"What do you think?"

Oliver stared at the two feminine silhouettes half-across the room.

"She's hot. Why do women always go to the restroom in pairs?"

"I'm serious, Hal."

"Me too. The only answer my sisters ever gave me is "because"."

The blonde detached his gaze from Chloe's shapely back to look at his friend. Hal popped a fried shrimp into his mouth. They knew each other well enough so that he didn't have to explain what he was really asking. Hal answered, "she's not lying."

"You're sure?"

His friend extended his right hand over the table. The Green Lantern ring on his index glowed then disappeared when he turned his palm face up. Oliver took a pull of his beer.

"I am not sure if I envy you the truth detector or if I pity you."

"It has its moments."

Oliver took the dry answer for what it was and changed the subject.

"What do you think Lionel wanted a marine biologist for?"

Hal shrugged. "No idea. Maybe he wanted to militarize Dolphins or something. Who knows? Tess' speciality is sea mammals, otters, whales, sharks, this kind of stuff."

Oliver stared in surprise. "How do you know that?"

"While you and blondie make lovey-dovey eyes at each other, we adults actually talk."

"We're not— I feel responsible for her."

That was the only truth he could afford at the moment. Oliver leaned back in his seat.

He admitted he enjoyed seeing her raid the kitchen for coffee in the morning, barefoot and bleary-eyed. It uncoiled something inside him when she curled on the sofa with him to relax with a movie—Temple of Doom notwithstanding. The concentrated frown on her face when she wrote was adorable. He liked how his flirting flustered her, and how she berated him if he messed with her while she cooked. Her beauty was simple, subtle like the scent of her shower gel. He'd never fallen for the girl-next-door charm before, and now he would spend hours staring at a petite blonde with dynamite legs and too bright eyes.

"I… Shit."

Hal clasped one hand on his shoulder. "It's not so bad."

"You don't understand."

"Sure I do. You finally found a girl you can see yourself fall in love with. And it's scaring the shit out of you."

"That's not— It's not—" The Hell with Hal's alien ring. He would love to be able to lie right now. Oliver grasped at straws. "At some point, someone is going to see us together, won't take "no comment" for an answer. They will dig. Anyone I am associated with is automatically put under a microscope. Paparazzi will follow her, gossip people will scrutinize every picture, every gesture, and they'll put it on the front page. You know that. You experienced it yourself. Her stunt with the press is not going to last forever. Lionel could get whiff of it—"

"Wait, are you telling me she's Isis2010?"

Oliver lowered his voice to a whisper. "Yes."

"With a talent like that you could give her the Watchtower."

"What? No! She must stay as far away from the Green Arrow as possible. Oliver Queen is already a problem."

"I don't know how to say this, but domesticated Oliver Queen would be far less interesting to the tabloids than the exploits of Star City's playboy billionaire."

"This is not about me." Hal was offering hope, when he knew there was none.

His friend scratched the label of his bottle.

"Find all the excuses you want, you're already in too deep to let her go. I don't need a ring to know you're lying to yourself."

"Lying about what?"

Hal never missed a beat as he rose to welcome the two women back with a brilliant smile and a wriggle of his eyebrows. "Oliver took Ballroom dancing classes in his fancy school and he actually enjoyed it."

"Really? He never said that."

A million shades of green waltzed in her eyes. Oliver smirked. "I am not at the liberty to confirm or deny this information. You'll have to wait for the Masquerade."

Chloe let out an exasperated sigh. Fortunately for him, Tess jumped right onto the bone. "You're going to a Masquerade Ball? How come I am only hearing about this now?"

She pulled the petite blonde down onto her chair none too gently, visibly ready to start grilling her. Oliver offered an impish grin in return to Chloe's deadly glare.

Hal snickered, "Yes, Chloe, who will you be?"

"He" Oliver felt the poke even if she was only pointing at him with her finger from afar "made some unhelpful suggestions."

Chloe grounded the word unhelpful, unaware it was only going to fuel Hal and Tess' teasing. The pair shot ideas back and forth over the table, while Chloe tried to control the torrent.

