i want you so bad - nc-17 - 1/1 [a]
title: I know I don't know you (but I want you so bad)
category: arrow
genre: romance/humor
ship: felicity/oliver
rating: nc-17/explicit
polyvore: outfit collection, lingerie
word count: 17,677
summary: (au) Oliver runs into his high school crush, Felicity Smoak, at a charity gala and he finally gets his chance to win the girl of his dreams.
I know I don't know you (but I want you so bad)
-1/1-
Oliver wasn't a big fan of charity galas. Not because they weren't a worthy cause, but because they always bored him to tears. It was a constant merry-go round of fake smiles and hand shaking with people he didn't know, or particularly want to know. But as the son of a highly regarded Queen matriarch, he needed to pay his dues, even if he'd much rather be at Verdant, bent over his books, making sure everything was running smoothly.
He was casting his eyes around, searching for where his sister or mother might have wandered, when he spotted Tommy hurrying toward him. He was positively giddy as he reached Oliver, handing him a tumbler of bourbon with the goofiest grin Oliver had seen in ages.
"What?" he asked, staring at him, slightly suspicious. While Tommy had long settled down, it didn't stop him from occasionally pulling pranks to relive the glory days.
"You'll never guess who's here!"
"Everybody's here," Oliver reminded, waving a hand around meaningfully. "I think my mom invited half the state."
"No." He waved a hand dismissively. "Think more local. Think high school, blonde, awkward but in a cute way..."
Oliver went still, his eyes widening.
"Yes!" Tommy cheered. "Your high school crush is here!" He laughed happily. "Do you remember how insanely awkward you were around her? That one time, you tried to ask her to the Valentine's dance and you just stood there, staring, until she walked away, completely confused." Tommy was clearly enjoying this; he was so amused there were tears in his eyes. "Oliver Queen, biggest flirt of our year, probably slept with half our graduating class, but froze up as soon as Felicity Smoak so much as breathed in your direction."
He shifted his feet, his eyes darting around nervously as he took a gulp from his drink. "She's here? You're not joking?"
"She's here." He nodded, grinning widely. "Yeah, I heard she's CEO of Smoak Industries now. Her dad retired a couple years ago."
"Makes sense," Oliver mused. "She was a tech genius."
He finally spotted her, standing just off to the side, nursing a glass of champagne. She was dressed in a sleeveless aquamarine gown with a paisley lace overlay, sheer above the sweetheart necklace. It hugged her body until it reached mid-thigh and then flared out to the floor, covering, what he was sure were, tall high heels, since she'd always been on the shorter side but now appeared almost statuesque.
"So? You gonna stare all night or finally make your move?" Tommy wondered, clapping him on the back encouragingly. He'd never quite understood what made Oliver freeze up every time he tried to talk Felicity, or why it always failed so spectacularly.
"Uh…" he trailed off, clearing his throat as he straightened out his tie uncomfortably.
"Don't tell me you're still nervous…" Tommy turned to him incredulously. "Ollie, it's been almost ten years!"
He frowned at his friend, disgruntled. "I know. I just… She's always kind of been… unattainable."
Tommy snorted. "Yeah, because you never managed to actually talk to her."
"I talked to her," he argued defensively.
Amused, his best friend shook his head. "Are you talking about that time at the dance…?"
Oliver's head cocked as he thought back to it. Grade eleven, the winter formal… God, he'd never live that down.
December 10, 2001.
Oliver never cared for dances; the few times he'd gone, he snuck out early with Tommy and a few willing girls for a better party of their own making. But he'd overheard Felicity talking to a few of her girlfriends that she would be going to the winter formal stag, her recent relationship with Taylor Jeffries fizzling out, again. Having had a crush on her since eighth grade, Oliver decided this might just be his chance.
He bought a ticket, took his time getting ready, and turned down a number of invites both to the formal and to a private party after the dance. Tommy wished him luck and offered a final confidence boost in a full flask for him to take along with him so he wouldn't chicken out.
