The Christmas party was only a couple of weeks ago, but that didn't curb the grandness of the New Year's bash. QC employees, family friends, and people pretending to be family friends crowded the mansion. Champagne flowed like tap water and the hors d'oeuvre table was stuffed with delicacies that most proletarians hadn't even heard of.
Laurel snuggled next to Oliver, stunning in her glittery dress. She and Oliver sat on the couch with Tommy, laughing and sipping champagne that they pretended was sparkling cider as the party raged around them.
Oliver turned when he saw a flash of bright pink in his peripheral vision. His eyes scanned the room for the presumably color-blind old lady, curious to see how bad her outfit was. He finally located the offensive shade of pink in the form of a boxy sweater, and its wearer was much younger than he expected.
And blonde.
His heart skipped a beat as he watched Felicity leave the room. What was she doing here? He hadn't seen her since May, and he definitely hadn't seen her at the Christmas party. Was her father through with keeping her away?
After giving a vague excuse, Oliver followed her out. At first he couldn't tell where she'd gone, but then he saw her turn left when she reached the top of the stairs. He almost took two steps at a time, but he wanted to avoid drawing attention to himself. Keeping a casual, painfully slow pace, he ascended the stairs then strolled down the hall.
When he turned the corner, there she was. Sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, her fingers brushed over the page of a book to turn it. She seemed completely absorbed, her glasses slipping down her nose as she read.
Oliver took the opportunity to study her without feeling embarrassed. Her bulky sweater was a bright pink with some kind of design on the front, probably ugly on its own but pretty on her. Her skirt was knee-length black wool with wide pleats and the tights underneath were white. And what goes better with white tights than black Mary Janes?
Each step he took was slow and careful; he wanted to see how close he could get before she noticed him. Only her fingers moved, either to turn a page or adjust her glasses. It took sitting down next to her to shake her from her trance.
She flinched when she saw him, her cheeks flushing bright red at the sight of his smile.
"Haven't seen you in a while," Oliver said, wishing he could wipe the big stupid grin off his face.
Pursing her lips, she stared at him shyly through her large purple glasses. He looked at her confusedly.
"What?"
"My dad said I could come as long as I promised to avoid you."
Oliver raised an eyebrow. It seemed her father hadn't forgotten. "I won't tell if you won't."
A broad smile parted her lips. "Okay,"
He gaped at her. "You got your braces off!"
"Last month,"
"I kind of miss them." he admitted.
She giggled. "I don't."
I bet it makes kissing more enjoyable, he thought for some weird reason. "What are you reading?"
Felicity showed him the cover. "A Storm of Swords. It's the third in a series."
"Do you like it?"
"It's the most devastating thing I've ever read and the characters I hate aren't dying fast enough, but I can't put it down. It just sucks you in and refuses to let go. I just got to the part where the Starks and Tullys are at the Twins for Edmure's marriage to Roslin Frey and everyone's really happy, but Grey Wind was being really aggressive and I think something bad is… Oh. Sorry, you probably don't want to hear—"
No, it's fascinating," he replied, absentmindedly scooting closer. "Go on."
She blinked at him, pleasantly surprised. "There's a girl with dragons."
"Is she hot?"
"Smokin' hot."
"Like you?"
"What?"
It was Oliver's turn to blush. "Um, I was making a joke because your name… Uh, yeah. Never mind."
"Sure it was a joke." She smirked.
"It was!"
"I know, Ollie." Unfortunately, it seemed she meant it. "How's college going for you? Aren't you going to some Ivy League school?"
He groaned. "Yeah, Harvard. But I don't want to talk about school."
"Then let's talk about how much Laurel's missed you and how weird it is that you're talking to me instead of spending time with her."
"Why do you always bring up Laurel?"
"Because the last three times I've seen you—including now—you've lingered around me when you could be with her. And you're not even supposed to talk to me."
He certainly didn't have a snappy comeback for that one. Oliver had never noticed the pattern before. "And why do you think I do that?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I think it has something to do with commitment issues. I assume you like her so much it scares you, and you need the occasional escape from your feelings."
Sure, let's go with that. "I think you're right."
"So you should probably get down there."
"Will you stop trying to get rid of me? I haven't seen you in six months!"
"So?"
"So I might want to talk to you."
"Why?" she asked in general confusion.
He sighed in annoyance. "Honestly, I don't know. I really don't know why I want to talk to a geek with an ugly sweater."
She gasped in feigned indignation. "How dare you mock my panda sweater!"
"Is that what that thing on the front is?"
"Yeah, and it's really cool." She stretched it out so he could see.
"It's not, actually. And it looks cross-eyed."
"Hey, this is the coolest sweater I own!"
"Then I feel so sorry for you."
"I feel sorry for you. You in your sad gray sweater…"
"This is cashmere, and it costs more than your entire outfit. And it isn't all stretched out and scratchy like that hideous pink rag you're wearing."
Felicity giggled. "You sounded a teensy bit gay just then."
