Chapter Text
…YEAR 2
- Risk and Reward
Months later, hedging in October, Blair rushed through the school to get to Serena. It was an emergency of the highest, most nth degree.
“You have to help me destroy Chuck Bass,” Blair implored Serena.
Ugh, Dan was there. Blair sat down on the concrete tables in the courtyard. She didn’t see him all summer and ducked his gaze all autumn. He seemed more of the same. But what would she know? She absolutely didn't care.
Blair consciously examined him like an inconvenience because he was! Dan was the friendless, brooding poet, “the ultimate outsider,” Chuck had grumbled. Dan had been busy, and Serena told her updates after they came back. Blair again shut that stuff down. No news was good news. It meant he was officially dead to her and Serena. Blair told Serena in August, “The only thing lamer than dating Dan Humphrey is mourning Dan Humphrey!” Which was accurate.
Besides, Summer was frustrating. She has never seen or used a Crock-Pot, but she felt like a pressure cooker. Yale was lined up. Blair was back to being queen. She was concerned about finding a king. This drama and heat in her gut made her forget that Blair was greeted by the velvet steel of his emotional manipulation. Blair never got to mourn, move on, or stay in love. She was stuck, waiting for a catharsis— sexual, romantic, closure?
After sighing all summer in the Penthouse or charity work, she picked up this habit of rewatching Funny Face every weekend instead of her usual victims. She didn’t understand how some couples found each other and danced.
Moving in sync, Audrey Hepburn danced for Fred Astaire, happy, goofy and unselfconscious. Even that less charming Pulp Fiction dance sequence decades later left a mark because the idiot lowlifes connected by dancing. Blair danced for Chuck, and he discarded her. Why couldn’t Chuck communicate with her without words, through the way she felt, through the tone of her voice? Funny Face came out the day before Valentine's Day (that was a sign, wasn’t it?), and she always watched it when she got especially maudlin. Chuck knew all of her favourite movies by name, but did he understand why they were her favourites? Would he suffer through the mundanity of watching the same film every weekend?
Blair always went back to the plane ride, eyes burning while looking at the veins of the city, refusing to let a tear drop. Was she something to be used? Blair waited in Tuscany , asking the Palace receptionist if Chuck or any of the Basses had made a call to their enormous suite. Even Lily got a message. Chuck later saw her in Hotel du Cap, refusing to let her move on.
Now in New York, Blair and Chuck were seniors— still struggling. Chuck was not sure if he wanted her for the long term or how. Blair liked the Lord’s title, but she loved Chuck. Blair liked the men who came to her Mother’s events, but she loved Chuck. She planned for the next year with the Lord, but that night she made out with Chuck in her bedroom, his hands around her neck and waist.
Weeks ago, Blair had a chance to be royalty, not Daddy’s princess or queen of Constance, a royal better than Kate. She asked Serena to come over to the Penthouse to plan a coming-out party. The invite list was too short, too high school. “Dan likes soccer, or football as Marcus calls it. Do you think it would be too weird if he came?” Blair checked in with Serena.
“No, not necessarily.” Serena sounded pleased. “Wait. Does this mean you actually think Dan has a redeeming quality?”
“As long as he knows his arse from his Arsenal, I think he’s aces,” Blair told Serena sarcastically.
“It’s a start, you remembered Dan likes soccer. I’m sorry I rambled about him often.”
Blair actually heard Dan complain about a soccer game goal or… something to their hoary math teacher after their test in AP Calculus BC. Blair could not pretend to care about soccer for Nate, and less so to boost her grade. Men had such small pleasures in life.
Nonetheless, Serena continued. “Well, this could be a good opportunity for us to get together and talk. You know, I have been thinking about the breakup.”
“What is there to think about? You’re finally free from Downer Dan, and I have my old Serena back.” Blair tugged Serena’s arm because they had to go, go, go— Blair’s future was here.
However, that relationship blew up in her face as she tried to get an equilibrium. Chuck and Blair stood in a tilted room, and those eight letters would make everything right. Blair couldn’t say it, not when he strong-armed her into doing so. She couldn’t give, give and give when he couldn’t back down first. She’s given him a lot. Blair liked giving someone a hand so she could take their elbow, but she just wanted to be equal here.
So she had to ask Serena how to fix this dilemma! Serena was her best friend, and she had nobody else to talk to who would make this right!
“I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” Dan announced.
“You’re very perceptive,” Blair smiled sharply.
“Dan, wait,” Serena said suddenly.
All Humphrey knows how to do is stop and wait for Serena to explain. See , simple pleasures.
“If you’re having a problem, a man’s perspective could be helpful,” Serena told Blair like a liar.
Blair’s eyes darted between the two. Was Serena trying to be close to Dan after their relationship fell apart? Dan wasn’t sure who Serena was. He thought she was involved in drama, and her world was too chaotic for his honest disposition. Dan was soft because Chuck and Nate lied to her constantly, and Dan couldn’t get over their incompatibility. Blair willed herself through them. Why couldn’t he?
And she didn’t want to be an olive branch between them. This was a waste of her diplomacy training.
“Just because you two are making a doomed attempt at being friends doesn’t mean I have to be the enabler.” Blair groused.
“Blair, come on,” Serena said pleadingly.
Play the saviour, Serena’s blue eyes begged. Get along with the man I like and love, and mess it up with, Serena communicated. The things we do for the people we love, Blair thought bitterly. Blair shot a civil, closed-mouth smile Dan’s way. She wasn’t showing teeth, and that was the best she could do right now.
Blair sighed loudly.
Dan sighed just as loudly. “Well, um, if you’re plotting against Chuck Bass. Then I, I’m sure I could think of something.”
“Fine. I have an itch that only Chuck can scratch, and he won’t oblige unless I tell him I love him.” Blair forced out.
“You need help getting Chuck to sleep w-with you? Really?” He clasped his hands together. Judgmental .
“You hear the judgment in his voice right now, right?” Blair glared at Serena.
“He’s… He’s working on that.” Serena advised Dan.