Usually a guy who was happy to entertain any number of beautiful woman without breaking a sweat, Felicity was Oliver's one exception. For some reason, from the moment he'd seen her, he'd been intimidated. It wasn't completely surprised; she was the daughter of a prominent CEO and a genius if the fact that she'd been moved up a grade and was taking a number of advanced classes was anything to go by. Oliver, on the other hand, while also the son of a wealthy businessman, was not what most would call rocking the brains department too hard. Maybe it was too much partying or a lack of effort or maybe he just wasn't the genius his father was. He kept a solid B average, but a lot of that came from last-minute copying off of Tommy or getting one of the girls he was hooking up with at the time to do his homework for him. Sure, he was smart in some ways, but books wasn't one of them. Now women, that he could handle. He had no trouble charming a room full of women. Except one.
In the two and a half years he'd known Felicity Smoak, he'd never once talked to her. They shared a few classes over the years and had a few mutual friends, but their circles in general were pretty different. He saw her at a few benefits too; their fathers might technically be business rivals, but they got along well enough that they went golfing together regularly. But, be it blessing or tragedy, their parents had never left them alone long enough to exchange hellos, let alone have a conversation. He was going to change that tonight.
The formal was a little over the top in his opinion. Silver, blue, and white ran rampant. There was fake snow piled up over the edges of the auditorium and silver, glittery stars hung from the ceiling with disco balls intermixed. There was a table covered in refreshments, but one taste of the punch told him it was woefully unspiked. The music was loud, to the point that he would have to shout to be heard. He walked around the fringes, his eyes cast around for her familiar blonde ponytail. He saw a number of his own friends and stopped to chat, but turned down the offers for a dance from the girls that hung nearby. It wasn't like him, but he had a mission tonight, and that mission was a pretty blonde with the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen.
When he finally found her, his heart thumped in his chest. She was by the punch bowl, picking at a plate of desserts. She kept carefully clear of the peanut butter cookies; it was common knowledge from an incident in 9th grade that she was allergic to peanuts. He'd quit eating peanut butter soon after, illogically thinking that if he ever got a chance to kiss her he didn't want to send her in to anaphylactic shock. Tommy constantly bugged him about it, but thankfully didn't tell anybody else about his embarrassingly obvious crush.
Clearing his throat, he checked his breath via his palm before walking over. He went through the different conversation starters in his head. He could ask her about her dad, about the homework assignment on Macbeth due on Monday, if she was having fun, the list was pretty much endless. Or he could just grin at her like he did most girls and ask her if she wanted to dance. Confidently, he stopped a few inches from her.
She was wearing white; a pleated chiffon dress with a lace flower overlay. She had her hair pulled back in a French-braid, showing off the pearl earrings she wore.
He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Absolutely nothing. Not even a squeak.
Seeming to notice someone nearby, she turned toward him, a brow raised curiously. She'd traded in her glasses for contacts, he noticed, and it only served to make her eyes pop even more than usual. Her makeup was light; she never was one for much makeup. Except for her lips, this time wearing a red wine color that matched her shoes and the beaded bangles on her wrist.
She quirked her head, waiting for him to say something, anything, and he panicked. He tried grinning, but worried suddenly that it might look more like a grimace, and so tried to cover up how obviously ridiculous he probably looked by casually leaning against the table, except…
Her eyes darted down, brow furrowed, and then she took a step closer.
His breath caught in his throat.
"Your hand is in the punch bowl," she told him, just loud enough to be heard over the music but between them so nobody else would notice.
He turned his head to find that yes, in his haste to look cool, he'd managed to stuff his hand into the punch bowl, soaking a good portion of his shirt sleeve.
He was incredibly thankful for the dim lighting, because he was sure he'd never been so red in his life.
Embarrassment was not something Oliver was all that familiar with. He could usually laugh off the worst of his behaviour, shrugging as if he didn't care, only this time he did.
