Step Two: Avoid the Problem
Three days.
That's how long Felicity successfully avoids being alone with Oliver. On more than one occasion they had been left in a room together, only for her to quickly make some sort of half-assed excuse and get the hell out of dodge. They were terrible excuses, really, and if Oliver's knowing smirks were anything to go by he wasn't buying anything she was selling. Luckily, he seemed to be genuine in his request for her to think things over.
And think she did. Their kiss on the beach, more like make out session if Felicity is being honest with herself, is all that she has been able to think about. It stained her thoughts like permanent ink, bold and impossible to erase, with no stark white corrector fluid to cover up her mistake. It's a shame there is no backspace key in life. But even if there was, would she use it now?
"What's on your mind, Le Penseur? That's the French, for 'The Thinker', as in Rodin's sculpture."
"Thank you for that impromptu lesson in art history, Thea."
Her friend rolls her eyes as she lies down on the pool chair beside Felicity, pushing the blonde over with her body in order to make room.
"Gotta practice for my class trip next semester. Now seriously, what's on your mind? You've been uncharacteristically quiet these past few days and it's honestly starting to freak me out a little."
Cheering from the beach just a few yards away draws Felicity's attention. A couple of beach volleyball courts were set up earlier for guests of the Merlyn-Queen Fourth of July cookout to enjoy and the boys wasted no time in starting a tournament once the twenty-something crowd arrived. Oliver and Tommy currently stand on one side of the net, the infamous Lance sisters on the other. The ball is served and Felicity can't help the way her eyes lock onto Oliver's tanned and muscular form as he dives for it. Even from her spot on the pool deck she can make out the definition in his arms and back, left bare due to the extreme summer heat. The sight alone causes warmth to pool in her belly and Felicity quickly glances away, a faint blush on her cheeks.
"Oh gross. You were totally just checking Ollie out."
"What? No, I wasn't!"
Felicity scoffs before taking a sip of her iced tea in an effort to cool her flaming cheeks. It doesn't work.
"Well it's either him or Tommy, and since Tommy is your brother I'd say that is clearly out of the picture. But hey, I get it. You wouldn't be the first one of my friends to have the hots for brother dearest."
Glancing around nervously, she checks to see if anyone has heard their conversation. Luckily none of the adults seem to be paying the two teenagers any mind, immersed in their business talks and gossip while they sip their drinks from the open bar.
"Keep your voice down! People will hear you!"
"So you were staring at him!"
"I - no, I was - that was not - I was not staring at him!"
Thea arches an eyebrow as she watches Felicity fumble for words, grinning like the cat who ate the canary.
"Sure you weren't. It's okay if you have a crush on him. I think yourbrother is cute."
The blonde stands abruptly, nearly knocking over her glass in the process and drawing a few curious glances from some of the partygoers around them. She smiles politely and they soon go back to whatever it is they were conversing about.
"I am so not having this conversation. I'm going to go see if Raisa needs any help in the kitchen."
Felicity hastily makes her escape, scurrying across the large stone patio and up the steps. A set of large French doors leads into the interior of the beach house, more like mansion, and she continues to beeline it straight to the kitchen. There are, thankfully, very few people in the room when she arrives. Most of the servers and other staff are out on the patio or beach area attending to the guests. Raisa, the Queens' primary housekeeper, smiles kindly at her.
"What can I do for you, Miss Felicity?"
"Oh, no, that's okay, Raisa. I just needed some peace and quiet for a minute."
"Of course. Take all of the time you need."
The older woman gives her a warm smile and nods in understanding before she busies herself with placing fresh strawberries around a rather large vanilla cake. Felicity watches as each bright red slice is strategically placed, lining the edge of the dessert before Raisa begins on an intricate pattern toward the middle. Felicity loses herself in thought as she observes and must zone out for awhile because the next thing she hears is the pleasant tone of the house keeper softly calling her name.
"Huh? Sorry, just things going on up here. What did you say?"
"I asked if you would like to help with dressing the cake, solnyshko."
"Oh, yes, sure. What do you need me to do?"
Raisa gestures over Felicity's shoulder and moves a few strawberry slices around just slightly before wiping her hands on an ocean blue hand towel sitting on the counter.
"Grab the whipping cream from the pantry and start placing scoops between the strawberries while I run outside to check on the buffet table."
"Sure!"
Felicity pushes off of the bar stool she has been sitting on and makes her way down a small hallway off to the side toward the pantry, bare feet slapping softly against the hardwood floor as she goes. 'Pantry' is a relative term for the room she steps into. Three or four average sized people could easily fit in here alongside all the food and still have adequate room to breathe. It's a bit extensive for Felicity's tastes, but at least they never run out of tam-tam crackers. Those are her favorite.