The judger dipped his chin guiltily. “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry. No judgment, only help.” Dan told Blair. He wedged a hand under his chin, disapproval and indifference gleaming in his eyes. “So do you love him?”
“No, no. Of course not !”
“Then why won’t you just say it to get what you want. Frat guys have been doing that since forever. ”
“I can’t. If I say it, then Chuck wins.”
“Right, but if you say it, then you get him and you win.”
“No. I lose. See?” Blair glanced at Serena for much-needed help. “This is totally pointless. I was thinking I would disappear for a while and give him a taste of life without me.”
“No, no, no. That’s a terrible idea. Don’t disappear. Become unavoidable. Chuck may be a deviant, but he’s still a man. So just drive him crazy. Wear him down. You should be good at that,” he tacked on.
“Look who finally got a little interesting,” Blair admitted after a beat of appreciation for his advice. It wasn’t bad . It was the opposite of Blair's instinct.
Old Blair would badger someone about love, but she was a senior, on the precipice of adulthood— who was she kidding? She needed to get her rocks off— if Chuck loved her, that would make it all the better.
“I’m sure it’s a fluke,” said Dan.
Blair gazed at him, meeting his cool indifference. Was it… just a fluke? Looking at him closely— this Dan, older Dan… Eyes wide, hair grown out, expression heartfelt as a Hallmark advert. He wasn't bad looking, the freshmen girls gossiped. His social capital tanked because he went splitsville with Serena, but someones agreed… he was a “looker” or “handsome”. It started with his eyes, Blair was sure.
Blair suddenly remembered the passage by Wordsworth he read in AP English.
“ The eye—it cannot choose but see;
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against or with our will.”
Despite his moral reservations, his minor involvement in Serena’s life and Blair's social circle... The girls never mentioned how… Dan was indeed interesting.
“See, isn't this nice?” Serena blurted out. The blonde and Dan smiled at each other with deep affection, and it twisted in Blair’s gut.
“Eck. Even broken up, you guys make me nauseous.” Blair grumped and moved away, elsewhere, because she didn't care that he was interesting! She didn't! She swore on her closet. She swears it on all of her Louboutins! Even the ones she got outside of Barneys, Bendel's, and Bergdorf's.
Throughout this second tryst at being seulment des amis, Serena filled her in. He was focused on Amanda — Dan with boobs — a person of interest in the projects and victims files for a little while. Chuck ultimately slept with Amanda, unfortunately. Which— hurt . Blair doesn't make a habit of reading Gossip Girl because she'd see Chuck’s… conquests. Dan's father did a round of lame college tours. Little Jenny Humphrey became important to Mother… Jenny replaced Blair’s seating chart, winning when Eleanor scolded Blair for intervening in her business.
Since the summer, Jenny has spent inordinate amounts of time with Blair’s mother. Blair didn't even know how to sew, yet they spoke of bespoke suits, advanced patterns, darts and repairing sewing machines. Sometimes, Blair would sit on the staircase, listening to the vocab flying over her head. Dorota set tea down as they wrote down what Blair had to search up on the internet. The list dwelt on her dresser, buried under heavy textbooks. Blair wondered if Mother intended to pass down her business or if Blair would have to fight for it from some interloper. She really hoped not… but Blair had never been good at knowing what Eleanor wanted or why.
xoxo
Later on, Serena huffed at Blair fidgeting on the staircase. Again, in the Humphrey domain with Serena. Serena grabbed Blair’s wrist, and Blair let out a yelp. “C’mon, Blair. He's not going to kick us out.”
“Who cares about that? Why do we have to visit him outside of school-sanctioned meet-ups?” complained Blair.
“God, Blair. Noooo.” Serena ducked Blair’s icy stare. “One of Rufus’ talents might be there. It's the crucial time before the gallery is set up. He might need a hand. Or not, I don’t know what he feels. But hey, it’s a Friday night— we can have a girls’ night if not. You love looking at art, and I love you, so it’s a bonus.”
Serena always bargained with quality time (Blair’s weakness after gift-giving ) to join Serena’s romantic exploits. Blair frowned. “You're gorgeous! If a man doesn't see that, chuck him.”
“Ugh. Chuck is the last person I want to think about.”
“Me too! But S, artists aren’t good for the economy nor your golden heart. Humphrey is also an artist. Aren’t you bored? I'm not there to suffer through two reunions, right? Is this a conjugal visit?” asked Blair.
“No, Dan shouldn't be there.”
“What about the rest of the Humphrey clan? They show up like the Kardashians! There’s always more. And what if I have a “The Hills” moment?”
“Blair, relax, I’m sure it’ll be fine! Just stick close to me,” Serena patted her head. “And you watch way too many reality TV shows.”
“Serena, hush. I don't have the best track record with all of the Humphreys. Even his mother. Hopefully, she won’t make an appearance.”
“Alice is a joy! Why don't you like his Mom?” Serena’s gaze flickered to hers. She seemed especially inquisitive.
For some reason, Blair was caught off guard. Thanksgiving came back, images of the hallway of doom and eyeing the guilty blonde as she passed the dining room table. Blair didn’t know if Serena knew about his Mom. And if not, why?
Blair shouldered her bag aggressively. “She’s a Humphrey. She dresses like a monk. All of that linen at Thanksgiving. Eugh. Gives me co-living and paleolithic vibes.”
Serena laughed it off.
“Besides, I have to figure out this Chuck situation,” Blair announced, obviously switching subjects.
Serena heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You know what I feel about this.”
“I know! But—”
“Walk and talk, B, walk and talk .”
Blair let out a tremendous groan. “S, we could be anywhere else. Didn’t you see Chris Evans is back in town? He might stay at the Palace.”
“I came with you for your pretty, pretty hair appointments, you come with me today, alright?” Serena let Blair’s soft waves fall through her fingers.
Blair slapped her hand away. “Chuck paid for it.”
“You mean you used his credit card for a week so he would talk to you after the ‘Vanessa’ incident.” Serena pointed out, making Blair and credit cards sound dirty .
Blair thought of the black Centurion she pilfered from Chuck's wallet that night. “It’s not like that! It’s money he would’ve spent on me regardless. And it distracted him from Vanessa. He should be focusing on repairing me, not some dusty bar!”
