Laurel smiled politely as the Queens debated their plan to refurbish the family yacht. Apparently, the furniture was in dire need of oiling, along with several other odd jobs — most of which nobody outside their social circle would even think to notice. Tuning out the chatter, she scooped up a piece of boysenberry cheesecake and bit into it.

Rich sweetness with a hint of tang flooded her taste buds. She closed her eyes and lost herself in her senses. The quiet crunch of the base. The fruity scent. The soft, melting texture…

Pure bliss. Adrift and carefree, she floated on her back in still water, the hot sun warming her face and lulling her to sleep. She could barely hear anything through her clogged ears, but that was alright. She didn't have to.

A heavy hand touched her thigh, and in an instant, the water drained away. She flinched and fell, stomach sweeping out from beneath her, before crashing to the cold, hard concrete floor. Gasping in air, Laurel forced open her eyes, only to squeeze them shut against the harsh fluorescent light of the Queens' dining room.

'We lost you for a moment there,' Ollie said, his voice light but way too abrasive.

'I'm so sorry.' Slowly, she pried her eyes open, letting the light filter back in. Across the table, Thea peered at her with unbridled curiosity, but Moira's lips were pursed together as if she'd eaten a sour grape, and Robert's face appeared to be carved from stone as he took a sip of his wine.

She'd been losing herself in her senses more frequently lately. Tilting her head away from the others, she grasped Ollie's hand for comfort. But despite his amused words, his hand felt stiff, and his distant gaze offered no lifeline. He'd never liked her Sentinel heritage, and he clearly wasn't capable of pretending otherwise.

Laurel forced out a chuckle, but it felt too high-pitched, too unnatural. 'The cake is so delicious that I forgot myself. You outdid yourself, Moira.'

'I should hope so,' Moira replied primly. With her elegant gown and perfectly coiffed hair, she was the picture of sophistication — and judgement. Where Ollie was incapable of pretending things were fine when they weren't, Moira was unwilling. 'The boysenberries were imported from a farm in New Zealand. Our chef refused to source them from anywhere else.'

Robert nodded. 'I thought he was grandstanding, but he's right. I've never tasted finer fruit.'

Completely serious, Ollie said, 'I agree.'

A spark of surprise jolted through Laurel. Since when did Ollie discuss produce? Outside of which grapes made the strongest wine, he'd never shown an interest before.

But the moment his parents turned back to their desserts, he winked at her and grinned like a little kid.

They were alright. Despite her embarrassing display, they were still them. A giggle bubbled up in her throat, and she shoved another spoonful of cheesecake in her mouth to keep the laughter from spilling over. This time, when the sweet taste hit her tongue, she tapped her foot against the floor to stay grounded.

Thea cleared her throat, and Laurel flinched, her cheeks burning. Luckily, the girl only said, 'Laurel, when are we going to hang out by ourselves? You're always busy, and when you do have free time, you spend it with Ollie.'

Laurel laughed at Thea's earnest bluntness. Ollie's parents had refined and sharpened their charm until they wielded it like a blade, but Thea was still untouched by social politics and all that came with it. Her charisma dripped honey, natural and guileless. 'Once my LSAT is over, we can go anywhere you want for a day, just you and me.'

Thea's eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together, seemingly not noticing Moira's tiny flinch at the unsophisticated gesture. 'What about the Glades?'

'What?' Laurel blinked. She'd expected Thea to pick an ice creamery or even bumper cars. Something fun. Since when did a twelve-year-old with the power to do anything choose to sightsee in the most dangerous neighbourhood in town?

Moira's heart rate accelerated. 'Absolutely not.'

'Why would you want to go there?' Robert demanded, his voice as sharp and cutting as glass.

Thea glared at her mother before facing her father, clearly thinking he would be easier to convince. 'We're learning about the Glades at school, and I'm curious. Did you know it has the highest unemployment rate in the state?'