Felicity wasn't just a crush, she was, well, the girl of his dreams. And he knew how ridiculous that probably sounded; he hadn't even talked to her. But she was pretty and smart and when she laughed or smiled, his stomach did somersaults. He'd never felt like that about a girl. He liked girls; he frequently fucked girls; but he'd never been all that interested in anything more than that. He wanted to know her. Wanted to know what made her tick and what she thought about and what she liked or didn't like. He just wanted to listen to her talk for hours on end, until his ears finally gave up.
Was that too damn much to ask?
Felicity reached for a stack of napkins nearby and pulled his arm out of the punchbowl. "Here," she said, stuffing most of the napkins into his dry hand.
"Felicity!" someone shouted.
She turned her head and Oliver followed her gaze to see Taylor Jeffries waving at her, and on his way directly to them. Great, now Taylor Jeffries was going to see how much of an idiot he was, wearing half the damn punch bowl on his arm.
Felicity waved a hand at him and then looked back at Oliver. "We all make mistakes," she said, squeezing his forearm. "I won't tell if you don't."
With that, she hurried off, catching Taylor by the elbow and pulling him in the opposite direction.
He watched her go, his heart plummeting to his stomach, all the while dripping punch all over the floor.
That… was definitely not how he'd planned for this night to go.
Sighing, he turned and walked off. He found a bathroom and cleaned himself up, but left the dance shortly after. Tommy was having a party and he planned to get so drunk he'd forget this ever happened.
"You showed up, completely miserable, and spent the whole night getting drunk, whining about punch and Taylor Jeffries."
Oliver felt a flush crawl up the back of his neck. "Yeah, I remember, thanks."
Tommy held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry."
"And anyway, that's not the time I was talking about." He glanced back toward Felicity and found her playing with her phone, an arm hugged around her waist.
"No? Maybe that time when you ran into her at the New Year's Party?"
Oliver frowned.
That… also wasn't one of his best moments.
December 31, 2001
He was going to kiss her.
Okay, so maybe talking to her first would be a better goal, but just as soon as he did that first part, then he was going to kiss her.
On his way out of the house, his mother had told him to stay out of trouble, joking about the old adage 'whatever you're doing at midnight, you'll be doing for the rest of the year.' So he was going to talk to Felicity, woo her even, and come midnight, he was going to kiss her, and he was going to keep kissing her for the rest of the year.
It was a good solid plan if it wasn't for one tiny flaw.
She had a boyfriend.
Taylor Jeffries was a douche.
And Oliver wasn't even just saying that because he was the competition. It was a widely accepted fact that Taylor, who was captain of the basketball team and the mathletes, was an asshole. Sure, he had a lot of friends, was an A student, and was kind of handsome in that geeky jock kind of way, but his personality was total shit. Or it probably was. Oliver hadn't actually spent much time around him, being that he'd never joined a sports team and only knew of the mathletes because Felicity joined and they went to the state championships last year.
So okay, fine, maybe he was only saying that because Jeffries was the competition. But Tommy agreed with him!
"Oh yeah, Taylor's a total dick," Tommy assured. "I mean, I'm pretty sure he volunteers at a soup kitchen and saves puppies from fires, but who knows, it's probably just for show."
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Nobody is that good. He's gotta have a flaw."
"Yeah, it would be dating your crush."
"And frequently breaking up with her!" Oliver pointed at him. "That's gotta count for something."
"Bad taste?" he wondered. "Or maybe he can feel you glaring at him and he's starting to catch on that it has to do with his girlfriend."
"See, that makes him selfish. If he really loved her, he'd stick around."
Tommy snorted. "I think you're grasping at straws."
"Well, I think I need another beer." Standing from the couch, he shuffled off to the kitchen for a refill, stopping at the keg to fill his blue cup.
While waiting, he stared at the floor, his mind wandering. He frowned when he saw a pair of brown loafers appear. He snorted. Loafers had to be the most pretentious shoe ever. He followed them up to a pair of dark brown slacks, but as soon as he saw the tweed jacket he knew exactly who he was about to see. Taylor Jeffries was waiting, a red cup in hand. He was a big fan of his tweed jacket and bow tie, since he seemed to wear them often. Looked like the new year wasn't going to be any different.