"Did not," he replied with a laugh.
"I guess that explains your issues with Laurel."
"I'm not gay, Felicity."
"Okay, Oliver Queen."
He smacked his lips sassily, and said, "You're just jealous of how fabulous I am." which caused Felicity to collapse in a fit of giggles.
They talked about their hobbies (Felicity really was a nerd, but he liked it), her pet frog and his little sister who kind of counted as a pet, their parents, what they did over the summer, how good things have been at school for Felicity, their favorite movies, their favorite music, and the occasional rabbit trail. Oliver was just beginning to rant about his awful teachers at Harvard when Felicity gasped at something behind him.
He turned to see a small man standing at where the hallway turned a corner, appearing completely harmless. But that mousy little man was Asher Smoak, and Oliver knew better.
The teenagers stood up and tried to quell their panic as he drew near, a joyful smile on his slightly-wrinkled face.
"Hello, kids! Shouldn't you be downstairs? It's almost midnight and I wouldn't want either of you to miss the countdown."
Almost midnight? It was eleven when I came up here! Oliver thought. Felicity's reaction was the opposite; she seemed relaxed, relieved that her father had no problem with her talking to Oliver.
"We'll go right down," she said.
The teenagers moved to leave, but Mr. Smoak stopped Oliver. "He'll be on his way in a moment, Flick."
Felicity nodded, seeing only her father's kind smile. Oliver's heart was in his throat as he watched her leave.
When they were alone in that dim hallway, Mr. Smoak turned to him with a sad look. "Strange, isn't it?"
Oliver's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What is?"
"How things turn out. For instance, when I said you had to stay away from my daughter, I didn't realize it actually needed to be said. And yet I found you two talking alone when your beautiful girlfriend is waiting for you downstairs. And I take it this isn't the first time you've seen her since that dance. How many other times were there, Oliver?"
"Two," he said, avoiding eye contact.
"Ah. I suppose that explains her mood after prom. I'd been wondering about that. That was you, wasn't it?"
Oliver nodded, unsure where this was going.
"I appreciate that, Oliver. I really do. You did for her then what you should've done the first time around."
The anxious teenager finally relaxed. It sounded like Mr. Smoak had changed his—
"But I hope you see where this is inevitably heading. You are still you, after all."
"What do you mean?" Oliver asked, trying to stay calm.
"Would you be talking to her if the two of you were downstairs instead of hiding up here?"
"Uh… Of course." The answer was unconvincing, and Oliver knew it. He blushed and looked away.
Asher raised an eyebrow. "Would you look at her the same way if all those people were around?"
Oliver gulped.
Asher smirked, a look closer to pity than smugness. "I may have been standing there longer than either of you realized. And I'm very observant. Now let's put our thinking caps on and figure out what would happen if you continued your friendship with my daughter with my consent, shall we? If you were brave enough to be seen with her and be honest about your feelings for her, could you handle your friends' disapproval? There's also Laurel, but she's a nice girl and might take the break up well enough. Oh, and don't forget the media. I'm sure they'd eat it up. But why waste time with hypotheticals? We both know you don't have the courage to let people know you're actually friends with her, let alone… well, I won't say it. I'm sure you feel ridiculous and can hardly admit the truth to yourself. But that probably won't stop you, will it? Clearly, it hasn't. I saw the proof in this hallway. No, I think we know how this will play out, and my daughter doesn't deserve that. I'm sure Laurel doesn't either."
Oliver bit his lip, avoiding those light brown eyes that seemed to see all the thoughts he wanted to hide. How did he know? Was it really that obvious?
"Sir, I… I like her. A lot. I wouldn't hurt her—"
"Not intentionally. Sadly, you're so used to getting everything you want that the desire to have both will be hard to resist. Well, there's that and your cowardice—"
"I won't hurt her." he stated with more conviction.
Mr. Smoak shook his head in dismay. "You poor, naïve thing. You're bound to. And you know it, too. I can see it in your eyes. Yet you still want to be around her. But don't worry; I plan to help ease the temptation. She'll go live with her aunt in Mapleville and you won't have to worry about bumping into her again."
Oliver's heart did a swan dive into his stomach. "Where the hell is Mapleville?"
"Far enough away. It's a little town. I think she'll enjoy the quiet."
"You'll move her out of the city just because of me?"
A sad smile stretched the small man's lips. "Oh, dear. It seems you don't realize how destructive you are. But I hope you'll do the right thing and keep away from Felicity?"
The Cowardly Lion felt a rush of courage that bordered on arrogance. "What if I don't?"
Asher sighed. "I'm sure I'll think of something." There was something in his eyes that frightened Oliver, something that assured him this short little man really would think of something, and he wouldn't like it. Robert Queen only hired the best and brightest.
"The ball drops in…" Mr. Smoak checked his watch. "Goodness! Five minutes to go! I better skedaddle. And I'm sure Laurel's waiting to kiss you at midnight. Bye, Oliver."
