A/N: Thank you very much to everyone who commented, favorited, and/or followed! I hope you guys like this chapter :)
The two hours of tutoring pass surprisingly quickly, and, by some miracle, Felicity manages to make the whole homework thing a lot less tedious than Oliver can ever remember it being.
"You'll finish the rest of your Calculus homework tonight, right?" she asks him as they gather up their things. Oliver stuffs his textbooks into his backpack as best he can and then hoists the bag over his shoulder, sagging slightly under the weight of it.
"I'll definitely try," Oliver hedges, and she huffs out an exasperated sigh, looking unimpressed. "But I can't make any promises if you just leave me out there on my own. What if I get stuck?"
Felicity rolls her eyes. "Give me your phone," she commands, holding her hand out, palm up and keeping pace with him as he walks out of the library towards the parking lot. It's bright outside, and they both blink against the late afternoon sun.
"Why?" he asks, but he hands over his phone without bothering to wait for her answer. She takes it, tapping away at the screen with her thumbs. "It's locked," he tells her, but she just waves her hand, and when he leans over to look at what she's doing, she's already opened up his contacts list and is entering her number. He watches as she holds up the phone and snaps a picture of herself, adding it to the contact info. "Wait, how'd you get through the passcode?"
"Here's my number," Felicity says instead of answering, handing him back the phone. "If you get stuck on any of the homework, call me or text me, and we'll go through it together."
"Okay," Oliver agrees, smiling as he looks at her picture on his phone. She's squinting slightly because of the sun, and there's a flare on the edge of her glasses, but the whole effect is weirdly charming.
When they finally make it to the parking lot, Tommy's there, sitting on the hood of Oliver's Porsche and tossing a football from hand-to-hand. He's alone, which means that Laurel must have gone straight home after cheerleading practice, a fact which probably shouldn't make Oliver feel as relieved as he does. Laurel's great and all, but sometimes dealing with her can be sort of exhausting.
Tommy palms the football when he notices them coming his way, and Oliver can tell from the way that he smiles when he sees Felicity that this is probably going to be trouble.
"Well, hello there," Tommy says, looking her up and down appreciatively before turning to Oliver with a grin. Oliver rolls his eyes and takes a possessive step closer to Felicity.
"Hi," Felicity says, looking over at Oliver questioningly.
He sighs. "Felicity, this is-"
"Thomas Merlyn," Tommy cuts him off, hopping down from the car and holding his hand out to Felicity. "I'm Ollie's best friend."
"Ollie?" she repeats, taking Tommy's hand and glancing over at Oliver with a smirk. Tommy takes advantage of her distraction, bringing her hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss against the back of her knuckles. "Oh," she says, sounding a little breathless.
"Tommy, this is Felicity," Oliver says tightly, ignoring the ridiculous twinge of jealousy he feels as Tommy lowers Felicity's hand, running his thumb over the back of her knuckles before he lets go. She seems a little flustered, her cheeks pink and a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and the twinge of jealousy intensifies. "She's my new tutor."
"Lucky you," he says to Oliver. He turns back to Felicity and winks at her, the bastard. Oliver rolls his eyes again.
For her part, Felicity seems more amused than smitten, which Oliver finds reassuring. He loves Tommy and everything, but he's glad that Felicity doesn't seem like she's going to fall for his schtick.
"How'd Ollie do today?" Tommy asks, tossing Oliver the football and crossing his arms as he leans back against the hood of the car. "He didn't sweet-talk you into letting him cheat off you, did he?"
Felicity grins. "He's not that charming," she says, and Tommy laughs, sounding delighted.
"Hey," Oliver says, sending Tommy a murderous look before turning back to Felicity. "Do you need a ride home?"
"I've got another tutoring session coming up," she says, sounding regretful. "Which is unfortunate, because I'd love a ride with you guys." Tommy's eyebrows shoot up, and Felicity winces, her cheeks turning red. "I mean...not...I didn't mean...I just meant a ride in your car, not like a ride ride. Ugh, my brain always picks the worst way to say things."
Tommy smiles at her, grinning ear-to-ear. "So you're a senior?" he asks, deftly changing the subject.
"Junior," Felicity says, sounding grateful.
"I thought you said we were in the same Chemistry class," Oliver says.
"We are," Felicity says, and then adds apologetically: "Chemistry is a junior-level class."