“Yet he won’t say ‘I love you,’ and you won’t say it either. There are other ways of getting his attention.”
“Like sneaking into a gallery five hours early to give a handjob, I mean a hand !”
Instead of being mortified, Serena laughed, delighted. “Hopefully!” Serena chuckled all the way up the stairs, and Blair followed her closely. All the workers could hear was a lawyer’s daughter justifying stealing— her ex’s, no. Her friend’s— no, friends with benefits’ credit card?
Dan saw Serena and Blair at the entrance and didn’t miss a beat. “Waldorf in Brooklyn, you lost? You two, you two lost?”
“Will you talk to her? Please?” Serena asked Dan.
“There’s nothing to talk about! I told you—” Blair interjected as she was shoved towards the bar. “It’s over,” Blair informed Dan meaningfully. Hello , Blair called Dan about Chuck’s lack of hard evidence yesterday.
“She stopped listening to me. She’ll listen to you,” said Serena.
Behind him were labelled jars on an electric blue shelf beside a frosted window. It smelled like croissants and varnish remover. She noticed at her distorted reflection on the bottles of Shiraz that Dan unloaded from a neon yellow box.
“Um. Sure.” Dan said shortly.
“I’m gonna go check out the art. In the art gallery.” Blair gaped at Serena’s words, utterly betrayed. Serena had a canary-got-the-cat smirk. “Talk.” Another shove.
Blair and Dan were left face to face. Blair shot him a grimace. The counter dug into her stomach, and she balanced on her heel. The strap bit into her ankle. She’ll ask Dorota to prepare a massage. And she has to rewatch all of her favourite Audrey Hepburn movies by their initial release dates.
Blair would’ve been just fine glaring at the boxes in silence but Dan took initiative and ended his misery. .
“You and Chuck have been toying with each other forever. You didn’t win this one. Maybe do you think you should just— I don’t know. Let it go?” asked Dan.
“This is different,” Blair said in a small voice.
“Why?”
Blair sank onto the nearest stool. Did love always feel like this— chasing, chasing and never having? Was love winning and losing? This passion and tug of war weren’t there with Nate. Nate didn’t fight with Blair. In fact, she can’t recall arguing with Nate. He was a Ken doll until he wasn’t. Did she prefer that to Chuck’s Capricorn stubbornness?
With her life slowing down, it was hard to see Chuck, smell his hair gel, and feel his expensive suits slide against her arm as he walked by. Blair just wanted someone to hold her, feel their breath on her neck, whisper something kind , something hers. Or maybe she was incredibly horny, not touch-deprived. According to films, it was easy to confuse the two. So… confusion it was. Toys didn’t satisfy her. Memories of past dalliances were painful. Other elite men were nothing compared to Chuck’s forcefield, ambition and influence. She liked a man of status, and Chuck was the only one who could handle her scheming. They played games with each other, and she tried to love that too.
Love amounted to games. Blair tried, you know? They stayed away, fell into bed the next second, then on they went. The future was implied but never promised.
Blair breathed out slowly.
“D-Do you love him?” Dan asked, forcing Blair out of her thoughts. She peered at him helplessly, and his eyes softened. “Wow, uh. Someone loves Chuck Bass.”
Blair hid her face in her hands. “I just… I.” Blair was so defeated. “I don’t understand how it got to this place.”
He set the bottles down and focused on her fully, different from the impartial and detached line of questioning from before.
“You know, the first time that I told Serena I loved her. It was terrifying. I never felt so exposed. But the feeling that I got when she said it back to me. It’s… probably the single greatest moment in my life.” Dan said, exchanging her vulnerability with his.
That self-imposed distance they had, Dan moved over with another Shakespearean monologue.
“But you broke up,” Blair countered.
It hit Serena hard. Blair wasn’t certain real love existed, but it sounded like he loved her deeply. Serena revealed he kissed her eyelids to draw away nightmares before they slept. Nobody could fake intimacy like that, and that doesn’t go away easily.
“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it all over again,” Dan assured her.
What a goner. Blair hesitated. “If I say it, he wins. And if he wins…”
Dan let out a soft breath, lungs ready for another speech, but Blair revealed the second part of her insecurity.
“I’ll just be another girl to him,” confessed Blair, face heating up with something deeper than shame.
“You don’t know if that’s true. You get to decide what’s most important to you. Keeping your pride and getting nothing. Or taking a risk and maybe, maybe having everything.” Dan said.
Risk and reward. Everything sounded amazing. All she wanted was everything.
Dan wasn’t supposed to be helpful! He was unboxing second-rate, bottom-shelf chardonnay, for God’s sake. But he had good advice. Unfortunately, he had sense. Why was it so easy for Dan to tell her these things? Blair couldn't tell herself these things some days. Chuck hated any type of emotionality, yet Dan leaned into it greedily, talked about it like a treasure to be relanguaged and seen and revisited.
Well , Blair's inner voice told her, he applied to Yale. Something Nate and Chuck didn't care to do. Maybe that makes him sensible… Was he going to be on the New Haven campus? Would he be the only person she knew from New York? Serena wanted Brown. Blair shook her head so the thought fell out of her ear. What was the point of knowing he applied for Yale? Nothing! Nothing at all.
She couldn’t help but feel… moved by his words and sincerity. Dan Humphrey, a weed growing close to her peonies .
RIP! Moment over, Dan turned away and tore another cardboard box up.
Blair looked away quickly, shaking away the strange feeling washing over her. “How long it’d take to draft that up?”
“A million years.” Dan quipped. Another rip.
Everyone set up their art pieces. She has never been inside a cafe or bar, or a gallery when the people set up. She wondered how much work went into something Blair stared at for half a second and moved on. Modern art disgusted her, but… this seemed innovative. Was Dan surrounded by art like this all the time? Could he understand why she had disdain for most art movements in New York past 1924?
Was this place a curse, making her inquisitive about Humphrey’s attitude towards art and culture ? She needed a drink.
“Your cafe smells like electrical sockets.” Blair gibed and pivoted on the stool to face something else than Dan Humphrey.
