I saw the first few episodes of Arrow again, and I noticed that Oliver supposedly got A LOT of tail before the island. Yet they said he dated Laurel for a long time in the episode with the way-back flashback; Laurel says their friends are moving in together because they've been together a long time, but Laurel and Ollie have been together longer. That means years, right? Also, they said they've all known each other forever in "Betrayal" when Tommy and Laurel have dinner with Oliver and Helena. So was Oliver with tons of women right up until he shipwrecked, or was he with one woman for years? Did he fool around with other girls and Laurel never found out, or was it only Sara? And they never said Oliver and Laurel had an on/off relationship. AND it seems impossible for him to have been friends with her first, because he's Oliver. This whole playboy/boyfriend thing is feeling contradictory.
Oh, and kudos to the Harvard University website. That campus map kicks ass.
The upperclassmen of Russell Hall were throwing a party, and what party would be worthwhile without Oliver Queen? The pampered, frequently inebriated rich boy stood around with his drinking buddies. They had names, but he secretly referred to them as Dude, Bro, and Man because they were more frat-boyish than he was. There was also Bruce, whom he mostly saw as a rival.
"Dance, Dance" started playing, and Oliver smiled; Fall Out Boy was one of his favorite bands. He watched as some girls started moving to the music, noting how expertly they moved their hips when Bro called for his attention.
"Some MIT chicks just walked in!" He was right; they looked awkward and out of place, and one of them had an MIT shirt on. Their kind showed up sometimes, their school being in the same town as Harvard. Guys like Bro liked to mess with them or get them drunk to see what would happen. He was probably scoping out a target right now; was it the tiny Asian, the excited brunette, the freckly redhead wearing her school's t-shirt, the mannish brunette, or the quirky, slightly edgy blonde with purple—
Holy shit.
Oliver nearly choked on his beer as he did a double take. No possible way was that her. He hadn't seen her in three years—well, technically four—
"The blonde's kinda hot," said Man. The girl had more of a figure than the others, and if it was Felicity, the freshmen fifteen looked really good on her. Oliver studied her, seeing her cute nose and full lips and then that smile… It was her. Those were her purple glasses and holy crap it was her.
"Dibs on the blonde," slurred Bruce. Oliver took another swig to hide his annoyance.
Dude laughed. "Seriously? You wanna freak a geek?"
"She's still a girl, Dylan," Bruce smirked. "I'm sure it's not much different than banging one of these Harvard hotties."
Oliver stomach tied in knots. "I think I saw her first, Bruce."
His friends all looked at him quizzically.
"Don't you already have a girlfriend?" asked Bruce before taking another drink.
"Yeah, so? It doesn't count if it's just one time." A sly grin pulled at his lips.
They all laughed, but Bruce was relentless. "I still called dibs."
"I don't care."
Bruce bristled, but the smile remained on his face. "Fine. Rock, paper, scissors."
Oliver nodded and they held out their fists.
"Rock, paper, scissors, sh—"SMACK! Oliver stuck Bruce on the cheek with a moderate slap, cutting him short. The billionaire playboy of Gotham City gaped in surprise.
"Paper covers rock. I win."
The brief, heavy silence erupted into boisterous laughter. Bruce clapped in him on the shoulder. "Good one! Now go get your nerd."
You're damn right she's my nerd, Oliver thought as he smiled and left. Felicity and her poindexter posse had left the room, so he had to look around a bit before he found them. When he did, he had to roll his eyes. Some guy was talking to the group of friends, specifically Felicity. She looked nervous and possibly confused by the attention. As Oliver walked closer, he took in all the details: her un-frizzy hair was down and looked artfully messy, a thin pink streak framing the left side of her face; her skin was completely clear; her glasses were the same, which he was happy about; her lips were berry-pink and glossy; little silver arrows dangled from her ears; he could tell that her snug green t-shirt was vintage, but he couldn't tell what was on it; her hands grasped the straps of a little blue backpack that functioned as a purse; those low-riding, ripped-up bell-bottoms hugged her cute, incredible ass and tempting thighs, the very sight making him sweat.
It was Felicity, his Felicity, no matter how different she looked. Her smile hadn't changed, and neither had her timid disposition. There was no need for him to worry that she wouldn't want to see him. Of course she missed him as much as he missed her.
When he reached them, he casually shoved What's-His-Face out of the way and made sure to act far drunker than he really was.