"Oh." Awesome.
Beside him, Tommy snickers, and Oliver elbows him in the stomach, glaring at him. Tommy groans, Felicity makes a sound that Oliver thinks might be a laugh.
"So," Oliver says, turning back to Felicity with as much dignity as he can muster. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yep." Felicity nods, reaching up to fidget with the charm on her necklace, her light blue nails looking even brighter and more cheerful in the sunlight. "Same time, same place."
"Holy shit," Tommy says once they're on the road. He's leaning back in the passenger seat, one foot kicked up and resting on the dashboard. "Your tutor is fucking hot."
"What?" Oliver says, glancing at him sidelong and feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "No, she's not. She's a geek."
"Dude. Come on." Tommy sits up, resting his elbow against the console, leaning in to talk to Oliver in a low voice. "Don't try to tell me you spent the last two hours with her and somehow didn't notice how hot she is. And with the glasses and the ponytail...she's like a sexy librarian or something."
"Seriously, Tommy," Oliver says, annoyed by this whole conversation. "She's my tutor. She's going to help me pass my midterms, so I can get back on the team. That's it."
Tommy snorts. "Right."
Oliver doesn't say anything in response, just tightens his hands on the steering wheel and brakes a little too hard at the next light. He's not sure why this bothers him so much, why Tommy just being Tommy is actually starting to piss him off. It's not that he's interested in Felicity, because he's totally not. It's just...she's trying to help him out, and she's kind of nice and sweet, and Oliver doesn't know. He doesn't want to think too hard about it.
Oliver clears his throat, forcing himself to loosen his grip on the wheel. "So. How was practice?" he asks, trying to change the subject.
Tommy glances at him sidelong, this look on his face like he knows that Oliver's avoiding talking about Felicity, but: "It was fine," he says. "Harper's rough around the edges, and had some trouble throwing against the blitz, but we think he'll probably ready for our game against Coast on Saturday."
"I can't believe Coach Wilson is really going to let him take over for me," Oliver groans, shaking his head.
"Don't worry about it, man." Tommy reaches over and punches him lightly on the shoulder, before leaning back into the passenger seat. "You'll be back in your rightful place on the team in no time."
"So, Oliver," his father says at dinner that night. "Tell me more about this mandatory tutoring."
"You're going to tutoring?" his mother asks, glancing from Robert to Oliver then back again, a look on her face that Oliver can't read.
"Every day after school for the next two weeks," Oliver confirms, leaning back as Raisa fills his glass with water. "Principal Steele says I'm off the team until after midterms."
His mother blinks, her forehead furrowed in confusion. "What on earth for?"
"Academic suspension," Oliver says, and his mother quirks an eyebrow in question. "I'm failing all my classes, so I can't be on the team until I pull my grades up."
"You're failing?" Thea demands, gaping at him across the table with shocked, wide eyes.
"Thea," his mom warns, and then turns back to Oliver. "Does the tutoring seem as though it will help?"
"I think so," Oliver says, trying not to smile as he remembers the way Felicity's shoulder felt pressed against his, the smooth expanse of skin above her knee.
"Really?" his dad says, sounding surprised. "Because when we spoke earlier today, you told me it was unfair."
Oliver shrugs uncomfortably, realizing his entire family is watching him and that he's smiling like a dope. "I mean, yeah, it is, I guess," he tells them. "But I do want to graduate this year, and if I don't pass this semester, I might have to repeat senior year."
"You know your mother and I would never let that happen," Robert reassures him.
Oliver nods, remembering what Felicity said about about his parents just buying his way out of trouble. The truth is, his parents would probably buy the school if that's what it took for him to graduate.
"So who's your tutor?" Thea asks, leaning her chin on her hand and looking at him appraisingly.
"Just some girl from school," Oliver says, taking a bite of potatoes and shrugging one shoulder.
"A girl?" Thea repeats, her eyes lighting up. "Is she pretty? Do you like her? Is Laurel jealous?"
"What?" Oliver asks, taken aback at her apparent thirst for drama. "Speedy, that's not...Felicity's not...she's just my tutor."
"Felicity?" his mother says, and when Oliver glances at her, she's watching him closely. "That name doesn't sound familiar. Who are her parents?"