“The hotboxing will be over soon. Oh look, half of the staff is back from their smoke break.”
“At least they get something. Chardonnay is so boring,” Blair looked at the box he pried open, palms red and an Exacto knife nowhere in sight. She knocked on the counter twice. “Garçon, where’s the menu?”
“I’m sorry we don’t have a wine list from the catacombs and a set Degustation Menu. No, bubbly, sorry, Waldorf.”
He didn’t sound sorry at all.
“Actually, mimosas are the only acceptable daytime drink.” Blair cut in.
Dan tilted his head. “Ah, no Jack or hennesey?”
“Oh, heavens no.”
“I dunno, you seem like a wild tequila girl, Waldorf.” Dan shrugged. Blair realized, belatedly, that he had made a joke. They were joking again.
“Blasphemy. Only gin after dusk and champagne for special occasions. Belvedere are the best —”
“Isn’t that Polish? ”
Blair nodded. “You've met Dorota, no?”
They met eyes again, and something clicked for him, yet she couldn’t tell what. He accepted the information with a raised brow, questions about Dorota or her worsening family life on the tip of his tongue. She saw him… wanting to know. She couldn’t have that.
Blair pressed on forcefully, in control. “Or something homegrown like a Manhattan—”
“Technically, Manhattan is manaháhtaan, or a 'hilly place' in Lenape, an indigenous language from the Munsee people. But yes, a Manhattan, those from Manhattan are meh. ”
Blair bristled. “I’m only the greatest American invention, Humphrey.” Blair snapped. Blair started drinking Manhattans to get a taste of Chuck’s mouth. She didn’t drink often, unless she was around Chuck. “So, do you have any of them?”
“I’ll call the bartender and he’ll have something ready.”
“Really?” Blair sat up, glowing.
“No,” Dan said flatly. He clinked two green bottles together, a ringing jade sound. “I’m going to get back to work.”
Blair deflated. “You got nothing to give me while I wait for Serena?”
“The opening doesn’t start till late. You are free to look around while you wait. Out there. Away. ” Dan gestured towards the exhibit.
She followed his gaze. “Oh yes, Humphrey, look. Garden wires, quotes from Eat,Pray, Love and LED lights. Very fitting.”
“Hey, we’re not going to make it on Oprah, but...” The corner of his mouth kicked up, and Blair watched his expression twitch. He composed himself. “Vanessa and my dad expect a big turnout. Someone even posted it on Facebook.”
Blair’s jovial mood crashed. “This belongs to Vanessa?”
Her mouth went dry, and her stomach took a dive. Maybe it was a good thing he hoarded all of the liquor. Vanessa will run her mouth or get closer to Chuck, or throw her out. She must exit stage left before she was kicked out.
“Yeah. You didn’t know? We’re working hard on this.”
“I’m sure.” Blair sassed and pushed away from the counter. “I’ll see to it that your advice is employed. If it doesn’t work, I know where you sleep. One eye open, Humphrey.”
“You do that, Waldorf,” Dan called out as she left.
Another time across the ether, Dan and Rufus spoke of Blair again. The lights cast a violet glow over everyone’s faces as they toured the exhibit. Dan and Rufus walked through the crowd and listened to excited conversations, hoping for good reviews and returnees. And it was packed, Blair remembered. There was an even bigger cloud of smoke lingering in the entrance after 9 pm. Everyone paid for a coat check and didn’t hate the prices for a vodka cranberry.
“So, I’d say this was a success.” Dan had told his father.
Rufus sighed. “Yeah. Makes me realize what a bust all my other openings were.”
“Well, I’m gonna let you bask in your glory because Serena’s here— and she brought Blair. Again .”
“That’s the second time that girl was here today. You’re— not… ” Rufus trailed off.
“I’m not what?”
Dan said the silence was deafening because his father suggested Dan had a thing for Blair. Dan plugged his eyes back into his sockets and waved away the impossibility. “Oh, no, no, no. I’m not— I mean, Serena wants us to get along. But not like that. Not that would, uh— That would be… sick.”
Rufus accepted it smoothly. “Why don’t you just tell Serena you’re not interested in being friends with Blair?”
“Well, we just started hanging out again. I don’t wanna rock the boat.”
Rufus let it go, relenting. Dan informed Blair later that he felt Rufus never really believed Dan from then on.
Ten minutes later or so, Vanessa gave Dan the 5th degree about Blair. He claimed Vanessa grilled him by asking, “Then I see you’ve invited Blair to my opening? Seriously?”
“I’m sorry. I know. I didn’t invite her. But Serena and Blair tend to be a package deal. And— I don’t know. I’ve recently sort of seen another side to her— and… I mean, she’s not that bad.” Dan divulged.
Before this, Blair reached Dan and Rufus in their gallery after changing, dousing Chanel No. 5 as armour and deciding to let Chuck win tonight. Blair cracked her knuckles so loudly in the car, the driver turned on the radio and some jackass personality complained about politics again. She was so stressed out, and all Serena could do was speak of Aaron’s (her new art beau) goatee.
At the gallery, Blair tuned out Dan’s and Serena’s conversation (as she did a lot junior year) until Dan asked Blair, “I thought you were gonna be with Chuck. What happened?”
Blair swung her restless gaze to Dan. Why did he care? Up went her brows as they met eyes.
“Uh, she is, but she told him to meet her here.” Serena edged in. “She needed some moral support .”
“Yes, “ she ” is freaking out. “She needs a drink,” Blair explained.
She looked at him pleadingly. Blair couldn’t make it through this confession without the same scotch Chuck downed, otherwise, they wouldn’t be on the same wavelength . Dan’s head tilted and their earlier conversation passed over his face.
After being stared at by two gorgeous women, Dan folded under the pressure. “Let me see what I can do about that for her.”
Blair and Chuck played phone tag as Blair periodically updated Serena of her location, stress levels and critical comments about the exhibit. She also dutifully checked all staircases to find the best exit plans, just in case. On her fifth tour of the building, Dan tapped on a window between sections of the cafe and gallery. Blair wondered why, but she shrugged it off.
