Behind The Arrow ➳ Oliver Queen [COMPLETED]

Chapter 3 | Meeting the Hood

After sending Oliver a quick text message from my public phone, Nate and I stepped into the entrance of the club. The whole place was packed with a lot of either drunk or high people, or both.

"There're a lot of people here," Nate exclaimed.

"It'll be in our best interest if we stick together," I scan the crowd.

"What, separation anxiety?," Nate mocks.

"No," I correct, "I have a 'my-brother-may-turn-into-a-speeding-fire-torpedo' anxiety."

"That was one time," Nate's face flushes with embarrassment.

"Samantha, Nathan," Oliver greets, ushering us towards his table where a woman and Tommy stood drinking away. "Guys, this is Samantha," he motions towards me, then towards Nate, "and this is Nathan."

"Nate," Nate shakes Tommy's hand, then the woman's.

"Sam," I shake the woman's hand.

"Laurel," she replies, smiling, drinking her glass of champagne. I scanned her and her thoughts, 'What is she even wearing? It looks like she's come right out of Pretty Woman. What a skank—,' Something within me went off, and I immediately didn't like her.

My teeth grit and I yanked the glass out of her hand with my mind, which flew out of her grasp, landing on the floor and shattering. Nate grabbed my arm and lightly squeezed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she panicked, "I'm so clumsy."

"I'll help," Tommy bent down next to her and started picking up the pieces with her.

"Excuse us," Nate's musky tone filled our ears. Oliver gave us a subtle nod before we walked away into a corner of the huge club. I was so going to get it.

"What the hell are you doing?," Nate barks, getting very tired of my attitude.

"I don't know, Nate," I rub my temple, "Too much to drink?"

"That's not possible because we arrived ten minutes ago and I was with you the entire time," he growls, then his face softens, "What's actually the problem?"

"She called me a skank!," I yell at him above the pounding music, "That's what happened."

"No, she didn't—you read her thoughts, didn't you?," he interrogated.

"Well, yeah—," I begin.

"We agreed you wouldn't do that," he shakes his head, "Does that mean you're reading my thoughts too?"

"No!," I exclaim, "I'm serious, I'd never do that to you."

"You better not," he warns, then he loosens up, cracking his neck, "Let's go back so that 'pretty boy' doesn't get the impression that we're some sort of mutant human beings."

"Debatable topic," I chuckle, walking back to the table where Laurel, Tommy, and Oliver were making conversation. Tonight, I just didn't feel like talking, maybe it's the social exposure. I hoped that it was but it really wasn't, it was the schizo in me coming out.

I felt as if someone was watching, and that didn't feel right to me. Looking around, I notice that Oliver had disappeared as I was in my trans of thought. That's when my eye caught something move among the railings on the inner roof of the club.

"I saw it too," Nate whispers in my ear.

"Let's go," I whisper back.

As Nate begins to explain why we're leaving to Laurel and Tommy, I'm already half way up the staircase. I look at the security camera in the corner of the hallway and immediately turn it off with a swipe of my hand across the air.