He offered a friendly grin when Oliver met his eyes before he turned his head to scan the crowd curiously.
Oliver stared at him a long second before turning back to the keg and continuing to pour his fill. "You're, uh, Taylor, right?" he asked, feigning uncertainty.
Taylor looked back. "Yeah, Taylor Jeffries." He pointed a finger. "Oliver Queen, right?"
"Yeah." He nodded, glancing back down at his cup. "You havin' a good night?"
"Sure." He shrugged. "I don't come to a lot of these things. Busy schedule, you know?"
He hummed. "Yeah, well, there's always time for a party, I say."
Taylor shrugged. "To each their own."
Finished filling his cup, he stepped back to let Taylor take over, but lingered. "Hey, aren't you dating, uh, what's her name… Felicity…? Smoak," he clarified.
Taylor nodded. "Mm-hmm. Yeah, she's here with me tonight. Somewhere." He shrugged. "If she found Kelsey, I'm not gonna see her until next year."
Oliver offered a faint laugh at the poor excuse for a joke. "You and Felicity been together long?" he wondered, taking a drag from his beer.
"I guess, sure. About two years."
"Two years, wow."
"She's one of those girls, y'know. Long term commitment." He shrugged. "I'm not complaining. She's smart, keeps me on my toes." He half-smiled. "Who knows, ten years down the line, she might be Felicity Jeffries."
"Yeah…" Oliver chuckled awkwardly, a sour taste in his mouth. "Well, have a good night." He raised his cup. "Happy New Year." With that, he turned on his heel to leave.
When he found Tommy, he was busy, a brunette on one knee and a red-head on the other, his mouth buried at the brunette's neck while he stroked the hair of the red-head. He traded back and forth between them, grinning widely, while Oliver knocked back the rest of his beer. He found a tale covered in liquor bottles and filled his empty cup with the first thing he grabbed. While it sloshed into the cup, he took up another bottle and knocked back a long drag. Shaking his head at the bite that stung down his throat, he smacked his lips, picked up his cup of unknown and walked off. He needed to get drunk, and fast.
An hour later, Oliver wasn't just drunk, he was completely pissed out of his tree. He was pretty sure this would be another of the nights he woke up on the lawn with the sprinkler shooting him in the face. Wouldn't be the first, or last, time.
He stumbled through the house, searching for Tommy, who had his car keys stashed somewhere. The room was tilting and people were blurring. The music was loud enough that it made his head feel like it was throbbing along with it. He thought he saw a familiar face near the kitchen and made his way in that direction, but when he got there, he found only one person sitting on the counter, nursing a blue cup.
She was dressed in red satin, a sinfully beautiful dress that huffed her body nicely. Her legs were crossed at the ankle, tall black heels with interlocking straps making a pattern over the front of her feet. He stared at her a long moment, wondering if he was drooling. God, she was beautiful.
Felicity's head raised abruptly and he wondered if he'd said that out loud. It was common knowledge that his filter was completely broken when he drank.
She eyed him curiously before raising her cup for a sip, her gold bangles sliding down her wrist.
He walked toward her in a fashion he hoped seemed coordinated. He was going to ask her how she was liking the party, or maybe where her friend Kelsey was, or if she had any New Year's resolutions. And then he'd say something flirty like, "If you want a new boyfriend for next year, I'd be happy to apply."
He opened his mouth to start, but found himself distracted by how pretty she was. Her hair was up in a slicked back ponytail, falling pin straight down her back. She was tugging on one of her ears, rolling the earring nervously. And her lips, a liquid red, were only hindered by her teeth pressing down into the bottom. She was wearing her glasses this time, square frames with a slight upturn near the corners, not quite cat's eyes but similar. They were cute, just like her.
Introductions, his alcohol sodden brain told him.
He reached a hand out as if to shake hers, but just as he was about to tell her his name, his stomach lurched.
And that was how he found himself with his hands braced on the counter, bent forward, puking on her shoes.