“Hey, stay there,” Dan said.
Blair didn't. Obviously .
Dan followed her out to the hallway. “Blair. I need to talk to you.”
Blair stepped back, drifting towards the exit. “I can’t. Chuck’s waiting for me.”
Dan’s eyes wandered over her face. “I know. It’s about that. Just, um, you know, be careful.”
“Why? You said to be the opposite of careful. You told me to take a risk .”
“Right. I know. But I— it was bad advice. ‘Cause when I said that, I was thinking of how things were for Serena and me. We’re talking about Chuck , here. Not the same.”
“Yes, it is. And it’s gonna be okay,” Blair said forcefully.
Newsflash, it really wasn’t. But Blair digresses.
“Well, maybe.” Dan relented. “Just before you say anything… Make sure he’s done playing games.”
Blair blinked at the dark mystery in his eyes. Chuck wouldn’t do that to her. They danced around their dynamic. Dan’s sincerity warned and warmed her— which made no sense. Chuck wouldn’t do that to her, not after everything.
Another newsflash, Chuck would do that. In fact, he would do worse, Blair came to uncover.
“He is . Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Blair ensured.
However, just however. That night Chuck told Blair the moment they said those three words, “it won’t be the start of something, it’ll be the end.” Chuck couldn’t imagine going to the movies, holding hands. He would rather wait. And back to the cycle they went.
It’s not like Chuck crushed her world last week or anything. He wasn’t the light at the end of the tunnel; he cast a shadow on her and reached through the darkness to hold her. Misery, misery, misery. Blair put that conversation away. She didn’t tell Serena anything. She used to brag all the time about Nate… but Chuck felt like a private failing. Dorota tsked whenever she brought up Chuck. So she didn’t talk about it unless she journaled. Journaling for an eating disorder and an almost-boyfriend had proven very different. She remembers Nate laughing at a white tie party after summering at the Vanderbilt cabins, telling her Chuck would never really settle down. Blair clucked the same thing as Chuck bedded a relative of the waiter or Tripp’s in-laws. How ironic .
Blair stopped going to Dr. Sherman when he told her maybe Chuck wasn't the best for her. She constantly needed to know his location. Chuck was a Don Juan, so naturally, she feared infidelity and scandal that would banish her from Manhattan. Because look at what her Daddy did. After cheating, the guilty party then found love! Regularly. Around her, cheaters got happy endings except for her.
Blair was distracted by babysitting Yale’s Dean Berube’s friend and her absent mothers. She got a picture of the woman cheating, a golden ticket, a sign from God for extra assurance, but she couldn’t blackmail her way into Yale. Chuck pulled some favours to post a fake blast to Gossip Girl, and her heart skipped a beat. The freshman told her she was perfect. And how nice to have it confirmed by a child— who was 15 — but children never lied.
Serena spent all night convincing Blair not to go to hell or go to Princeton, a bona fide trade school. Everyone criticized Blair, even Headmistress Queller, for applying to one school. Was she a prophet or committed to hubris? She'll write an essay about it at Yale. Repenting for the sin of pride was a burden for afterlife Blair to bear.
Later on, Cyrus happened to be the most upstanding man who intended to wed Eleanor. Blair had to “get with the program”. Cyrus and Eleanor were, like, together . Not like Taylor Swift and Joe Jonas together, but Bowie and Iman together . Blair couldn’t get Chuck to visit her before 9 pm, and Cyrus moved in immediately!
It was horrendous to observe them at breakfast while Blair suffered through another ambiguous non-breakup. How dare her parents (all four of them now) have better love lives than Blair? Was she cursed to be loved as a quinquagenarian?
Cyrus Rose brought Cyndi Lauper on her birthday and brought her Daddy on November 27, Thanksgiving 2008. She had to accept the changing family dynamics. And if she couldn’t… she’d be at Yale in t-minus 10 months, her dorm hiding the acoustics of her new life echoing back at her. So she did nothing but cope.
Okay…Cyrus wasn’t that bad. After a year of courtesy, Roman wasn’t either. Serena gave Blair tips on how to accept strange, affluent men living at home and taking business calls in the foyer. Serena said to just wait for the divorce and be cordial. However, this was different! Cyrus was a good man. He held Eleanor accountable for her comments towards Blair. It was another ally, and Blair’s kingdom was always in need of those.
As always, Eleanor was the problem. Blair had gotten used to Eleanor’s absence. Seeing Eleanor was a treat, infrequent and brief. Now she felt gorged, smothered. Blair lived with her again, and it was different.
Blair was sure she’d lose contact with Eleanor by 22, estranged by 30, and called by a butler when the will was announced. At least that’s what happened to Kati’s older half-sister with another mother. Kati’s older brother was close to cutting off their parents. God forbid the Farkas magnates pass. Blair heard them argue on her birthday at his place after sleeping with Chuck.
Eleanor chooses to forget that Blair almost grew up with a Polish accent until Harold and Eleanor put her through speech classes. Other kids grew up with patois, Spanish or Tagalog as their first languages. Serena and Eric still hold onto Spanish from their nanny, unbeknownst to Lily. Eleanor and Blair argued in the kitchen after Blair revealed this to a less-than-impressed Cyrus.
Eleanor changed the menu for the kitchen staff, vetoing Blair’s choices (about medication, therapy, university and the budget for her friendly outings) and choosing the flowers set out in the library. The staff bet on the peonies (Blair’s favourite) versus the jasmines (Eleanor’s pick) showdown every week. Cyrus won by getting Eleanor’s flower arrangements every week. And Cyrus wanted that happy wife, happy life nonsense. So Blair tried to set the white shrub on fire with her eyes.
Blair rescheduled dinner parties because Eleanor had her own and ignored echoing Skype calls outside of Eleanor’s office. Blair had to take Mother’s anxiety disorder into account during arguments. Cyrus refilled Eleanor’s Valium prescription and organized them in cute pill boxes. Blair didn’t know Eleanor had anxiety until Cyrus gave tips on how to deal with a panic attack. Blair was floored, convinced she didn’t know Eleanor at all. He frowned when Blair joked that she gave Eleanor panic attacks. By Cyrus’s expression, Blair guessed she wasn’t too far off.
