Chapter Two: If Scotch Could Talk
"I slept with Serena."
She was dreaming. Definitely dreaming, Blair tried to convince herself. Any moment now, Audrey Hepburn would walk into her house and invite her to a glamorous party. Nathaniel would grin, declare his statement a decoy to distract her from the surprise, and whisk her into a ballroom-style extravaganza as the rippling edges of her dream slowly woke her. She would wake, and those words – those impossible, painful words – would be just a fragment of a beautiful dream.
Blair clutched her fists, digging her manicured nails into her hand. If this were a dream, why could she not wake?
Nate's mouth was still moving, but the rest of his words fell into the air. That one sentence hung in the air like a heavy smoke, circling her, suffocating her.
"I slept with Serena."
"Stop talking," she demanded, and Nate was instantly quiet. Good, she thought. If he couldn't be loyal, he could at least be obedient.
This wasn't at all what she had been expecting when Nate called her and asked if he could come over tonight. She pulled her jacket close around her skin, adjusted her pencil skirt, no longer wanting Nate to see the expensive and carefully selected lingerie underneath that she had chosen when she thought…
Well, did it matter what she thought? She was a foolish girl, blind to the treachery that had been right beneath her nose. The strange expression she had noticed on Nate's face when Serena passed by them… The distance Serena had put between them recently… The constant displays surprising of affection from Nate…
He had been overcompensating.
This was real.
Like everything Blair ever wanted, Serena so easily swooped in and claimed it for herself. That she could find slightly – slightly – understandable. There had always been a competitive edge between she and her friend. Nate's betrayal, though, she could not fathom.
"Do you… love her?"
Nate hesitated, and Blair had to bite her lip to avoid reacting to the unintentional admission. "I… I don't know what I feel, Blair."
"Funny, because I'm not exactly sure what I feel either," Blair replied coldly, and her gaze turned him another three shades guiltier.
Even through the cold rage that seeped into her bones, she still ached to reach out and comfort the wreck of a boy in front of her. She could feel his sadness as deeply as her own, and somehow, that made this moment all the more unbearable. That she loved him enough to want to make him feel better about his betrayal, while he obviously did not love her enough to avoid the betrayal in the first place.
She needed to distance herself from him now before she caved.
"Well, Nathaniel," she said, standing abruptly, blinking back the tears threatening her facade, collecting her bag and phone from the table. She would walk away from him with as much dignity as she could muster, regardless that she was leaving her home to run away from him. "Enjoy figuring that out alone."
"Blair—"
She felt his hand on her arm as she marched toward the elevator. Her entire body screamed at his touch, desperately wanting to turn and fall into his remorseful embrace, make him tell her again and again that he loved her and only her, make him say it was a mistake…
She jerked her arm away.
"You lost the right to touch me when you touched her."
In the elevator, Blair slid to the floor, unable to breathe. The tears she had been holding back were finally pouring over her eyelashes like a waterfall. She could taste the salt of her tears as she inhaled sharply. Nate, Serena… Everything was spinning. Everything was turning. She slammed the red button to stop the world from moving for just a second. She just needed a second.
"Miss Waldorf? Is everything alright?"
Reginald, one of the security officers. His voice rang through the quiet of the elevator like a gunshot. She was not alone. Someone had seen her.
"I'm… I'm fine," she called out, pulling herself up by the glossy, golden railings. She met her own eyes in the mirrored surface of the elevator doors and wanted to fall to the floor again. Her beautiful face was contorted in angst. Very unflattering, her mother would say. Her cheeks were streaked with grey tears as her mascara dripped. Was that acne forming on her chin? Her pencil skirt had ridden up and exposed the top of her thighs, and she noticed for the first time in months that she had gained at least ten pounds since her father had left. Her stomach felt bloated and full, churning with the array of emotions swirling in her gut. She was nauseous. She was disgusting. Simply, Blair Waldorf was a mess.
Why would Nate want her?
He wanted Serena… Beautiful, picturesque, playful, effortless Serena. She batted those perfect blue eyes, and the world was hers.
Blair's world was hers.
She had to take her world back, before she lost everything.
Slowly, Blair straightened her back, smoothed her skirt, and cleared her cheeks of tears. Blair Waldorf had too much to lose, and she needed a plan.
She needed Bass.
But, for the night, she needed a hotel room to fall apart in. The Palace would do.
~ . . . ~
When she rode the elevator up to the Bass penthouse the next morning, Blair expected to find a hungover Chuck Bass, cursing her for intruding on a morning tryst with his whore from the night before. Blair did not expect that that would be Serena.
All self-control flew out the window when the object of her anger was mere feet away. Blair didn't even have to think. For the first time in their entire friendship, Blair struck Serena… and effectively declared the end of said friendship.
"I knew you were a whore, S, but I didn't realize you were trying to set a world record," Blair spat, knocking Serena's shoes out of her hands pettily. "What would your new lover think about you shacking up with his best friend? Or is that just the name of the game for you now?"
Her eyes darted to Chuck in the background. Stupid – yes, hungover – Chuck Bass. Why the hell did she have to be here? Why was she angry at Chuck too?
"You might want to get tested, Bass. Serena's making the rounds, apparently."
"Noted," Chuck winked, taking another swig of the golden liquid in his glass.
"We—we did not! Blair, I swear—" Serena seemed to be lost for words. Unfortunately, her body language spoke volumes more than her English.
"That you didn't sleep with my boyfriend?" Blair interrupted flatly. "Oh, please, Serena. We both know desperate lies don't go with that dress."