"Hey!" he said with a goofy smile, directing the greeting to all five girls. Felicity was smiling in a way that melted Oliver's insides. "I'm completely wasted and I need a somewhat responsible person to drive me home. You MIT dweebs fit the profile, right? You all look pretty sober." He turned his attention towards Felicity and fought to hide his delight. "How about you, Poindexter Punk Barbie? Can you get me home safe and sound? 'Cause I've got a lot of debauchery planned for tomorrow and I need to get home alive."
Felicity's friends gawked, wondering why he singled her out. They also seemed kind of offended.
"She came here to have fun, not be your chauffeur!" argued the redhead with a piggy nose. The rest of them seemed to agree, even Felicity.
"And I just got here, too." said Felicity with an apologetic smile. "Do you mind finding someone who actually wants to do it?"
Oliver felt a slight pain in his chest, wondering if he had misheard her. "So that's a no?"
"That's a hell no. Sorry, rich boy." Felicity answered, crossing her arms.
Trying not to look devastated was pretty hard, but Oliver managed. "Whatever." he said with a shrug before leaving.
He'd only just gotten there himself, but now he just wanted to go home. After wading through the sea of people, Oliver stepped out into the chilly March air. His dark green henley was just enough to keep him warm on the trek to the parking garage. He stuck his hands into his jeans pockets as he kept a brisk pace down the sidewalk.
Why did she act that way? It was like she appreciated the hello, but wanted him to go away. Was it because he wasn't allowed to see her and she had to move all the way to Mapleville because of him? Was it because he'd acted drunk? Did she hate him? Was it because he'd called her Poindexter Punk Barbie? He'd just tried to get her away from her friends without them knowing he knew Felicity. Not that he was embarrassed of her; he knew that people knowing about them would eventually get to the paparazzi, and if that happened they might end up on a tabloid cover. Mr. Smoak would find out and then he'd probably do something Oliver would hate. Whatever it was, Felicity didn't want to see him, and that made Oliver want to either curl up in a ball or break something. He wasn't sure yet.
As he drew nearer to the front door of Randolph Hall, he heard someone running behind him. The sound barely registered as he walked closer to the building to get out of the way.
"Stop walking so fast!" a female voice cried a few feet behind him. He turned to see Felicity panting. "Do you know how painful it is to run when it's this cold? My lungs are seared! And I forgot my jacket in my dorm so the wind isn't great either. Did you assume I could get away immediately?"
Oliver gulped. "Um, hi,"
Felicity's eyes narrowed. "You had no idea what I was doing, did you?"
He shook his head, a smile on his lips. He'd never been so happy to be so wrong. "How did you lose them?"
"I reminded them how much I hate parties then told them I'd be at the library."
"Which one? There's quite a few of them."
She shrugged. "The big one on the other side of Massachusetts Avenue. What's it called, Weisinger?"
"Widener."
"Ah. I told them I'd get back on my own, so it doesn't really matter. Let's get going before someone sees us." She started walking and he happily followed after. "Where are we going, exactly?"
"My car is in the Holyoke Center Garage. I was heading back to my apartment but if you have somewhere else you wanna go…"
"Your place?" She grinned. "Cool. I'm driving, though. You smell like beer."
"I only had one."
"Are you sure? You put on a great show back there."
"Thanks, I'm very proud of that performance." he replied as they crossed Linden Street. His hand brushed hers as they reached the sidewalk, and she blushed. He'd really missed seeing her blush.
"Um, I'm still driving. You know, to be safe."
"Of course," He pulled the keys from his pocket and placed them in her hand. She squinted at them when they passed a street lamp.
"Is this the Aston Martin?"
"Yep," Of course that's the car he took to college with him; it reminded him of her. "Hey, what's on your shirt?"
Felicity looked down as she stretched it out for him to see. "It's The Muppet Show. There's Kermit and Miss Piggy and everybody hanging around the letters."
Oliver nodded, his smile wide. "Very cool. Where'd you get it? It looks old."
The shirt sprang back as she let go, an inch of her flat tummy momentarily visible. "I filched it from my mom's closet the last time I visited. She got it when she was a teenager."
"Do you see them often?" he asked, feeling a pang of guilt.
"I miss them sometimes, but I do like living with Aunt Debbie. Moving to Mapleville wasn't completely horrible."
For you, maybe. "What's it like there?"