Then Cyrus Rose’s furniture, case files and associates flew in because New York crime was ceaseless . Seeing Cyrus cluck at his associates piled in the library charmed her out of applying for law school indefinitely. Gone was her aspiration to be a lawyer. Eleanor kept on pressuring her about the future and her career goals. She couldn’t name a single internship Blair completed, yet now Eleanor was troubled?
Blair had to deal with them both, at the same time, all day and night . For crying out loud, she needed alone time without them. This was Blair’s penthouse for a majority of High School, why change the status quo?
Blair hadn’t heard Eleanor laugh in the kitchen… since Freshman year. Blair slept over at Serena’s when Serena wasn’t busy with Aaron and Chuck wasn't there, thank God. Aaron was Serena’s… plaything, or rather Serena was Aaron's femme du jour.
On a distant level, Blair was happy for Eleanor. But deep down, Blair wondered why she put on the “motherhood act” around Cyrus and his evil mom, Sylvia Rose. She was startled when Eleanor referred to her as “grandmother” . Aaron lingered around the house, disparaging the art Blair picked out. Eleanor said she had a “brother” and “grandparents” and Aaron's aunts who would visit soon.
So now Blair doesn't know what to feel about cheaters. Because Cyrus Rose was a damn good husband to Eleanor . And Aaron was funny despite being sober and liking hemp sweaters.
Blair wanted to talk about this with Serena, but they spoke less these days. Were they going to stop talking eventually? Adult friendships were so hollow and impossible for Blair to manage. Meeting once a month is considered often, and not one call between that? Growing up sounded like a nightmare for best friends.
Cyrus was on a quest to know Blair better— because they were strangers. Eleanor tried to learn some trivia about Blair for small talk at dinner parties with Cyrus’s associates. Whatever happened to those 18 years Mother had to connect with her child, they must’ve come and gone? Eleanor bristled when Blair refused to answer the questions or when Dorota could. Dorota and Mother haven’t been on the best of terms because of… Blair and her “dramatics”.
Eleanor hissed that Blair had to grow up eventually. Daddy did too when she got rid of Rachel Carr, who was obsessed with Dan and hurting Yale. Serena found it suspicious that she ruined two girls in connection with Dan for Serena but Blair brushed it off. Daddy hasn’t really parented her after that lukewarm speech. Eleanor and Daddy weren’t happy with her these months, but their opinions were a dull throb rather than a sharp sting. Parental approval was so last season.
When it got too much, Blair rested in Dorota’s room. Dorota brushed away Blair’s worries when she oiled Blair’s scalp and trimmed her ends. She stopped going to her trendy salon. How was Blair supposed to know if Chuck slept with the woman who did her hair?
She wondered what constituted “growing up” and coming of age. Blair tried to feel adult, ready to take on the world. Yes, she wanted to seize her senior year. Her parents weren’t satisfied with her attempts at reigning over fate and planning for her future.
Blair ignored the demands of adulthood for a little longer by listening to Dorota crocheting and groaning over the Mets’ dreadful season. Rolling her eyes, Blair tuned out the sports fanatic and continued the Sienkiewicz trilogy adaptations. At least Dorota’s couch will always be lumpy and comfortable, and she'll play disco polo while cleaning. Who knows what else will change? Worse, would Blair be ready for anything but the planned and blissful?
xoxo
- Stage Fight
Her new, unencumbered future in March was perfect. Blair remembers the peace and perfection. Her life was perfect. She was perfect. Yale was in line, graduating class of 2013. Daddy finally forgave her for the lies with that predator, Rachel Carr. Seriously, Dan, the gamine teacher from the Midwest was his vice? A teacher? Serena and Blair were closer than ever. Blair picked out her valedictorian speech and recited it in front of Dorota until her breathing was perfectly paced. Her presence on Gossip Girl was cleansed. She went to church when she could. She was a hero to all in the bosom of God’s good graces.
Then peripeteia. Headmistress Queller told her, “Blair, it’s over. You will not be attending Yale.”
An anonymous caller told Yale what she did. Hazing. Bullying. Blair served detention. She made amends and did penance. She stopped making girls cry. She didn't send tips to Gossip Girl. She completed her studies without inflated grades! She was an astute volunteer. She stayed away from Chuck! She was all-in with academics, not even caught up on the latest gossip.
She couldn’t process the information because she was Countess Ellen Olenska in the senior's rendition of Age of Innocence. This year’s play bit her in the ass. The fallen woman, on stage for all to see, counterpart to Dan. When Blair auditioned and got the part, she didn’t understand why Julian Rawlins claimed she had on-stage chemistry with Dan Humphrey. It was raw. Blair rallied and railed against the allegations that made Serena raise another brow. Dan and Blair explained that at the same time, they'll nail their roles without practicing together. Fine by Blair.
Actually, nothing was fine! Someone revealed her dirty laundry to the Count and his mistress. Serena defended that witch with a camcorder, Vanessa.
On the opening night, her enemy changed every five minutes. She had to go down a list of offenders for her enemy number one. It was hard to keep track, even for her tactical mind. Rumours spread about who Serena had sex with, what alley Serena puked in, telling Dean Berbe who killed Pete Fairman. Blair didn’t tell Gossip Girl. Serena told her that betrayal was in her nature, which. Whatever.
Only Dorota believed her. Chuck was nowhere in sight. He was dealing with Bart Bass’s death and all but dismissed her as a confidant and friend. Chuck didn’t say “I love you” back and then disappeared for a month. She felt so lost, she didn’t know who she was or what was worth it. She hasn’t talked to Nate since his family imploded over page 6. The only person who knew about Serena’s dirty laundry was Dan. Dan must’ve told Vanessa. He did that to get back at her for teacher-gate with Rachel. She wanted Dan Humphrey’s head on a platter.
Before they got on stage, she remembered her lines and put all of her pain into her role. Mr. Archer— Dan, who cared? She will destroy him.
