Recap: Felicity, Laurel, Tommy and Oliver are at Tommy's vacation home at The Hamptons. Unfortunately, it's not the kind of holiday Felicity had hoped for.

A big ol' sorry can be found at the end of the chapter. :)


After heading to the doctor's office and getting checked up, Felicity has no desire to head back to the house. Although she doesn't have a concussion, her nose and cheek has swelled up and she's having a small amount of trouble moving her face. It's going to be difficult to explain how she sustained these injuries when she returns to work. Her first response will be to verbally rip Oliver to shreds, but no one is supposed to know they spent the weekend together.

They didn't spend it together together, they were – never mind.

And so, after having Laurel practically carry her to the car and ask her if she's fine every two seconds, they've finally arrived to the very house Felicity hoped to avoid. As much as Felicity wanted to have a simple vacation, this is proving to be far worse than she had expected. If Oliver wasn't the kind of guy he was, then she wouldn't have had to deal with him this weekend, and certainly wouldn't have been hit in the face.

Fate has a funny way of rewarding her for putting up with Oliver.

"All right, don't even move for a second," Laurel commands as she puts the car in Park. "I don't want you sustaining another injury by walking into the house."

"Laurel, I don't have a concussion and I'm perfectly fine. I'm perfectly angry with Oliver, but I don't see that going away any time soon. So."

"And I don't expect it to." Smirking, Laurel gets out of the car and rushes over to Felicity's side. "But I feel like I'm partially responsible for getting your injured when I'm the one who wanted you to come."

Unimpressed by Laurel's guilt, Felicity sighs and explains, "It's not your fault. This is the first weekend I haven't been working. Isn't that a great thing?" Upon seeing Laurel smile just a fraction, Felicity gets out of the car and links her arm around Laurel's. "I just hope Oliver knows what's coming to him."

"I might say a quick prayer for him, because I don't doubt that you'll tear him apart.

When Felicity's dizziness subsided a few minutes after the accident, Oliver and Tommy stayed behind while Laurel took her to the doctor's. She would be lying if she said she didn't think about getting revenge the entire time at the doctor's office, and on the ride back she finalized her plans. Oliver will never know what happened to him.

They head inside as Laurel places a comforting hand behind Felicity's back – to which Felicity decides to say nothing about Laurel's overprotectiveness – and they go straight to the family room. "Sit," Laurel orders. Knowing arguing with Laurel will be pointless, she waits for Laurel to bring an ice pack.

The house is strangely silent, but she suddenly hears loud and boisterous laughter coming from the patio. Her patience is wearing thin, and while she's trying to put on a brave face she doesn't want to deal with Oliver, semi boss or not. Regardless of the fact that Oliver's twenty-eight, he still acts like a child and Felicity doesn't have time for his shenanigans.

Yet when she hears another round of laughter coming from the patio, she can't resist her lips from tugging upward. It's infectious. All she wanted was a weekend of no worries and dealing with zero documents, and there's a part of Felicity that would be willing to let it go.

But there's another part of Felicity stubborn to the core and unwilling to let Oliver Queen win.

"Here you go." Laurel enters the room and hands Felicity an ice pack. The doctor advised her to ice her bruised face as much as she could, and gave her medicine to lessen the swelling. Unfortunately, there's nothing else she can do, and she'll have to go to work looking like she jumped off a roof that ended with disastrous results.

"Don't stop icing it until you go to sleep. On second thought, tape it on your face."

"And freeze my face off? I'd rather let my computers be hacked by the Chinese government." Or . . . not.

Laurel chuckles at Felicity's remarks and looks at her fondly. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Probably get into a lot of trouble. But at least I'm here to be your partner in crime."

Nodding solemnly, Laurel's about to say something else when Tommy and Oliver enter the living room, carrying boxes of pizza and drinks. "Felicity!" Tommy nearly drops the pizza boxes as he rushes towards her. "Are you all right?"

His concerned face is mere inches away, and she almost falls out of the sofa from the disconcerting sight. "Whoa there – you're way too close for comfort."