"Quaint," answered Felicity as they carefully crossed Holyoke Street, minding the traffic. "Trees and cute little houses and mom-and-pop stores. And a big apple orchard. The streets in my neighborhood are named after apples and half the houses have picket fences and a few even have tire swings. And it gets so quiet there! Sometimes all you hear at night are crickets and the occasional dog barking. The high school there is small, too, but it was nice and I even made a few friends."
"You made friends?" Oliver was oddly uncomfortable with that. "That place sounds perfect, then."
"Oh, it's far from perfect, Ollie." Her expression suggested his absence was the reason why. His heart did a backflip.
"Starling City sucks without you." he said, looking away as they approached the garage.
Felicity fidgeted with the straps of her backpack. "Really?"
He nodded. "And up until now, Cambridge did too."
She smiled shyly and studied her shoes, which he noticed were black Chuck Taylors. "Yeah, it did."
They found his car quickly by hitting the button on the key and following the honk.
"Oh, Silver. I like it." Felicity commented as she opened the passenger door for him. Oliver raised an eyebrow.
"I think I'm supposed to open the door for you." he said stubbornly.
"But you're cripplingly drunk and I'm driving you home," she replied with pretend innocence. "Or was it all some ruse to get me in your car?"
"Pfft," Oliver crossed his arms. "I don't need a ruse to get a girl in my car. All I have to do is introduce myself."
Felicity stuck out her bottom lip as she nodded. "Yep, you're totally wasted. Let's get you home."
Oliver gave her a wry smile as he slipped into the passenger seat. She shut the door and walked around to the driver's side.
Felicity seemed nervous as she started the car, but they left the garage without causing any damage.
"Where do you live?"
"Across the river. It's easy to get to."
She gulped and nodded as she turned onto Holyoke Street.
"You're not going to wreck my car, Felicity. You drive more carefully than I do." he encouraged as he patted her leg. She blushed at the contact, but she relaxed all the same.
"I hope not. I mean, I hope I do, um, drive more carefully. And I hope I don't wreck your car." she responded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's just that your car's really expensive. Not that you couldn't afford to—"
"Is that…" he said, paying more attention to her ear than to what she was saying. "an industrial piercing?"
"Yeah, my eighteenth birthday present from Aunt Debbie." She bit her lip. "Do you like it?"
He stared at the two silver piercings in the top of her ear. They were cool and somehow suited her, but the sight also unnerved him. "It seems like your aunt has been very influential."
"She has," Her fingers rapped the steering wheel. "Wait 'til you see my other presents."
Oliver's eyebrows went up.
"Wow. That sounded really dirty." Felicity admitted. "I meant my tattoo and bellybutton piercing."
If Oliver had been drinking water, he would've spewed it all over the dash. "Felicity Smoak—that scrawny dork I took to the dance, the nerd with the hideous overalls, the girl in the ugly pink panda sweater—has a tattoo? And… and that other thing? Man, I can't even fathom you having that other thing." He sank in his seat. "You've changed so much."
Felicity sucked her bottom lip. "You seem upset."
"If you change too much, doesn't that mean you'll outgrow me?" Oliver blurted.
"Of course not," She glanced at him, her expression sincere. "No amount of tattoos and piercings will make me outgrow you. I'm always going to be that meek little geek who's half in love with you."
Oliver blinked at that. "What was that last part?"
Felicity rolled her eyes. "I'm a girl and you're Oliver Queen. You saved me from Karla. You were my first kiss. And you look like you. If my heart didn't go pitter-pat whenever I saw you, then I wouldn't be human."
Oh. Not the declaration of love he would've liked, but it was still flattering. "That's what I thought. I've never known a girl who wasn't at least fractionally in love with me."
"Must be such a burden."
"It's caused far too many catfights."
"Get over yourself, Oliver." Felicity said with a laugh.
The rest of the drive was quiet, except for when Felicity turned on the radio. She sang along theatrically to "Holding Out for a Hero" while Oliver cracked up beside her. He was surprised by how pretty her voice was.
Felicity was impressed when she stepped into his apartment, just as he thought she'd be. She set her tiny backpack on the table by the door before looking around.
"So, about that tattoo…" Oliver asked, trying not to enjoy the sight of her backside.
"Curious, huh?" Her thumbs hooked into her belt loops as she strolled back to him. "Have you ever thought of getting a tattoo?"
"Me? No. Not my style."