“What a pretty carriage.” Blair projected her voice, as her range was made for live theatre.
She elbowed his chest. He grunted.
He removed his top hat. “Every time I see you, you happen to me all over again. Ellen, you might be the most honest woman I've ever met.”
The audience laughed. Dan’s eyes twinkled underneath the hot stage lights. He found this funny. She fanned herself. He pulled her in and asked what the hell she was doing.
“Oh, no. But one of the least fussy.” Dan said.
Blair hissed behind her fan. “You're trying to ruin my life.”
“You're insane.” Without missing a beat, he recited his lines. “You must know that this can't last.” His arm slid past her back.
“What can't?” Blair dramatically turned to the audience. She couldn’t see their faces.
He gently took her wrist and drew a line down her median nerve. “Our being together. And not being together.”
When he leaned down to kiss her wrist, Blair took her chance to air out the dirty laundry. “Don't try to gaslight me, Humphrey. You're seeking revenge... because I ruined your chances with that impy Iowa teacher—”
“As incredible as it seems, not everyone tries to spend their lives trying to plot revenge.” His breath was hot against her wrist.
“You ought not to have come today,” Blair addressed the crowd.
He leaned in again. Blair raised a brow. He rolled his eyes. “I look forward to seeing you. Every thought is burnt up in a great flame.”
His hand travelled up her neck, almost tender if not for the glare they exchanged. She had had enough of this! She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to get to the bottom of this disaster.
She sat up, turned her back to the audience. She placed her knee between the V-shape of his legs and shoved him harder into the prop carriage. He grunted, still following the script, his arms wrapped around her waist, roving across the lace. The static electricity shocked her, but she got in his face to make it seem like they were kissing, caught in the throes of passion.
“Someone is out to get me, and all signs point to you.” Blair glared at him before they descended into a whisper argument.
Dan didn’t push her off. He just held her close to follow the script and didn't let her fall. She wasn't being ridiculous at all, since the world was ending and she just wanted Yale.
“You’re the only one who knew it all, it has to be you.” Blair stormed off stage, and he followed.
“I am not against you,” he reiterated.
“Everyone’s up to something.”
“Blair—” Dan sighed harshly. “I’m not. ”
Blair shook her head. “Everyone’s against me, so have some decency and don’t lie.” Blair snapped.
“Not me, not today, okay?”
“I don't believe you.” Blair hissed.
“Fine. Whatever you say, Blair.”
xoxo
- Say Sayonara
That April, close to Seder and after Jenny’s birthday, Blair lost Yale and a brief foray into Nate’s kind and friendly embrace. Nate was accepted into Columbia. Serena was in Spain. Constance Billard and academia were a backdrop instead of the foreground for Blair. Irrelevant all of a sudden. She spent time with Cyrus and Eleanor, listening to their pleas about Blair’s future plans. She lived in the moment.
Approximately nothing mattered since Yale was gone. She had to make her own schedule since graduation was soon, and Eleanor threatened Blair with an internship at Waldorf Designs. Blair would rather eat one of her shoes. Blair talked to the owners of Marchesa for her prom dress and finally settled on a tiara. Blair wanted to be a socialite, on the junior committee for the Whitney.
Blair had somewhat recovered. She thought Nate was her destiny. She spent all day avoiding Cyrus and Eleanor, getting her dress at Reem Acra and going to the Vanderbilt rehearsal wedding. It was a disaster. She was sent home by Nate. She lamented with Serena about it while the Seder invites filtered out.
Lily visited her room to talk to Serena. They were clearly fighting, so Blair exited stage left. She needed water anyway. She also needed to apologize to Cyrus for how nasty she was about his offer to NYU. Cyrus carried J.R. — a bigwig at NYU — on his back in Vietnam. He proposed the ultimate embarrassment of going to that infernal place. Excuse her, she didn’t want to read Beloved by Toni Morrison seven times and slum it in Greenwich Village.
Blair rushed to the kitchen. She needed a drink from her Brita filter. She schemed with Vanderbilt's patriarchal head, and Nate was disappointed with her. Which was nothing new. But she deserved it; he thought she had changed for the better. She’s trying… She needed to cleanse her soul, her body, and she could start with filtered beverages. Something distilled and overpriced— that’s almost Holy Water! She opened the fridge, poured herself water and chugged half the glass. She set it down and sighed.
Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day and the perpetual unease from her Yale rejection, she couldn’t will herself to go back upstairs or talk to Cyrus about NYU. NYU was urban, artsy and boorish. She wanted to be in a university town, the image, prestige—rubbing shoulders with the elite intelligentsia. She wanted something that belonged to her, born from her merits, all that hard work—
“Blair?”
Startled, Blair turned to see Dan Humphrey in a wrinkled white button-up up pulled together in a black tie. His arms were raised in a calming gesture.
Blair rubbed her hip, which banged against the cupboard. “ Humphrey! Are you trying to kill me? The Seder is over! I don’t really want to pass-over .” Blair held her beating chest.
A half-downed glass of wine sat on the counter by his waist, colouring the carte blanche kitchen with bottle green and burgundy aberrations. Dan’s mouth closed and opened a few times, something akin to amusement and exasperation in his eyes. His wrists were bangled in suds from washing the dishes.
“You just got here. I was here the whole time. My God, do you really ignore the help? I thought that was an Upper East Sider myth.” Dan called out.
Dorota had the weekend off, and Eleanor had to hire waiters for the dinner. She knew that. She didn’t think it would be Dan Humphrey, elbows deep into the sink with piles of dishes and half-eaten plates of legumes and matzah. What the hell?
Also! Blair treated people how they should be treated. She was nothing but fair or foul when deserved. Cold fury spread through her, with a tinge of embarrassment. Blair moved to the marble island and snatched one of the clean glasses. She pressed a fingertip to the rim of the nearest clean cup.
“There you are. Almost couldn’t recognize you.” Dan nodded to himself.
Blair offered a fake laugh. “You have the biggest mouth, I’m shocked I didn’t hear you earlier.”
“Spain and a glass of nice wine’ll do it.” Dan quipped, more rapid fire and twitchy than his usual baseline of support and reserved aid.