'And the highest crime rate,' Laurel added. She didn't want to stand in Thea's way; seeing life outside her insulated little bubble would do her a world of good. But if she waltzed into the Glades with her designer clothes and naïve strangers-are-just-friends-in-waiting outlook, she'd be robbed within minutes. 'I'm sorry, Thea, I don't think that would be a good idea. But I took a course about the social issues in the Glades last year, and I can talk through my notes with you if you want. Your teacher will be blown away, trust me.'

Thea's eyebrows furrowed contemplatively, and Laurel clocked the second her expression eased as the urge to fight gave way to acceptance. 'I guess that would be okay.'

Moira flashed Laurel the warmest smile she'd ever given her, the first one with no sign of strain or pretence. It was still a far cry from the unbridled happiness that sometimes slipped through for Oliver and Thea, but it was a start.

Maybe, finally, she was beginning to belong here.

-x-

'Thank you so much for having me over,' Laurel said as she neatly folded her serviette later that night, fighting back a yawn. Her stomach was comfortably full and her muscles were warm from the wine. 'I wish I could stay longer, but I have a study group in the morning.'

'It was our pleasure,' Robert replied. 'You know you're welcome anytime.'

'If you're not careful, I might take you up on that,' she said jokingly, spurred on by Moira's earlier friendliness.

Ollie took her hand. 'I'll walk you out. I'm going soon anyway; Tommy and I are heading out to the opening night of that new club.'

'Perhaps you should have taken a leaf from Laurel's book,' Moira said acerbically. 'If you spent more time studying and less time partying, you wouldn't have been expelled from yet another college last month.'

'Perhaps.' Ollie grinned. 'But that wouldn't be as fun, would it? I don't know how Laurel puts up with it.'

Laurel's skin crawled with annoyance, and she had to fight not to drop Ollie's hand. She put up with it because, unlike him, she had to, yet he never seemed to understand that if she did even a hundredth of the things he found fun, her whole future would go down the train. More than money, he'd inherited endless second chances that just didn't come for normal people.

But how could she hate him for his attitude when it was also responsible for one of the qualities she appreciated the most about him — his willingness to jump headfirst into decisions she'd spend years toiling over?

'Neither do I, some days,' she said instead, and Ollie's thumb stroked across her hand slowly, sending shivers up her arm.

The moment they stepped out into the cool evening air, he snaked his arms around her and pulled her close until their bodies pressed together. His cologne hit her hard — leather and mandarin, with the barest, most tantalising hint of cinnamon. Odd — she hadn't noticed that last scent inside. It must have been the floral centrepiece muddying up her sense of smell.

Probably a good thing, or she wouldn't have been able to focus on the conversation at all. Forget the cheesecake making her feel like she was floating; that would have drowned her.

'Are you sure you don't want to go out tonight?' Ollie's voice was low and sensual, and Laurel's breath lodged in her throat. 'Or stay in. I can tell Tommy to go by himself. Thea's not the only one who's missed you.'

'Such a charmer.' Laurel was teetering like she could fall at any moment, with nothing to catch her. It was dangerous and intoxicating, and oh, she wanted to kiss him. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and she swayed forward, drunk on that intoxicating scent.

'I thought goodnight kisses usually happen on the lady's doorstep.' Tommy was strolling up the path, his dark hair blowing in the evening breeze and an easy smile on his face.

Ollie groaned. 'Tommy. Your timing sucks.'

Laurel grinned and slipped out of Ollie's embrace. She usually didn't mind minor PDA, but they'd known Tommy for so long that it felt weird around him. 'I thought you didn't go on enough real dates to know.'

'Touché.' Tommy's devil-may-care blue eyes sparkled with unbridled mischief. 'But since I'm not interested in rectifying that, I'll just have to keep believing those romcoms you used to drag us to.'

'Oh, those were awful,' Ollie said, grimacing.

At the time, she'd thought they were the height of cinema. Now, with the benefit of years of dating and enough legal knowledge to know how easy it would be to build a harassment case around some of those relationships, it was a hard point to argue. 'Some of them really were,' she admitted sheepishly.

Tommy shrugged. 'Yeah, but the girls in our year liked it when I'd seen their favourite movies. Anyway, you should come clubbing with us. It'll be like old times.'

'Raincheck?' she asked. 'I have to study.'