The perplexingly formidable Mr. Smoak left Oliver standing in the hallway. The young playboy was torn between rage and the urge to cry, confusion and disturbing clarity. He had to be wrong. He had to be. What did he know, anyway? Yet he was right, completely right and each statement had been a stab in the gut, a punch in the ego. Worst of all, he was about to lose Felicity. He just got her. The time he had with her wasn't enough, and he wasn't going to get more of it. If he had to stay away from her, then he'd never find out what her favorite color was. Or why he overlooked her acne and liked her smile despite her braces and loved the way she adjusted her glasses. Or what it'd be like to kiss her without her braces. Or why in the hell she made him feel this way. Or made him care at all. He still didn't know any of that, and there was so much more to learn…
Do you hear yourself right now? Stop being stupid. He ran a hand through his hair and hurried downstairs, reminding himself he had nothing to feel sad about. He had a perfect girlfriend waiting for him who was more than he could ever ask for. Getting worked up over a girl like Felicity was just pathetic.
"Where have you been?" Laurel asked, not unkindly. Everyone was crowding around the TV, ready for the countdown.
"Mingling,"
"Oh, that's okay. Tommy and I get along really well."
Oliver stopped himself once he realized he was looking for Felicity. "That's great, Laurel. Glad to hear it."
Ten…
Nine…
Eight…
Seven…
Six…
Five…
Four…
Three…
Two…
One…
"Happy New Year!" Everyone shouted, grabbing someone to kiss. Oliver took Laurel in his arms and when their lips met everything was better. She was enough. Of course she was enough. She was Laurel, and he was probably in love with her.
A few rowdy guests who'd had too much to drink started singing a mumbly version of "Auld Lang Syne," and others gradually joined in. Oliver casually slipped away to find a flute of champagne.
As he downed it in two gulps, he decided that it wasn't over yet. Felicity was still in the mansion somewhere, and he could see her one more time if he damn well pleased.
He could at least say goodbye.
Back up the stairs he went, starting in the most obvious place. It seemed she was in the exact same spot, but instead of having her book open it was closed beside her. She was pale and her eyes were wide, her arms folded over her chest.
"Hey," he greeted. "What's wrong?"
She flashed him a quick smile, but the frightened look didn't leave her face. "Hi, they started playing 'The Rains of Castamere.' That can't be good. I knew something bad was going to happen! Lord Frey has too much pride to forgive Robb for breaking his promise, and he's going to make him pay, I just know it! But I can't keep reading. I have to brace myself for the impending tragedy, but I also don't want to read it, but I do, but I don't think I can handle it…"
In spite of everything he was feeling, he laughed. He even smiled. She was just too damn adorable.
"I need to talk to you." he stated, gesturing for her to follow him. No one was as likely to walk in on them in his room as out in the hall. She picked up her book and hurried after him with a smile on her face.
"What did he say?" she asked excitedly as he closed the door behind them. "He seemed happy when he saw us together. Did he tell you we're allowed to be friends now? I mean he saw how we get along, so why would he have a problem with it?"
Oliver had thought he knew what to say. He planned to downplay the situation and make it seem like he agreed with her father's decision. He planned to list the benefits of moving to Mapleville. He planned to say they had hardly anything in common, anyway. Pointing out that he'd probably get bored of her soon seemed like a good idea, too. But the words caught in his throat. He bit his lip and looked away, shaking his head.
Felicity hugged her book to her chest, her smile quickly fading. "He said no?"
This was it. This would be the last time he'd see her. He'd never see her gray-green eyes or her brand new smile or hear her babbling again. No more chance encounters to look forward to. All of his questions would go unanswered.
Except for maybe one.
His lips crashed into hers as his hands moved to her face. It was a better sensation than he expected, not feeling the bump of her braces beneath her lips. He should've pulled away after that, but instead he hugged her close, her arms and book trapped between their torsos. She whimpered and gasped as he continued to kiss her, her arms struggling feebly against his chest. He only held her tighter, reveling in the softness of her lips and the warmth of her body and even the scratchiness of her sweater. When he began to slide his tongue against hers, she moaned in a way that sounded more like a whine. She finally managed to wrestle out of his desperate grip.
"Ollie, what are you doing?" she pleaded miserably. "You're making it worse!"
He shut his eyes. Mr. Smoak was right. Oliver couldn't even say goodbye without hurting Felicity. He'd trapped her into betraying Laurel again and he probably would in the future if he were allowed to see her. And he didn't want to hurt Laurel, but when he was with Felicity he stopped caring. Oliver had screwed up his final moments with Felicity, and he knew he needed to leave before he made things any worse.
"That was stupid." he said, rapidly filling with self-loathing. "Sorry,"
Felicity reached for him gently as he brushed by her, but he shrugged her off. Oliver didn't look back. He just opened the door and left.
I'll miss you too, Ollie, she thought as she wiped the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater, wincing when it scratched her skin.