Oliver is aware of his attraction to her, though he’s hesitant to call it love for a number of reasons. What he feels is too big and immediate to get wrapped up in such a small, treacherous word, overshadowed by what he does and what Felicity believes he can do. Love should be simple and clean, Oliver thinks. He hasn’t felt anything like that in a long time.
[He] wonders when and how she learned to read him; wonders if she can sense, within him, a capacity for gentleness. (x)