'No, you don't,' Ollie scoffed, waving a hand in the air. 'You're an online Sentinel. You could bomb your exam and you'd still be accepted by any law school in the country.'

Laurel sighed. When they were younger, Ollie had read everything he could about the mythology of Sentinels and Guides. But as time passed and the likelihood of him coming online lessened, he'd grown increasingly hostile and dismissive of her heritage. 'You know it's not that easy. It's an advantage, but I still need to know the law.'

'And to know the law, you have to study,' Tommy said smoothly. 'Well, it's a shame, but we'll just have to have double the fun to make up for you.'

'Don't you do that all the time?' she teased, relieved that he at least wasn't going to push the issue. From the scowl spreading across Ollie's face, she figured he'd want to cash in on the raincheck sooner rather than later.

Tommy grinned unrepentantly. 'Triple the fun, then.'

'Just don't get in any trouble.' Trouble that they couldn't get out of, anyway. Laurel kissed Ollie quickly and cupped his cheek. 'We can all go out next weekend. We'll celebrate my exam being over.'

He nodded. 'Good luck remembering all those dumb dates.'

Ollie was an idiot sometimes, but he had a good heart. 'Those dumb dates might just save a client's future one day.'

-x-

Music blared through the club, the bass loud enough to rattle the eaves, just the way Tommy liked it. Carrying a tray of drinks back from the bar, he weaved through the crowd of people to where Ollie sat at a table under a hanging potted plant. Tommy slid into the seat across from him and knocked back a shot of vodka, relishing the bitter burn as it slid down his throat. Over on the dancefloor, a group of girls laughed uproariously as they swayed to the beat. One of them, a stunning brunette in a tight purple dress, caught his eye.

A few more drinks then he'd ask to join her.

'I don't want to get married,' Ollie shouted over the music and chatter.

Tommy tore his gaze from the girl and grinned at Ollie, who was just setting his own empty shot glass down. 'Good thing I never asked you, then.'

Usually, Ollie would have laughed, but he didn't even crack a smile. 'I'm serious.'

Moira or Robert must have tried lecturing him about responsibility again. 'You're not going to be a downer all night, are you?' Tommy asked. 'You're overthinking this. If you don't want to get married, don't. It's that simple.'

'Not with Laurel. She tries not to bring it up, but she expects a ring one day. Kids, too, probably.'

'That's why I never date,' Tommy shot back. Staying single meant he didn't have to make any promises or worry about anyone else's feelings and expectations; he could do what he wanted when he wanted — including dancing with a stunning stranger at a club and taking her home to his father's mansion. But by becoming Laurel's boyfriend, Ollie had agreed to forgo that for her. She was the person he should be figuring this out with. 'If you don't see yourself getting married and having kids, talk to her.'

'I guess.' He sighed, sounding older and wearier than anyone their age had any right to.

'It's better than the alternative,' Tommy said, 'but that's a problem for tomorrow. Do you really want to spend the night moping around?'

Finally, Ollie seemed to relax, his expression clearing like the sky after a storm. 'You're right. Sorry. I don't know what came over me.'

Tommy downed his second shot and stood before Ollie could change his mind. 'Come on. There's a girl over there who's calling my name. Or at least she will be later.'

As they walked over to the group, Tommy caught sight of Laurel's younger sister slipping into the club. Sara's blonde hair was loose and her silver dress glittered all the colours of the rainbow under the strobe lights. Wasn't she still a year or two off being allowed to drink? Quentin would throw a fit if he knew his daughter was breaking the law.

Then again, Tommy wasn't one to talk. Sara was practically ancient compared to when he had his first beer.

Pushing it from his mind, he finally reached the group of dancing girls. The brunette's eyes sparked with interest as he asked, 'Mind if we join in?'

-x-

Creak.

Laurel woke with a start, her senses jumping to high alert. Her bedroom was still dark, with only the barest border of light creeping in around the edge of her curtains as a bird sang in the distance. Quietly, she checked her phone, wincing as the artificial glare brightened the room.

Four-thirty. Too early for her father or sister to be moving around.