Searching the overstocked shelves, it takes the blonde a few moments to locate the canned confection, and when she does she spots it on the very top shelf. Because of course it is. That would be just her luck. Felicity pushes up onto the balls of her feet, attempting to grow her miniature five-foot-three form to a massive six-foot-one so that she can reach. Unsurprisingly she is not successful in this venture.
"Come on! Why do you have to be so far away?"
She tries again, this time jumping in hopes of being able to knock the can off of the shelf and hopefully catch it before it tumbles to the ground. She misses. With a sigh of frustration, Felicity lets her arms fall by her sides, palms slapping against the outside of her thighs, left bare by her cut-off denim shorts. Looking around, she attempts to locate a stepping stool or a crate or something that can help her vertically challenged state, but comes up empty handed. Felicity is just about to test the stability and support structure of the bottom most shelf when someone clears their throat behind her. The noise startles her, having not heard anyone approach, and Felicity whirls around to locate the source.
Oliver.
He's standing there in the doorway of the pantry, leaning to one side, charming smirk firmly in place. Her eyes are immediately drawn to his toned arms crossed in front of his, thankfully clothed, chest. The muscles of his forearms are pulled taut and pronounced against the dark blue of his shirt and Felicity gets the most ridiculous urge to trace the bumps and ridges with her tongue.
Ugh, gross.
It should honestly be illegal for someone to be this attractive, to make her want to do embarrassing things that she's scoffed at other girls for fantasizing about. Yet here he is, unrestrained and allowed to roam freely throughout the human population, wreaking havoc on the libidos of many. It's just ridiculously unfair.
"Afternoon, Felicity."
"Oh frack."
Oliver quirks an eyebrow at her greeting, smirk transforming into an all out grin as she begins to stumble over her words.
"I mean - not that - uh, hi! What are you doing here? In the pantry? With me? Alone?"
Great. Now she's babbling.
Felicity quickly presses her lips together to stop herself from going any further. Oliver's eyes flicker down to her mouth for a brief second before he looks away, grin slipping off his face as his composure falters. He only loses it for the briefest of moments, but Felicity catches his change in demeanor almost instantly.
"Thea said you would be in the kitchen. I heard you scolding the nonperishables when I walked in."
Her heart may or may not speed up a little at the implication that he was looking for her.
"Oh… yeah, I was just getting the whipped cream for Raisa."
Okay, why is she suddenly so out of breath?
"Do you need some help?"
"Uhm…"
On one hand, she definitely won't be able to reach the canister on her own, and depending on the bottom shelf to support her weight is probably a really terrible idea. But on the other hand, if he comes any closer to her in this enclosed space Felicity isn't all too sure she can be held responsible for her actions.
"It's either that or break the bottom shelf trying to use it as an impromptu step stool."
Heat blossoms across her cheeks at his words as she rushes to defend herself.
"I wasn't going to… how did you know?"
Oliver chuckles, the sound low and deep in his throat, and pushes off the doorframe. He moves in Felicity's direction, to which she reacts by taking a few steps back of her own. The action causes a questioning look to cross Oliver's face before he responds.
"You were probably too young to remember, but I tried the same thing when I was eight, attempting to get to a bag of Russian candies Raisa always kept on the top shelf. I didn't even make it past the first one before it gave out under my weight. I got an earful of Russian and a very red butt that day."
"Well your butt is just fine now so at least there was no permanent damage."
Felicity eyes widen in shock at her own boldness and she takes another step back, bumping into the shelves of food behind her. Oliver, at least, seems thrilled by the comment. His smile is about a mile wide across his face as he closes the distance between them, amusement shining in his bright blue eyes.
"Felicity Merlyn, did you just drop a line on me?"
"What? No! What I meant was, I'm glad you weren't permanently scarred by that particular incident. And that you learned a valuable lesson that day. Although that's not to say you don't have a nice butt. I'm sure it's a great one. Not that I spend much of my time looking at it! Or any time at all really! I mean -"
Oh God. She needs to just stop. talking. But he's standing right in front of her now, pretty much chest to chest, and Felicity can smell the combination of sweat, ocean salt, and cologne coming off of him. Coupled with that smile it's probably the most distracting thing she's ever seen, so excuse her for forgetting to use her already impaired brain to mouth filter.
"Felicity, I'm just teasing you. I know that's not what you meant."