"Oh." Taking a step back he readjusts himself and calmly asks again, "Are you all right?"

Felicity smiles, his concern for her well being making her love him even more. "Yeah. At least I don't have a concussion, which would be horrible considering I spend the entire day looking at a computer screen." Realizing she made it seem as if that's all she does, Felicity feels the urge to correct herself.

"That's not all I do. I do a lot. Obviously I help the company," she throws in as she sneaks a glance at an uninterested Oliver, "but I totally do other things. Sometimes I –"

Abruptly, she hears someone clearing his or her throat loudly, which helps her stop the word vomit. Felicity can't prevent herself from reddening. "Thank you to whoever did that."

"You're welcome," she hears Oliver respond. She looks up to see Oliver carefully eyeing her and judging Felicity for her nonexistent social life. Well. She would rather have no social life than the one Oliver currently has.

There's a tense beat after his remark, but it's broken when Tommy clasps his hands together and he loudly asks, "Anyone ready for pizza?"

Eager to dispel the tension, Laurel hurriedly grabs plastic plates and spoons sitting on top of the pizza boxes, and hands a plate to Felicity. "We're starving." It's taking every bit of strength not to bite back at Oliver, but Felicity needs to pick her battles and food triumphs over squabbles any day.

At least for a few minutes.

As Felicity swallows her annoyance Laurel lays out the boxes on the table in front of her and turns on some music, while Tommy starts to pour soda in the cups. There's one box of vegetables and meat – wanting to get a head start on the pizza, Felicity dives straight in for the veggie pizza only to find Oliver heading for the same thing.

She freezes as her first reaction is to yell "Mine," but it dawns on her that Oliver's letting her take the food first and he's talking to her.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about today," he apologizes lowly. He's towering above her, his large and impressive frame once again barring her line of sight. His eyes, however, are conveying something a little different – he's nervous.

Perplexed by the turn of events, Felicity eagerly waits for him to continue apologizing, her pizza long forgotten. It isn't an everyday occurrence where Felicity manages to make a future CEO uneasy.

His eyes dart around the room and he shifts his feet, and her chest swells in anticipation. "I didn't realize –"

"Hey Oliver, what drink do you want?"

And just like that, the spell is broken.

Sensing an opportunity to leave his apology half finished, Oliver promptly responds with "Coke" and quickly takes a slice of pizza. He runs to the armchair, which is seated far, far away from Felicity and ignores her glare as he digs into his pizza.

Felicity's in a state of bewilderment. Not only did he hurt her physically, he gave a half-apology and took the first opportunity to bail out of it. What a coward. At this point, she doesn't have the energy to hate him, because Oliver is a man-child who's had zero responsibilities since the day he was born. Apologizing – correction: half apologizing – to her probably gave him a heart attack. Felicity's not going to let him off easy, but she should stop expecting him to turn a new leaf.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity focuses on her dinner and tries to keep a calm façade. Swopping down to Oliver's level will only make things worse and she can't let that happen. She's better than that.

After deciding to let bygones be bygones, Felicity starts munching on her food (with great difficulty, may she add) and joins in on the conversation.

"What else did the doctor say?" Tommy sits on an armchair next to Oliver and digs into his pizza, eyeing Felicity carefully.

Her mouth is full so Laurel chimes in. "She has to ice it and the doctor gave her medicine. There's not much else she can do."

"I hope you feel better soon. But if things get serious I . . . know a plastic surgeon, and she absolutely wouldn't mind having a walk-in. Oh, and Oliver can pay for the appointment!"

Felicity almost chokes on her pizza but manages to swallow it down before breaking into a fit of laughter. Laurel appears aghast, but Felicity finds Tommy's comment hysterical. Tommy has officially landed himself at the top of Felicity's Favorite People list, and she doubts there will be anything to take him out of it.

She peeks at Oliver and surprise, he's got a scowl on his face.

The conversation simmers down as they're extremely hungry after a workout and medical scare. Shockingly, it's the first time this whole weekend they've all been together for an extended period of time, and Felicity's not feeling particularly moody. Well, aside from Oliver giving her a half-assed apology.