"My mom wishes I thought that way." She licked her lips. "Just don't pass out like she did, please."
He leaned against the back of the couch. "Okay, now I'm a little scared."
She bit her lip and giggled. "Do you want to guess what and where it is first?"
"Hmm..." Oliver hummed as he thought. "Well, it's not on either wrist… Back of the neck? I'm willing to bet you money it's on the back of your neck. Or an ankle."
Nope. When she showed him her neck, he saw nothing. Same went for behind her ears, which he saw when she lifted her hair and smushed it into a bun with her fist. Her ankles were bare, too.
Oliver cleared his throat. "Is it a butterfly?" Guessing where it was had him feeling feverish now that the more innocent places were off the board.
"Uh-uh." Her look suggested he was cold.
"A bird? A dolphin? A star? Some kind of flower? A word? A quote?"
She shook her head at every guess. "Getting colder."
"A cartoon character?"
"No."
"Kermit the Frog?"
"Wrong."
"Is it something from A Song of Ice and Fire?"
She sighed. "No, but that would've been cool."
Oliver pouted. "That's a shame. I was hoping you'd have Drogon on your shoulder or something."
"Yeah—Wait, you read those books?" Her eyes were wide. "I knew I saw you reading A Clash of Kings outside that coffee shop! I couldn't tell for sure but I had a feeling—"
"You saw me?" Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Hey, wait, you've always known I was here! You knew Harvard and MIT were both in Cambridge and you didn't come find me!"
Felicity pursed her lips. "I'm not even allowed to see you and I thought… I didn't know if you'd want to see me."
"You thought I had gotten over you?" His hands balled into fists.
"That's a weird way to put it, but yeah." She wringed her hands. "My dad said—"
"He's wrong. Whatever he told you is wrong."
"But you're you, and I never understood why you would bother with me—"
He yanked her into a hug, one arm across her shoulders and the other crossing her body, his hand resting on her hip. "Just shut up, okay? You're not making any sense."
Her arms snaked around his waist, and he felt her nod against his chest. He took the opportunity to inhale her honeysuckle scent and feel her wavy-curly hair against his face…
"Um, your stubble is scratching my neck. It kinda hurts."
Oliver pulled away, hoping she didn't realize he'd practically nuzzled her. "So, uh… If it's not Drogon, what is it?"
Her hands dropped to her sides, and he reluctantly did the same. "I'll give you a hint; Think of Dorne. What do they call Prince Oberon's daughters?"
"Sand… You have a snake tattoo?" Oliver shook his head in disbelief. "No frickin' way."
Felicity smirked and slowly lifted up the hem of her shirt.
"Woah!" Blushing bright red, Oliver took a few steps back. "Where exactly is this thing? Are you about to flash me?" He secretly hoped she would.
She scoffed. "If it were somewhere like that, I wouldn't be showing you." Her hem rose quickly to her waist on one side, revealing an intricate, bright green snake's head on her hipbone. She turned slowly around, showing the coils and curves of its body across her lower back. At its widest, the tattoo couldn't be more than two inches (some was hidden beneath her jeans), but the snake was thick and stretched from hip to hip. The detail was very impressive and the snake even had a shadow.
His nerdy little Felicity had a tattoo. It wasn't even something sweet and girly; it was something a biker would wear proudly. It was difficult for him to wrap his mind around. Not that he didn't like it—it was really cool, and it kind of suited her—but the sight of something like that on her was blowing his mind. He reached out and touched it, almost expecting to feel the scales. Her skin went all goosepimply at the contact.
"Um, it's awesome, right?" she asked with a slight tremor in her voice.
It's so… badass. "Why that? Does it mean anything?" He resisted the urge to wipe his brow; for some reason he'd started to sweat.
She leaned over a bit so she could see it better, a small smile on her face. "It's the emerald tree boa I had as a kid. My uncle got him for me—the questionably responsible one, I'll tell you about him later—and I was really upset when he died. The python, not the uncle. My uncle's still alive. But Snugglesnake was my favorite pet, so that's what I got."
"You had a python when you were a kid… named Snugglesnake." Oliver chuckled. You weird, cute little thing. "How'd you lose him?"
Felicity let go of her shirt, and Oliver was disappointed to see her pretty inked skin hidden. "Neighbor shot him for eating his Chihuahua."
"That's so sad," said Oliver, trying not to laugh. He put his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.
