Prodigal Son

Chapter Two - Part 1

Felicity punched the elevator button to the executive floor of Queen Consolidated with more force than required. During the hours driving back to Starling City, she'd moved past mortification at how badly her trip to see Oliver Queen had gone and leaned hard into being mad he hadn't allowed her the courtesy of listening to her pitch. Went to bed that way and woke up the next day still happily letting the mad sustain her. Sure, some of that anger was directed at her own inability to phrase the innocuous in anything but the worst possible way, but still, even that was 60/40 Oliver Queen's fault.

Shirtless and jacked like a professional bodybuilder (but minus the unwieldy bulk) with eyes so blue and deep they seemed to see right through her (God, what a cliché!) and the stubbled jawline of an action hero (swoon). How was any heterosexual woman supposed to concentrate? 

Awareness hadn't just been on her side. It would have been easier if it had been a case of one-sided lust. Her fingers had itched to touch all that beautiful, taut skin and resisting temptation had been much harder knowing said owner of skin wanted to be touched.

As the elevator rose, her anger slid down toward mortification. She'd ogled him, practically begged for a picture to make the memory last longer and then in nearly the same breath, called him a serial killer. Backtracking only made it ten times worse.

Grateful for the early hour which granted her the rare luxury of an empty elevator on a Friday morning, Felicity tipped her head back and lightly banged it against the wall repeatedly.

Her private time ended on the 11th floor when an engineer she sometimes ate lunch with joined her. They exchanged nods and then both turned to look at their phones.

Greg. That was his name. He was around her age, probably five years older, nowhere close to the masculine perfection of an Oliver Queen but then in real life, she'd never before really found that look attractive. The spark that jumped between her and Oliver probably hadn't been based in reality either. Probably a combination of nerves and meeting in person someone she'd heard so much about. That and Thea was right, busy or not, she needed to start dating.

Out of the corner of her eye, she looked Greg over again and stifled a sigh. No. Greg was nice enough and she enjoyed talking to him about his projects in applied science, but there was no spark, real or imagined. Time to sign up for one of the dating apps she kept intending to download. Or maybe go old school and hit Tommy's club to directly sample the meat market.

She squashed that idea. There'd been a reason she'd been avoiding Verdant the last few months and with the Merlyn Global merger on the horizon, it was getting harder to duck Tommy. At the end of last week's meeting, she'd been sure Tommy was trying to ask her out for dinner and for just a moment she'd been lonely enough to consider saying yes. 

Thankfully Moira called her away and her momentary lapse passed. He only had one thing on his mind. Well, two, this was Tommy Merlyn after all, but she suspected he was far more interested in any influence she had with Moira over his trust fund than in actually dating her.

The elevator opened on the 15th floor, Greg exited, but a dozen more employees filed in. She kept moving back until she was squashed in the corner. When just about everyone tapped a different number, she regretted not using her code and making it an express run to the top. But since she was there, she eyed the men in suits. Several were cute.

Dating someone from work was probably a bad idea but any one of the sardines she was packed in with would be a better option than Tommy. Merlyn was too much a part of the Queen family to seriously consider even if she ever determined genuine interest.

Oliver Queen's interest, now that had been very easy to identify. The real thing usually was. Not that she should feel too special. It wasn't as if Oliver Queen came with a better reputation than Tommy Merlyn. They'd grown up thick as thieves, two ridiculously wealthy, handsome, playboy, peas in a pod. Tommy had been there for all Oliver's greatest hits: the parade of women, the paparazzi, punching the paparazzi, stealing the helicopter, and even the infamous cop peeing. They'd been best friends who did everything together until Oliver took his act solo.