Chuck let out a low whistle.
"Shut it, Basshole."
"Blair, please," Serena pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. "We never meant for this to happen. Nate and I—"
"Stop talking," Blair hissed, advancing on Serena, forcing the taller girl to back into a wall. "You do not get to say his name. You do not get to talk to him. You no longer get to acknowledge his existence. We are not friends. You and Nate – not friends. I don't know why you have this desperate need to take things that don't belong to you, but let me remind you right now: Nate is mine. He is still mine, and I will burn your life to the ground for trying to take him from me. I know you like to break promises, but I promise I won't break mine."
The anger rolled off of Blair in waves of heat. She felt like she was seeing ripples in the air. She might pass out. Had she eaten today? She couldn't remember.
Serena cried pitifully in front of her.
"You're not leaving him."
Surprisingly, that came from Chuck. He set his scotch on the bar counter. His incredulous eyes met hers.
"Of course not," Blair declared, only deciding in that moment that she would not be giving Nathaniel Archibald up. She would not give Serena what she wanted. She would not let her world fall apart. If only the four of them knew, she could keep the pieces of her fracturing life together – even if the glue she used was threats, blackmail, and guilt. "Nate and I belong together. That hasn't changed just because slutty Serena offered him a moment of limited satisfaction. We are going to keep this secret. That means you, Bass," she said, glaring at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't know how long you've been covering for Nate, but just keep pretending like you know nothing. That shouldn't be hard for someone with so few brain cells left."
"If you want to play games like a sad little doll, don't let me stop you," Chuck growled, reaching for the entire bottle of Scotch. "I'm Chuck Bass, and I have better things to do."
"Blair, we can't just pretend this didn't happen," Serena implored.
"Isn't that what you were going to do?" Blair retorted spitefully. Staring into the eyes of the girl she had grown up with, Blair felt a tug of weakness. She knew her friend was prone to impulsive mistakes. She defended Serena's mistakes, cleaned them up, and destroyed those who tried to hold them against her. For just a moment, Blair let the sadness of this betrayal seep into her next question. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
Serena looked down at the floor, and Blair knew her answer.
"I guess I know what our friendship really meant to you," Blair replied, holding her hands together to keep them from shaking. "Just as well. That will make it easier to dismantle this pathetic excuse for a life that you're living. I think I know just where to start."
Pulling herself back together, Blair waved ironically at Chuck. "Good day, Bass. It would have been fun to include you in the scheming, but clearly, you've hit your lowest low."
With a final glance at her ex-best friend, Blair Waldorf left the building.
~ . . . ~
"I didn't think I'd hear from you so soon," Nate said timidly, and Blair was pleased to see there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Hope for what, she wasn't exactly sure. That she didn't know made her nervous, stirring up the insecurities carefully concealed beneath her easily thousand-dollar make over.
She had texted him as she left the Bass penthouse last night, inviting him to brunch at Butter today. Well, 'invite' would be the wrong word, she supposed. She knew how to strongly imply that there would be consequences were he to stand her up. She needed to talk, and he needed to listen.
"Well, I know how much you love the food here, and it has been far too long since we've had a proper brunch date," Blair smiled cordially, taking a sip of her lemon and mint water to wash down the things she wanted to say.
"Are you… okay?" Nate asked cautiously. "You do… remember the conversation we had?"
"Of course, my love," Blair said sweetly. "One can hardly forget the sharp stab of a knife to the back. However, I have decided to forgive you. Conditionally, of course."
Nate's eyes were wide. "Just like that, you've forgiven me?"
"Ah, ah, ah," Blair corrected lightly. "As I said, I have conditions."
"Conditions," Nate said slowly, turning the word over in his mind. He had dated Blair long enough to know that was a dangerous word. "Blair, I'm not going to help you hurt her."
He would instantly jump to her defense. After all of the pain that she had caused them, he would still jump to save Serena from Big Bad Blair. Blair clenched her teeth to keep herself composed.
"We are not going to discuss her," she said, through gritted teeth. "That's one of my conditions. Naturally, any mention of her will be distressing to your loving girlfriend, who is struggling to forgive you and allow her love for you to overcome her distaste for your discretion. So, the first condition: Serena is dead to you."
Nate looked torn. "Wait, you still want to be together? After what I did? I don't understand," he said, ruffling his perfect hair in exasperation. "Why do you want to forgive me?"
Blair took his hand, gently, and stared him down. "Nate, I love you. More importantly, we are meant to be together. What we have has been built over a decade of childhood kisses and silly games. But this is no longer a game. I hate what you've done, but I can forgive you. If you promise to honor my conditions, I will force myself to forgive you, and we can go back to being the King and Queen of the Upper East Side."
"And your first condition is that I never talk to Serena again," Nate said, pulling away from her and staring at the street outside. "Blair, I don't know if I can do that."
"Well, then," Blair said, softly, handing him a menu. "Let's enjoy what might be our last brunch together."
With a strange glimmer in those hopeless eyes of his, Nate sighed. They both mulled over their menus. Their waiter came to refill their glasses – Blair had completely emptied hers already – and they ordered their food. Nate was surprised Blair ordered only their seasonal fruit, but she told him she had lost her appetite. He eyed her with concern.
"Don't worry about me," Blair said sadly. "Soon, I won't be your problem anymore."
She looked down at the table and was surprised to feel Nate grab her hand.
"What are the other conditions?" he asked.
Blair smiled.