She noticed and playfully smacked his arm. "It was a horrible childhood trauma! Don't laugh at my pain!"
"Sorry," he apologized, getting himself under control. "Now what about your bellybutton ring? Is it a skull or something hardcore like that?"
She giggled. "Nah, this is way more believable." Her shirt went up again, and Oliver's heart shot right into his throat and back down like a bell-and-hammer carnival game. He wasn't sure what that little rectangle charm was supposed to be, but the dark blue gem and silver piercing was sexy as hell, her torso even more so. Before his mind could marinate in numerous naughty notions, he blinked and looked her in the eye.
"Cute. It looks like a phone booth."
"Police box, actually. It's the TARDIS."
He squinted. "What's that?"
"It's from Doctor Who."
"Doctor what?"
"No, Doctor Who. It's a show." She put her shirt back down, and he almost pouted. "The TARDIS is his time machine."
"You said it was a police box."
"It only looks like a police box. The chameleon circuit is broken so it's stuck like that."
"Why a police box?"
Felicity shrugged. "It was the 60's. Britain had police boxes then."
"So it's a British show that takes place in the 60's?"
"Yes. No. I mean it's British, there're British people in it, but it takes place all over the place. Different planets and time periods. The TARDIS takes the Doctor and his companions wherever and they do stuff."
So… it's Grey's Anatomy meets Star Trek?"
Felicity bit her lip, almost in annoyance. "He's not that kind of doctor."
"He's a professor?"
She sighed and shook her head. "It's a nerd show. Let's leave it at that."
"Gotcha." He moved around the couch and sat down. "Glad to see you're still a geek. The tattoo had me wondering."
Smiling, Felicity sat down beside him. "I'm a geek to my core; that's not changing. It's as immutable as your pretty-boy egotism."
Oliver made a show of looking insulted. "That… is completely true." He smirked. "I thought your shyness was just as unchangeable. I kind of miss that."
"Oh, I'm still shy." She tucked her legs beneath her. "But not right now. We have too much to catch up on; we don't have time for me to be shy."
"Guess I'll have to work harder to make you blush." His fingers tucked that pink streak behind her ear and she gulped, her cheeks reddening. "Still easy, though." By some strange magnetism, he found himself leaning in, looking forward to a long-overdue kiss.
But when they were only a foot apart, Felicity reached up and tapped him on the nose. "Boop!"
Startled, Oliver stopped and eyed her inquisitively. She only tapped her short, multicolored nails on the back on the couch. "How're things with Laurel?"
Ugh. Why did she always bring up Laurel? "We're great."
"How often do you see her?"
"She's going to UCLA, so only on breaks and in the summer."
"So you saw her during spring break last week?"
"Mm-hm." Did they really have to talk about this? He was more interested in why her nails were purple and blue. "She's already studying for the LSAT, but she made time for me." He ran a hand through his hair. "And she wants us to move in together after I graduate. At least for the summer, since I'll be going to business school here and she'll still be in California."
She smiled like a little girl who'd just heard a romantic fairytale. "Sounds like things are getting serious. Maybe she'll get into law school at Harvard when she graduates and she can live here with you."
Oliver felt an uncomfortable pain in his stomach. "That's why she's studying so early."
"Well I'm sure she'll get in. She's always been focused."
He scratched his chin. "Yeah. On another note, Sara hit on me."
It took Felicity a moment you realize who he was talking about. Then she gaped at him. "Laurel's little sister? I remember her! She's, a… not as nice as Laurel. She was kind of rebellious, too."
"Still is. I know she's always had a thing for me, but it's always been harmless. Then one night when she came over with Laurel and Tommy, she got me alone and… um, she explained how much fun we could have."
"That…" bitch, her expression said. But Felicity held her tongue. "That's awful. What did you do?"
"I turned her down, obviously. But I was nice about it. I told her she should consider dating Tommy, and her response made it clear she wasn't changing her mind."
Felicity pushed her glasses up her nose. "What did she say?"
"That if we were both cheating on someone, then it'd be more exciting."
She scowled. "I can't believe she would do that to Laurel."
"Sara's always been annoyed by how goody-goody her sister is. She said that she's better for me than Laurel is."
Peeved, Felicity folded her arms. "That's so mean."
"If you want to curse, go ahead and curse."
"That traitorous, envious little bitch!" Felicity slapped her hand over her mouth. "That was terrible. I can't believe I said that."