Looking at her phone, Felicity sees that it's past eight and would usually leave whatever social situation she's in to finish her work. There's a part of her that wants to – it's home to her. She knows how to do it and it provides her a sense of normalcy. Then again, Felicity's been working extremely hard in order to get her promotion, and a quiet evening with a swollen face is change of pace for her. It's certainly not a welcome change, but something different.

"So," Laurel begins, "you have a sister, Oliver?" Felicity glances up from above her glasses and watches Oliver continue to text while ignoring Laurel. A flare of anger erupts, because hitting and not apologizing to Felicity is one thing, but pointedly ignoring Laurel is another.

It takes Oliver another five agonizing and rude seconds before he responds, "Yes. Her name's Thea, and she's the one who won't stop texting me at the moment." Oliver smiles tightly, irritated by his sister's antics.

Glancing over at Felicity, Laurel says, "I have a younger sister too. Her name's Sara and she's in college . . . At least that's what she tells our parents." Felicity grins at the mention of Sara. Even though Felicity's an only child, Sara is practically her younger sister and she cares deeply for her.

"Thea's the best," Tommy throws in. "I'm obviously her favorite."

"Yesterday she told me you smelled funny, and suggested she buy you a new cologne." While Tommy is shocked by the reveal and Oliver makes fun of him, Felicity looks over at Laurel and sees her face reddening. Laurel had bought him the cologne, which she created herself from a cute shop near their apartment. It smelled divine to Felicity, but apparently Thea Queen's rich taste can't handle it.

"Anyway, she's being childish right now. She's texting me from a bathroom because she's bored at a dinner."

"Where is she?"

Oliver shoves his phone inside his pocket. "With mom and Walter at the Plaza. I don't understand why she's in love with bathrooms."

Laurel shrugs. "It's a phase all girls go through. She'll get over it."

"It's definitely not a phase for guys."

"Right. As if guys like you haven't had phases that are embarrassing."

"For the record we've only had one awkward phase," Tommy says seriously.

"And what's that?"

"A . . . rap one."

Both Laurel and Felicity snort; of course they would go through it. It's impossible for them not to. She can only imagine what kind of clothes they went through.

"Hey, I wasn't part of that," Oliver protests.

"Yes you were." Tommy stares him down, trying to get Oliver to confess.

"No. I've had absolutely no phases. I've been Oliver since the moment I was born." He finishes his sentence by tapping his fingers against the armrest to solidify his point.

Shaking her head in disagreement Laurel says, "Not all phases are obvious. Sometimes you don't realize you've had one until things have changed."

"Yeah, it's kind of similar to how Oliver thinks he hasn't moved on from being a privileged prep."

Oh god. Felicity is only aware of how everyone's eyes slowly go wide in dismay, and when her skin prickles and itches. Her body freezes and her throat dries up in humiliation. Why can't she think before she speaks?

"I didn't –"

Just then Tommy snorts so loud he starts to choke from the force of it. He regains composure less than a second later and doubles over in laughter. Unable to control it anymore, he falls on the floor as he cries from the hilarity of what Felicity said.

Over to the side Laurel can't stop herself from grinning also, but Felicity's reluctant to move a muscle. Even though she believes Oliver is a pompous, ill-mannered boy, she insulted her almost boss again. She may be right in her assessment, but Felicity needs to learn how to control these outbursts.

But when Felicity gathers the courage to glimpse at Oliver, he's carefully watching her and everyone else around him unable to hold themselves together. Even Laurel's openly giggling now, while Tommy takes a five second break before breaking into another fit.

"I've sort of moved past that phase," Oliver mumbles as Tommy reaches over the coffee table and grabs a tissue to wipe his tears away. He's clearly offended by Felicity's comment, but to a certain degree he knows she's right. And it's all she needs to finally breathe.

Even though Oliver Queen doesn't like to apologize or admit when he's wrong, it appears he's got a good habit of not refuting the truth when it comes to his horrid personality. Which is certainly a plus for Felicity.