It was probably nothing. In all likelihood, one of them had woken and tiptoed to the kitchen for a snack. Still, through her father's work as a police officer, she'd heard enough tales of break-ins and burglaries to last a lifetime.

Careful not to make a sound, she rolled out of bed and grabbed the thickest textbook she could. A paper weapon was better than nothing, surely.

She crept to the door and narrowed her eyes, trying to focus on all her senses. Unlike most Sentinels, she had never finished the official training, not wanting to make things worse with Ollie. This was the first time she'd regretted dropping out.

A small bang. A female voice cursing under her breath.

A familiar one.

Sara?

Laurel rolled her eyes. Of course. She pushed open her door and crossed the hallway to her sister's room. The quilt stretched taut across the mattress, freshly made and unrumpled. Paranoia at its finest.

Putting her book away, Laurel hurried downstairs, quiet so as not to wake their father. When she reached the landing, she flicked on the hallway light.

Sara stood in the entryway, hopping about on one foot as she tried to wrangle off a glittery silver heel. Her blonde hair stuck up in all directions like a bird's nest and she reeked of alcohol, sweat and other bodily fluids that Laurel didn't want to think about in relation to her baby sister.

'Someone had a big night,' Laurel said, amused.

'Sorry if I woke you.' Sara slid off her shoe then quickly removed the other one. 'I had a clumsy moment.'

'That happens when you try to sneak in without turning a light on,' Laurel said dryly. 'But it's alright. I wasn't sleeping well in the first — '

As Sara approached to put her shoes in the entry cupboard, her scent strengthened, overriding the normal oak and lime of the house. She wore her usual perfume — jasmine and violet, pretty yet hardy — but mixed with a familiar underlying note that struck Laurel like a punch to the gut.

Leather and mandarin. That tantalising hint of cinnamon was absent, but it didn't matter. Sara smelt like Ollie, the smells so closely entwined that it could only mean one thing.

Laurel stared intently at her sister's face, ready to catch the briefest flicker in her expression, the slightest quiver in her heartbeat. Anything that could tip her off to a lie. 'Did you have sex with Ollie?'

Sara's cheeks tinged pink, and her hand shot up to her mouth. Classic blocking gesture. 'I… Laurel, I'm so sorry.'

'You had sex with my boyfriend.' Her wonderful, idiotic, "good-hearted" boyfriend who Laurel dined with several hours ago. Who had pulled her in until she could feel every part of him. Who jumped in headfirst without thinking and always had one foot out the door.

'It was a mistake. He stopped by my group to check on me, but we'd both had too much to drink. We started dancing, and then it just... happened.'

'Nothing just happens.' If there was one thing she'd learnt, it was that. People didn't just succeed or just fall in love or just cheat. They made choices. Some of them were so small that they didn't realise they were making them, but they were still choices. 'Is this the first time?'

Salt thickened the air as tears glistened in Sara's eyes. 'It's the only time.'

'Right.' That didn't make Laurel feel better, but at least it didn't make her feel worse. Her pulse pounded in her ears as red-hot anger flared in her veins. Turning on her heel, she ran upstairs, not caring if her thundering footsteps woke her father. Let him find out that his underage daughter was sneaking out to clubs to drink and screw her sister's boyfriend. Laurel was done covering for her.

'I'm sorry,' Sara whispered, quietly enough that Laurel would have missed it if it weren't for her enhanced hearing. Laurel pretended she had.

She darted into her room, grabbed her cell from her bedside table, and speed-dialled Oliver by muscle memory alone. He answered on the third ring. 'Laurel? Why're you up so early?'

His voice was slow and groggy, weighed down with tiredness. How many times had she woken to that sound and taken comfort in its warm, steady familiarity?

Had Sara woken to it this morning? Was that when reality crashed in and she realised what she'd done?

No wonder she'd tried keeping the damn light off. At least she hadn't thought to shower first.

'How was last night?'

'Good?' Once, the confusion in his voice would have made her smile. Now, she scowled.

'More accurately, how was my sister when you slept with her last night?'

