Hey guys! Sorry for delay (again :/) but I hope you enjoy this chapter! I felt the need to change it up a little so this one is completely Felicity's POV - I hope you like what you read! :)
Alas, I do not own Arrow.
Incessant knocking on her front door awoke her from her slumber.
What time it was, what day it was, she had no idea. And to be honest? She didn't care. The only thing she did know was that her head felt as though it had been chucked into a tumble dryer while it was running. Not that she knew what exactly that felt like…but she assumed it was extremely close to the discomfort she was being subjected to at that point.
Oh that, and apparently someone was at her door. And was clearly very impatient.
Great.
Unfortunately her head refused to cooperate with her brain's orders, selfishly at a disconnect to the rest of her body. Her hands planted on her pillows, arms tensed for the movement, Felicity pushed down so that her body elevated and prayed that her head followed suit. It did; but barely. If she didn't know any better she would have assumed her skull was filled to the brim with really pointy, really heavy rocks.
Yeah…definitely really jagged, pointy rocks.
Somehow she managed to get to her feet – although her legs were still asleep so she wasn't really standing so much as swaying - and started for the door, making sure to grab her glasses on her locker on the way. The knocking hadn't ceased in the slightest; in fact, it had become more aggressive, any sense of pattern dissolving into thunderous thumps on the wood and a part of her briefly wondered if knuckle dents would be left on the door in the aftermath. That wouldn't be ideal.
Her eyes squinted as the sunlight shot through the windows on either side of the entrance, blinding her and causing a swirl of blotchy colours in her vision. Smacking her cheeks lightly to wake herself up a little more, she called out to her visitor, hoping that at the very least they'd stop the commotion.
Thankfully they did. That was a good start.
The silence was a welcome reprieve, but faint hums of the noise lingered in the air. When she finally opened the door, she came face-to-face with someone she probably should have expected and yet she still didn't expect at the same time.
Oliver looked…worried, maybe? No, definitely worried. He had that line dragging down in between his eyebrows – a classic tell. His thumb rubbed against his fingers, a signal that he was agitated, but she could practically feel the relief roll off him as she regarded him curiously.
"Oliver?" she asked, her voice sounding like she was talking underwater. Not that people could talk underwater… "What are you doing here?"
"You weren't at work today," he stated matter-of-factly as if he had to fill her in on something she didn't know.
"I know that."
His eyes were so affectionate, so concerned, that she was pretty sure she stopped breathing for a number of seconds. Oliver's eyes had always been his weak point; if he was hurt or upset, the edges would harden as though a wall had been set in place; but on the other hand, when he truly had his guard down, those beautiful moments of honesty and heart that pierced through the cloud of expectation and warmed her soul, they were so incredibly soft. Clear oceans of love. "I wanted to see if you were okay."
She could have turned him away – said she was fine, just needed a day of rest, and sent him on his way. But she couldn't. Truth be told, she didn't realize just how much she wanted to be around him until he showed up at her door, visibly worried about her wellbeing. All those times she had told herself she was done with Oliver Queen were immediately cast aside, her heart overruling everything else. "Do you want to come in?"
His smile sent shivers down her spine. "I thought you'd never ask."
Pulling the door wide, she gestured for him to enter, wincing a little when she moved her head sharply. Oliver noticed – he never missed anything – but didn't say a word as he made his way through her house to the kitchen. It was when she reached the kitchen and felt a slight chill that she realized what she was wearing: not very much of anything really. A tank top that she really should have thrown out a long time ago that had been decorated with one too many stains from hair dye and a pair of swimming shorts that were definitely not flattering. Not that she wanted to look flattering for Oliver or anything; no, she'd want to look flattering for anyone who knocked at her door…
Sometimes she wished she could shut herself up.
Standing there in his charcoal business suit, shifting from one foot to the other, Oliver looked thoroughly out of place in her room of bright colours and knick-knacks. It was almost as if he was too big for the room, his frame intimidating and unsure. "Do you want a coffee or anything? I haven't had time to make some yet - and sometimes I make it too strong which leads to me simultaneously choking and buzzing for a while afterwards…but when I do actually get around to making it, do you want some?" She pulled at her top self-consciously at his amused gaze. "Sorry, it's…early and you know me and babbling…"
"Felicity it's after noon," he said, supressing a grin.
Her eyes bulged. "It's after noon?! I have literally lost all sense of time." She buried her face in her hands, feeling her headache come back in a strong wave.
This time, Oliver refused to stay quiet. "Felicity, why didn't you come into work today?" He asked the question the way a teacher would when fishing for an answer they already knew. "Are you okay?"
"How did you know I wasn't in work today?" she inquired instead, blinking heavily.