After dinner, Felicity's retired back to her room, exhausted from sightseeing and the injury she's sustained. She attempts to sleep but sleep never comes. Her mind is too restless, and she's having a hard time sleeping on her side because her face is sore. After a couple of hours of tossing and turning, she finds herself wanting to work despite the late hour.

When she goes to use her laptop, the WiFi signal is absent. With a groan, Felicity wraps a plush throw around her shoulders and heads downstairs into the office, hoping the Internet isn't permanently broken.

Except she finds herself standing alone in a room with Oliver. Again.

"Oh. Hi." Oliver stands still in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets. He's caught off guard by Felicity's presence, but at least he has clothes on. "I was going to fix the Internet."

"Yourself?" She's incredulous to say the least.

He's unfazed. "I learned a few things when I was in Russia. A computer was one of them."

She doesn't trust him enough to do it correctly. He can learn from Bill Gates himself and she still wouldn't believe him. "It's fine, I can do it myself. It'll probably get done quicker if I do it, but I'll definitely have to run a diagnostics test."

Felicity cringes on the inside once she realizes it sounded a little mean. "I'm . . . all right with staying a little busy," she says hastily. "It'll be fixed in about ten minutes or so."

For some reason Oliver refuses to let her take the reigns when she's certainly more qualified then he'll ever be. His brows furrow. "I just – all I need to do is unplug and re-plug the cord." Oliver points to the Internet box and raises an eyebrow. "It's really not that difficult."

"I'm not saying it's difficult. I'm saying I have experience in this and I'll guarantee it'll be done thoroughly." Oliver's eyes narrow by her comment but she thinks nothing of it.

"I know it'll be done thoroughly and I don't expect anything less." Oliver turns around and bends to the floor. "But there's no reason to run a diagnostics when all you need to do is unplug the cord." He dramatically pulls the plug and watches her from below, his haughty expression refusing to dissipate.

Crossing her arms and sizing Oliver up, Felicity softly taps her foot in anticipation and annoyance. Tilting her head to the side, she glares at him because she knows he's wrong, and if he could be a little less egotistical that would be fantastic. A male's pride is particularly fragile, especially in the presence of an accomplished woman; Oliver is no different.

It doesn't take long for Felicity's eyes to zero in on Oliver's backside, because it's rather . . . defined. It's hard not to stare when it's shoved in her face. She wouldn't necessarily say she finds butts attractive, but this one isn't so –

She needs to stop. Now.

Pushing those troubling thoughts away, Oliver finally puts the cord back in and watches the lights turn on. Felicity peers over his large frame and sees all the lights are flashing green, but her experience has taught her otherwise. Discreetly, she takes out her phone and checks the WiFi signal, and much to her dismay it's working.

Felicity doesn't like to be wrong – ever – but to have this happen in front of Oliver isn't what she wanted. His overly inflated ego will expand even more, and to be a culprit in Oliver's cycle of egomania only makes her an accomplice – an unwilling one at that.

"Would you look at that, the Internet is working." Oliver glances over his shoulder and smiles smugly before returning back to the other modems to see if they're fine.

She bites her tongue from saying something because she knows it's futile and unnecessary. Yes, Oliver may have gotten all the lights to work and yes, it appears the Internet is working, but it could very well have another meltdown while they're here. Felicity will simply have to conduct her tests when he's not in the room.

Just before she leaves, Felicity scans all the other monitors and cords to see if they're placed correctly. Surprisingly they're all connected in the right areas, but they're scattered about and hazardously wrapped together. "Who set up the Internet here? The cords are a mess."

Oliver sighs deeply as he stands up, and his eyes bore onto Felicity's. "I did it."

Her shoulders sag in defeat; there really is no end to her misery, is there? "I should've known better than to ask."

"You're right. I didn't have time to do it correctly when I came here last year." Her interest piques, since as far as the world knows Oliver didn't come back to the States at all during his five-year stint. "But I guess it's a good thing you're here because you can fix it all you want," he says as gestures at the pile of monitors.