Sheets shifted and a mattress creaked. Panic drowning out the confusion, he said, 'Laurel — '

'I know you've cheated on me before, but this is different. This is Sara.' Laurel shook her head. At least with the other girls, she didn't know what they looked like. She could pretend it meant nothing — they meant nothing. But the image of Ollie touching Sara, kissing her skin… 'I hope she was worth it. Have a nice life, Oliver.'

Hestarted to speak, but she hung up before she could register his words.

Laurel didn't want to hear excuses. How many times had they been in the exact same spot? How many times had he cheated on her, only for him to say the right words to convince her to take him back?

Even now, if she gave him half an opening, he'd use one of those endless second chances to convince her again. Her only defence was complete avoidance.

Her phone buzzed and the screen lit up with her favourite picture of him. Sandy blond hair flopped over his forehead, and he was smiling so brightly, it could light up any room. She hurriedly hit decline, only for it to ring again two seconds later.

Laurel knew she could block his number, but she had no idea how and was too frazzled to work it out. Instead, she turned her phone off and stashed it in her underwear drawer so she wouldn't be tempted to turn it back on.

Then, standing alone in the darkness, she gasped out a sob as the first tears fell, dousing the flames of anger and making her choke on the ashen remains. Running a hand through her hair, she curled up beneath the sheets, trying to ignore the empty space where Ollie — Oliver — had lay just a week ago.

Through the thin walls came the running water of a shower, almost drowning out the sound of Sara crying. No. She didn't want to think about Sara's "feelings". Sara had done crappy things in the past and blamed it on whatever lame excuse she could come up with. Not this time. She'd made a decision; she had to live with the consequences.

Laurel closed her eyes. Her sheets were soft and crisp. Sara didn't exist. Her pillow bent beneath her head. Wet tears stuck to her cheeks. Sara's so-called paindidn't exist. A car rumbled past outside her window. Her breath came out short and ragged. Nothing existed outside of Laurel and her bed and that car.

Neither sister slept again that night.

-x-

'Sorry I'm late,' Laurel said as she slipped into the private study room at the campus library. Justin and Brooke were already there, their textbooks and study notes strewn across the large circular table that took up most of the space. Desperate not to run into her sister, she'd snuck out of the house that morning, which had added fifteen minutes to her usual routine. Combined with the bustle of pre-exam traffic, she was a good half an hour late.

'You didn't miss anything interesting,' Justin replied, his bald head reflecting the light as he highlighted a phrase in his notes. When he looked up, he narrowed his eyes. 'Someone looks like she woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. What's wrong?'

'A lot, but if I get into it, I'm not going to stop. The short story is that I'm now single and need to work out how to block a phone number.'

'I can show you.' Curiosity practically dripped from Brooke's voice, but she didn't pry.

Laurel turned on her phone for the first time in hours, and the room was filled with constant buzzing as it caught up with all the incoming messages. Most of them were from Oliver, although there was also a recent one from her dad and another from Tommy. She ignored them all as Brooke talked her through how to make sure Oliver couldn't contact her.

For good measure, she blocked his home number as well before pulling up the text from her father: Sara told me what happened. She's devastated. I'm so sorry, honey. That boy is bad news.

Of course her father, who hated Oliver and always made excuses whenever Sara went off the rails, would only blame him. Within days, he would be insisting Laurel needed to forgive her sister so they could support each other through this, ignoring that she wouldn't needsupport in the first place if it weren't for Sara.

Thanks. Talk later, she replied, not wanting to deal with that now.

She hesitated, her thumb hovering millimetres above the screen. Only Tommy's message remained, and she had no clue what to expect from it. Would he try to convince her to forgive Oliver, like he did the first time Oliver cheated back in high school? Would he tell her all of this could have been avoided if she'd gone to the club like they asked? A shiver trickled down her spine at the thought. Laurel didn't know how she'd cope if Tommy was in on the betrayal too.

There was another possibility. He could congratulate her for finding her backbone and wish her luck in making the breakup stick this time.

There was only one way to find out. Breathing out slowly, she opened Tommy's next and forced her eyes to train on the words before she could chicken out.

