We Just Got Lost. With chloeas.
It wasn't quite seven in the evening when Oliver pulled his car into the underground garage below the clock tower. Already his stomach felt twisted and he hadn't even shut off the engine. He hadn't seen her in nearly two months, and in that time he'd only spoken with her twice--once on the phone and once via email.
Both had been business-related.
Both she'd initiated.
Sighing softly, he shut off the engine, but didn't get out of his car, gripping tightly onto the steering wheel and willing himself to get his shit together. At least he was only in town for a couple of days. And during the day he'd be at the office anyway.
Oliver stared out the windshield for a long moment, then forced himself to get out of the car, grabbing his duffel bag from the passenger seat and hefting it onto his shoulder. He'd spent the majority of the time over the last few weeks working--either at Q.I. or as Green Arrow. The rest of it he'd spent trying very hard to forget Chloe Sullivan, and any feelings he had for her that were even slightly more than platonic.
Which was all of them.
He'd done the usual--drinking and partying, and even though the tabloids had been reporting his 'playboy' self was back yet again, he hadn't done anything more than dancing with the women he'd been unknowingly photographed with at the time.
Raking a hand through his hair, he slowly headed toward the private elevator and climbed on it, holding his breath for a moment. Sixteen stories until he'd see her again.
And he wished he had something heavy to drink.
The last thing he was expecting to see when he opened the gate to the penthouse apartment was a scattering of boxes, some half-packed, some already taped up, and others simply sitting around open and empty.
Both had been business-related.
Both she'd initiated.
Sighing softly, he shut off the engine, but didn't get out of his car, gripping tightly onto the steering wheel and willing himself to get his shit together. At least he was only in town for a couple of days. And during the day he'd be at the office anyway.
Oliver stared out the windshield for a long moment, then forced himself to get out of the car, grabbing his duffel bag from the passenger seat and hefting it onto his shoulder. He'd spent the majority of the time over the last few weeks working--either at Q.I. or as Green Arrow. The rest of it he'd spent trying very hard to forget Chloe Sullivan, and any feelings he had for her that were even slightly more than platonic.
Which was all of them.
He'd done the usual--drinking and partying, and even though the tabloids had been reporting his 'playboy' self was back yet again, he hadn't done anything more than dancing with the women he'd been unknowingly photographed with at the time.
Raking a hand through his hair, he slowly headed toward the private elevator and climbed on it, holding his breath for a moment. Sixteen stories until he'd see her again.
And he wished he had something heavy to drink.
The last thing he was expecting to see when he opened the gate to the penthouse apartment was a scattering of boxes, some half-packed, some already taped up, and others simply sitting around open and empty.