He's mocking her, she's sure of it. "No thanks. I have other pressing concerns like helping you run your company." Glancing at the floor, she mutters angrily, "And making sure my face doesn't swell up to the size of a mountain"

Oliver flinches by her words and guiltily looks to the ground. "Yeah . . . I'm really sorry about that." His jaw ticks but his eyes are soft, and his voice drops an octave. Much to her chagrin it soothes her – it's low a tenor, smooth and enticing.

Before her mind can go elsewhere, she quickly chastises herself for getting momentarily hypnotized. Stay focused, Smoak.

"It was a complete accident. I got arrogant and thought I could hit the ball before you came into view, and I couldn't stop myself from hitting you. I'm really sorry."

Maybe it's a combination of his cute butt, calming voice or the late hour, but suddenly Felicity feels tired of this charade. Of course it's not his fault he couldn't stop himself from hitting her, because it was already too late. Of course this weekend hasn't been horrible because of Oliver, and of course he's not the bad guy here. If anything he's remained civil – as civil as he can be – to Felicity from the very moment he came her.

It's true that his first impression wasn't perfect, and he more or less said Felicity wasn't attractive because she's a smart nerd. But Felicity's been her own worst enemy this weekend and has continuously dampened her own spirits by letting his presence taint her vacation. If she just ignored him she wouldn't be feeling so moody. And while Oliver is kind of her boss, he's been astonishingly good about Felicity's outburst and hasn't threatened to fire her . . . yet.

She doesn't like him – far from it – but she's willing to admit Oliver isn't Voldemort dressed in disguise. He could still work on his social graces, though.

"If there's anything I can do . . ."

Actually, maybe he can.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

He looks surprised that Felicity's actually taking up his offer. "Okay?" he asks apprehensively.

"Relax, I'm not going to blackmail you." He swallows thickly, and Felicity can't restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "I would like it if you could be nice to Laurel."

The spell is broken, because at the mention of Laurel he goes back to Rude and Obnoxious Oliver Queen, not Apologetic and Possibly Decent Human Being Oliver Queen. "Am I not nice already?"

Obviously not. "I know her. You're Tommy's best friend, and she wants you to like her because your approval means a lot to Tommy. She hasn't said a word to me, but Laurel's been doing her best to get to know you. A 'thank you' and a few flowery words would be appreciated."

"I suppose . . ."

"Listen, I understand you're protective of him. I'm protective of Laurel, but maybe you should take a step back and let their relationship run its course."

At this moment Felicity's forgotten all about Oliver being her semi-boss, because right now they're best friends of the people they care the most. His animosity towards Laurel is hurting her friend, and Laurel's too kind to broach her concerns with Felicity. The least she can do is smooth things over behind the curtain.

Oliver acquiesces. "All right. I'll let her know she's . . ." He trails off and tries to find the right word. "Cool."

"Right. Good."

Astonished they've managed to have a somewhat decent conversation, Felicity rocks on her heels and chews the inside of her cheek. "Well, uh, night then."

To his credit Oliver smiles normally. "Good night."

As she goes up to her room, she forgets all about her work, and Felicity finally sleeps with no care in the world.


Since Felicity was technically supposed to go back to Starling on Friday via a company-approved plane ticket, she has to take a bus back to Metropolis then grab a cab to the airport. Tommy had insisted she use his private jet to Starling, but she overheard that Oliver would be taking the same jet; she definitely doesn't want to be there. Besides, Felicity's certain her actual bosses won't appreciate spending money for a ticket she didn't use.

All of her belongings are packed, but Felicity spends a couple of minutes looking out the window and soaking in some fresh air. Although the vacation certainly wasn't perfect, she managed to refrain from working and worrying about projects. It's a change of pace for her.

As for her injury, the swelling hasn't ballooned into a purple monster, but she's still sore on the bridge of her nose and there's a bump on top of her cheekbone. She went to sleep with an icepack glued to her face – it's a miracle her face didn't get frostbitten. Nonetheless, Felicity can cover her injury with makeup although she'll have to wear contacts for a while.

