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CHAPTER TWO:

Food. The thought of it consumed Dan as he stumbled towards the cafeteria line-up, tray in hand, open arms. Lunch sat before him in large trays, spilling with grease and empty calories. His stomach grumbled, empty of everything but fact, the product of days spent huddled over textbooks and class vocabulary lists. He rubbed his eyes, partially blind from the constant squinting, and filled his plate with one of everything, making away with just enough to satisfy his hunger.

He surveyed the hall, wooden benches lining long tables, thousands of people still cramming for the last of their exams. He stalked over to a nearly empty table, having spotted no-one he knew, and started to dig into his square of coleslaw. It seemed all his taste-buds could recall were the shabby slices of pizza Brian had been bringing up to the dorm.

If he never saw a piece of pizza ever again it would be fine with him.

Two servings and a couple cups of soda later, Dan checked his watch. Autumn was late, he assumed, either that or he had managed to get the time wrong - again. They had only been dating for a month and while everything was going well, there hadn't been the 'sign.' They never co-ordinated in that magical cosmic way that all the great love stories had always depicted. What lies and bullshit. Of course a writer never explored the reality of romance, hushed words, cheating lovers, that whole spiel. He would have to begin the trend if he ever had the time. Transform the literary world with his ground-breaking exploration of relationships. He rolled his eyes, even his sarcastic monologues had lost their snap.

"Ugh!" A grunt reverberated through the hall, bouncing around the room. Dan turned, swallowing hard. There, on the other side of the cafeteria was Blair Waldorf, fumbling with her tray as she struggled to stand up-right. His eyes fell to the cast that protruded from her skirt, feeling guilt swell in his throat. He had assumed, after helping her to the nurse and walking her halfway across campus, that he wouldn't have to worry about her. But there he was, staring like an idiot, thinking about her.

She leaned against the wall, breathing raggedly, her face slightly red.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the food that swirled around in his stomach, but suddenly he was walking towards her, abandoning the table he had been sitting at for the past two hours.

She was alone he noticed, surrounded only by those who were scrambling to get lunch before their next class. It was irony at it's best. All through high school legions of people had crowded around her, drawn into ... whatever it was that she supposedly possessed. But there she was, easy to talk to and he was heading straight for her. He supposed that he half-expected one of her friends to come along, drag her away, leave him walking towards an empty spot, but no such thing happened and he stopped in front of her.

"Hey," He awkwardly dropped the word from his lips, his mind racing. He hadn't thought any of this through.

Blair looked up, an expression of annoyance on her face, "Humphrey."

"So," He drawled, rocking back on the balls of his feet, "How are you?"

She shot him a glare and a familiar warmth sparked in his veins. That was the Blair he had gone to high school with.

"Just dandy," Her words edged. Clearly this wasn't going to be easy.

"Well you know," He prompted, unsure of his own direction, "if you want you can sit with me."

She sighed, long and ragged, avoiding his eyes. "I don't want to do anything;" She said finally, "right here is fine. Thanks."

He was screaming at himself to turn around and walk away, forget that he had seen her but instead he shrugged. "If you change your mind I'm just going to grab an extra plate of food and go sit over there." He pointed to his table, looking over his shoulder as he strolled towards the stack of trays.

"I got sick of standing there," She flipped her hair over her shoulder, batting her eyelashes at him quite seriously as she sat down. "I just can't move around well with this stupid thing on and you're the only person I know that's here right now."

He nodded, quirking his upper lip as he pushed the tray of food towards her.

There was silence, the kind that drifted but didn't linger. He was counting in his head, chewing on his fork, Blair suddenly looked up from her salad.

"You look like hell," Her words were blunt, probably close to honesty. After all, he hadn't seen his own reflection in two weeks much less shaved or really showered as often as he probably should have.

He stifled a laugh. "I don't doubt it," He swallowed, "I haven't had a life outside the dorms in weeks."

She cocked an eyebrow, biting into a piece of romaine lettuce. "A shower does wonders Humphrey, it's practically magical."

He took the fork out of his mouth. "Sh...oh...er?"

"Oh that's right, they don't teach you about proper hygiene in Brooklyn," She countered, a smile pulled across rows of pearly white teeth.

"I'll tell you what they do teach us," He leaned forward, his voice low, "The art of flinging forks at Waldorf women."

Blair glowered, "You. Wouldn't. Dare."

Dan pushed his plate away, matching her stare. "Wouldn't I? It's something us plaid-wearing-walking-tetanus-shots would do, right?"

There was a lightness to the conversation, she feigned surprise.

I'd say so," She turned her chin up at him and he smirked.

Before he knew it, a fork full of grilled chicken was poised to fly across the table and hit him smack in the face. He picked up a fry, dipping it in a gob of ketchup, ready for war.

"Move the carbohydrate anywhere near me," Blair edged, "And that greasy mop you call hair ... gets it."

Maybe she wasn't so bad after all. He had never seen this Blair, although she was technically injured (note bulky cast) she never looked less menacing and terrible. In fact, she was sort of beautiful, long ringlets of dark brown hair, bright eyes, red lips, a crème laugh. Enough to make any rich man swoon, good thing he didn't have two pennies to rub together, which sucked because he really needed to do laundry.

He glanced off-hand at the clock, eyes wide when his brain, finally not entirely consumed by the act of studying, registered the time. Shit. Had three hours really flown by so quickly? He stood up abruptly, dropping the fry onto his tray as he slipped on his jacket and picked up his backpack. He had to be somewhere.

"My last exam is in like, forty minutes," He explained. A wave of guilt hit him, the two times he had seen Blair he had abruptly left like some kind of asshole.

She dropped the fork and stood up, offering her hand. Dan looked awkwardly at her, "I'm a Humphrey," He drew her into a quick hug, "We actually do the human-to-human contact thing."

A giggle escaped her lips, "So over-rated," She chimed in his ear.

And as he left the cafeteria, he had a feeling like they were on the brink of some sort of friendship. He couldn't help but smile at the thought, if only because it was a confusing and illogical occurrence that probably would never have been permitted by either party if they still inhabited New York.