Then Oliver is reaching up to the top shelf and the motion tugs his t-shirt upwards, revealing a sliver of his suntanned torso. The glimpse of that delicious V-shaped muscle at his hips causes Felicity to swallow, hard. She imagines what it would feel like to run her fingers over it, to feel the muscle jump and twitch beneath her touch. He would probably make the most attractive sounds when… Felicity's eyes slam shut as she tries to put the brakes on that particular train of thought. She has just barely accepted the fact that she has feelings other than friendship for Oliver and now all of the sudden her brain has decided to buy a fast track ticket to HornyVille. Go figure.
"Is this what you were trying to get?"
She opens her eyes and finds Oliver holding the can of whipped cream between them, flirtatious grin still in place, and making no move to step away from her. She's never noticed just how captivatingly blue his eyes are, like the summer sky on a cloudless day.
"Uh huh."
Reaching into the miniscule space between them, Felicity carefully grabs the can of sugary goodness from him. Instead of finally pulling away from her like she expects him to do, Oliver braces one hand on a shelf by her head and the other takes hold of her hip. His touch is gentle enough that she doesn't feel trapped, and Felicity knows that Oliver is intentionally leaving her side closest to the door open so that she can leave if she feels uncomfortable. His eyes flicker down to her lips, painted cherry red, and Felicity's tongue involuntarily peeks out to wet them. The action causes Oliver's eyes to darken from sky blue to the deep color of a stormy sea. His gaze doesn't waver from her mouth as he speaks.
"Do you know how hard it has been for me to give you space now that I know what you taste like?"
Frack. He's not supposed to say things like that to her. He's really, reallynot. It does this thing to the rhythmic beating of her heart and causes heat to pool low in her belly.
"I might have an idea."
Felicity can't help glancing at his lips, remembering how insistent and warm they were against hers. Her breath catches as Oliver's thumb slips beneath the hem of her tank top, brushing back and forth over her hipbone. Tiny sparks radiate from the point of contact, sending a hum of electricity through her body that only makes her crave more. The hand not clutching the whipped cream to her chest comes to rest in the crook of his elbow, his muscles jumping beneath her touch just like she imagined they would.
Before Felicity realizes what's happening, Oliver is leaning down to close the space between them. Her eyes fall shut and her hand tightens around his forearm as he presses her back against the shelves, bodies now perfectly aligned. She prepares to lose herself in the sensation of his mouth against hers, his tongue coaxing her to open up to him. But that never happens. Instead, Oliver holds himself back, his nose bumping against her glasses and their lips just barely brushing against each other as he whispers to her.
"Tell me you want this. Tell me it's okay. Please, Felicity."
"Yes."
It's breathy and barely a word, but it's enough.
They come together in a desperate pairing of lips and teeth and tongues, neither of them hesitant in their actions. Felicity quickly drops the can of whipped cream, barely registering as it clatters against the hardwood floor. Her fingers card through the short strands of his hair, slick with sweat, and tug him closer when she reaches the base of his skull. Oliver grunts against her mouth, hands reaching down to grip her ass in retaliation. The action draws a moan from Felicity and then she's being hoisted into the air. She squeaks in surprise, causing Oliver to laugh against her mouth. Only it's not really a laugh, more like a series of huffs due to the lack of oxygen they are both experiencing. Their mouths part, but their bodies don't, pushing against each other in search of delicious friction as Felicity wraps her legs around his waist.
"You okay?"
She can scarcely hear his question over the sounds of their heavy breathing.
"Yeah, just, keep going."
However, instead of returning his mouth to hers, Oliver bends down and begins to feather kisses all along her jaw and the gentle slope of her neck. Felicity's head falls back and to the side, giving his mouth better access to her sensitive skin. Her entire body feels like it's on fire in the best way possible, every point of contact with Oliver becoming a hotspot of sensation. It's numbing and thrilling at the same time, dulling her sense to anything else but him. His lips dance over a spot just beneath her ear that has Felicity making these embarrassing little mewling noises. If the way Oliver zeroes in on the spot and rocks his body against hers is anything to go by, he's enjoying her reaction.
Felicity's hands wander beneath his shirt, her fingers dancing over the toned expanse of his abs. The muscles ripple beneath her touch and she wants the offending article of clothing that stands between her and an up close and personal encounter with his ridiculously built torso gone. Now.
Impatient hands push and pull at the thin cotton fabric of his shirt, signaling her intent. Oliver detaches his mouth from her throat and leans back in order to pull the article of clothing up and over his head, dropping it to the floor beside him. Felicity's eyes are instantaneously glued to his toned stomach, counting each defined abdominal muscle until she reaches eight.
God, he is unbelievably in shape.
Oliver chuckles deep in his throat, causing Felicity's eyes to widen in realization.
"I said that out loud, didn't I?"
"Yeah."