"I don't know." Oliver shrugs, slouching back in his chair. His mother's bizarre need to know the pedigree and ancestry of every single person she comes into contact with isn't something Oliver shares. "She's at Starling on scholarship, so…"
"I see," his mother says, primly. "Perhaps I should speak to Principal Steele. I'd hate to think you weren't receiving the most qualified instruction."
"Mom," Oliver protests, and then looks over at his father in desperation.
"I'm sure Oliver is getting fine instruction, Moira," his dad says. "Isn't that right, Oliver?"
"Definitely," he confirms quickly. He would have thought his mother would be happy with this whole tutoring situation; she's constantly telling him he needs to focus on school instead of football. "Felicity's super-smart; she basically taught me trig functions in like an hour today."
"Hmm," his mother says, lifting her glass and flicking her eyes at Oliver's father before turning her attention back to him. "And you said she's a scholarship student?"
"I did," Oliver confirms, feeling more and more uneasy about this whole conversation. Once his mother gets an idea in her head, it's basically impossible to stop her, and if she decides Felicity isn't a suitable tutor, Oliver's likely going to get stuck with one-on-one sessions with Principal Steele for the rest of the quarter.
"Moira," his dad says again. Oliver's mother gives him a look, the two of them doing that weird married-person silent conversation thing they sometimes do, until his mom sighs and shakes her head, taking another sip of her wine.
Across from him, Thea is watching the whole exchange with open curiosity, her gaze bouncing between her parents and Oliver. "What's wrong with being on scholarship?" she asks.
"Nothing," Oliver says firmly, but he's looking at his mother, not at Thea.
No one says anything for a couple of beats, Oliver and Moira staring at each other across the table. "Yes, well," she finally says, blinking and smiling tightly. "I'd still feel better if I spoke to Mr. Steele about this matter myself."
"Mom," Oliver tries, but she holds up her hand, cutting him off.
"I'm sorry, Oliver, but if you are going to be spending a great deal of time being instructed by a classmate rather than a professional, I'm going to need the school's assurance that your tutor is qualified."
Oliver pushes back from the table, standing up and tossing his napkin on his plate. As angry gestures go, it's pretty lame, but he's just really sick of every adult in his life trying to tell him what to do. "Fine," he snaps.
"Oliver," his mother sighs, but he ignores her.
"Ollie!" Thea calls, and Oliver turns back with a sigh. "Where are you going?"
"I've got homework to do," he says, giving her a small, reassuring smile, and ignoring the slightly shocked look on his parents' faces as he grabs his backpack from the foyer and heads upstairs to his room.
It turns out that Calculus is a lot less interesting without Felicity there to walk him through it.
During their tutoring session, they managed to work through about half of the problem set, but then Felicity said they needed to move on to the work for some of his other classes if they had any hope of getting to everything. Which means that he still has five Calc problems do get done before tomorrow morning or he'll have to face Felicity's wrath when she finds out that he didn't finish the homework. Not that he knows for sure that Felicity is even capable of wrath, but somehow he thinks she is. He also thinks her wrath might be sort of terrifying.
So Oliver tries to get through the rest of the problems, he really does. But he's spent practically the entire day on school work, so when his phone rings halfway through the second problem, Oliver doesn't even check the screen before he answers, desperate for an excuse - any excuse - not to have to do any more math.
"Hello?" he says, leaning over to press his forehead against the notebook in front of him. Math is seriously the worst.
"Have you finished your homework?" Felicity demands on the other end of the line, and Oliver sits up straight, smiling against the phone.
"How'd you get my number?" he asks instead of answering her question. Because, seriously, she managed to bypass his phone's passcode and now she's suddenly calling him even though he knows he never gave her his number. He's starting to wonder if maybe she's some kind of tech genius in addition to being a math whiz.
"You gave me your phone earlier, remember?" Felicity says, and Oliver can imagine her waving her hand dismissively. And maybe it should be a little weird that he can imagine her gestures even though he's only spent a couple of hours with her, but he likes it, this feeling like he knows her already.
"Yeah, but that was you giving me your number, not the other way around," he reminds her, leaning back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk in front of him.
"Stop trying to change the subject, Oliver," she admonishes, but there's a playful edge to her voice, and Oliver laughs softly in response.
"I'm on problem seven," he admits, and she groans, the sound low and close and strangely sexy in his ear.
"Seriously?"
