Chapter Three:
The first thing Oliver did in the morning was phone Diggle.
"Why the hell is Felicity Smoak underneath me?"
"Uhhh… I feel like that's a very R-rated question for so early in the morning, Oliver," Diggle replied, trying hard not to snicker. "I would have to get HR on that. Sexual harassment issues and all that."
Oliver closed his eyes and counted to ten. "I mean," he bit out, "what is she doing in the apartment below me? Last I checked I owned the entire building and I don't remember signing up any new tenants."
"Correction, the label owns the building," Diggle replied succinctly. "And besides… we thought that since you just came back, it might be good for you to be around more people. You know, make you feel more normal."
Oliver knew how to read in between the lines. What Diggle meant was that it would be good if there was someone to keep an eye on him.
"I don't need a babysitter, Digg," he said through clenched teeth.
"She's not your babysitter," Digg argued. "She's your new artist. If anything, you're her babysitter."
Digg's logic didn't make Oliver feel any better.
"Besides, maybe this way you two can bond. Help make the album even better. You used to do that you know, spend time with your artists?"
That felt like a whole other lifetime ago. Oliver rubbed his face with one hand. Diggle didn't sound like he was willing to make any new arrangements and quite frankly, other than playing the guitar late into the night, Felicity hadn't really been all that disruptive. He'd feel like an ass kicking her out.
"Fine," he said and hung up without waiting for Diggle to respond.
Oliver glanced down at the floor. The walls in the building were too thick to hear any of his neighbors unless he was outside on the balcony, but he could almost feel her presence below him.
It's going to be a long six months.
xxx
Felicity couldn't sleep after the run in with Oliver. Their conversation had been limited to him telling her to keep it down and to go to bed so she can be up early in the morning, yet somehow those few words made her feel like a scolded child. Throughout the rest of the night she kept twisting and turning in bed, thinking he could hear her even though she knew the place was much too fancy to not have good sound insulation.
The paranoia followed her as she went through her usual morning routine. Did she flush the toilet too loud? Oh god, if he could hear her every single time she flushed the toilet she would just die. She had to slap cold water on her face from just imagining the embarrassment. Finally she managed to get herself into some clothes and out the door.
Of course, when she got to the elevator there he was, standing by the door with his hands in his pocket. She wasn't sure if he had been waiting for her. As she approached, he gave her a once over. She felt substantially self-conscious under his gaze.
"We're supposed to meet my stylist today so I wasn't quite sure what to wear," she said.
"You look fine," he replied. It was short, but Felicity felt her shoulders relaxing.
Finally the elevator doors dinged opened and Oliver stepped aside for her to enter first.
"After you," he said.
She smiled tightly at him as she scampered inside. He joined her shortly and they rode all the way down to the lobby in excruciating awkward silence.
When the elevators dinged open, Felicity wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do. There was supposed to be a car waiting to take her to the stylist and photoshoot location, but Oliver was supposed to be there too, so does that mean they were going to ride together? Or was she still supposed to just meet him there? It felt like riding separately would be awfully inefficient and a waste of gas if they were all going to the same place.
She didn't realize she had said all this aloud, something that she was noticing to be a rather common occurrence, until she looked up and saw him looking at her with an amused expression.
"You can ride with me," Oliver said.
Felicity nodded and quickly followed him out to the front. She stopped abruptly when she realized what his ride was.
"Oh," she said at the sight of the sleek custom black and green motorbike.
"Hop on," he said, handing her a spare helmet from the backseat.
Felicity stared at him as if he had just grown a pair of horns. "No way."
Oliver gave her a challenging look and gestured again with the helmet he was still holding out to her. Felicity just shook her head fervently.
"I'm kind of a chicken," she confessed. "I know I may come off as scrappy, but let me assure you, I'm totally fragile. Like paper fragile. Definitely. I'll just wait for the car, I guess."
Oliver's lip curled up just the tiniest bit. "I already cancelled it. They're not coming."
"Oh…" Felicity said, scrambling for another solution.
Oliver threw his leg over the bike and mounted it. When she didn't follow suit he looked at her. "Are you planning to walk to the photoshoot?"
With an inward groan, she quickly took the proffered helmet from his hands and scrambled to put it on without knocking her glasses askew. Once done, she gingerly made her way over to him.
"Um, how do I?"
"Just throw your leg over," Oliver instructed.
She did, with the gracefulness of a wild boar in high heels. By the time she was seated behind Oliver, she was grateful for the helmet for hiding her heated cheeks. The only thing she had to pat herself on the back for was forgoing skirts today, having chosen a simple pair of jeans instead. She couldn't imagine how impossible it would've been if she'd been wearing a skirt or dress.
"You're going to have to hang on tight," Oliver said, pulling her arms around his waist.
"I bet you say that to all the girls," she retorted without thinking.