The way his stomach muscles contract when he speaks is kind of mesmerizing, and Felicity finds herself reaching out to trace her fingers over the indentations. Oliver sucks in a sharp breath as her hands wander dangerously low to the indentations at his hips and bends back down to press his mouth against hers with renewed vigor. One of his hands buries itself in Felicity's hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. He teases her bottom lip with his teeth just enough to make her moan into his mouth and swivel her hips against his.
"Fuck, Felicity. You keep doing that and this is going to be over before it even begins."
Oliver pants the words against her mouth as she repeats the action, causing a small wave of satisfaction to run through her. She's doing this to him. He's losing his breath, his control, and it's all because of her. Rumors of Oliver Queen's… extensive knowledge and experience in the bedroom are always a hot topic of gossip at Starling Prep, and the guy graduated three years ago. Felicity, on the other hand, can count the number of guys she's slept with on one hand. Even if that hand were missing four out of five fingers. If she had the mental capacity for it right now, she would probably be experiencing a bit of a power trip.
The hot, callused palms of Oliver's hands smoothe up Felicity's sides and over her ribcage, dragging her tank top up along with them. She gets the hint and lifts her arms above her head as he quickly strips her of the garment. He doesn't waste any time, swiftly leaning back in to press his lips against her collarbones. His large hands splay over her shoulder blades and lower back, urging Felicity to arch into him, which she does with gusto. Her head falls back and hits a shelf with a quiet thump that gets drowned out by the moan she releases as Oliver's lips travel to the swell of her breast. Digging her bright blue nails into his scalp, Felicity urges him closer to her chest, gasps of pleasure escaping her mouth under his ministrations.
"More, Oliver. More."
"Oh, I can definitely do more."
The husky tone of his voice and the way she can feel the vibrations in his body as he speaks cause Felicity to shiver and press herself impossibly closer to Oliver. The hand on her shoulder blades slides down over the knot that holds her bikini top in place. Excitement and anticipation course through her veins, igniting her entire body in flames. However, he doesn't pull the strings undone just yet. Oliver teases Felicity with both his fingers and his mouth, teeth scraping lightly across the top of her chest, just above the fabric of her stars-and-stripes bathing suit top. She whimpers and squirms against him in earnest, to which he replies with a dark laugh just as he tugs at one end of the neat little bow holding her bikini, and what's left of her sanity, in place.
"Ollie! Dude, where are you? We've got a final game to play before we're crowned beach volleyball supreme champions and I'll be damned if we lose on a forfeit!"
Both of them immediately freeze at the sound of Tommy's voice coming from the kitchen, reality crashing down around them, shattering their lust-filled haze like a sledgehammer to glass.
"Oh shit."
In a matter of seconds, Felicity's feet are firmly planted back on the ground as both she and Oliver frantically scramble to find their clothing. He's more successful than she is, and Felicity starts to panic when she can't seem to find her tank top anywhere.
"Looking for this?"
She whirls around to find Oliver fully clothed and attempting to hide his smug grin as he offers her shirt to her. The look Felicity sends him is meant to be intimidating, but her heaving breaths and flushed face minimize the effect. She quickly snags the garment from him and tugs it over her head.
"Thanks."
A beat of silence passes during which neither of them knows what to say. What exactly is the protocol for pantry hook ups with your brother's best friend? Does she kiss him goodbye? Give him a hug? A high-five maybe? No, definitely not a high-five…
"Ollie! Come on, man!"
She jumps at the sound of her brother's voice, louder this time as he gets further into the kitchen. Flustered, she reaches out to grab Oliver's wrist and ushers him toward the pantry door, frantically whispering to him as they move.
"You have to go!"
He halts their movement before she can push him all the way out the door, and Felicity stares up at Oliver questioningly. A sudden look of determination makes its way onto his face, an intensity in his eyes that wasn't there a second ago giving her pause. He shifts their hands to weave his fingers in between hers and pulls her in close, his unoccupied hand rising to cup her cheek in a surprisingly tender moment.
"We'll talk about this later?"
It's not a question, not really. Oliver has made it clear that he's done with her avoidance act, which is probably a good thing in the long run. The sooner they confront this the sooner they can get over it, like ripping off a bandaid. Felicity nods once in agreement.
"Later. Now go before Tommy finds us!"
She allows Oliver to place one more quick peck against her lips before giving his chest a gentle shove. Reluctantly, he makes his way out of the pantry, but not before pausing at the door to send her a small smile that does nothing to help calm her rapidly beating heart.
With a sigh, Felicity leans back against one of the shelves, tipping her head backwards and closing her eyes as she takes deep breaths in and out in an attempt to calm her racing hormones. She realizes how screwed she really is when the action causes her to inhale Oliver's scent that's still hanging in the air around her and all over her clothes.
So much for avoiding the problem.