She hears some commotion downstairs and readies herself after surveying the room for any items she hasn't packed. As she descends down the stairs, she's greeted by Tommy and Laurel chatting animatedly. "Hey guys."

Tommy's face lights up and he immediately grabs her luggage. "Are you sure you don't want to spend a few more hours and take my jet? It would save you the hassle."

"Thank you but I'll have to pass." She glances at Laurel before saying, "I will remember this offer when Laurel and I are trying to go to the Bahamas on a proper vacation."

"I like how you think!" Tommy laughs heartedly and wags his finger at her. "I'll go ahead and put this in the car."

After watching Tommy exit the house with her carryon, Felicity steps into the foyer and notices Laurel's holding a lunch bag. "What's in there?"

"It's for you. I packed some snacks for the trip. I hope you're fine with tangerines and Doritos." Scrunching her nose, Laurel adds, "There's an abundant amount of Doritos in this house."

Felicity smiles knowingly; there are always going to be a plentiful amount of junk food as far as boys are concerned. "Thanks. Now I won't have to spend 15 dollars for a packet of cookies at the airport."

"See? This is how you know how much I care about you," jokes Laurel. She glances at her phone to check the time. "We should go. We don't want to miss your bus."

"Absolutely." Felicity's already printed out her bus and plane ticket (even though she has an electronic copy for both), and they're safely tucked inside her purse. As she steps closer to the door a wave of nostalgia hits her – this is the first time in a long time she's had a break and she's certainly sad to see it go. But for a brief moment Felicity feels this vacation house will be making an appearance in the future. When, she doesn't know, but soon.

Once Felicity steps outside, she notices a black SUV parked next to Tommy's sports car. "Where did this car come from?" She doesn't recall seeing the SUV at all during the weekend.

Leaning against the railing on the porch, Laurel looks a little embarrassed and says, "This car stays in the garage the whole year . . . in case someone needs it."

Translation: Tommy's so rich he can have a car lying around at a vacation home whenever he wants.

"Oh." Translation: what a waste of money.

Laurel clears her throat and walks toward the car as Felicity follows suit, but stops as she sees Tommy and Oliver coming out of the garage. Felicity steps nearer and joins in on the conversation. Tommy says a couple of words to Laurel then focuses his attention on Felicity.

"Before I forget, I put a couple packets of peanuts for you in your suitcase," Tommy says. "In case you –"

"No!"

Tommy steps back because he can't handle both Laurel and Felicity's screeching, whereas Oliver is puzzled and freaked out. Felicity takes a breather and counts backwards from three.

"She's 1000 percent allergic to peanuts. She'll die if she comes near it," Laurel explains.

Felicity nods in agreement. "Totally. So dead even my corpse won't be able to talk."

Eyes slowly widening in horror, Tommy exclaims, "Oh God, I didn't mean to murder you!" He immediately runs to the trunk of the car and loudly unzips the carryon. Crisis averted. Felicity says a quick Thank You to the man upstairs before returning her attention to the present.

With Tommy disposing hazardous materials, there's now an awkward silence between her, Laurel, and Oliver. She can't help but glance at Oliver in his perfect plaid shirt glory, but immediately banishes that thought from her mind. It's still quiet between them – Felicity's mouth is in the process of opening and making the situation even worse when Oliver luckily breaks the silence.

"So . . . Laurel, thank you for inviting me. I appreciate it." He nods tersely and ostentatiously glances at Felicity, which makes her uneasy. Except . . . Is he trying to uphold his end of the bargain from last night?

Laurel visibly brightens. "It's the least I can do. I hope you had fun."

"Yeah, definitely." Oliver continues to look at Felicity as if he's waiting for a sign of encouragement. So he really is trying to fulfill the bargain. Felicity's not sure if she should give him thumbs up or a pat on the back, but she opts for a tiny nod and a discreet hand gesture so he can continue singing praises.

