Oliver held her at arm length, gorging on the sight of her. He wasn't shallow. He enjoyed seeing her in her day-to-day clothes, or her pajamas. But here, in sequined mousseline and satin, she glowed. Her little black dress and pearls shimmered with her every move. Down to her demure T strap heels, she impersonated the 1920s free woman with a glamour that was pure Chloe.
"You look fabulous…"
"Coco."
"I knew that."
Even the name was brilliant. If anyone overheard him call her Chlo—he'd have to scold Barbara for that later— they could pretend they'd misheard. Her eyes seemed to drink him in, the same way he was unable to look away. God he'd missed her…
His thumb ghosted over goosebumps on her bare arm.
"Are you cold? You're shivering."
"No, I'm good. Maybe a little hungry..."
"They'll bring the food out soon." Oliver cast a glance toward the corridors to confirm. Waiters armed with trays and bowls were bustling around the tables. She followed his gaze, let out a little laugh.
"I've been warned about the pizzas."
The quip lightened the hesitancy he felt pouring from her.
"Yeah, Sean was very much against the anchovies."
Oliver slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow to escort her further into the gardens, so they could have a little privacy. His heart skipped a bit when her fingers hooked into the fabric of his sleeve.
"It's nice that they are allowed to participate."
"The Oasis is theirs." Oliver shrugged the compliment away. Her gaze seemed to see right through him when she turned her face up to stare at him in the eye. "Sister Clare had to put her foot down a couple of times for the decoration and the underground indie rock band, but otherwise, they were quite helpful."
The accent of Shostakovich's Second Waltz floated around them. He took her right hand in his gloved one, the other pressed in the middle of her back. Chloe hesitated then followed his lead in a simple one-two-three pattern. Oliver searched her face. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I am just… overwhelmed." She lifted her eyes to meet his and smiled. "I haven't been in such a crowd since Prom. And Prom was… memorable."
"What happened?"
"Short version? Tornadoes, my date abandoning me on the dance floor to rescue the head cheerleader… I was named Prom Queen, though. That was nice. Unexpected, but nice."
"You're kidding right? He left you there with tornadoes zooming in to go after some pompoms?"
"Yeap."
Oliver clamped his mouth shut. Chloe joked to alleviate the moment, unwilling to remember more than she had to about Lana and Clark. "That's Smallville, Land of the weird and unexplained. Plus the mandatory teen drama. Did you have a prom-like event at Excelsior?"
"I… kind of missed it." She looked at him expectantly. Oliver smiled at her, bringing her into another expert, hopefully distracting, twirl. He had no desire whatsoever to explain how he'd ended up in the Imperial Suite of the Ritz in Paris instead of attending his senior dance. The aftermath of being photographed with two dancers from the Crazy Horse in a tube full of Veuve Cliquot Champagne hadn't been pretty.
"I could dig that story out of the internet, you know."
"Yeah, I know. I'd rather if you didn't. It wasn't… one of my finest moments."
He lost himself in memories of that time, from Carter's dressing-down to his decision to board the yacht and cruise the Pacific to find his parents' remains. While he acted like an entitled selfish jackass, she was fighting Lionel Luthor and his roustabouts.
He concentrated on the music, another soft piece he didn't recognize. His father had loved dancing, often pulling his mom into impromptu spins around the kitchen.
Chloe squeezed his arm again, maybe to tell him to let bygone be gone. Oliver stared into her kind eyes for another moment lost to bittersweet memories, before he winked. "You know, the good thing about a Masquerade is that I don't have to mingle if I don't want to. If there's someone I'd rather avoid, I can just pretend I didn't recognize them under the masks."
Her delicate lips rounded in disbelief. "Does that really work?"
"Well… No. Not unless I appear to be very, very busy entertaining my date."
He adjusted his grasp on her, whirling her around the lawn in spins so fast she had no choice but to trust him to keep her upright. The lack of control seemed to relax Chloe. Pleasure bubbled on her lips as she tried to catch her breath when he slowed down to a more sedate sway. Her green eyes vibrated more than usual, encased as they were in black velvet. "You're staring again, Sidekick. Do I have something on my face?"