His back straightened. "I went down to the IT department to see if you wanted to grab lunch," he murmured smoothly, as though he had spent hours practicing beforehand. And knowing Oliver, he probably did because the idea of them just grabbing lunch for the hell of it was not normal. In fact, it was totally and completely abnormal. "When I saw you weren't there I went to the head of the department and they said you just never showed up and I got…" he took a breath, "worried."
"So you left work in the middle of the day just to check up on me?" The words left her mouth in a roll of uncertainty.
"I needed to make sure that you were alright."
Felicity liked to believe that she knew Oliver Queen like she knew her own name but this new Oliver, this hardened man whose whole body always seemed to be vibrating with nervy energy, was harder to read. Simmering under the surface of his steely façade lay stormy emotions, bubbling and every once and a while, rising to the break for a breath of a second. He tried to hide everything that weighed him down deep inside, letting whatever demons he had have full control over him. She never pretended to know what happened to him in those five years and though she did think of it at times, she understood that she may never truly grasp the horrors of that period of his life. It was obvious it had inherently changed him. No longer was he that teenage boy who oozed of charm and charisma (except, of course, when he first met her); he was a haunted man.
And in all honesty, Felicity would be lying if she said that her heart didn't ache for him whenever she saw him. She could tell herself a million times that her feelings for Oliver were hazy; a distant, faint brush of memory that only dimmed with time – but then she'd really be lying. Seeing him after all the years and noting the changes in him only served to stir her affection for him more.
Oh hell, she still loved him.
That frightened her though. Purely because he shattered her heart and then subsequently became an absolute jerk and died…even though he didn't actually die.
Something like that was not easy to get over. Even the mere thought of getting over it seemed impossible. The betrayal, the pain, the throb of her heart still resonated through her, afresh every time she looked at him. Her throat still cried out for relief from the dull ache that resided there, as if she was stuck in a perpetual state of almost-sobbing. The hours she spent resenting him, hating him, cursing the world and everything else she could think of, tumbled through her mind whenever she heard his name. When they finished, when she left and everything she had ever known had somehow shifted into uncharted territory where she had never felt so lost before, Felicity never thought she'd ever recover. She felt…broken. Damaged beyond repair. Everyone told her that she'd move on, that she was only eighteen so there was plenty of fish in the sea and all that kind of stuff that was completely useless, and that whatever she and Oliver had was just puppy love. That it wasn't real. And she told herself that all the time because tricking herself into believing it was easier than accepting it wasn't true. She knew that she loved him. Really loved him. And she knew that she hated him. And she knew that her heart was broken. And she knew that it would take more than a few weeks to get over him – because no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many dates she went on, no matter how many nice guys came her way, her heart belonged to the one who destroyed it.
It was a tragic story, fit for a trashy romance novel.
So keeping him at arm's length despite his duplicitous visits was the only viable option to her – and Felicity thought she was doing a fairly good job of it so far. Cold yet approachable was what she was aiming for.
But then he went and said something like that…
"Why?" she asked with narrowed eyes. "Why does it matter to you if I don't show up to work?"
"Because I care about you, Felicity. You know that," he whispered. "You've always known that."
Wrapping her arms around her middle, she closed her eyes, hoping the simple action would quell the throb in her head. "I'm okay. I just…I just needed a day off. I had a rough night."
His jaw twitched, eyes contracting a millimetre. That also was something different about the man in front of her; every move, every gesture, began as a fidget before elongating into a movement, as though his brain needed an extra beat to remember how to perform the action. The rigidity with which he held himself was alone something else that she longed to fix for him. "Then why do you make that face whenever you move your head?"
"What face?" She tilted her head to the side and immediately regretted it, sucking air in through her teeth at the dart of pain.
"That one," he said pointedly.
Damn. "It's nothing."
"Doesn't look like nothing. Felicity, what happened last night?"
"What makes you think something happened to me last night?"
"You've obviously hurt your head and you're standing away from me with your arms across you like you're trying to protect yourself." His voice dropped, concern pouring out. "Please tell me what happened." He started for her but then pulled up, deciding against it. The confliction was evident in his stance.
She didn't have to tell him – of course she didn't – but this was Oliver and lord knows that when it came to him, Felicity rarely kept things to herself. Some things never change. What an oddly comforting thought. "If you must know," she began, biting her lip, fingers picking at a loose thread on her tank, "I was…I was attacked last night." Oliver's nostrils flared, eyes wild with quiet fury. He didn't speak, didn't utter a sound. Just stood there, glued to the spot, teeth clenched. She continued, averting her gaze from him, "I don't know who it was but he just…grabbed me and I fo-fought him and got free I guess. I remember trying to run away and tripping over something?" She paused, racking her brain for information. "The next thing I know I'm looking up…at the vigilante." Calling him that sounded wrong even to her. He didn't seem anything like what she had heard; ruthless, intimidating, murderous – none of those things shone through their, admittedly, brief meeting.
