Oliver drove through the Starling High School parking lot, finally finding an empty spot between a silver SUV and a bright blue sedan. "Keep Fishin'" by Weezer was playing on the radio when he reluctantly turned the car off and noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

To his right was a girl opening the back door of the blue sedan. Her blonde ponytail swept over her shoulder as she swung her backpack into the seat. When she straightened up, she took a moment to adjust her glasses before closing the door.

Felicity! His heart went wa-BUMP in his chest at the sight of her, even though her overalls were hideous. Her hair seemed tamer in its ponytail, and she actually looked kind of—

Wait, what was going on? What was he thinking? Why should he care how she looked, and why was he even staring at her through the tinted window of the passenger door?

And why did he hate that she was about to leave?

"Hey!" he called as he rolled the window down, startling her as she opened the front door of her car. She turned quickly, and her jaw dropped at the sight of him.

Why did he do that? He should've ignored her!

"Hi," he said, feeling incredibly awkward.

"Um, hi…"She had to lean over a bit to see into the car, so her glasses were slipping again. As she pushed them up the bridge of her nose, he realized they looked different.

"Were your glasses always purple?"

"My… my other ones broke."

Broke? Broke how? Who broke them? Was it that bitch and her friends? Not that he should care, since he shouldn't even be talking to Felicity. Like, at all. Her dad had been very adamant about that.

"Get in," Oliver insisted, patting the seat next to him.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

"I want to talk to you."

Felicity blushed, and he tried to suppress his smile. Eventually she nodded and slid into the passenger seat.

They were both uncomfortably silent for a second while Oliver rolled up the window. Then Felicity spoke. "I didn't recognize your car. What kind is it?"

He knew it was her polite way of asking if this was the car he was promised for taking her to the dance. Nervously, his fingers drummed on the steering wheel. "Nope. This is my dad's Bugatti Veyron. He doesn't drive it very much, so he lets me borrow it sometimes."

"It's really cool," She gave him a small smile. "I bet Laurel will like it."

The mention of her made him uncomfortable, even though she was the reason he was here in the first place. He met her a few weeks ago at the mall, and he was thrilled to find a girl as nice as she was beautiful. Karla had ruined his tolerance for hotties with bad personalities.

"She's been in it before," he answered, strangely keen to change the subject.

"Laurel's really nice, even for a cheerleader." Oliver wondered why Felicity didn't look jealous. "Practice is going on now. That's why you're here, right? To watch her? And take her on a date afterwards, I bet. The whole school's been talking about you two since the Insufferable—uh, since Karla and her friends saw the two of you at the movies together. I was really happy to hear that you were dating her. She's not mean like the other cheerleaders, and she gets good grades and is captain of the debate team. She even stood up for me when Karla…" Felicity blinked, clearly regretted her mention of the mean girl. "Everyone's saying how cool it'd be if you went to prom with Laurel. It'd be junior prom—you know, since she's a junior like me—but she might be prom queen and… why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?"

Oliver hadn't realized he'd been watching at her. He shook his head. "I just had no idea you could talk that much."

Felicity bit her lip. "Sorry, I was babbling, wasn't I?"

"What did Karla do?"

She lowered her eyes. "What she always does. It's not a big deal."

"Did she break your glasses?" he asked, his eyes narrowed.

"When will you get your car?" she responded, changing the subject. "An Aston Martin, right?"

He rolled his eyes. "My dad said I have to wait until my birthday in May."

"That's not too far off. Will you get it before prom?"

"I think so. My birthday's on the sixteenth."

"Prom's on the twenty-somethingth."

"Good."

There was a moment of awkward silence that neither was brave enough to break until Oliver decided to speak again. "Your parent's came over for dinner at the mansion in March. They said you were sick."

They both knew the real reason she hadn't come, but neither wanted to address it. "It was the flu or something. I think that was going around. Laurel had it the night of the dance, which is why she wasn't there. But she probably told you that already. Too bad you couldn't have met her at the dance, huh? That would've been romantic. Hey, shouldn't you be going? She's probably waiting for you."

On the football field where Oliver found Felicity bound to a freezing goal post. He bit the inside of his cheek. "How have you been?"

"Me? Oh, well my dad got me a new car"—she gestured to the blue car to her right—"even though my mom said he shouldn't because she worries about me getting spoiled. It's a 2003 Mazda Protégé. I call it the blueberrymobile. I'm a timid driver so I worry about wrecking it since it's new, but at least it's not really expensive."

"I asked how you've been, not about your new car."

She blinked. "Oh… I've been fine."

