Look into my eyes, now you're getting sleepy
Are you hypnotized by secrets that you're keeping?
I know what you're keeping
I know what you're keeping
~The Pierces , Secret
Stepping into The Campbell Bar's decadent anteroom was almost like being transported back in time to the roaring twenties. A time when the city had been on the brink of crisis, when the air was thick with reckless energy, the whispers of secrets and the clinking of crystal champagne glasses.
Not much had changed.
Chuck reached for the handle of the door leading into the establishment's main bar. The Van der Bilt family had owned the property for generations, and being the favorite grandson of William Van der Bilt, Nate always carried a spare key. True to form, he had neglected to lock the door behind himself.
Despite her years of experience in stilettos, Blair's steps faltered and she wobbled slightly in her silver Manolo Blahniks. She'd never admit it, but it seemed the effects of indulging in one too many Martinis were finally starting to catch up with her.
Away from the prying eyes of the wedding guests in the ballroom and the pressure of being Eleanor Waldorf's perfect daughter, Blair felt a sense of liberation, almost euphoria.
She smiled to herself in satisfaction.
Blair had already made up her mind that she and Chuck would find Nate and Serena, endure several rounds of their raucous off-key singing in the backseat of the limo, spend Sunday nursing their hangovers, and restore their world to its usual harmony by Monday morning homeroom.
That was what she wanted, and if there was one thing that Blair Waldorf was accustomed to, it was getting exactly what she wanted.
Feeling Chuck's gaze on her, Blair observed his wry smile.
"Seen any pink elephants yet?" he teased.
Blair rolled her eyes. "Well, you know what they say," she replied with a hint of arrogance. "One martini is just right, two is too many—"
"—and three is never enough," Chuck interjected seamlessly with a further cocksure curl of his lips. He held the door open for her.
Blair shot him a pleased look, channeling her inner Holly Golightly. "Promise me one thing," she said playfully, "Don't take me home until I'm drunk— very drunk indeed."
Chuck shook his head in amusement. He knew Blair's drinking habits well enough to recognize the point where the queen of Constance Billiard turned into a Hepburn impersonator. "I think you're already there, Waldorf," he joked softly. "But I'll see what I can do."
As soon as they crossed the threshold, a wave of unease suddenly settled in Blair's stomach. Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Her eyes narrowed, playful demeanor vanishing almost instantly.
"Blair?" Chuck asked quietly, abandoning their usual teasing and surnames—about as close as he came to a gesture of real concern. Reaching for her arm, his gaze followed hers to the far end of the room.
Blair remained silent, her tipsy confidence quickly fading. She stood there, breathless and frozen in horror as the room seemed to close in on her from all sides.
She heard them before she saw them—the rustling of clothes, the heavy breathing, and an almost feral moan of pleasure.
Nate and Serena...
Blair's heart sank as her eyes fell on the sight of her boyfriend and best friend locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies entwined in a way that made her stomach turn.
Nate's fingers tangled in Serena's hair, her long tanned legs wrapped around his waist. They shone almost too brightly, like a modern-day Bardot and Charrier.
A whirlwind of emotions swept over Blair—heartbreak, anger, and a strange sense of inevitability.
She clenched her perfectly manicured nails into her palms, seeking solace in the pain that kept her grounded. The dream of restoring balance and harmony to their lives shattered in an instant, leaving only a bitter taste of betrayal in its wake.
Nate's pants hung low and unfastened on his hips, his shirt, belt, and tie discarded on the floor. Serena's dress was hiked up to her waist, a golden cloud of tulle and sequins—the perfect complement and contrast to Blair's choice of a silver gown.
It was ironic, almost cruel. Just like their dresses, Blair and Serena were silver and gold, with Blair always coming in second. Silver. The runner-up. Second best. Even in Nate's eyes.
Although she and Chuck had been standing there for seconds, it felt like an eternity had passed. Blair could feel Chuck's eyes leave their friends in search of hers, but she refused to meet his gaze.
She dreaded what she might find there. Sympathy? Indifference? Or perhaps even worse, proof that Nate and Serena had been involved for a while and everyone had known about it except for her.
A betrayal from all sides.
For a moment, Blair half expected Chuck to let out a cough or make some smarmy overly sexual comment that would force Nate and Serena to break apart and acknowledge their presence.
