple of times that he wanted to buy her a drink in between camp events. He'd been doing everything a decent guy could do to show her that he liked her, but she was showing nothing concrete that would tell him whether or not she liked him back. They had multiple opportunities for small talk and other conversations about camp stuff or about some of their kids. He had certainly learned a lot about her, but he was clueless about what he wanted to discover most – and that was if she was willing to give him a chance.
"She's a tough nut to crack," he thought whilst shaking his head. On the evening of the seventh day at camp, he lay down in his bunk bed, which was nearest the largest window of their cabin. He stared at the moonlight wondering. "Tomorrow would be the first day of week two. I need some sort of sign if I should keep going for it. Or do I?"
Oliver closed his eyes and instantly, his mind was captivated by one incredible image of Felicity after another. That morning, she had worn a powder blue summer dress with white polka dots, and she let her magnificent golden mane down instead of her usual ponytail. When she entered the mess hall for breakfast with her girls, he almost dropped the glass of milk he was holding. He stared at her with deep admiration – and with his mouth gaping – until she passed right in front of him and greeted him with a cheerful smile, "Good morning, Oliver!" And all he could say was, "Hi."
It seemed like that shock hadn't been enough because in the afternoon, when she and her girls arrived in the swimming pool area for the swim competitions and water games, she had looked absolutely stunning. She had flawless, porcelain skin, and, although her emerald green one-piece Speedo swimwear kept her cleavage modestly hidden, it hugged her shapely torso in all the right places. What shocked him even more was when she dove into the water as the anchor of her team in the relay race and finished first, their team clocking in ten seconds earlier than the second best team. Her girls and everyone watching the race cheered as she swam with the speed and grace of a dolphin. At that moment, Oliver changed his mind about her not being athletic. Sure, she sucked at ball games and every other sport that had been invented on land, but put her in the water and she's unbeatable! When he came up to her with a towel and yanked her up from the pool, he congratulated her. That was when he learned that she had been the captain of the women's swim team at MIT. That was also when he decided that there was more to Felicity Smoak than meets the eye.
It had been a long day, and everyone was eager to finish their meals and hit the sack. Oliver's boys and Felicity's girls had taken a long table and enjoyed dinner together, cracking jokes, celebrating victories in the games and sports events of the day, and carrying on lively conversations about the day's fun-filled activities. Oliver sat right across Felicity, who was nearly falling asleep while the others were finishing up with dessert. Her head was titled sideways, resting on the palm of her right hand, and her right elbow was planted on the table… but not firmly enough to keep her head from falling into the vanilla sundae right in front of her. The coldness woke her up from her shallow slumber, and as her eyes flicked open, she saw Oliver smirking. Chuckling.
"Vanilla ice cream looks good on you," he teased.
The boys and girls laughed at this, and she wouldn't have it. In a swift, well-coordinated attack, she took a teaspoon, scooped some ice cream, and sent it flying across the table onto his face. "It sure looks better on you!" she teased back.
"Hey!" Oliver yelled. And before she could scoop another teaspoonful of ice cream to aim at him, he leaned over and grabbed her hand. That first physical contact lasted for only a couple of seconds, maybe three, or four. But to him, it sure felt like time had stood still. A spark was ignited in his soul, instantaneously sending thunderbolts from his hand to the rest of his body.
Felicity pulled her hand back and lowered her gaze, trying to hide the blush that was coloring her cheeks crimson. When she looked up again, she bit her lip and avoided eye contact. "I guess we better get going before I really fall asleep on this spot," she said nervously, standing to give her girls the cue that they should be heading back to their cabin. The girls left the table, and as the young ones walked out of the mess hall one by one, Oliver watched them go. He watched her go. She was the last person in the group to exit through the door, and just before she stepped out, she turned her head one last time. She looked back at him, and with a smile in her eyes, mouthed a soundless "Good night!"
That moment happened in slow motion from Oliver's point of view. He read every consonant and every vowel that came out of her luscious pink lips as she greeted him with two short words. He saw her blink once to punctuate the greeting, and he thought that those bright eyes framed by fluttering lashes were like transparent glass windows into her delicate, innocent soul. The bouncing ponytail was the last thing he caught sight of as she disappeared into the night.
Oliver opened his eyes once more and looked out the window at the moon. He held on to that last image of Felicity for as long as he could, and it was then that he decided he'd be crazy to wait for a sign. She was the sign. There was no choice to make other than to woo this wonderful woman who has won his heart.
To him, Felicity was remarkable. And this time, Oliver was amazed that he'd been attracted to a woman for reasons beyond her physical attributes. He found her personality adorable, yes, but he admired her character more. He observed how she selflessly took care of the girls entrusted to her, putting their needs ahead of her own. She looked out for them, defending them from isolated incidents of unfair treatment, or keeping them away from harm or danger. He grinned each time she had her hands on her hips, reprimanding one or some of them for their mischief and occasional outbursts of stubbornness. She undoubtedly knew when to be in command of things, and when to just step back and let the girls have a really good time. She cared. Sincerely. And the girls loved her for it. He felt drawn to her because of it.
Oliver smiled as he closed his eyes to retire for the night. His last thought before he fell asleep was this: that there wasn't a single girl in his life yet that had made him want to even consider the possibility of settling down in the near future, that is, until Felicity Smoak came along.