Oliver tensed his shoulders, an odd expression on his face. "You came face-to-face with The Hood?"
"Yeah…I did," she gulped. "Though he should really change his name…The Hood sounds, I don't know, a little too sinister. Something like The Arrow would work so much better…" she let the sentence die as she got lost in her thoughts. Now that she actually looked back on it, nothing about the vigilante struck her as dangerous. In fact, there was something so familiar about him. Maybe that was why she felt so safe around him.
"Felicity, the guy's a reckless killer! You shouldn't be around him. He could…he could hurt you. Or worse," he choked out.
"But he didn't," she proclaimed defiantly, raising her chin. "He stayed with me until I woke up and followed me home to make sure I got there safely. He's not like what everyone says."
The man rocked on his heels, the vein in his neck pulsing. "He puts arrows in people, Felicity. He takes justice into his own hands. A guy like that can't be trusted."
"Well I think he can be. I've heard what people say about him, but it seems to me whoever he is, he's willing to sacrifice an awful lot to help the people of this city; kind of makes him a hero, doesn't it?"
Oliver's mouth dropped open at her honest declaration, visibly taken aback by the assurance in her tone. Honestly, she surprised herself at the certainty of her words. "I just think it'd be better if you stayed away from him. I don't…want you to get hurt. Okay?"
The blonde's stare turned stern, something clicking with her in an irking kind of way. "You don't own me, Oliver. I can talk to whomever I please."
"I need you to be safe," he fired back but a lulling softness took over any chagrin by the end. Those words, the statement, shouldn't have had any effect on her – none whatsoever really. But they did. Damn it, they did. For a second she could almost imagine slipping back into what they were, having arguments and making up and doing everything, facing everything together.
And then the moment passed and a dense reality poured over her, her head back to making life very difficult. Reaching out, she curled her fingers over the top of a chair tucked under her dining table and fixed her eyes on the grain patterns on the table itself, following the lines that seemingly led to nowhere. "Yeah well my safety is none of your concern anymore." It came out stronger than she anticipated and the deep exhale that he expelled indicated that she had hit a nerve. She bit her lip, slightly fearing what he was going to say next.
"Why can't we just talk without you doing that?"
Her head slowly rotated in his direction, brow furrowed. "Doing what?"
"Turning it back to what happened between us," he sighed, his shoulders slumping as he raked a hand through his curt hair. The unwanted tears enhanced his ocean eyes, his face turning a shade of red that shook her core. "When are we ever going to talk about it? Because, Felicity, I've been trying to find the right way to tell you that I want to be a part of your life since the moment I saw you again. I don't feel like I deserve it, but that doesn't mean that I won't try to earn that place." Oliver moved closer to her but still left a respectable space between them. He looked to be on the end of his tether, his restraint groaning as if ready to burst at the seams. A tortured soul seeking reprieve. "I don't want to keep skirting around the main problem here; I want you in my life. Sometimes that sounds like the simplest of things, and other times I can't think of anything more difficult. Why can't we just work through it?"
The spark of tears was too hard to ignore, her depths filling up rapidly, her breath harsh and regulated. Oh crying was so not what she wanted. In fact, it was the last thing she needed. What she needed was a clear head – and maybe an aspirin. A forced smile broke through as she stood fully upright in front of him, his expression open and terrified. "Because it still hurts, Oliver," she whispered, swiping a finger across her cheeks to get rid of any stray tears. "And it hasn't ever really stopped hurting. I'm not an idiot; I know that there are things we have to talk about. But I just can't do it right now."
At his somewhat defeated reaction, she instinctively rested her hand on his chest, only then noticing how close they had gotten. It amazed her how solid his torso was under her touch, tension and stress and years' worth of wear all compacted into one place. The ever racing beat of his heart thrummed under her fingertips, eliciting the same response in her. "My head hurts…" she breathed, never looking at his face, too focused on the feel of his heartbeat, "…so maybe you should go."
Seconds, minutes, hours could have passed with just the two of them bathing in the quiet with nothing but the sound of them breathing to fill the air. Through the windows over her sink, sunlight spilled through brightly as if freeing itself from the fortress of the clouds just for them. Not usually a believer in signs and signals from the universe, even Felicity felt a feather of change in the air.
Eventually, Oliver stepped back out of her touch and her hand grasped at the air for a little longer before she brought it back to lie at the base of her neck. With innate curiosity, she watched as the man stalked over to the cabinet next to her fridge and rifled through the various weird unconnected items that lived in there. Retrieving a white box that Felicity knew straight away to be aspirin, he then searched through three more cupboards before seemingly finding what he was looking for – a glass – and filled it halfway with water. He placed the two objects on the table.
"Take two of these and take it easy for the rest of the day," he instructed.