"I'm not a math genius like you," he tells her, and she scoffs. He smiles, tucking the phone against his chin and tipping his head back against his chair. "Besides, this problem says something about a cosecant, and I have no idea what that is."
Felicity sighs and then she's launching into an explanation of cosecants and cotangents and, to be honest, Oliver's barely paying attention to anything she says, but he really likes the sound of her voice.
She's in the middle of saying something about dividing the hypotenuse over something when his phone beeps with another incoming call. Oliver moves the phone away from his ear just long enough to glance at the screen, Laurel's smiling face blinking up at him from the display.
"Oliver?" Felicity says, and her voice sounds tinny and far away. "Should I let you go?"
"What?" Oliver asks, pressing ignore on his phone and holding it back up to his ear. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to Laurel...it's just that he really should finish his homework. Besides, Laurel will totally understand; after all, she's always bugging him to pay more attention to his studies. "No, it's fine. You were saying something about the hypotenuse…"
"Oh, right," Felicity says, picking up where she left off, walking him through the rest of the problem.
After that, he manages to convince her to stay on the phone with him while he gets through the next two questions, asking her to help him with things he already knows how to do. And, okay, maybe when he puts it like that, it sounds sort of pathetic, but it's just really boring to do this by himself. Besides, it does seem like she enjoys helping him, and the math is a lot easier when she explains it to him.
But then, just after they finish the second to-last-problem, she says, "Okay. That's it for me."
"Wait?" Oliver says. "You're leaving."
"I've got my own homework to finish, Oliver," Felicity tells him. "Besides, you've totally got this. I barely even helped you with the last two problems."
"Fe-li-ci-ty," he says. He likes the way her name feels on his tongue, almost musical somehow.
"You'll be fine," Felicity assures him. "But, if you want, text me a picture of your work on the final problem and I'll give it a look."
He sighs heavily. "Fine," he tells her. "But if I get stuck, I'm calling you."
"It's one problem, Oliver," she says, but he can tell she's smiling. "You can handle it."
Oliver slogs through the last math problem, already bored without Felicity's voice in his ear. When he does finally finish, he takes a picture and sends it to Felicity along with a short text: How'd I do, Miss Smoak?
She texts back almost immediately: Check your math. 2 + 2 = ? Come on, Queen. Even you can do this one.
Oliver smiles to himself, sliding the paper over and looking back over the final problem, seeing his simple addition mistake in the first step, when he somehow decided that 2 + 2 = 6. No wonder that answer seemed off. He shakes his head, erasing his work and writing down the new answer. He takes another picture to send to Felicity. Better?
Her reply comes just a couple of seconds later. Much.
Oliver waits a couple of minutes, but she doesn't text anything else, and he puts down his phone, trying to ignore the strange sense of disappointment he feels. He's not sure what else he's expecting her to say; after all, she's his tutor, he did the work correctly, so there's not much else for her to say. Still, he keeps an eye on his phone for a couple more seconds, finally snapping his Calculus book closed in irritation. What the hell is wrong with him? Since when does he sit around desperately waiting for a girl to text him? All of this homework must be screwing with his head.
It's just been a long day, he decides, running a hand through his hair. He glances once more at the blank screen on his phone, and then gets up and heads into the bathroom to get ready for bed, purposefully leaving his phone on the desk.
When he comes back into the room, his face washed and his breath minty fresh, there's a message from Felicity on his phone, and his stomach flips in this really embarrassing way.
Btw I'm expecting to see you in Chemistry tomorrow. 7:30am sharp. Don't let me down.
Oliver smiles, and texts her back: Remind me: is there a textbook for that one?
Ha ha. Then: In case you're not kidding, textbook is blue, says Chemistry on the front in big white letters.
Oliver rolls his eyes, but makes a mental note to look for his Chem book before he leaves for school in the morning. Thanks for the tip.
No problem. Just remember to unwrap it before class. And then, before he gets a chance to respond: And by "it" I mean your book. Not...anything else.
Oliver huffs out a laugh as he taps out his reply, wondering if she's blushing right now, kind of hoping that she is. Will do.
Goodnight Oliver :-)
Goodnight Felicity, he texts back, smiling to himself.
He puts the phone down on his nightstand, double checking to make sure the alarm is set for tomorrow morning. He's still smiling as he gets into bed and, for what's he pretty sure is first time ever, he's excited about going to school.