But surprisingly Chuck remained silent, leaving Blair to decide what her next move would be alone. He let go of her arm.
She didn't know whether to be grateful or annoyed.
Blair vaguely considered bolting—fleeing the scene, hiding from reality, and pretending that she hadn't just walked in on her boyfriend being deflowered by her best friend on a barstool.
The thought was almost too tempting. But pathetic.
And Blair Waldorf didn't do pathetic.
Summoning every ounce of courage she had left, Blair found her voice—addressing both of them.
"I can't believe you."
Nate and Serena jumped apart, their cheeks flushed and foreheads shining with a fresh sheen of sweat. They rushed to make themselves decent.
Serena looked horrified, while Nate stared blankly, not a single coherent thought forming in his pretty head beyond pulling up the zipper on his trousers.
The room fell into an agonizing silence as all four teenagers stared at one another. Blair's mind raced with questions, doubts, and a deep sense of loss.
Nate and Serena. Serena and Nate.
Serena and Nate...
How could she ever trust anyone again?
Unsurprisingly it was Chuck who finally broke the silence for them, his tone sardonic.
"The best friend and the boyfriend?", he let out a low whistle, sneering. "Pretty classy, guys."
Nate somehow managed to look slightly embarrassed by the observation, while both Serena and Blair shot Chuck a disapproving glare. He raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender.
Unable to contain her hurt and frustration any longer, Blair's voice rose once again.
"How could you?", she said, eyeing Nate and Serena coolly. "How could you both do this to me?"
Nate, finally finding his voice, stumbled over his words in a jumbled mess. "I... I don't know what to say. It just happened. We came out here to get some air and then—"
Blair couldn't tear her eyes off the shimmering trace of Serena's signature shade of lip gloss on his lips. Her heart—filled with memories of candy valentines, forehead kisses, ruby rings, school dances and cold fingers knotted together on the steps of the Met—broke.
"—Oh, it just happened?", she snapped, her voice sharp but startlingly calm."Just a momentary lapse in judgment? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
Nate sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he searched desperately for an explanation. "No. Blair, it wasn't. It's just that Serena and I—"
Serena immediately cut Nate off mid-sentence, her face pale and guilt-ridden. She reached out a trembling hand towards Blair.
"B, we're so sorry. It was a mistake, a terrible mistake."
Blair recoiled from Serena's touch as if it burned her. Her eyes welled up with tears, threatening to spill over. Blair blinked them back.
For some reason, Serena's betrayal cut even deeper than Nate's.
Just hours ago the two girls had posed together for photographs at the Waldorf penthouse, with Blair's own father showering them with compliments as he snapped away. Under Serena's direction, Blair had been giggly, bubbly and bursting with confidence as they cheered one another on between flashes of the camera.
Serena had played the role of the perfect best friend, gushing as Blair had imagined what Nate would say when he saw her in her dress. In return, Blair had grinned and blushed and somehow managed to choke back the suffocating weight of her own feelings of inadequacy next to her effortlessly radiant best friend. Her best friend who her mother preferred. Who their underlings at Constance preferred. Who Nate preferred.
"A mistake?", Blair spat out bitterly. "Is that what you call it? Having sex with my boyfriend behind my back? That's not a mistake, Serena. The last time I checked that's a betrayal."
Pleadingly, Serena reached for Blair's hand again. "I don't know what to say."
The brunette scowled. "Don't bother saying anything. I wouldn't believe you anyway."
Tears openly streamed down Serena's face. "Please, Blair, I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, you're my best friend."
Serena's words carried weight, but Blair's scowl remained unyielding.
Her expression hardened, her voice taking on a stern coldness that was usually reserved for outsiders—not for them, never them.
Serena, Nate, Blair, and Chuck—the four constant unshakeable pillars that formed the foundation of their world. As teenagers with unparalleled freedom, wealth, and a penchant for chaos, they had committed their fair share of hurtful and callous acts over the course of eleven years of friendship. Yet, nothing had ever felt unforgivable. Until this.
"Love? Is that what you call this? Love isn't supposed to sleep with your best friend's boyfriend, Serena. Love isn't supposed to destroy lifelong friendships. This–", she gestured between herself and the girl who was almost more of a sister than a best friend, "–this is something else entirely."
And with that, Blair turned on her heel and walked away.