In New York City the thing to do when one is down and out is usually to go up and be seen. No one knows how to pull off such a feat better than Blair Waldorf, but my spies tell me she's no where to be found. Can it be that an Upper East Side Queen would rather spend a night with the family than with a drink in hand? I doubt it, so keep your eyes open and your camera phones on because she is coming. XOXO, Gossip Girl.
Blair Waldorf could feel herself losing control. Her skin was dotted with desire, the near-invisible hairs on her arm standing at attention, her palms beginning to glisten with sweat, her heart pounding from the confines of her chest. She licked her lips over and over, wetting the permanently pink pucker of her skin, imagining her own tongue to be the lips of another. With her eyes closed, her long, lush, dark lashes continually batting and blushing against her delicate face, Blair found herself falling, not physically, but her emotions were running from her head to an area concealed by the tablecloth. Above all, her thighs were aching, longing to be pulled apart. She was craving exposure.
"Blair, would you please pass the potatoes?"
Suddenly she was ripped from her lust and thrust back into the real world. Her eyes shot open to reveal Cyrus Rose, her still-new step-father, sitting diagonally across from her, his arms outstretched over the dinning table ready to receive the food.
"Blair, don't be rude," her mother Eleanor chided, before moving from her own seat beside Blair to grab the potatoes and pass them to her husband. She looked at her daughter and shook her head. Blair caught the action from the corner of her eye, but was not affected by it. She and her mother had come a long way together and their relationship was something she could only describe as normal, a normal mother shaking her head at a normal daughter, and Blair was alright with that.
Cyrus, after filling his plate with potatoes, said lovingly, "Blair, are you alright? You seem a little distracted tonight."
"Tonight?" her mother questioned. "Try every night this past week. Maybe this past month."
Cyrus put up his hand, his eyes full of concern for both the women in his life, prompting Eleanor to lower her voice. She, in return, put her arm around her daughter, but Blair did not respond in kind.
Instead she replied, "May I please be excused?"
It was unlike Blair to ask to be excused from the table, as she usually stormed off when the mood fit. Lately however, perhaps since graduation or Lily van der Woodsen's breakfast or since the rejection from Yale, Blair had been different.
"May I?" she asked again, this time looking to Cyrus, knowing he would say yes. He did and she slowly pushed her chair back, slipped from the seat and walked from the dinning room, leaving the edge of the tablecloth hanging low to the floor.
Once inside the shelter of her bedroom, the door closed and locked behind her, Blair threw herself onto the bed; enveloping her body in soft silks and three hundred count cotton sheets she felt the tension from her shoulders, back, neck, and thighs release itself into fabric. She was embroiled in a love triangle, a never-ending love triangle, and despite her efforts and her better judgment she could not get out. She couldn't escape, save only for the momentary solace of sleep. If only sleep would come sooner and last longer.
She had left the shelter of Chuck Bass' arms once the blonde came into view, a tall, thin beauty, staring at her, at them, from her perch before the theater. She had slipped from the sanctuary created by their bodies pressed against one another. She had retreated across the street into darkness, with only a furious glance given to Chuck, given to those left behind.
Serena had offered to take her to Geisha, suddenly reminding Blair that she had not been to the upscale, celebrity dotted eatery since her first breakup with Nate Archibald almost two years before. Blair declined the offer, not just to spare herself unpleasant memories, but to get herself home where she couldn't be tempted by booze and brownies and men.
Lying alone in her bed, her clothes melding to form with the blankets, Blair wondered if she should have gone with Serena, gone out to explore the Upper East Side, to shed herself of the countless images of Chuck that plagued her mind. Resolving to find out whether or not she would be better off with a drink in her hand, Blair threw the covers off her body, lifted her tired and sad self from the bed and thrust herself toward the closet. She rifled through her clothes looking for the sultriest, sexiest, and most stunning outfit the designer gods and her credit card had ever gave her.
"What are we doing here?" Vanessa Abrams asked as they stood outside on a rooftop bar, the summer air grazing their faces, like the gentle hand of a friend. "More importantly, how did we get in? Seriously Dan, did you slip the doorman a twenty?"
"A twenty?" Jenny replied. "In a place like this there would definitely have to be triple digits involved."