He was never going to live this down.
A soft sigh could be heard from above, and he swore the tears biting at his eyes were just from vomiting so violently and not the insane embarrassment of having just done what he did in front of her, of all people.
"Well, now I've got an excuse to get out of these shoes," she muttered.
He stumbled back, wiping a hand over his mouth. Just as he was about to apologize, his stomach twisted up again and he found himself leaning over the sink, puking so hard his whole body shook with it. It'd be a few minutes before he looked up and Felicity was long gone. There was a bottle of water waiting for him though, so he thought she might've taken a little pity on him.
Groaning, he rested his forehead down on his arm and wondered if he'd ever catch a break.
Oliver closed his eyes and let out a long, pitiful sigh. "You think she remembers that?"
"Well, you definitely left a mark…" Tommy mused, brow arched and a highly unsympathetic smile playing over his mouth.
He glared at him. "I did manage one conversation with her without making an idiot of myself, you know."
Tommy tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. "Enlighten me, 'cause it's not ringing a bell…"
"It was one of your house parties…"
Summer, 2002
Tommy's parties were always the loudest, biggest event in town. Oliver didn't think he knew even half the people currently invading Merlyn Manor, but that didn't stop more from pouring inside. He spotted Tommy across the room, dancing in the middle of a group of girls, eager for the host's attention. Seeing Oliver, he raised his beer and waved him over to join him, but Oliver shook his head, giving him a thumb's up to keep enjoying himself.
Oliver needed a breather. It wasn't that he wasn't having a good time. He was. He was just feeling a little… what was that word Raisa always used on rainy days? Melancholy? By this time next year, he'd be a high school graduate and on his way to whatever Ivy League school his dad decided was good enough for the Queen progeny. It felt like all the good times were coming to an end and he wasn't looking forward to that. He wasn't looking forward to college either. If he had a choice, he'd just continue on with life just as it was. Right here, in the middle of a party, a king on his throne.
He stepped outside, breathing in deep. The sun had long set, leaving the sky a blanket of black with only the stars to wink back at him. He walked down the stairs of the porch to the huge expanse of backyard. Tommy's one and only rule was that nobody go into the backyard during a party, mostly because his mother's garden was there and he refused to let anybody trample all over it. So when Oliver saw a figure in the gazebo on the chair swing, he walked over to tell them to move on. He assumed it was probably some couple, taking advantage of the space and quiet to hook up.
The closer he got, however, the more obvious it was that the person was alone.
He stumbled on the stone path when he recognized her.
Felicity had her hair down, thick curls falling around her shoulders. Her arms were crossed over her chest, whether from comfort or to keep the cold at bay he wasn't sure. The blue top she was wearing had spaghetti straps, the fabric thin and floaty. She had her legs crossed, a strappy red heel bouncing, while her head was leaned back, staring up at the sky.
He was already going through options for how to approach her when he noticed her hand reach up, gold and blue bangles sliding down her forearm while she swiped under her eye as a tear slipped out the corner.
He paused. Crying women were not his forte. He could admit that occasionally he'd used it to his advantage, convincing a girl who was fighting with her boyfriend to get back at him by hooking up with someone else, namely him. But as he looked at Felicity, he didn't imagine she'd fall for that, nor was that what he really wanted. Not that he'd turn her down if she offered, but over the last few years, he'd realized screwing around with her wasn't the limit of what he wanted.
Taking a deep breath, he walked forward, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Hey," he said cautiously.
Flinching, she sat up abruptly, wiping at her face. "Uh, hi…" She sniffled quickly, letting her hair fall to cover her face as she hurried to hide the evidence.
"Are… you okay?" he wondered, brows hiked.
"Yeah, uh…" She swiped under her nose and pushed her hair back. "Yeah, fine. Thanks for asking." She stood from the swing, smoothing out her jeans. "Sorry, I know Tommy doesn't like people coming in the backyard, I just… needed some air."