Felicity took two pills, tossing them into her mouth with a mighty gulp of water, squeezing her eyes shut and scrunching her body as she swallowed them. "How did you know where I keep medicine?"
He smiled fondly. "You used to have a medicine cabinet in the exact same place in your old house. I went with my gut."
"Old habits," she crooned with a laugh. "Thank you, by the way." She lifted the box in the air and swirled it around randomly before chucking it back onto the table.
Oliver appraised her with nothing short of tender affection. His gaze was so soft and gentle that Felicity's breath hitched, feeling the fluttery sensation travel through her body, even so far as stretching out to the extremities of her limbs. Though he was brasher than her Oliver, when he looked at her like that…well, it still made her feel dizzy.
Although that could have been the headache too…
"Listen," he said, clearing his throat and turning his head away from her, "Thea's birthday is in a few weeks and we got word that my mom's, uh, trial is gonna be around the same time - so that kind of put a damper on the festivities, but I wanted her to celebrate so we're sort of throwing a party this weekend." His lips curled up timidly, uncertainly. "It'd be great if you could come. Thea would really love to see you."
Felicity grinned back at him, the expectation in his tone impossible to deny. "I wouldn't miss it."
And that was the truth; whatever was going on between her and Oliver, it didn't make a difference to the way she felt about Thea. That girl was the closest she had to a sibling, and though it had been years since she had seen or spoke to her, there was no denying the fact that she loved her. And missed her.
"Great," he breathed, elated at how quick she agreed.
"Great," she repeated.
The electricity in the air when their blues met yet again was tangible, crackling and popping and flowing between them. Oliver sensed it too, his expression contemplative, and he edged closer to her, his body seemingly moving of its own accord, framing her face with both of his hands. Though his hands were rough with years of unspoken memories and grief, his touch was so sweetly delicate that she couldn't help but relax into it, closing her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them again, she blinked heavily and watched him intensely as he leaned painfully ever close, his lips coming to brush gently against her forehead. The slight tingly sensation shot fire through her and she stopped breathing. Well, at least she thought she did. She was way too entranced in the moment to even remember her own name.
When he let go, she felt the loss immediately, feeling cold all of a sudden.
His eyes turned disturbed, as though he was angry with himself and Felicity wished she could find something, anything, to vanquish the darkness in them, but she came up with nothing, her own heart engaged in a weird battle with her brain.
The problem was that kiss, no matter how fleeting or how light it was, implied something far greater than an expression of affection. With its touch, three words echoed around the space, filling the voids, spreading and reaching far and wide to the darkest of spots and forgotten places.
I love you.
"I better go." The words were just a wisp in the wind, a finality. "Just…make sure to rest up, okay? And try not to run with hooded vigilantes – at least until you're feeling better," he tagged on with a single laugh.
She nodded. "I promise to try."
He inhaled deeply, his shoulders dropping dramatically as he let out the breath quickly. "Good."
He started to walk past her, intent on leaving but Felicity called out to him, "Oliver?" Stopping mid-step, he twisted around to face her, her hands still gripped to the chair like it was the only thing keeping her steady, his lips rolled in as he appraised her with curiosity. "Thank you for coming to check up on me."
"Always."
A six letter word that held such promise and by association, such potential to destroy.
But despite all that, the lingering burn of where his lips left their mark distracted her from pretty much anything else, making it fairly obvious to her where her heart lay.
I still love you too.
"Come on, 'Licity," Tommy pleaded over the phone, using that pouty voice that he loved to use on any and every girl he could. Even if that girl was the girlfriend of his best friend.
Felicity rolled her eyes, falling back onto her bed with a soft thud, her blonde hair fanning out behind her. Tommy could be so persistent when he wanted to be. "I'm not going; Oliver knows that. We're gonna celebrate tomorrow."
"But you can't miss his birthday party!" he yelled over the clamour of chat she could hear in the background. "I'm pretty sure that's in the girlfriend rulebook!"
"Tommy-"
"Pleeeeeeaaaassseeee Smoak," he whined, drawing a chuckle out of her. Ever the dramatic, the Merlyn boy had the ability to turn the most mundane situations into something utterly enthralling which, most times, was oddly endearing. The minute she met him, Felicity could see why he and Oliver were best friends; they balanced each other out. Though both overly oozing with confidence most of the time, whenever one was feeling low, the other was there straight away with the right thing to say. They were more like brothers than anything else. She was just happy that she seemingly had passed the girlfriend test. "He's not even having that good of a time – and it doesn't look good when the birthday boy is bored at his own party."
"I'm pretty sure I recall him telling you that he didn't want a party."
"But what kind of best friend would I be if I let his 17th birthday go by without throwing some kind of wild, out-of-control bash? I mean, after all, you only turn 17 once, am I right?" He paused to yell something incomprehensible into the roar, and then lowered his voice, "Look, I know you don't like these kinds of things but you should come. Besides from it being a rocking party – and I would know because every party I've thrown goes down in Starling's history books – I think it'd make his night better."