Oliver laughed humorlessly. "Come on, Felicity. We both know I screwed you over. Laurel told me she heard that you lied about being my date at the dance, and like a coward I didn't correct her. She told me that everyone mocked you the following Monday and called you a liar. You spent two whole class periods trapped in your own locker before Laurel got you out. I don't even want to mention what she said happened at lunch. And I know about the time Laurel stood up for you. Karla said you were—"

"I know what Karla said!" Felicity asserted, her voice breaking. "I don't need to be reminded. And yes, you screwed me over, but I'm trying really hard to forget about that."

Oliver swallowed hard. "I've been worried about you."

"Are you sure?" He wished she was angry instead of giving him that sad look. "And why would Oliver Queen be worried about me?"

"Because I care about you," he admitted in a small voice.

Felicity shook her head. "No, you don't. You just feel guilty. You just want to pay the fine and make the guilt go away, but you don't know how. If you really did care about me, you would've told Laurel the truth."

Oliver couldn't look her in the eye. "I didn't want her to hate me."

Felicity sighed. "I know,"

The click of the car door opening made him reach for her arm. "Wait,"

She paused, wondering what he had to say.

"I'm sorry," he said, staring at the steering wheel.

Her plastic purple glasses were sliding down her nose again, and she pushed them up after closing the car door. "For what?" Felicity asked in a small voice.

"For all of it," he answered, still avoiding eye contact. "For everything. For thinking you were ugly. For making fun of you. For ditching you. For not dancing with you. For not defending you. For lying. For not running after you. For not apologizing when I knew it was my fault. For being embarrassed by you. For being an asshole."

Felicity knew it took him a lot of courage to admit that much, and every sentence seemed to pain him. His confession to her wouldn't change anything for her at school, but it did make her feel better. Impulsively, she closed her eyes and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek…

And he turned at the last second to see what she was doing. They sat there for a full second before either of them comprehended that their lips were touching. Felicity pulled away, eyes as wide as Oliver's.

"Oh…" she gasped, cheeks reddening. "I… That… that was an accident. I meant to kiss your cheek!" Oliver only blinked at her. "I promise! I promise I didn't… Laurel! I can't believe I did that to Laurel! I didn't mean to! I shouldn't have… I'm so sorry!"

Oliver couldn't help smiling. Her panicked flailing and anxious rambling was really entertaining.

"Don't tell anyone, please? That was so bad… What's so funny?"

His laughter quieted to a chuckle at her serious expression. "Felicity, if no one believed I was your date for a dance, who'd believe I was your first kiss?"

"You…" She gaped at him, realizing the truth. "My first kiss was with Oliver Queen!" she stated in amazement and possibly horror as she sank low in her seat. "Holy crap!" Felicity squeaked, her hands hiding her face.

This only made Oliver laugh loudly again. "Your first kiss was with Oliver Queen in his dad's Bugatti Veyron. No one will ever believe you."

"No it wasn't because it doesn't count."

"It counts."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does."

"Does not,"

"Does to,"

"I'm an awful person."

"Felicity, it was an accident."

She smiled triumphantly. "Which means it doesn't count!"

"Fine, then." he replied with a smirk. "We'll just have to do it again." Oliver stated as he leaned in.

Felicity moved back so fast that she hit her head on the window. Following that was her attempt to get out of the car, which was the most impressive display of spaziness Oliver had ever seen.

"I was kidding!" he said, smiling. "Where are you going?"

"Home," she answered, her hand on the open car door. "And it doesn't matter if you were kidding! I can't handle being in this car anymore with you and your stupid, pretty face! You're gonna get me in trouble—"

"I'm hurt that you would think that," He looked at her with feigned innocence. Then he gave her his cockiest grin. "But then again, my middle name is trouble… Well, actually it's Jonas—"

"Laurel will be wondering where you are."

"And if she asks, I'll tell her I've been kissing you."

That got a giggle from her. "You wouldn't!"

"I would." he insisted. "I'll admit that we made out passionately in the front seat."

Her smile was cute in spite of her braces. "You're full of it,"

"Hey, we can make it true—"

"Okay, now it sounds like you're mocking me." Felicity put one foot out on the asphalt. "It was nice talking to you, Oliver."

"Nice making out with you, Felicity," he responded, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Jerk."

"Nerd."

"Bye, Oliver,"

"Bye,"

Oliver watched her shut the door and climb into her own car, all the while wondering what the hell had gotten into him. Why didn't he mind talking to her, and why did he allow the conversation to go on so long? He had a hot girlfriend waiting for him, and he had wasted time with that skinny dork. Worse than that, it didn't feel like a waste. It felt like he'd been looking forward to seeing her, which was completely ridiculous. And that kiss! That stupid, accidental kiss! How could he let that happen?

And why had he liked it so much?