Oliver shrugged. "No, it's fine…" He reached up to run a hand back through his hair. "You, uh, sure you're all right?"
She glanced at him and then away. "Yeah, I'm just…" She shrugged. "I broke up with my boyfriend." Rolling her eyes at herself, she let out a snort. "Which is dumb, right? I mean, I shouldn't be the one crying, he shoulder. Not-Not that he should be sobbing because he lost me or anything. I just mean because I broke up with him, not the other way around, so there's kind of like an expectation that I shouldn't be upset. But, well, we were together for a while and I know we broke up a lot, but this time it's kind of… permanent, so… I don't know. I thought I'd be okay with it. I know it's the right thing to do, but… Two and a half years is a long time and I know we don't really work together but I'll… miss him, I guess."
Oliver nodded. "Makes sense to me."
She looked up at him, smiling faintly. "Glad it's not just me then…"
He walked a little closer. "So, what… Why'd you break up?" He paused, glancing away. "Unless that's too personal." He waved a hand. "You don't have to answer that."
"No, it's fine. I…" She frowned. "I loved Taylor. He was… smart and handsome and he always made me feel loved. But…" She huffed out a sigh and plopped back down on the chair swing. "I kind of felt like we were in this weird rut. Like we were only together because we were used to each other. So all that good stuff, that passion, just kind of drained away." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "In the beginning, we'd see each other and my heart would race and my hands would get sweaty and I'd feel like such a dork every time I tried to talk to him… Have you ever felt like that?"
He nodded, wiping his palms on his jeans. "Yeah."
"Yeah, well, it was like that, but then… I don't know. I guess that part just kind of fades eventually. I mean, you get used to each other, right? So that makes sense. And relationships aren't built solely on sex and attraction. There's gotta be substance there too, right? Not that there isn't that with him. Because he's smart. Insanely smart. A little too much sometimes, so he can come off like kind of a pretentious jerk, but… That's whatever. We all have flaws. The real problem was that the passion went away pretty quick, but by that time we were friends and we were comfortable with each other and I still liked him, you know? But I just… I mean, I'm sixteen. I should want passion, right? I should want adventure and excitement and I shouldn't feel like I'm sixty and settling. So… I decided enough was enough and we should stop pushing something that obviously wasn't working for us."
He stared at her, watching her hands move around animatedly.
"Do you think that's selfish?" she wondered, chewing her lip. "I mean, he was happy, he said so, but… I wasn't. I was… bored." Her nose wrinkled.
His mouth twitched with a smile and he ducked his head to hide it. "I don't think that's selfish," he told her. "You should have passion."
She stared down at him, red lips curled up in a half-grin. "Yeah!" she agreed. "Besides, Taylor will bounce back. Half the girls in my year flirt with him. He's probably getting sympathy sex right now…" Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she stared at the house. "That should probably bother me more than it does."
A little alarm went off in his head. A sign that this was his in. If this was any other girl, this would be the time to say, "You could be having sympathy sex right now too," or "I can show you passion."
Instead, he said, "Are you cold?"
Her eyes fell to meet his again. "Oh." She rubbed her arms. "A little. It's weird, right? How cold it gets at night, even in summer?" She shook her head. "Kelsey told me to bring a jacket, but it was nice out when I was getting ready, so I figured I'd be fine. Then again I wasn't planning on going outside at all, or breaking up with Taylor at the party. But, well, then he made this really terrible joke, like the kind your dad makes and thinks is so funny, and the next thing I know I'm telling him I think we should break up…" She shook her head. "So we found a room and talked a bit and well, it's over." She rolled her eyes. "Not that you really wanted to know… any of that. You were just being polite and probably looking for a quiet place, and now I've ruined that by babbling, which I will stop doing in 3… 2..."
He grinned at her before sitting back and shrugging off his leather jacket. He held it out to her and she glanced at it briefly, raising a brow. "You don't have to…"
He wiggled the jacket and she let out a sigh, taking it from his outstretched hand and pulling it on. It was large on her small figure, swamping her, but it only made her look cuter. There was something incredibly attractive about her being in his clothes. Even if it was just a jacket.