Ah, the sincere voice. He used that from time to time.
Turning her head to the side she checked the time on her alarm clock. 21:23. Maybe she'd go for an hour…
The blonde sighed heavily and before she could even respond, Tommy whooped, "Sweet so I'll see you soon then!"
"Wait, no I don't know-"
"You'll have an awesome time, Smoak, you'll see!"
And then the phone went dead.
For a few seconds Felicity stared at the blank screen on her phone, half-annoyed at how little of a fight she gave and half-impressed at how smoothly the boy handled the call. Dropping the device onto the bed, she averted her gaze towards the ceiling wondering how she somehow became embroiled in all the extra trappings of being Oliver Queen's girlfriend – not that she was complaining though. No way; she couldn't think of a time when she'd been so happy. Even thinking about him made her smile…and blush…
When she was in class, she was thinking about him. When she was at home, she was thinking about him. When she wasn't with him, she wanted to be with him. It was crazy and frightening and wonderful and exciting all at the same time and she didn't really know how to deal with it. It was so new and yet so right; so familiar but so unnerving. Thrilling.
Bottom line: that boy had the strongest hold on her heart. And she didn't really know what to do about it; feeling this way, the effect he had on her? She never wanted it to stop – she couldn't see it ever stopping. If anything, the more time she spent with him, the more she was falling. Maybe she was falling too fast, who knew, but honestly? Felicity didn't care. Nine months of dating and she could safely say, without missing a beat, that she was in love with Oliver Queen – she had been since the moment he attempted (pretty badly) to ask her out on a date.
The only question that remained was if he felt the same way.
And she was terrified of finding out.
A known social butterfly – was there a masculine equivalent to butterfly? – Oliver, and usually by extension and with a good deal of persuasion Felicity, showed his face at as many social events as possible – which was a lot because apparently Greenwood Academy loved nothing more than throwing a random dance every other week for no other reason than they could (which in turn was a nightmare when it came to picking out outfits), but he had been adamant about not wanting to make deal about his birthday. Yet Tommy, always thinking ahead, planned the soiree at the Queen mansion making it impossible for him to escape the festivities. It was pretty ingenious to be fair. Credit where credit was due.
Pushing herself up into an upright position, Felicity scanned her room, bottom lip worried between her teeth as she pondered over what to wear. With a huff, she dragged herself off the bed and headed for the wardrobe, vowing to make the most of the situation.
The sound of teenage boozy delirium could have been heard a mile away. Once Felicity pulled up to the manor, she took in her surroundings. Against the eerily clouded night sky and smudgy moonlight, Oliver's home was even more intimidating – if that was possible. It was all harsh edges and vast windows and turrets that stuck out on top like judging figures. Yellow light from indoors slopped out into the immense garden, silhouettes of guests bouncing around to the booming music that made the door rattle invading her eyeline.
With a deep breath, Felicity strode into the household with an inherent confidence that she wouldn't have had a few months previous. Seriously, up until a little while ago, stepping over that threshold would have brought about a bout a swell of anxiety within her including an erratic heartbeat and irregular breathing – mainly due to the regal air of Mrs Queen and her ability to smite a person with a flick of a glance. That woman was impressive.
But now, since she had been there way more than she possibly ever thought, the structure didn't instill that kind of fear in her anymore. A welcome change if you asked her.
Sidestepping a bunch of guys who were egging on a friend of theirs to chug his drink, she weaved through the throng, smiling and waving at classmates and acquaintances as she passed by. People she had never seen before crowded the corners, relaxed and casual as if being in the company of Oliver Queen was a common occurrence; club music with extreme emphasis on bass hit her at every angle, covering up its source; empty cups and bottles dotted the hallway toward the kitchen like little kids patiently waiting to be collected after school and Felicity momentarily wondered how annoyed Raisa was going to be when she saw the mess the following morning. Yet all that aside, everyone seemed to be having a good time: fits of laughter spiralled up into the air, cloaking over the other sounds, something so weirdly innocent about the whole thing.
While she continued on in her search for Oliver, or even Tommy, Felicity passed by a group of girls huddled together beside one of the mansion's plentiful bathrooms (because where else would they be? Sometimes people really confused her). Vague recognition of a few of them registered in the back of her mind but she thought nothing much of it until one of them, a raven-haired, red-lipped doll grabbed her attention.
"It's Felicity, right?" Her tone was too sweet, too sickly, too fake.
Nonetheless, the blonde halted and faced her. "Yeah, it is," she replied easily.
"You go out with Oliver, right?"
Something about the way the question was worded and the narrowing piercing glare the girl emitted in her direction made her uncomfortable. For whatever reason, she crossed her arms across her chest, her gaze springing from thing to thing for a beat. "Yep."
