Jealousy and Other Pursuits
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There was one time in eighth grade when he forgot their anniversary. Blair was hysterical and she threw the crystal figurine he gave her as an apology.
(Thankfully it didn't shatter. That was one expensive crystal figurine.)
It's his fault, he thinks; he was too distracted by the afternoon he spent with Serena at Serendipity to notice that his girlfriend's eyes were raw and her lips were quivering. He defends himself half heartedly and Blair, being Blair, notices. She tells him to fuck off and shuts the door after him. Dorota looks at him disapprovingly and he shrugs. There was no stopping a storm when it breaks.
The next day he sees her on the lap of Charlie Dern, the star forward of the basketball team. She throws her head back when she giggles and her fingers are white from holding on to the stone table too tightly. He knows she's trying too hard. She knows it too, and she does not hide her disgust as Nate walks across the courtyard. He glances at her once (then stalks her for the rest of the day after) and walks into St. Jude's.
The next week, he invites her to Sun Valley with his parents. His father had always been tough on him, and she was the only one who could get him to lighten up. The misery in his eyes allowed her to say yes. She bought him a moss green cashmere sweater in one of the outlets and sows a heart-shaped pendant on the sleeve, which she gives to him later that night. Half heartedly, still, he tells her he loves her too.
--
Nate's physical ability was limited to jogging and lacrosse. He was never one to throw a punch.
(Secretly he was afraid it would dent his perfect nose.)
He finds out that Chuck Bass had been having sex with his girlfriend. He was livid. He attacks him with a fury and does not listen to his pathetic protests of reason. He felt betrayed by his best friend and the woman he loved. Mostly though, he was angry at himself. Angry at letting this happen, and angry that it wasn't him who brought that beautiful smile back to her face.
He disowns him and stalks off into the distance. Later he breaks his lacrosse stick.
His rage was insatiable. He chastises Blair and tells her he never wanted to see her again. He didn't mean any of it, of course, but he says it anyway. Weeks later she was back in Chuck Bass' arms, and he dies inside. A raven haired woman tugs on his hand and she smiles warmly. It only reminds him that it's not her hand he's holding.
--
Nate credits his ability to throw on a damn good outfit to Blair.
(And probably to throw it off, too.)
The new British import came in, suave and sophisticated, clad in Armani and Hugo Boss and a special jacket tailored for him by his "Uncle Oscar". Matthew, Michael, Marcus—whatever his name was, was all over Blair at the white party. His hair was blonde and his eyes were glittering green—it was like Nate was staring into a British mirror.
Judging from the way she stared after Chuck, he figures it's not him she's thinking about.
And besides, he convinces himself, she's not the one he's thinking about either. Katherine was fun, sexy and great in bed. If only he weren't so stupid and horny he'd figure out that she was just a blond Blair. But he was, and the rendezvous they had in one of the empty bedrooms was almost enough to keep him satisfied.
Almost. Katherine smelled like Chanel. It was pungent and sharp. Blair smelled like a warm summer day.
--
The guidance councilor told him that though his mathematics grades were dismal, he had potential in English. She told him to apply to the writing program at Columbia since he was hell-bent on not attending Dartmouth.
(It was why he made excellent lies.)
Chuck's father had just died and he needed his friends the most, particularly the one he felt the most—
emotion
—for.
She's doting. And caring. She follows him around like a nanny and brings him his favorite food just so he could eat (she had a deep dish pizza flown in from Chicago just for the occasion.) Still he broods, and huffs, and sips on his scotch. She doesn't give up. He, in a rare instance of honest conversation, commends her for this. He calls it motherly.
Only it's not so honest, like most of the conversations they've had in the past.
She nods. And she thinks it's because he wasn't bright enough to find another adjective for motherly. He, on the other hand, knows exactly what it could mean if he used any other word for it—love—and he avoids that. He was selfish. She played girlfriend only to him. The rest were fleeting shadows.
Nate had always been good with words. He is accepted to Columbia's writing program and Blair is the first to know.
--
Nate had privilege and he never had to work for anything in his life.
(Save for that one time when he squatted in their townhouse. But then he didn't really work anyway, so it doesn't count.)
Blair shows up with Carter Baizen at one of the Met's art charity galas. He scowls and orders a scotch on the rocks from the bartender. Chuck was already dialing like crazy on his phone. If he weren't so preoccupied he'd have thrown it at them.
She evades the photographers from the New York Times society pages. Ordinarily she would have hogged them all. Today she shuffles away in her Manolo Blahniks and drags Carter away from the greedy press. She was glad Serena went after them, prepared to sop off the limelight from a failure of a New York heiress and the disowned son. Nate catches her eye and she detests that he looked absolutely gorgeous in a black Hugo Boss tuxedo. She greets him amicably—Chuck was meeting with a private investigator already—and Carter looks like he was about to get lucky. Nate briefly considers a repeat of the Chuck-sleeping-with-Blair-debacle.
Nate notices her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. He steals her away for a moment as Carter is introduced to Poppy Lifton.
"Today would have been our anniversary," he begins, handing her a Ketel One Vodka.
Blair laughs at Nate's feeble attempt to flirt. "Keep your claws to yourself tonight, Archibald."
"You look beautiful," he says sincerely. She is caught off guard and her face mirrors her surprise. Much to his chagrin, Carter picks this exact moment to wrap his arm around Blair's waist and pull her to the dance floor. She stares back at him longingly, and he knows that it has been decided.
Nate had been born into privilege, but there was one thing he had always worked for.
--
The next afternoon he meets Blair at Rockefeller Center and they go ice skating, like they had always done before winter ended.
(When he was seven, he thought Blair was an angel hidden in a baby pink Dior coat.)
"Your lips are blue," she giggles, holding his arm as she steadies herself.
"Well, yours are too," he replies. She presses at her earmuffs.
"Maybe if they invented lip-muffs..." she muses, and she is curious as to why Nate is staring at her strangely. "What?"
"I think I can remedy that," he answers. He leans in and softly puts his lips to hers. He loves the familiarity of the sensation, but he loves it more when Blair leans in deeper and puts her arms around him.
They pull away (but only for a moment) and Nate catches a smile from her face. It was the most beautiful one he's seen.
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