She hugged it closed over her chest and faced him, legs crossed once more. "So, I didn't ask what you're doing out here…"
He shrugged. "Just needed a minute away from the party."
"Too loud?"
He shook his head. "Just been thinking… One year left to graduation and then everything changes."
She tipped her head, staring at him curiously. "Big plans after grad?"
He frowned. "Harvard, Brown, Yale, whatever my dad picks."
Her brows hiked. "Big names."
"Only the best for a Queen," he muttered.
"You don't sound too excited about that..."
He ran a hand through his hair as he blew out a sigh. "Never really saw myself going to college… Not something I really wanted for myself."
"So why go?" she wondered, her voice devoid of the judgement he always expected.
He looked at her, her sincere eyes meeting his. "It's expected," he answered simply. "Dad's a business mogul; I'm supposed to follow in those shoes."
"Sure, if you want to." She shook her head. "It's not written in stone. As clichéd as it might sound, we all set our own paths, if we want to, that is. You can either follow the status quo and do what's expected or you can forge your own path and do what makes you happy." She rolled her eyes, letting out a light chuckle. "And there is Felicity Smoak's words of wisdom, not that they'll suddenly make everything clearer."
His mouth turned up a little in amusement. "You know, no one's ever said that to me, actually."
Her eyebrow quirked. "What? That you can say no and go your own way?"
He nodded. "Usually if I say I'm not really into it, they tell me that I'm just too young to realize it's what I need. That I'll get used to it or I'll like it when I get my first pay check. But… I don't know. Maybe it's because I've never really had to make any big decisions for myself, I've always had things just… given to me. But I don't want to be my dad. I don't want the big office or the business degree or the CEO title. I just want this. I want to be free and happy and have all my friends around me."
"Do you want the perpetual party or the feeling you get when you're there?" she wondered.
His brow furrowed. "What's the difference?"
"That feeling comes from other things, too. Just because you always feel it when you're the life of the party doesn't mean you won't enjoy it doing something else. Maybe you just haven't figured out where you fit yet, but when you do, you can be happy." She leaned back in her seat. "But just as a general piece of advice, doing something because other's want you to or because you think you should, that never turns out well for you. You'll just end up miserable. Rich, sure, but miserable. Take it from the daughter of a very cranky CEO who never wanted to inherit the company from his father." She offered a light smile before tipping her head back and looking up at the stars once more.
He stared at her profile a while; she was even prettier than he thought. He could see freckles on the bridge of her nose and his stomach did that awful flip it always did. A wistful sigh left him, making him clear his throat as an embarrassed flush flared across the back of his neck. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to keep her talking to him, but a voice interrupted.
"Felicity! Where the hell have you been?" Kelsey Daniels stumbled into view. "I've been looking for you everywhere. I heard about you and Taylor. Are you okay?"
Felicity smiled up at him and stood from the swing. "Yeah, I'm actually feeling pretty good." She accepted Kelsey's hug, squeezing her lightly.
"Come on. Let's get you a drink and a rebound."
Felicity laughed, shaking her head. "You know what? I think I'm gonna swear of guys for a while and just focus on me. It's my last year, what's the point in having a boyfriend if we're just going to split up when I have to move for college?"
"I didn't say you needed a boyfriend. I'm saying let's get you laid. Huge difference!" Hooking her arm around Felicity's waist, she drew her back in the direction of the house. "So on a scale of one to I would totally bang him, where is Carter Bowen, because he's been checking you out for weeks!"
Oliver flinched.
"Try negative five. I don't care how pretty that face is, he has to the most pretentious jerk I've ever met."
And then he grinned.
Sitting back in the swing, he turned his own head up to see the sky. So maybe he hadn't won the girl, and it looked like she wasn't interested in anything long term, but at least Carter Bowen wouldn't be getting his crush on top of everything else.
As a shooting star flared across the sky, he sent up a hope that one day he might have a real chance with the girl of his dreams.
[Continue.]