Raven-hair gave pointed looks to her followers who then giggled like there was no tomorrow, their shrill sounds grating to the ear. Then, she took a purposeful step closer, the alcohol steaming from her. "You guys look really cute together."
It wasn't remotely a compliment – that much was clear. "Thanks," she said anyway.
She leaned in closer to her, face mere centimetres away. "But, I hate to break it to you, blondie-" God she already hated this girl, "-but a guy like Oliver never stays comfortable for long, if you know what I mean." Eyebrow raised knowingly, lips ticked mischievously. "Always looking for something new. So I'd enjoy it while you can."
Felicity stood her ground. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"
Her laugh was mocking. "Oh no, just the truth. You know, girl to girl."
Despite it being a very obvious ploy to get under her skin, bitchy devious teenage girls always had a way of hitting a nerve with Felicity. Being sixteen was hard enough without having to deal with girls who deliberately go out of their way to make you feel bad. But refusing to appear weak, she raised her chin, kept her voice even and said, "Well I can safely say that Oliver would never be interested in a girl like you."
"Oh not me, Lissy." Had she mentioned how much she hated her? Because she really did. "I'm not the one you should be worried about."
"What are you talking about?"
Once again the zombies behind raven-hair broke out into a raucous chortle as though they were being telepathically told what to do and when to do it. "I'm talking about Laurel Lance and how she and Oliver are meant to be together," she iterated slowly as if it was something totally obvious. Would it really be so bad if she just…slapped her? Maybe. "Oliver has been practically in love with her since they were kids. And it's basic knowledge that she's in love with him. Everyone can see that. I just don't want to see you get your heart broken, Lissy. Because," she lowered her voice to a whisper that only she could hear amongst the mayhem, "let's face it; you're no match for Laurel."
Now that felt like a slap to her face.
In fact, the ice in her tone, the matter-of-fact deliverance, hit her hard in the chest, causing her physically jolt away from her.
Any response she was going to spit back died on her tongue as though the words forget how they sounded and before she knew it, she was rushing away from them, half-jogging and stumbling into people as she raced on, ignoring any comments yelled in her direction and desperately trying to block out the wicked laughing coming from whence she came. God she hated parties and she hated girls who put others down so that they could feel superior and she hated how affected she was by the whole thing.
If she could vacuum all of the moisture out of her eyes she would.
Okay so maybe not vacuum because that alone sounds horribly violent, but if there was a way to stop herself from tearing up she'd gladly take it.
God she was such a girl sometimes.
"Smoaky!"
Only one person in the whole world called her that.
She steadied herself, praying her tears would keep at bay, and twirled around to where the voice came from, plastering on her biggest smile when she saw Tommy amble over to her, clapping a few guys on the back along the way. At seventeen, Tommy Merlyn definitely had a bright future ahead of him once that future meant dealing with people. Maybe he could open a nightclub or something; he'd be good at that.
"You came!" he exclaimed, his arms thrown wide for good effect.
"I did," she answered simply, trying to feed off his enthusiasm.
He grinned proudly, motioning all around him. "Pretty sweet party, right? Can I throw them or what?"
She nodded profusely. "Oh yeah, party of the year."
All of a sudden, his elated expression turned quizzical, a frownline etching itself between his eyebrows. "Hey are you okay?"
Dammit. A loose tear trailed down her cheek and she swiped at it hastily. "Who me? Yeah, I'm fine. Never better. It's just my contacts…they're always causing problems," she chuckled thickly, gesturing to her eyes. "Uh, do you know where Oliver is?"
He didn't buy her excuse and she didn't expect him to, but he smiled softly in encouragement nevertheless. "Last time I saw him he was out by the pool. Some of the guys were having a cannonball competition – he was the judge. Of course."
"Thanks, Tommy," she breathed, smiling up at him. Her hand on his forearm, she caught his full attention. "And by the way, this party really is great."
He beamed back, his joviality back in full swing. "I told you, 'Licity! If there's one thing I know, it's having a good time!"
And then, slinking back into host mode like it was a comfy sweater, he winked at her and decidedly threw himself back into the chaos with no abandon. The ease he exuded as he mingled to and fro with them all was something to be admired; the charm that guy wielded could have been bottled and sold for a generous price.
Felicity, lightening a little, made her way through the kitchen and out the back door, the chill of the night air striking her immediately. She knew she should have brought a sweater but that would have thrown another facet into picking out an outfit that she just wasn't in the mood for. Best to keep things as simple as possible.
Even if that meant freezing.
She found him poolside, standing off to the side with a cup, eyes fixed in the distance. Contrary to what Tommy had said, he looked on with disdain at the guys were who flinging themselves into the water in spectacular fashion, each dive getting more and more extravagant and noisy as though they'd somehow outdo one another by the simple act of yelling the loudest.