Felicity was glad once more for the helmet obscuring her furious blush. She could feel Oliver stiffen for a second and she sensed rather than saw him smile. Without saying a word, Oliver revved the engine, earning a yelp from her, and off they flew.
xxx
There were groups of screaming fans to greet them at the photoshoot location. The problem was, they weren't hers.
Just as Oliver rolled his motorcycle to the curb, a limo pulled up behind them. Felicity turned her head and watched as Isabel Rochev, in all her glory, stepped out of the car to the screams of her undying fans. Isabel had been Felicity's runner-up. Barry told her that Isabel had signed on with Wilson Music Entertainment after the announcement about Felicity's win. People ate that up. They loved the idea of a rivalry between the two emerging artists and Isabel seemed intent on giving the people what they wanted. She shot Felicity a glare before attending to her fans.
"How does she even walk in that," Felicity muttered under her breath as she took in the rival artist's five inch stiletto heels. Isabel was donning large sunglasses that would make Felicity look bug-eyed if she'd wore them, but on Isabel looked utterly glamorous.
Tearing her eyes away from the brunette bombshell, Felicity immediately regretted agreeing to shove her head inside a motorcycle helmet and tried to futilely run a hand through her hair to shake it out. She glanced over at Oliver and saw that somehow he'd managed to avoid any semblance of helmet hair. Instead he came off as ruggedly handsome with his scruff, leather jacket, and helmet tucked under his arm. She caught a few of Isabel's fans looking his way. She couldn't really blame them.
"Come on, let's get you inside," Oliver said, completely ignoring the pandemonium going on beside them. He seemed completely unfazed as he started walking towards the door, leaving Felicity no other option than to follow. She didn't miss Isabel's subtle stare following them as they entered the building.
The twisting in her stomach should've been a hint that this photoshoot was going to be a disaster. Especially if Isabel was doing hers at the same place, same time.
xxx
The photoshoot, as predicted, goes horribly.
The stylist has her hair up in a side ponytail that makes her feel like she's eleven, and they have her wearing a retro orange dress that clashes terribly with her hair.
"We're going for the Ingrid Michaelson look," they told her.
She felt like kid playing dress up more than anything. It translated in the photos they took of her, in the forced way she smiled. Like she knew she's a total fraud. Give her a guitar and she'd sing like the best of 'em, she was confident about that. But put her in front of a camera? Utter disaster.
She's sweating at the end of it all and she can tell from the photographer's perpetual frown that all the shots are terrible. Her stylist doesn't know quite what to do with her. They already tried a few wardrobe changes, but nothing helped the stiffness in Felicity's spine. She was now donning a leather jacket, her hair loose around her shoulders. She was supposed to look like a badass. She felt anything but.
To make matters worse Isabel had finished her photoshoot early, probably nailing it on her first try, and was watching Felicity screw up hers with the smuggest smile on her lips. It's been years since they've seen each other, but it felt like high school again. Felicity had been hoping that when Isabel moved to New York in the 11th grade, it would be the last time they'd run into each other.
"Let's take a break for a second," the photographer said. Felicity caught him trying not to wince as he looked through the shots he just took of her.
Disaster. Felicity had caught Isabel trying to talk to Oliver while she was getting her shots done, but he seemed rather tacit with her so now Isabel has moved on to flirting with the photographer, who seemed much more receptive by the way he laughed as she twirled her hair.
The break over all too soon and for crazy reason the photographer still wants to take more photos. He barely got in a snap in when Oliver came barreling in from wherever he was during the break.
"This is not going to work," he said.
Felicity felt all of her muscles go taunt as Oliver shoved the photographer aside and approached her. This was it. Her music career ended before it even started. She shut her eyes as he stopped in front of her, unable to even look at him and willing tears to not stream down her face. Not in front of Isabel. Not in front of everybody.
And then with one swift move, Oliver took off Felicity's glasses. Her eyes shot open as he snapped his finger for Roy to bring over a guitar to him. He placed it into her hands and she tried hard not to shiver when his fingers brushed over hers. Felicity took the guitar from him a little uncertainly.
He took a step back and almost smiled, touching his finger to his lip. Always almost smiles with him. It made her feel inadequate, but she liked it better than the broody scowls he usually wore. She wondered how it would be if he tried smiling for real, the kind that went from ear to ear. It must change his entire face.
"Better," he declared. "Now play something."
Felicity snapped her head up, his demand thrusting her out of her thoughts. "What?"
"Play something," he repeated, his tone bordering on impatient. As if catching himself, the stern corners of his mouth softened for a second and he said, "Pretend we're in the studio. Play something. Anything you like."
"Umm, but aren't we supposed to be taking photos? Also, I'm like totally blind without my glasses so-"
"You don't need them to play," he replied.
She squinted and tried to make out the photographer from over his shoulder, but Oliver turned her face away, back towards him.
"Don't look at him. Don't look at anyone."