Oliver chuckled. "I thought the same thing about her when she was trying to seduce me. I handled it, though."
"I doubt it. I remember Sara being relentless."
"You know nothing, Felicity Smoak." He tapped her nose like she'd done to him earlier. She smiled adorably. "I've got it under control. Now quit worrying about her and fangirl with me about A Song of Ice and Fire."
She obeyed, and they talked well into the night about direwolves and lions and dragons, taking the occasional detour. He was especially intrigued by her new hobby cultivated by her aforementioned uncle, who taught her how to count cards. As the moon rose, they grew closer on the couch without realizing it. When Oliver's arm was draped over her shoulders and her head was against his chest, he dared to ask the question that had been gnawing at him since he saw her in Russell Hall.
"So I overheard my dad when I was home for spring break… he said he was going to take the yacht out really soon."
Felicity glanced up at him drowsily. "That sounds fun."
Oliver beamed, hopeful. "The Queen's Gambit is awesome. And he's sailing to China, so the trip will be a few weeks long. I was thinking about taking some time off and going with him."
"Finals week isn't far away. Are you sure you can go?"
"I've got it covered. My team of geeks hasn't failed me yet."
"I should've known," she mumbled. "Then I guess you should go. Great way to bond with your dad."
"Or you," he blurted, his palms beginning to sweat. She looked up at him, surprised. "My dad would keep our secret. And your dad would think you were at school. Wouldn't it be great to have all that time together and not worry about getting caught?"
She smiled dreamily. "That sounds… wonderful. But I can't, especially with all the work I have to do. And anyway, that sounds like something for you and Laurel to do, don't you think?"
Disappointed, Oliver gave her his best puppy eyes. "But I don't see you nearly as often."
"Get those baby blues under control, Oliver Queen." she warned, poking his chest. "Quit fighting dirty."
"Oh, that's nothing. This is fighting dirty." He tickled her sides. She twitched and twisted, laughing. "Say you'll go with me," he demanded with a chuckle.
Instead, she fought back. He was at her mercy until he grabbed her wrists and pinned her down on the couch.
"Come on, please," he panted, hovering over her. "We need to make up for the past three years—well, four. We could see Beijing or wherever the hell my dad is going. And we might see dolphins or a whale or like, seals or something. And the yacht is huge and we'd have it almost all to ourselves. Please please please…"
"Ollie," Felicity squirmed her wrists from his grasp and took his face in her hands. "Ollie Ollie Pollywog," she said, shaking his head. He giggled, aching for her to say yes. "I can't. You know I can't. You go spend time with your dad. I'll be here when you get back."
Crestfallen, Oliver groaned. "Fine."
They both sat up and continued talking until their tongues grew tired and their eyelids weighed heavy with sleep.
Oliver woke the next morning with his head on Felicity's chest, unsure how he ended up sleeping on top of her. Not that he was complaining. She was snoring softly and her hair was crazy and her glasses were askew and she was so, so beautiful.
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to slip his tongue in her mouth as his hands ran over her curves. He wanted to watch her peel off that ridiculously adorable shirt and wriggle out of those jeans. He wanted to make her moan and squeal, sweat and writhe. He wanted her very, very badly.
But he knew better. He remembered last time when he ruined his goodbye with a kiss. He saw how angry she was to hear that Sara wanted to betray Laurel. Oliver wasn't about to screw things up again, not after losing her for so long.
So he did kiss her, but only on the cheek. Then he lay back down and tried to get back to sleep.
Unfortunately, there was a knock at the door not long after. Oliver startled out of half-consciousness and Felicity barely stirred.
Irritated, Oliver marched over and answered the door.
"Hey, buddy!" greeted Tommy Merlyn. "I got bored so I thought I'd surprise you."
Oliver rested his head on the door. "I'm kinda busy."
"It's nine in the morning. On a Saturday. How busy could you possibly be? And you do realize I gave up sleeping in to come hang out with you, right?"
The sleepyheaded playboy sighed. "I appreciate you flying in and giving up sleep for me, but… Don't touch that."
Tommy ignored him; he'd picked up the tiny blue backpack on the table by the door. "Isn't this precious? Aw, it's got a drawstring and look! There's lip gloss and a keychain-laden set of keys—"
"Put it down."
—and look at this pretty pink Powerpuff Girls wallet! So adorable! Hey, let's see who it belongs to."
"Tommy—"
"An MIT ID. It seems you're broadening your horizons."