She sidled up alongside him, her shoulder gently brushing against his. He was oblivious to her presence, lost in whatever world he had entered. He did that from time to time; usually after he had a fight with his dad over his future, when things got too much, and he curled inward, plunging himself into his deepest thoughts that he rarely voiced even to her. Pressure sat atop his shoulders, a permanent fixture in his life, and Felicity sometimes wished she could say or do something that would ease it, make him feel better, but she never knew what she could do. And feeling helpless was not something she enjoyed.
"Hey," she said quietly, her voice still oddly thick after her tears.
Oliver jerked sideways, a beam on full display the moment he registered her. Her heart skipped a beat. You'd think she would have been used to it – but she wasn't. "Hey! What are you doing here?" He kissed her straight away leaving no room for her reply. The kiss was so sweet that she thought her knees would give way, his effect on her ridiculous at times.
"It's your birthday party," she replied with a tight smile, trying so hard to cover up her lower tone. Her heart was heavy after raven-hair pretty much obliterated it and although seeing the way he reacted the moment he saw her made her feel a million times better, she still harboured a good deal of restlessness about the whole thing.
Ugh, she hated the way her mind charged to thoughts she would never usually entertain.
Oliver, always perceptive of her, seemingly noted that something was off but he played coy, lacing his fingers through hers. "I thought you didn't want to come though?" he posed teasingly. "That you're too cool for these types of things?"
That drew a chuckle from her. "I thought I better make an exception this time."
His face softened, the muscles relaxing. "Well I'm glad you did."
"Really?"
She didn't know why she said it; it just slipped out like a lot of her other thoughts did, but never had she thought it'd sound so accusatory. So unlike her. Immediate regret greeted her as she closed her eyes at her own stupidity, but when she opened them again expecting to see a much more defiant expression on her boyfriend's face, she was instead met with sheer bewilderment. In fact, he had that crinkly brow, hooded lid thing going on that made him look like a confused puppy.
"Of course I am; why wouldn't I be?"
Felicity shook her head, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a strangled elephant than a sincere squeak. "I didn't mean it that way," she raced to say. "You know how my mouth moves before I think…" The rest of the sentence died as she watched his eyes darken, no part of him buying her routine.
Placing his cup on the decking, he brought his now free hand up to her face, his thumb padding underneath her eye. "You been crying," he muttered, his whole hand now resting against her cheek. The heat of his touch caused her to lean into it, needing to feel the assurance.
"It's nothing," she shrugged off, looking at him but not looking, looking.
"It's not nothing. What's wrong?"
"Oliver it's a party so let's just have a good time, okay?"
He sighed. "Felicity, come on, you can tell me anything." He ducked his head so that she'd have to meet his stare and smiled once blue hit blue. "I promise to agree in all the right places and frown in all the bad ones?" he jested, letting his thumb dance lithely across her cheekbone.
Even small gestures like that made her pulse accelerate and Felicity wondered whether he got the same thrill when she touched him.
She licked her lips, feeling a little embarrassed. "I'm just being stupid…" An abrupt cry of elation snatched at her attention and she turned to see the group of guys guffawing at someone who had managed to lose their shorts while attempting what must have been the world's most elaborate dive. "A girl inside – who I have never met before by the way, how many people do you and Tommy even know? Every teenager in Starling? 'Cause there's a hell of a lot of people in there…but I suppose you are a billionaire so… – sorry…not the point." The boy's lips quirked but he said nothing, letting her carry on. "Anyway, yeah she just said something to me and I guess I got upset. That's it. See? No big deal."
"If what she said made you cry then it's definitely a big deal," he asserted quietly, removing his hand so he could tip her face back in his direction. "What did she say?"
She really didn't want to tell him. Like, at all. It'd just make her feel worse.
But his eyes were just so pleading and concerned and looking into them felt like she was being covered by the fluffiest blanket – safe, warm, protected; she had to tell him.
Looking into Oliver's eyes felt like coming home. A weird declaration that in theory made no sense but to her it did. There was no need to analyse, or question, or figure out; it just was. She didn't care if no else understood because as long as she did that was all that mattered.
"She said stuff…about you and Laurel." She urged herself to keep calm but she was intensely aware of every little detail that shifted in his expression. Thank God his hand remained unmoved because it was anchoring her to him, giving her focus.
"What kind of stuff?" It was a question but his tone bode no room for lying.
She gulped. Now or never. "Uh…about how you've been in love with her since forever and that eventually you guys are gonna end up together." She honestly didn't think his orbs could widen so much. She took it as a sign to continue, "And then she may, possibly, perhaps, had said something along the lines of me never standing a chance when compared with her and that you'll get bored with me and just general mean things that obviously impacted me way more than they should of. Hence the tears." A pitying laugh tripped over her lips, her cheeks reddening at her fumbling for coherency.