Are you alright? he'd asked. I swear I didn't know. I left the club first.

She unclenched her fist. At least that was something. She went to type a reply before hesitating, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. They'd been friends for a long time, but Tommy was closer to Oliver than to her. Almost all their interactions linked back to him. When they both helped her run for student council. When the three of them snuck out of Moira's parties to drink by the water fountain. When Laurel had no idea how to buy a birthday present for a boyfriend who had everything and went to Tommy for ideas.

How could she possibly talk to him about this?

Eventually, she settled on: As well as I can be.

Then, she tucked her phone in her backpack and tried to push the situation from her mind. She'd let Oliver Queen steal too much from her — her time, her dignity, her love. He didn't deserve to take her success too.

Pulling out her study materials, she flipped open her textbook and peered over at the page Justin was open to. 'So where are we up to?'

She had an exam to ace.

-x-

Tommy strode out of Ollie's room, his friend's beluge of excuses echoing in his head. Apparently, after Tommy left the club with the brunette, whose name ended up being Tess, Ollie had bumped into Sara and they'd got to drinking. Conversation flowed naturally, and she kept him on his toes. Unlike Laurel, who made him feel trapped, Sara sounded and felt and tasted like freedom. Ollie didn't think about the consequences until he heard Laurel's heartbroken voice through the phone and realised this wasn't just another misstep she could forgive.

Why did they keep trying when all they did was hurt one another? That was why Tommy avoided girls like Laurel, no matter how beautiful and funny and warm she was. She needed commitment while he needed freedom. All they'd do was make one another miserable. Yet Ollie wanted the best of both worlds: Laurel and freedom, the loving girlfriend and the one night stand at the club. Even if it tore Laurel apart. Sometimes, Ollie was a right bastard.

Did that mean Tommy was one too for staying friends with him?

'Tommy?' a quiet voice asked as he neared the front door of the mansion. Thea sat cross-legged beside the coat rack, leaning back against the dark wood with wide eyes. 'What's wrong with Ollie?'

'What are you doing on the floor? Your mother will get mad if she sees you here,' Tommy said, trying to deflect. Thea was a cool kid; Ollie had hit the jackpot in the sister department. But she saw the world in black and white. If he was struggling with what to think, how much harder would it be for her?

'I had to make sure I'd catch you before you left. But you didn't answer my question.'

Tommy sighed. Tenacious as glue, she clearly wasn't going to let this go. With a put-on huff, he gestured for her to shuffle along and made a show of lowering himself to the floor beside her. 'The hallway looks different from here.'

'Hmm.' Thea stared up at the high ceiling. 'It feels peaceful.'

'I was thinking "imposing",' he said, and she shrugged. Searching for a way to word what happened without giving away the details, he settled on: 'Look, your brother made a mistake that hurt Laurel, and she broke up with him.'

'Did he cheat on her again?' Thea's voice was matter-of-fact and unsurprised.

Tommy's jaw went slack. 'Who told you he has before?'

'No one. I overheard Raisa telling him off a few months ago.' Thea fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. 'Laurel took him back then. Are they going to get back together?'

For both of their sakes, he hoped not. If they did, he suspected they'd all wind back in this same situation in a few months, when the shine of Ollie's apology had worn off and his hands wandered again. 'I doubt it. Sometimes, saying sorry isn't enough.'

'But you're all still friends, right?' Her voice cracked on the final word, and the faintest speck of tears glistened in her eyes. 'Laurel will still visit?'

'We're still friends.' Maybe. Hopefully. Probably not. Ollie and Laurel weren't, and Tommy and Laurel were primarily friends because of him. With Ollie and Laurel not speaking, what did they have in common? 'But it'll be different.'

Sniffling, Thea leant into his side, and he instinctively put his arm around her shoulders. He'd never hung around anyone long enough to offer comfort before, but she fit perfectly into his side, her weight warm and oddly comforting.

'It'll work out in the end,' Tommy reassured her, although in his experience, that was the furthest thing from the truth. Dead bodies didn't come back to life, grief-struck fathers didn't return to how they were before, and some fractures were too complex to ever heal.