"Okay, well I'm kinda looking at you right now so should I be like averting my eyes or-" She knew she was babbling so she was kind of happy when he interjected.
"Just… play," he urged. "Don't pay any attention to the camera."
"Okay," she said. "Okay…"
She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting against her self-consciousness, the tightness in her chest. She looked up and without her glasses she couldn't make anyone's face, anyone's but Oliver's. She held his gaze for a second and then released a breath.
She dropped her gaze and began testing out a few strings. Felicity didn't know why she suddenly she thought of her mother, thought of the song that some old singer used to sing, the one that her mother always made Felicity turn off whenever it came on the radio, but that Felicity secretly loved. She didn't know why this song is the one that popped first in her head, but Oliver said play anything so she went with it.
Well, I came home
Like a stone
And I fell heavy into your arms
She shut her eyes, rocked softly to the familiar melody. Felt it settle around her shoulders like an old blanket.
*These days of dust
Which we've known
Will blow away with this new sun
She looked up again and met Oliver's eyes. Again, the almost smile. It was like he was challenging her to make it full.
But I'll kneel down,
Wait for now
She felt her voice grow strong, more confidant with every verse.
And I'll kneel down,
Know my ground
She shut her eyes one more, let the chorus come out like a hymn.
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
When Felicity finished her song, the entire room is silent.
The energy she felt while singing had dissipated and she felt eyes on her once more. "Was that bad?" Felicity asked, glancing around. She was still a bit disoriented by her vision. A red blur bobbed toward her and handed her her glasses. Once she put them on, she recognized the red blur to be Roy and she thanked him.
"That was great," Roy assured her.
"That was amazing!" The photographer exclaimed from behind Roy.
Felicity turned her head to see the photographer smiling widely. He was already at his laptop, uploading the photos he had took of her while she was singing. Felicity carefully returned the guitar to Roy and wandered over to look over the photographer's shoulder.
"It's a bit more candid than my usual work, but these shots turned out great. I think we can wrap for today."
"Oh!" Felicity's mouth slowly turned upwards. "Okay."
Felicity glanced around and noticed that Oliver was gone. As was Isabel. She had been so distracted with the new photos that she didn't notice either of them leaving. She shrugged off the gnawing thought of Isabel trying to poach her music producer and wandered over to the dressing room to change out of her clothes.
Just before she pushed open the door to the dressing room, she heard some muffled voices from the other side. The door was open just a crack so she could make out the words if she stayed completely still.
"You can't keep avoiding me, you know."
"Not if you keep following me, I can't." Felicity recognized Oliver's acerbic tone with a start.
"Would you rather I be Felicity Smoak? Following your heels like a puppy dog?"
Felicity's hair rose. Isabel had always grated on her nerves, but she didn't appreciate being talked about behind her back. Especially with her album producer. She was normally not an eavesdropper, but she couldn't help it when it seemed to concern her.
"It's rare to see you so threatened, Isabel. That only tells me Felicity Smoak is a whole lot more than meets the eye." Felicity felt rather than saw Oliver's smirk. "How do you two know each other anyway?"
Felicity could hear Isabel scoffing on the other side. "She was a band geek back when I was experimenting with public school. She'd always been kind of pathetic, but I guess she sings well enough."
"Good enough to beat you," Oliver pointed out.
Before Felicity could hear Isabel's retort Roy was calling her name from down the hall.
"Hey, Felicity," Roy's voice called out loudly. "I forgot to tell you-"
Before Felicity could adequately motion for him to shut up, Isabel threw open the dressing room door, nearly knocking Felicity against the wall.
Isabel gave her a withering glare, but didn't say a thing, sashaying away before anyone else could react.
"Did I miss something?" Roy's eyebrow was raised in a perplexed expression.
Felicity opened and closed her mouth, not sure how to say she had been inadvertently spying on her musical rival and producer when Oliver came out of the room.
"What's going on, Roy?" he asked, his tone indicating nothing out of the ordinary.
A smile spread over Roy's face, replacing his earlier confusion. "Felicity's trending," he said proudly before producing his cellphone for them to view. One of the stylist assistants had recorded her playing and uploaded it to youtube. It already had a quarter million views.
"Wow," she said softly.
"Wow indeed," Oliver's voice came from over her shoulder.
She whirled her head around to face him, but didn't realize how close he was and their noses almost touched, making her back up suddenly. Oliver stood up straighter, looking amused at her reaction.
"So, Ms. Smoak. Are you ready to be famous?"
Felicity tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but it seemed to be happening anyway. She balled her hands into fists at her side and stared him right in the eyes.
"Yeah," she said, her tone firm. "I am."
Again, that almost smile appeared and just as quickly disappeared, like flotsam in the waves.
His next word made a shiver run down her spine.
"Good."
xxxxxxxxxx
*Based on the I Will Wait cover by Julia Harriman (Originally sung by Mumford and Sons). Check it out here! youtube /QqUR4QDTpTg