It took him a beat longer to fully comprehend exactly what she was saying because her once-off chuckle turned into a nervy heave which only further fuelled her humiliation. Could they just go back and time and forget that she was a person who had a mountain of insecurities? That'd be nice.
"Felicity," he whispered, face so close to hers now that she could feel his spurts of breath. "That girl? She has no idea what she's talking about. She doesn't know us."
"But Laurel," she interjected immediately, the compulsion for information too strong to ignore. "When I first moved here I heard things about you and her. It was like people saw you as a couple even though you weren't one – why? Did you guys go out? Do you have feelings for her?"
Much to his credit, Oliver didn't flinch at her questions. His hand stayed glued to her face, the other one still tangled with hers. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Felicity." Great. Not really the start she wanted to hear. "I had a crush on Laurel for years. Schoolboy kind of thing – and before you say anything, yes, I know that technically I'm still a schoolboy," he proclaimed with amusement. "But I think it was more the idea of her. I had my chance with her at a dance once but whatever happened…I don't know, I realized that while she was pretty and we had a good time, there wasn't anything really there, you know? So I never went after her again. As far as I was concerned, Laurel wasn't the girl for me then."
The blonde drank in his words like they were her lifeline, deciphering them and listening for interesting pauses and cadences that would somehow give her the whole picture but the only thing she got from it all was that he meant he everything he said.
"And then I met you," he declared assuredly, blues brightening, the corners of his mouth stretching out to a heartfelt smile. Whatever iron grip that held her heart hostage loosened to the point where she felt lighter. "And I figured out pretty quickly why it didn't work out with Laurel. She wasn't you."
"Oliver-"
"No, wait; let me say this," he whispered, his voice shaky suddenly. "I don't care what people think about me and I definitely don't care about what that girl had to say. I only care about what you think. And I need you to know that I when it comes to you, there's no choice to make. All I want is you, Felicity. Just you. Always you. You and I are meant to be – I believe that. I'm not gonna pretend that it doesn't frighten me because honestly, I just turned seventeen and I never thought I'd feel this way about a girl. Actually, I never thought I'd ever feel this way. But I do. And I don't want to hide it and I don't want you to think that I could ever pick someone else over you. Because you're it, Felicity. I don't care if that makes no sense to anyone else because it makes sense to me. You're it." He pulled her face toward him and tenderly placed a kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger there for what could have been forever. The act was so simple yet so intimate at the same time, speaking far louder than any other kiss they had shared. "I love you, Felicity," he breathed into her hair, his nose skimming hers before he ducked down to slant his lips over hers, drinking her in.
When they broke apart, she covered his hand with hers, never feeling so alive, so aware than in that moment. Never had she been so sure of anything ever. She could have been crying again but she didn't care. Not anymore.
"I love you, too," she prayed into the air between them and watched as he tilted his head ever so slightly in what only looked to be wonder. As though he couldn't quite believe that she had spoken.
"Really?"
She nodded, her turn to grin like a fool. "Really."
He then kissed her again but this time it was filled with passion and intensity, every emotion pouring out of one and into the other.
This time it was filled with whispered truths, three words that somehow had the power to change everything they had ever known.
This time it was filled with love.
Loud, cranking music welcomed Felicity as she drove up the winding entrance of a place she once believed she'd never set foot in again. It seemed a lifetime since she had been back at Queen Manor, the sombre remnants of the last time she was there still very fresh in her mind as her Mini rolled over the crunchy gravel, the sound unnerving. Oliver's funeral had been every bit as excruciating as she had expected; echoes of him and their relationship wailed at her from all angles, puncturing through her thinly veiled grief and sucking any kind of control she had over her emotions right out of her. She remembered that even the sun itself tucked behind the security of the clouds that day as though it couldn't bear to show its face over such a grave event.
As she pulled the vehicle to a stop, she allowed herself the chance to look up at the domineering structure, feeling a mixture of things as memory after memory swept over her all at once. Both good and bad. A melancholy, nostalgic bubbling in the pit of her stomach made itself known, but Felicity pushed it aside as she clambered out of the car.
Standing tall and peering up at the house that was juddering with a youthful vibrancy, Felicity took courage in her heart and in her judgement, and with a deep breath, strut up the steps with as much confidence as she could garner.
Here goes nothing, she thought to herself.
So this chapter was a beast! Haha I don't know how it got to be so long! I had been debating about when to switch to Felicity's POV and this chapter felt like the right time to do it - how was it? I've written from her POV before but I never know whether it's written well or not :P I have plans for the next few chapters...things will get interesting (hopefully) very soon! Anywho, please drop me a review and let me know what you thought of it - reviews make my day and give me so much motivation so if you can, please leave one! Thanks for reading! :)