"Might I add, she's underage," Vanessa said, pointing to the petite blonde at her side as yet another tray of drinks passed them by. Jenny cleared her throat loudly, as if to signify that Vanessa too was underage. Reading her friend's reaction Vanessa added jokingly, "I look sophisticated for my age."
"Or old," Dan Humphrey final interjected. His comment was met with a punch to the arm.
He was looking out into the crowd, standing on the balls of his feet, trying to peer over the heads of the countless girls in six-inch heels. Then, as if by sheer will or force of mind, the crowd parted and he was met by the smiling eyes of Serena van der Woodsen.
As Jenny caught the sight too, the tall blonde gracefully moving across the rooftop toward them she stated, "Well, now I know how we got in: the delicate touch of Serena." The statement sounded cold, but it was not meant to; it was only meant to be fact.
"Hi," Serena said once she found herself standing with them, a glass of champagne already in her hand. She wasn't drinking it though, only holding it, as if by habit.
"Hi," Dan returned awkwardly. They hadn't spoken face-to-face since graduation.
Dan had called her the moment he saw her across the street from the theater, the moment Chuck's date came face-to-face with Blair Waldorf, a stunned and saddened Vanessa standing only a few feet away in the shadows by the door. Things were confusing, heated, and all beyond his care or control, but things with Serena could be changed. He could make the effort.
Serena hadn't answered, and in the moment he told himself her cell phone must have been on vibrate because he didn't want to believe that she would ignore his call while spying him across a desolate New York street. She had however called back, and after only a brief exchange invited him to Salon de Ning, a still happening rooftop bar where she knew they could all bypass the velvet rope. Standing together, for the first time in nearly two weeks Dan wanted to apologize for his remarks at graduation, but Serena would hear none of it. She dismissed his sad face and moved on to happier topics.
"Jenny, you look incredible," Serena said. "You too Vanessa." Both girls couldn't help but smile at the onset of the compliments. "And Dan, you look great, as always."
Before Dan could respond Serena continued, "so, tonight was one to remember huh?"
"Or forget," Vanessa said unwittingly. She looked up at the three pairs of eyes now on her and added, "given your particular perspective, of course."
Leaning in close to Vanessa, pretending to be trying to get a better look at the view that stood wide behind her, Serena whispered in her ear, "Have you told him?"
Vanessa shuddered at the thought and silently cursed herself for having confided in Serena in the first place. Those few weeks helping Serena attract the attention of the director of her high school production of The Age of Innocence had been enlightening, to say the least. They had both shared secrets, secrets Vanessa thought they had buried. It was not as if Serena hadn't been helpful, it was not as if they weren't becoming friends, because truth be told things between them were quite stable and secure. Still, Serena had a habit of trying to make things better, to make relationships better, and while the act was a noble one Vanessa wished sometimes her penchant to be good would simply go away.
Sensing the tension she had inadvertently created Serena stepped back and spoke again, as if the conversation between the four of them had not been broken in the first place. "Well, if it helps, I don't think Blair had too great of a time either," Serena offered, and it did help; it helped ease Vanessa a little.
"And what do we have here," a voice suddenly pierced through the foursome followed by the form of Blair, inserting herself into the group, her eyes flickering, her lips tucked into a frown.
"Don't start Blair," Serena told her.
"I thought my best friend and I were going to blow off some steam not participate in a charity project," she returned bitingly. "Have you ever been here before?" she asked to no one in particular. When no one answered she continued. "I didn't think so. It's not really your kind of place."
Again she was talking to no one and to all of them, minus Serena, at once. Jenny shook her head, gave a soft squeeze to Vanessa's hand and then calmly walked away. After her encounter with Blair at graduation, and the acceptance of Blair's former Constance Billard crown Jenny didn't want to sour their temporarily steady relationship. In fact, she had yet to tell anyone of her rise in social stature at school, except, of course, Eric.
Blair said nothing when Jenny filtered away into the crowd. She only continued to the protests of Serena, who knew the words were a means to make a sad Blair feel, if only for a second, satisfied.
"How you even got in here is a riddle too complex to understand?" she quipped.
"Not that complex," Dan replied, his head titled to Serena.
Serena could only shrug. "So you'll just associate with anyone these days. Even after what he said at graduation? Come on Serena, I thought we were better than that."