"Tommy—"
"Yikes. You're really broadening your horizons. Jeez, what a dweeb. A dweeb named Felicity…" Tommy's eyes got huge as comprehension dawned. "Felicity Smoak? That freak you took to the dance in high school!? What the hell, Ollie!?"
"It's not like that."
"So she's doing your homework?"
"Yes."
"Then where is she?"
"Sleeping."
"Sleeping!? Why?"
"None of your business."
Tommy got that determined look on his face that Oliver rarely liked. "FELICITY!"
She yelped and sprung into a sitting position, dazed and disoriented. "What is it!?" Her hair was disheveled and in her glasses crooked as she looked around the room in frightened bewilderment. "What… Who…" Then she spied the two gorgeous billionaires by the door. It wasn't easy to see through all the hair, but she was probably blushing. "'Sup."
His outrage forgotten, Tommy laughed. "Good morning, princess."
"Morning, Tommy." Felicity smoothed her hair and fixed her glasses, smiling bashfully. "Ollie, I should probably go."
"Right," he replied. "And thanks for your help with that essay." he said as she walked towards the door.
"Essay?" Her brow furrowed. "What… Oh, I get keeping the secret, but I don't think you have to lie to your best friend."
"I'm not lying," he lied.
Tommy and Felicity exchanged a furtive glance before he handed over her purse. The two stared at Oliver as she pulled the straps over her shoulders.
"Of course not," agreed Felicity as she stepped over the threshold. "I totally helped you with your homework last night."
"Just as he told me you did." added Tommy.
"Yep. Well, nice seeing you again, Tommy."
He nodded. "You too,"
"Bye, Pollywog," she said with a smirk as she turned and left.
Tommy gave his best friend a mischievous grin. "Someone has a new nickname."
"Don't you dare,"
"You don't want me to call you that?" he teased as he entered the apartment.
Oliver closed the door. "So not in the mood."
"And what exactly are you so pissed about?" His expression made him look very punchable. "Are you upset your tutor had to leave so soon?"
"If I tell you the truth, you'll laugh at me."
"I'm your best friend, Oliver. I only laugh at you when it's appropriate."
"You promise?" he asked, heading reluctantly towards the couch.
"Cross my heart." Tommy replied, sitting down. "Now explain to me why the sexual tension between you two is so thick you could cut it with a chainsaw."
Oliver told him pretty much everything. The horror at the goal post, the ultimatum, the Bugatti, junior prom, New Year's, and last night. He may have skimmed over a few mushy-gushy details (mostly his feelings), but he left nothing important out.
Tommy was quiet for a while after Oliver was done, deep in thought. "Huh, well that's interesting," he finally said. "You're dating Laurel, but you're in love with someone way less hot than she is."
"I never said I loved Felicity," retorted Oliver, blushing.
"You didn't have to. But you did say you love Laurel. Is that true?"
"Yes."
"But you love Felicity more. I don't understand that. You have Laurel. You're moving in with Laurel. But if you could you'd dump her for that weird little plain Jane—"
"Shut up, Tommy," he growled. "Don't you dare make this about the way she looks. There's nothing plain about her."
"Dude," he placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "We date models. Laurel totally fits the description. Felicity is… I mean she's cute but come on. It's like that saying about not going out for a hamburger because you've got a steak at home."
"Did you just call Felicity a hamburger?"
"Look, I'm just saying that she's not exactly worth the trouble. So what if she's nice? Laurel's nice, too. Maybe if you screwed Felicity you'd be able to forget about her. I promise I won't snitch on you. How does that sound?"
Oliver took a long, drawn-out breath. "Tommy, I know you're trying to help and I'd probably tell you the same thing if you were in my position…. But I swear if you don't get your hand of my shoulder I will break your fingers."
His hand flew off and Tommy scooted away as much as possible. "You're very serious about this girl."
"Yes. Worse than that, I know I can't have her. Sneaking around would only work for so long, and then her dad would find out. I can sort of accept not being with her, but being with Laurel makes it worse; I'm dating this great girl, but there's another one I want more—and it's not because I can't have her. After last night, I don't know if I can keep lying to Laurel, and I sure as hell can't move in with her."
Tommy stared at him in shock. "You're going to break up with her?"
"After how well things have been going? I can't do that. She wouldn't accept it, and I definitely couldn't tell her the truth. She'd keep trying to work things out and get back together."