"I had some of Friday's leftovers. The pasta was delicious," he adds while he places a hand on his stomach. "I wish I had it everyday."

Felicity thought Oliver would be the last person on earth to make things uncomfortable, but it seems he's making a run for her money. She gets a sudden urge to laugh out loud, but manages to contain it and not ruin the moment. Still, it's the funniest thing she's seen all weekend.

"You flatter me. " Laurel's smile has gotten ten times bigger, and seeing her get complimented is making Felicity happy she talked to Oliver. "But thank you."

"And if you ever need anything in Starling . . . or want some dirt on Tommy, I'll gladly hand it over."

Oh no, now he definitely needs to shut up or he'll make things worse.

Felicity doesn't miss the alarmed look on Laurel's face, or how Oliver's cheeks are turning pink from embarrassment, so she glares at Oliver and shakes her head to stop him. Thankfully, he understands her signal and loudly shuffles his feet to end the awkward conversation.

To Laurel's credit she's still smiling, albeit a little less than she was ten seconds ago. "Duly noted."

Oliver simply nods in acknowledgement as the pink flush on his face slowly subsidizes, but Felicity feels kind of guilty for rubbing off on him. It seems her verbal affliction has contaminated Oliver – then again, perhaps it's a good thing she's not the only one who embarrasses herself.

Sensing the conversation is headed nowhere, Felicity gently says, "We should get going or I'll be late."

"Right." Laurel starts to walk away and waves at Oliver. "We should catch up soon."

"Of course."

Laurel immediately gets inside the SUV while Tommy stands on the driver side, making sure things are fine with the car. Felicity's alone with Oliver now; she's not sure if she should thank him for being nice to Laurel, or give him a gold star for remaining civil. Her instinct is to blurt something out, but once again, Oliver saves the day and suggests, "I'll walk you to the car."

Surprised, Felicity keeps her mouth shut and walks to the SUV, complete with a footstep to boost her up. The car looms over her, and it appears getting into it will be a daunting task, particularly with her heels. Before she can register how to step in, Oliver's large hand grabs the door handle. He's maintaining a decent distance from her – his face looks serious, but she notices how the sun changes his hair color to slightly blonde, and how his eyes are now baby blue.

Groaning internally, Felicity reprimands her brain for focusing on unimportant details. Once she gathers her wits, Oliver's still got a solemn look and Felicity wonders what'll happen next.

"Thanks for the advice. And again, I'm sorry about hitting you."

"That's –"

She can't get another word out as Oliver swiftly opens the door, clearly intending for the conversation to be over. All right . . . As Felicity steps around, she contemplates how to gracefully get in the car without twisting her ankle. Carefully planting her left foot on top of the footstep, Felicity manages to keep her balance. But in that split second she goes to sit on the seat, a warm and calloused hand reaches for hers, and she's not prepared for an odd tingling sensation coursing through her hand. It travels from her fingertips all the way to her toes, and circles back up until it disappears. It's an incredible feeling, but the moment passes as quickly as it came.

Her throat closes up, and before she can understand what's happening, the door is shut and she's settled into the car. She robotically buckles herself in, and uninterestedly waves goodbye to Tommy, who's standing alone on the driveway.

The moment loops nonstop in her head, hammering away and refusing to let her go home in peace. She's never felt that sensation before and –

"Ready? You're sure you have everything?"

She snaps out of her daze in just enough time for Laurel not to notice. Plastering a smile on her face, Felicity says, "Yes and yes. I'm definitely ready to go home."

And especially forget what just happened.


His hand burns a good two minutes after she's left. He shakes it to get rid of the feeling, but it's escaped and goes to his chest, where it settles in and blossoms into something else. He doesn't know what's going on, but there's a part of him that welcomes it.

For now.


A/N: I'm so sorry for the incredibly late chapter. I've had very little inspiration, things got hectic, and that's why I haven't updated in seven months. This chapter wasn't edited, so if you see any mistakes I'm sorry!

I hope you guys caught the P&P 2005 reference... It's one of my favorite scenes in the film. :)