"Apparently not," Vanessa offered, her eyes barring down on Blair.
"Why are you here?" Blair questioned. "I can see Dan wanting to rekindle things with Serena," she said only to receive eye rolls from both parties mentioned, "but you. There's nothing here for you."
Vanessa stepped closer, closing the gap between them. "To be honest, I was hoping Chuck would be here. I know he has a thing for rooftops."
Vanessa hadn't expected Chuck to be there, she hadn't even expected to be there herself just minutes before, but she did want to put Blair in her place. It worked. Blair found herself speechless upon hearing a familiar antidote about Chuck, a phrase she herself had said once before. Chuck did like rooftops and it was why Blair loved feeling the breeze rush through her fingers.
Vanessa didn't wait to truly take in the look on Blair's face, she didn't want to feel the guilt and instead followed languidly behind Jenny and hopefully away from the Upper East Side.
Serena, Dan, and Blair stood silent, an awkward air surrounding them. Serena was torn between wanting to comfort Blair and wanting not to make her friend appear weak in the eyes of others, in the eyes of Dan. As if sensing her concern, Dan motioned for Serena to step away, and she begrudgingly complied.
Blair walked toward the edge of the rooftop, placing her hands on the rail, gripping it so tight she wondered if she could wring steel.
"Are you okay?" Dan asked as he came up behind her, standing just inches from her back.
Blair did not answer, not out of spite, but because she honestly did not know the answer. Why had she been so confrontational? So caustic? Why did the sight of Vanessa stir her so? After all it was an unidentified blonde, an actress or dancer or model to be sure, who had found herself on the step outside the theater looking for Chuck. It was this girl who Chuck was now dating, whether only casually or not it made no difference. It was this unnamed girl who Blair should be upset with, not Vanessa. Yet every time she saw the curly haired barista she wanted to win a war of words even if the other side wasn't in battle.
"I'm just asking because…"
"Because Serena would want you to," Blair finished, but she was wrong.
Dan laughed quietly, "You really have no idea do you?" Blair thought what she thought regardless of what anyone else told her was the truth. As much as it got her into trouble it also endeared her to the likes of Chuck, and at the moment Dan. His laughter was from a place of complete bemusement. "I was asking because despite what you think I can be a nice guy."
"I know you can," she said honestly, "but I'm fine, truly. Things are back to normal. I should be thankful."
"Normal?"
"Between us all," she added, to help clarify her statement. She then turned around, resting her form on the rail and looking Dan in the eye. "Serena and I are close again, Serena and you are," she paused, trying to think of the right words, "friends I suppose. Which to be honest is something I'll probably have to get used to, since you never seem to go away. And Chuck apologized, so we're good again."
"Good again?" Dan questioned. "What does that mean?"
Blair felt the breeze kick up, cool air cutting into the heat of summer, her loose curls blowing in the wind, stray pieces of brown locks catching on the pale pink gloss of her lips.
"Like I said, things are back to normal."
Dan found himself beside her, also leaning against the rail, also feeling the wind wrap around him like a blanket that had been left out in the cold.
"But it doesn't feel the same, does it?" It was a question, but one Dan needed no answer to, he had the answer already, had formulated it all on his own. People could apologize, could forgive and forget, but once love found its way into the equation nothing could be the same as it was before; the past could not be relived.
As much as Dan knew he and Serena were not meant to be, at least not romantically, at least not at that juncture in their lives, he also knew he would always feel something for her. It would always be something more with her. Perhaps that was why he had pushed her away at graduation. They would be friends, they would laugh and share and love others before one another's eyes. They would be friends and for a while it would kill him, as it had killed him before, only this time he vowed not to sleep with any teachers as a means to feel better. They would be friends, but not the same as before.
Understanding his fate with Serena, Dan suddenly understood something about Blair. She and Chuck would be friends too, but it would never be the same as it was before she fell in love with him. Perhaps that made Blair the true loser in the sorted love triangle Dan had become witness to. For as much as he wanted to see Vanessa happy and healthy and whole, he knew she had never known Chuck as Blair did, and he was thanking the stars for that. Maybe it would spare her some of the pain, because he wasn't sure if Vanessa or himself could take anymore of it.