"Then how are you going to do it?"
"Well, first I'm going to drop out of Harvard, because my being here is a total joke and I haven't done my own homework since my first semester. And then... Well, it'll be messy and she'll completely hate me for it, but it'll work."
Felicity kept wondering why Oliver hadn't called her yet, which was stupid because they hadn't exchanged phone numbers. It's not like he could see her whenever he wanted, and he did say he was going on the yacht with his dad, which totally had to be where he was right now. It'd been weeks since that night, but she had to be patient.
She was waiting for her American history class to start, wondering what kind of souvenir Oliver would get her when she overheard a group behind her talking.
"Not much of a loss, really."
"Don't be so harsh, Marcus. Anyway, are you sure you got the name right? I thought he was going to Harvard."
"Keyword was," said someone else. "He dropped out just before he left."
"Typical spoiled rich boy." sneered Marcus. "At least he died partying. He was on a yacht, and apparently he had a piece of ass with him. His girlfriend's sister. Can you believe that?"
Felicity's blood chilled, and she gripped the desk.
The polite one, a girl, retorted. "We don't know that he didn't break up with the girlfriend first. And a storm destroyed the yacht. Does that sound like a party to you?"
"Why are you defending him, Abby? The guy was an asshole and everyone knows it. His pretty face and trust fund doesn't get him off the hook for that."
Janine, Felicity's roommate, noticed how pale she'd gotten. She leaned over and touched her arm. "Hey, you look like you're about to throw up. What's wrong?"
"Marcus has a point, Abby," said the other one. "He wasn't exactly contributing to society. Didn't you ever see him on the news? All he did was get drunk and go to clubs, and he probably cheated on his girlfriend with way more bimbos than the one he took on the yacht. If someone had to shipwreck, maybe we should be happy it was Oliver Queen."
Felicity's eyes stung as she inhaled sharply. Her vision blurred and then she was sobbing, loudly and painfully, the whole class staring in concern and confusion. Janine put an arm around her shoulders, asking quietly why she was so upset. But Felicity couldn't answer; she could barely think straight. Oliver was dead. He wasn't coming back. He was dead he was dead he was dead, and she wouldn't get more time with him. She shouldn't have listened to her father. She should've looked for Oliver when she got to Cambridge. They could've had years. They could've been really careful, and they could've had years. But she didn't, and he was gone, and he wouldn't get a chance to learn from his mistakes and stop being so selfish and cowardly. He wouldn't get a chance to do anything. He was gone, cold and blue at the bottom of the ocean.
The teacher entered the classroom and saw how inconsolable she was. He ran to help, but the best he could do was assist Janine in getting her stuff and leading her out of the class room.
As Janine walked her into their dorm room, Felicity continued to weep. Then she dashed to her closet and reached for something in the back. Janine watched in bewilderment as she clutched a dark suit jacket to her chest. She flinched as her heartbroken roommate fell to the floor, bawling harder and burying her face in the fabric. Tearing up in sympathy, Janine helped Felicity to her bed, where she curled in a fetal position around the jacket. Then she turned off the light and left.
Hours later, Janine came back to check on her and saw that she had passed out. Insatiably curious, Janine slowly and carefully tugged and pulled the mysterious jacket from her grip. She had seen it in the closet before. Since she had never mentioned a boyfriend, Janine had assumed it was her father's; something to ease the separation anxiety. Had her father died, and she had gotten over the shock while waiting for class to start? Janine looked for any sign of its owner, only to note how expensive it was. She couldn't understand why it had lipstick smears, though. Then she noticed something in Felicity's hand, nearly buried under her side. She gently slid the picture out, but it was too dim to see very well. Janine draped the jacket over Felicity like a blanket and stepped into the lit hallway.
It was a gawky teen and Oliver Queen, posing awkwardly for a pre-dance photo. She knew the girl was Felicity, but still found it hard to believe. If all he ever did was take her to a dance in high school, then why had she cried so hard? Had that only been the beginning? How well had she known him? Perhaps Felicity would be able to tell her after she recovered.
Whatever their relationship, at least someone had cried for Oliver Queen.
The night—"Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol
The morning—"Collide" by Howie Day
The dorm—"Time After Time" cover by Eva Cassidy
And I'm gonna throw in the anachronistic "Million Dollar Man" by Lana Del Ray, whether it fits perfectly or not. It's so damn pretty.