Dan hissed as a burning drop of coffee seared against the bare skin of his knuckle. He tried, albeit unsuccessfully, not to contemplate why he was holding the damn thing in the first place. The cup was for Blair Waldorf of all people. Hadn't he once called her the epitome of girly evil? He wiped off the scalding bit of liquid and concluded that this entire situation was preposterous.

But it was something else too. It was exciting. Nate, as much as Dan liked hanging with him, could never really see past the girls he was dating or the sports he was playing. Serena, as much as Dan loved her, had her head firmly in the clouds. It's what drew him to her. For a guy who spends endless hours thinking, analyzing, brooding, a beautiful girl with the ability to distract him from his own mind, let him just be was incredibly alluring. Vanessa was the only person who neared the sphere of his sensitivities, being obsessed as she was with film. But she was gone. Worse, she had betrayed him. There was no one now really, except Blair.

And Blair was far from alluring. In fact, Dan would have to say that she was the most abrasive, bossy, deceptive woman he'd ever met. But damn if she wasn't intelligent. She loved the opera, adored the theater, spent hours at art museums, followed the ballet, watched classic movies in her spare time, and ate only the most exquisite cuisine. The combination of her tastes culminated in an intellect he observed often to be superior to his own. He wondered now that they hadn't hung out sooner. Clearly, they were both starving for people with their interests. It's why they both tried so hard not to screw this up. Or to let Gossip Girl screw it up.

"Dan Humphrey waiting outside with coffee, you must have heard that the Film Forum's showing My Fair Lady, this Friday."

Dan whipped around to see her mouth half-smiling, half-smirking, and one hand on her hip, the other outstretched for the proffered cup of coffee. He raised his eyes to the sky and handed it to her. "No, no, no. I knew you'd say that. But I cannot go see another old musical with you there. I'm pretty sure the ticket guy is convinced I'm your gay best friend."

"Well, we can't have anyone thinking we're friends now can we. What do you want then?" she quipped, tucking a wayward hair behind her ear and walking briskly out the hotel foyer.

"Just hear me out."

"Never a great start."

"I was thinking I show you something I've been working on."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. She scoffed. "You mean we'll have a 'let's waste time reading one of Humphrey's lovesick tirades about Serena' party. Gee, I just checked my schedule and discovered that I'm incredibly busy for the rest of my life."

Dan jogged to get in front of her, blocking her purposeful stride. "First of all, it's not any of my writing. I've been feeling pretty frustrated with my writing lately, as you know, so I decided to work on this other thing. Second of all, it has nothing to do with Serena. In fact, I've declared it a Serena-free zone."

Blair paused, mostly because he was in her way but also because she had no idea why he would want to show this to her. They weren't even friends. She decided to tell him that. She hoped by saying it multiple times he would get it through his thick, absurdly curly head. "Humphrey, we're not even friends. Just because we've be..."

"Been to six movies together. No, you don't have to say it. I know that line." He stepped out of her way. "Never mind. Have fun by yourself at the Film Forum."

Dan turned to leave, and Blair was entirely prepared to let Brooklyn walk away with that insipid, kicked puppy look on his face when she took a sip of the coffee he'd given her. She could feel the heat of it melting away her resolve. "All right. But now you definitely have to see My Fair Lady and Singing in the Rain. Oh, and you have to hit on the ticket guy. "

Dan smothered a smile before turning back to face her. "Deal. Except for that last bit."

"Fine, get lost then Humphrey. I'll see you this weekend if there's nothing better to do."

Dan bit his tongue as she gracefully sat in the town car waiting for her. He held the car door open for a moment to say, "Friday, 7. Don't be late."

He stepped back and shut the door decisively. Blair took another sip of her coffee and watched the intellectual snob stride away like he owned the city. She almost laughed aloud at his ridiculous strut. He better than most should know that Blair Waldorf was head bitch in charge of NYC. It's frankly ridiculous for anyone, for a moment, to think otherwise.