She was back. The blast had just arrived whilst Blair was having her monthly manicure.
The message had been jarring as she had not allowed herself to think about this in months. The night she had cracked in that club and accosted a complete stranger had been the wake up call she had denied ever needing and ever since then she had swore to herself that she was done. Done hoping, done wishing and done living some pathetic lie.
She stopped mentioning her MIA best friend and, despite the odd enquiry on the Met steps that she halted with a withering look at the source, eventually people stopped talking about S at all.
She would stop going to his suite. There was no need to now that she had dropped the pretence. The final nail in that coffin had been rammed home earlier that day when he approached her in the Constance courtyard and she had responded with perfected indifference.
"Options for tonight are martinis and over sharing or champagne and Bogart. What will it be, Waldorf?"
"Neither. Some of us can maintain healthy relationships. I'm having dinner with Nate tonight so won't be able to grace your den of iniquity," she replied whilst looking distractedly over his shoulder.
She gave no time for his reply before brushing past him, leaving only the scent of her signature scent behind. He turned in disbelief to go after her and faltered as he watched her approach his best friend who had just alighted from a town car, and kiss him gently on the cheek.
He felt an unfamiliar, burning sensation in his cheeks as he surveyed this little scene.
Shame.
He had been kidding himself for months that their fortnightly get togethers had meant nothing. Tried not to dwell when cancelling conquests for bitch sessions, booze and old movies with Blair became habitual. At first, the main appeal was the occasional flash of her thigh as she reached forward to grasp her champagne flute from the glass table but over time this changed. Soon, he found himself far more interested in what she had to say, how she thought and what made her laugh than what she looked like and how much of her he could ogle when she wasn't looking.
Nate hadn't even noticed that his best friend and girlfriend were spending an unnatural amount of time together. Instead he was much more concerned with incessantly checking his phone for messages and pathetically trawling a MySpace page that had not been updated in months.
Blair snapped out of her reverie and focussed her rising ire at the poor manicurist.
"What part of rounded tips was difficult for you to comprehend?" she spat as she looked down at her perfectly shaped and painted nails.
"But you said —" the stuttering woman tried desperately to appease the Park Avenue princess who she knew could ruin her reputation terrifyingly quickly.
"Dorota! Show Estelle out please and don't bother arranging next month's appointment. I've decided her subpar services are no longer required."
The fearful manicurist quickly gathered her tools and stumbled to her feet as an apologetic Dorota escorted her to the penthouse elevator.
Blair stood up and stalked over the window just as her phone emitted a high pitched chime. What now she thought as she opened the message impatiently.
Hey. Sorry. Need to rain check tonight. Family stuff. Promise I'll make it up to you N x
Blair's hand clutched tightly around her phone and it took all she had not to propel the device across the room. Did he think she was an idiot? That cancelling their dinner just happened to occur the day Serena had arrived back in the city.
Allowing herself no time to think, Blair unlocked her phone and stabbed at the keys as she composed a new message.
Champagne and Bogart. Be there in 5 plz put an end to any disgusting extra curriculars. B
Storming to the elevator she jabbed the silver button and stepped in as the doors pinged open.