"Ah, no. All good. Handsome as ever."
This he knew how to answer. "Handsome hum? It's the hat. I knew it. What do you think?" Oliver put her at arm length once more as if he expected her to give him an once-over, all the while never missing a step in their dance. "Do I make a believable bandit?"
"Hum…" She considered while he brought her back to him. Her mouth curved in that special way he knew meant that she was indulging him. "You did steal my pumpkin. And now, you're holding him hostage."
"Are you going to expose me?"
Chloe missed a step. "Sorry."
The magic broke as she stood there, suddenly immobile as if she didn't know any longer what to do with herself. Oliver firmed his grasp on her hip. It all but killed him to murmur in her hair. "You're going to say goodbye, aren't you?"
Chloe pushed away. "Of course not, what makes you say that?"
"You're anxious. Not panic attack anxious, but you're pale and I can tell you're uncomfortable. You have trouble looking at me, as if you were steeling yourself for a "we need to talk" conversation."
"I am not uncomfortable, Oliver. I wasn't expecting…" Her hand stopped fluttering about. Her chin tilted up in a defiant manner. "I am fine."
Her tirade just consolidated the impression that she was hiding something. Or maybe he was the one making things weird, because even if he joked about it, even if they both pretended they were just friends, if they tried to make it an extension of them playing house for nearly a week, tonight did feel like a date.
"All right."
Instead of pulling her back into the dance, Oliver opted for a stroll around the cloister away from the crowd. Most people were gathering inside, falling onto the displayed food like locusts. "Do you want to eat something? Before we're stuck with the anchovies?"
"Food would be nice."
Oliver loosened his grip. "I'll fix us a plate."
"I'll wait here."
She pointed at a stone bench not far from them. Close enough not to stand apart, but removed from the hustle, Oliver noticed, so she could observe without being part of anything. "Sure. I'll be right back."
He kissed her knuckles again, for the guilty pleasure of seeing her eyes widen as they followed the move and retreated inside.
"Awkward first date?"
Chloe turned away from the orange tree she was facing to look at Carter Hall. The larger man handed her a glass. In the commotion of Oliver's appearance, she'd forgotten about him replenishing her drink. "I… Let's just say I didn't realize the truth until it was right in front of my face."
"Oliver is extremely good at misdirection."
"Yes, he is."
Chloe took a sip of tonic, unwilling to wordplay with the older man. Let him think she believed he was talking about tonight not-so-subtle seduction. Oliver being the Green Arrow was just too… mind-boggling. The bike, the bruises, the nicknames, that sculpted jaw she'd spent hours admiring, she'd missed all the clues. Quite a reporter she was. He'd even admitted his childhood hero was Robin Hood!
"He absolutely is," she repeated, talking to herself.
Tomorrow, her good sense would prevail, she hoped. She fully expected to lash out about how he'd lied, and terrified her, and comforted her less than an hour later, the absolute hypocrite. If she confronted Oliver, what would happen next? She'd almost let it slip several times already. Why did he have to hang that secret over them like a sword ready to drop?
"Why did he have to complicate everything?"
Carter ceased his survey of the crowd to look at her. "Scared? Or annoyed Oliver plays his cards so close to his chest?"
Chloe glanced up from the sequined ribbon on her lap her fingers were tinkering with to the man towering over her. He'd raised an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk not unlike Oliver's. Carter's charm was rougher, brawnier, with a hint of bad-boy wrapped into it. She understood exactly why Barbara had enjoyed "sneaking around" as she'd put it.
"You're very perceptive, Mr. Hall."
Her reply owed her another roguish smile. "Carter. Fancy a spin while your escort is fending for food?"
She placed one petite hand in his larger one, allowing him to haul her to her feet. If she exhausted herself, she'd have an excuse to leave early.
"I would love to. Carter."