As he turned around to take in the New York sky, his watch, a graduation present from Rufus, caught on the cuff of Blair's cashmere cardigan; the white threads of were tangled helplessly on the winding stem He struggled for a moment to free himself, but saw the fabric fray and stopped, for fear of facing Blair's wrath. It was only when he looked up that Dan realized they were stuck together, face-to-face, with his hands on either side of her body, one clutching the rail for support.
The wrath never came, instead he only found her eyes, so open and pure and welcoming. The look made him step back, but the cardigan only unraveled more, his watch still stuck, so he quickly corrected himself, thrusting his form toward her once more, hoping to save her outfit. She did not protest, did not struggle, did not try to get away. She hadn't even looked down to see the damage being done to her clothes. She only stared at him, as if she could not help herself.
Perhaps it was because just hours before she had found Chuck's eyes on her, found herself so close to something so real. Perhaps she was trying to recapture it. Suddenly, Blair shook that thought away because she knew it to be untrue. She wasn't trying to relive a moment; she was trying to see if she could cultivate new ones without him, without Chuck. Could she look at another and still feel weak in the knees?
A gust of wind pushed past the corners of the city's buildings and found its way to them, sending Blair's hair twirling up and around them, as if creating a cocoon. They were temporarily safe inside. Feeling something, feeling anything, she moved closer to Dan, forgetting who he was and what he represented. She moved closer to him as if he were just a boy, any boy willing to talk nicely to her during a long summer night.
Dan found himself leaning in, his caution and his better judgment pushed away by the breeze. He could smell her lip-gloss; she could almost taste his cologne. They were barely an inch from one another, their eyes involuntarily closing, their bodies recognizing what was to come next. Dan let both hands grip the rail, holding himself steady, nearly wringing the steel.
Then the wind dropped away and Blair's hair fell back around her shoulders, the protective encasing all but vapors in the heat. They each sighed heavily, and Blair checked the strength of her knees. They were still in relative working order.
Without a word or a look or a touch Blair pulled her arm back hard and fast, her cardigan ripping up the length of the sleeve and releasing Dan's watch from the unwitting trap.
She then pushed herself from the rail and walked away, leaving Dan Humphrey and his questions behind.
His phone had beeped several times since he had wearily opened his eyes, beckoning him to check a long overdue text message. He ignored it, letting the sound drift into the pile of clothes that lay on the floor near the hotel bed. They were not all his clothes.
She was in the shower, the blonde whose name he could not remember. She was singing. She was annoying. Chuck Bass was ready to go home.
Picking his black boxer briefs up off the floor, he stood and let the morning light wash over his body, the sun's sparkle dancing across his naked skin. For a moment he contemplated getting back into bed and making a day of it, watching satellite television, ordering room service, drinking countless glasses of scotch. Then he took a closer look at the floor and recognized the empty liquor bottles, the tray of half-eaten cheesecake, and the muted porno playing on the t.v. He also remembered the blonde and knew he couldn't spend another day with her.
So he slipped into his underwear, concealing his morning erection inside, something he definitely didn't want the blonde to spy, and then pulled on his suit pants, suit shirt, and tie. He slung the blazer over his shoulder, fished his wallet out from under a red lace bra, took another swig of leftover scotch, a drink for the road, and then sauntered out of the room just as the shower stopped.
Once inside the confines of his limousine, the sanctuary for more than one of his one-night stands, Chuck flipped open his cell phone and was greeted with a text. He had half expected to see some news about the confrontation between himself, Vanessa, Blair, and the blonde from the night before. He was ready to take in the pictures of a disheartened Blair walking away, or a cold, unforgiving Vanessa turning on her heels and heading down the block. He would not have been surprised if there had been evidence of the blonde kissing him just moments later, her tongue halfway down his throat as if she were claiming his mouth as her own. If those pictures existed then so to would be the ones showing his hands all over her ass. When only a few words popped up on his screen Chuck smiled to himself and silently thanked the inventor of condoms.
He then, however, read the text. His smile faded and with it a large black cloud swallowed the sun.
It read: This one's just for you. I have a secret. A secret you already know. A secret you'd want me to keep. I'm sorry, make that secrets. XOXO, Gossip Girl.