"Mary Poppins."

"A North Pole Elf."

"Hal…"

"Madonna."

"Please. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes' Marilyn, at least."

"Tess!"

"I suggested Tinkerbell, but she didn't want to hear about it…"

"Oliver!"

"She would make a great She-Ra."

"Or Scheherazade."

Oliver laughed under his breath as the young woman shook from indignation. "Why don't you bug Oliver instead?"

Hal discarded the suggestion with a swirl of his empty bottle. "Oliver is terrible with costumes. He alternates between Robin Hood and James Bond."

"Not this year."

Three pairs of hungry eyes turned toward him. He contemplated making them stew, but riling Chloe was too much fun, and they would not go back to that until he satisfied their curiosity. "I'll be Al Capone. All I need is a double-breast suit, a machine gun, and a hat."

Hal huffed, "Told you. Lame."

Tess tilted her head to the side. The scrutiny lasted long enough to make him squirm and wish Temuora brought their grilled fishes already. "Actually… I can see it."

The vote of confidence did nothing to release the awareness bubbling low in the pit of his stomach. The bubble fizzled up when Tess leaned toward Chloe to whisper in her ear. Then, it was those mesmerizing sea green eyes that pinned him to his seat.

Maybe he risked heartbreak. But if he only had another week to bask in a Chloe-infused atmosphere, away from his alter-ego's heroism, prying eyes, and the complications of a too demanding day-job, he wanted to relish every minute.

"I'll get us another round."

Alcohol made Chloe affectionate, Oliver discovered, incredibly so. She wouldn't let go of Tess until the redhead promised her a coffee date during the weekend. Hal got a hug hard enough to make him wince. As for Oliver… Oliver had to endure being her pillow. While they walked to his car, during the ride home, and then again in the elevator. She was perfectly capable of standing on her own two feet, which she proved crossing the penthouse without missing a step despite her heels. She just… didn't.

Oliver let himself be her living crutch, one of his hands the hostage of a blonde pixie in a green leather jacket, the other carrying her pumpkin.

He lurched back when he spotted the mess in the guest room. "Wow, it looks like a bomb set off in here. What happened?"

"I started to pack," Chloe replied. She chose her words with care and spoke like his old diction teacher at Excelsior, detaching each word as if to avoid slurring.

He navigated through scattered clothes until they reached the bed. His eyes were not voluntarily delaying on lace. Her undergarments were just everywhere. "You know, packing generally means putting things inside the suitcase, not all around it."

Chloe fumbled with her jacket at the same time she tried to get rid of her heels. He rescued her before she faceplanted on the mattress. "Hal said I couldn't leave with saying goodbye."

His gut twisted. "Hal was right."

"He let me cry all over him."

Oliver smoothed a curl behind her ear, lingering on her curve of her neck. His fingertips itched to skim over her shoulder to touch the warm skin between her shoulder blades. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Chloe shivered in response to the caress. He forced his hand away, placed both firmly—safely on her clad waist. Looking away from her face when she smiled just for him like she was now, though, was undoable.

"No you're not… Hal said you'd rather swallow a peanut that deal with tears."

Thanks a bunch, Hal.

"Seems to me Hal said a lot of things."

"He's a good friend."

Her nose pressed against his chest when she finally toed off her other shoe. Chloe nuzzled his throat. Good God, he had to get away from her before he did something really stupid. Oliver inched her away from his body. "Chloe…"

"I want…"

There was no way he could resist her. No way he could hold on to the need to lower his head and brush his mouth over hers when she stared at him from under her lashes like this. Oliver started to pull her back to him. Chloe sighed. "…Charlie."

"Who?"

The shove she gave him broke her equilibrium and she bounced on the bed. "Pumpkin. It's Charlie. Like Charlie Brown."

To his utter relief and equally large frustration, she snuggled with the stuffed orange ball. "Right. Sure. Good night Chloe."

"Night Ollie…"

He picked up his heart on the floor, along with her leather jacket, her heels and headed for the door.