It's basically law by now that I mention quisinart4 in my Olicity fics, but I also want to say thank you so very much for being there for me during the Google incident, as you've dubbed it. My stupidity knows no limits, but I'm glad I met you and I'm lucky to have you as a friend.

one

Felicity gets it - she does. After everything he's been through, after everyone he's loved and lost, Oliver has a right to be guarded and careful. But it doesn't mean she likes it. The fear of losing shouldn't stop someone from trying, from moving on. What's that saying about love being the most important thing?

- But it's not like she loves him or anything like that. It's just… how is it possible to be with someone and not care about them eventually? She doesn't understand his logic as he continues to see Isabel outside of the office, and she runs the line he told her over and over in her head until she disheartenedly concludes that Oliver Queen doesn't like her like that. He's just a nice guy who finds it difficult to reject the poor IT girl who developed a crush on him, like every other girl.

She acknowledges that he's been flirting with her the past year, but it was harmless. Friendly, even. They both knew that. So she wouldn't accuse him of leading her on, per se. However, a girl can't control how her heart beats faster or her filter between brain and mouth completely takes a vacation around Oliver. Add him constantly saving her life, winking at her, randomly touching her just a second longer than necessary, and all those nights spent together… no girl can resist the pull.

Feeling unwanted sucks really bad, and she'd never admit it to anyone, but she finds comfort in Taylor Swift's songs. Who knew you could relate to something so much?

She's pretty sure the worst feeling wasn't finding out that Oliver had slept with Isabel (although that did suck real hard), but the fact that he chose someone he claims he doesn't care about over someone that he does. She's not implying that that someone is her, but it would make more sense and hurt much less if he had feelings for Isabel and that's why he did what he did. Because then she'd know for sure. Then she'd know that he isn't the man everyone else makes him out to be. But who was she kidding, anyway? Someone like Oliver would never like someone like her. Just look at his rap sheet, his history. Facts don't lie. That's one thing she can count on.

Watching the two day in and out, sitting close to each other and laughing and smiling like Russia was no big deal, it bugs her. It feels like salt to a wound. And she feels terrible that she's upset with Oliver for that. Because if Oliver wants to be with Isabel because she makes him happy or because she satisfied some need that apparently someone who he cares about can't, who is she to stand in the way? Who is she to tell him he shouldn't date her? Sure, as a friend she has some say, but it's rude to flat out tell him he shouldn't be with her just because she doesn't like the woman.

Felicity is a professional and she is reasonable. She does not let her feelings get in the way of her job, her work and her friendship. She's mature and she's more evolved than some jealous needy girl who finds out that her love is unrequited. (Once again, she's not in love with Oliver.) So she gets out of bed and makes herself socially presentable before going to work in the morning. And then at night she sits herself dutifully behind her computers and helps Oliver and Digg save the world one bad guy at a time. She does that every day for a whole week (and she can't believe she's made it this long without dying from the emotional exhaustion.) with a curt tension between her and Oliver.

She doesn't like the awkwardness between them. She wants to move on. Desperately so, because she misses her friend. She misses joking around with him and even embarrassing herself by saying the wrong thing. She misses telling him about her day and complaining to him about her landlord's broken promise of fixing her leaky sink.

A knock on her door diverts her attention from her research on Taylor Swift lyrics, and she flies to peek into her peephole, frowning at who she sees.

"Hey," he greets.

"Hi. What are you doing here?"

Diggle holds up a plastic bag. "You girls are always crying over The Notebook and I want to see what all the fuss is about. And I brought ice cream… because I felt like some Cherry Garcia."

"My favourite," she smiles slightly as she steps aside to let him in.

Felicity walks in and sits herself at her desk slowly. It's weird how the room feels a little less welcoming. She used to be excited to go to work, before Oliver "promoted" her to his assistant, before Oliver and Isabel and Russia, before Oliver came up to her and told her he couldn't be with the person he cared about. Why is it that everything revolves around Oliver?

The mollifying whirr of her beloved desktop computer consoles her sympathetically as she waits for the main screen to load.

"Hey!" Oh yeah. It also doesn't help when he pretends that everything's fine.

Wincing, she squints up at Oliver. "Not so loud."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just… ice cream hangover."

"Sorry," he apologises in a quieter voice. "Listen, remember how you told me I needed to be more involved in the company's employees? Well, I took your advice and this new guy from the Applied Science department will be up shortly. I want to officially welcome him to the company and see how his first week has been."

"Oh, okay."

"His name's Bart or something."

"Sure," she replies, rubbing her temple.

"Thanks."

Felicity searches her company email for any pressing issues Oliver needs to look into today when she receives a text.

You'll be fine.

Smiling, she texts back to Diggle, thanking him dearly for last night and for fixing her sink.

"Hi."

Startled, Felicity drops her phone and it falls with a loud bang onto her desk. "Oh- God. You scared me," she breathes before all air spills from her open mouth when her eyes land on the man, and her heart races for a completely different reason.

"S-sorry! I didn't mean to. Wow, you're really pretty." His eyes widen before he stammers, "I mean, hello. I'm Barry Allen."

She studies him, blond hair and striking blue eyes. An almost identical Oliver, but leaner and looks younger. Maybe around her age. "Who?"

"Wow. I feel so welcomed," he jokes, rubbing the back of his neck. She blinks at him blankly, smiling politely. "The new guy in Applied Sciences?"

"Oh. Oh! Gosh, I'm so sorry. Of course you are. Oliv- I mean, Mr. Queen's been waiting for you." She shoots up from her chair and makes her way to Oliver's door. When she reaches for the handle, her hand accidentally clasps his as he beats her to it. She feels an unusual scar under her palm and becomes so enamoured with it that his quiet voice barely filters through.

"Your hand's cold."

"Uh, yeah. I'm, uh. Cold," she says lamely. She'd slap her forehead if it wouldn't make her look more strange. Then she remembers she's still holding his hand and lets go almost comically, her hands flying up like she's been caught. She doesn't know why she feels a burning itch on the side of her face, but she wants to push her cold hands against her cheek to ease the prickling sensation.

"Let me buy you a coffee? Warm those hands right up."

She smiles. "Sure. But don't you have an interview right now?"

"Oh," he laughs, his ears turning red. "Right."

She giggles along with him. "Later?" she asks.

"Later," he promises. He smiles a second longer before opening the door. "Hello, Mr. Queen."

She watches him shake Oliver's hand and they both take a seat. When she tears her eyes away long enough to catch Oliver's through the glass, he has a slight crease between his brows as he watches her intently.

I know that the actor for Barry has been revealed and looks nothing like Stephen, but I want to change that to highlight something for Oliver in the next chapter.