Blair watched him scrub the ceramic aggressively. He seemed out of sorts. Down. She didn’t know he drank or did… much of anything. It throws Blair.
Dan said, “You bruised my tailbone during the play. You have strength. Waldorf, tell me, how much do you lift? Maybe bringing a glass cup would be easier.” Dan gestured to the cup she deliberately dirtied.
“As if I’d ever help do dishes or help you,” Blair glared at the dishwasher. “This is the 21st century, use tech, Luddite.”
“Eleanor is busy, and I quite don’t know how to use one.” You don’t either, went unsaid.
Blair considered Dan for a few moments. She drifted closer with the glass and placed it at his side. “Serena is upstairs, you know?”
Face closed off, Dan turned the water back on. “I know. She got married.” Dan divulged.
Blair’s scoff came out high and disbelieving. “You are a born liar. That is simply not possible. She would’ve told me. We were just upstairs.” Blair added. Because they were. Serena came back from Spain, and Blair lay in her arms, hoping to cuddle away the nightmare of today’s drama.
Blair and Dan stared at each other, a battle of wills. Blair realized Serena was a bit reticent today and lavished Blair with the appropriate, normal amounts of affection. She didn’t know much about the man who made out with Serena on the street, nor much about her trip with Poppy and Gabriel. Blair nearly laughed to tears when Serena asked if she had kissed Dan on stage. She said it looked real. Serena was kissing another man, yet thinking about Dan. She claimed Dan had a Humphrey appeal, and Blair scoffed because there wasn’t an appeal. Blair quickly complained about her problems because she wasn’t going to argue with Serena about Dan. At least, not then.
Dan paused his rinsing to sip his wine. “It’s probably not true.” Dan relented.
“I’m going to ignore that non-fact and continue.” Blair rolled her eyes. “We graduate soon. We’re adults now. If you want Serena, you’re running out of time.”
“No. I must wash these dishes.”
“Immediate dream versus long-term dream? Dig your heels in a little, Humphrey.”
“No thanks. I’m still on Eleanor’s bankroll. Until…” Dan checked the watch lying beside the sink, “midnight . ”
Blair grimaced at the fake watch. It lacked a warm patina and that brilliance of Sterling silver polish.
Anticipating her attack, Dan jabbered even more. “Before you say it, Blair— I know, I know it’s fake. It’s sentimental. My Dad gave it, so it has worth.”
“Negative. Disaster tie and disaster watch.” Blair tsked. “Go home. I need the kitchen before a guest arrives. You are dismissed.”
“I want to help out the staff tomorrow morning. Plus, uh, Cyrus is kind. He gave me an extra tip after your Mom doubled my pay. Something about ‘ Maot Chitim ’, but he wasn’t offensive about it. Is… he, er, gonna stick around?" Dan asked delicately.
“When the dishwasher is busy, maybe you’ll know then.”
Dan laughed instead of sniping back. He was never as offended by her jokes the way others were. She liked it and, for a moment, before she caught herself languishing in the peals.
The clatter of the dishes, the pouring water against the sink and the occasional sip of wine… made her sink into the island stool. He wasn't out to get her. It was quiet here, unlike the buzzing household. She was ready to be dumped by Nate, and Dan clearly was going through something or another, but it was… okay to idle here. She didn't have to be as defensive. She unclenched her jaw and let go of the breath she didn't remember she held.
He was genuine, no plots there. No angle. Just a real question. That was refreshing after the Vanderbilt gathering. So… Blair got a bit honest. “Eleanor hopes so. It’s never up to us. Who knows when you’ll get another tip?” she tacked on because she had to.
“Cyrus adores Eleanor. I hope it works out.”
Blair folded the clean rag in front of her, watching the water soak into his sleeves. If she didn't look at the knitted fabric, her eyes lingered on his wrists and masculine hands, rivulets of water running on skin.
“She likes lawyers. You’re out of the loop. As always. Before New Year’s, Waldorf Designs ramped up for bridal fashion. Now they’ve been married. Another wedding graces the Upper East Side.” Blair rolled her eyes. “I thought Serena… told you.”
“We don’t talk much these days, but I’ll always be her friend,” he finished, kind of in a resigned way. “My Dad’s, uh, planning to propose. I'll see you at another wedding.”
“Will you be serving in this one?” inquired Blair, just to be mean.
“I don’t think Lily would allow that. At least, I hope not. I don’t like these parties.” Dan laughed, but the sound was so unhappy. Puppy-dog-like, just like Dorota said.
Blair perked up a bit. “Parties are… inevitable, but I avoided Seder.”
“Uh… Never mind.” Dan shook his head like he didn’t mean to say something, or he didn't want to get into complicated topics.
Blair was a bit peeved that he changed the subject again. She could've given him tips about ruining social events, but he moved on, so she should too.
The clatter and sounds of action… lulled Blair. It was calming— this level of intimacy she had never experienced. Just existing with someone under simple terms, no schemes, no game— just… just. Blair was sucked into his simple actions; his forearm muscles flexing with veins leading down the outline indent of his watch. Clean nails, long fingers— hard working hands… under the soft, diffused glow from the pendant light fixtures. So, it wasn’t just aesthetic… This was attraction.
She will never recover. She found Humphrey… attractive? Real and present… Nothing hung over them, nothing grand and dramatic—just a man doing dishes, menial and familiar to Dan but intense for Blair. Was this a cosmic joke?
“Who are you waiting for? Cyrus and Eleanor went to talk in the foyer. Serena is upstairs.” Dan said, drawing her out of the crisis. Blair gave him a meaningful look. He switched gears. “Chuck?”
“No,” Blair murmured to the cool stone.
“Nate?” Dan’s wince translated through his tone.
“It’s destiny .”
Blair met his eyes after Dan huffed out a soft chuckle. “Destiny doesn't happen at 18.”
“Of course it does! Shouldn't it?”
Dan tilted his head, looking at her closely. “Another risk?”
“Pfft. Nothing’s risky about Nate. Yale isn’t risky. Columbia isn’t risky. Yale should be fun.” Blair said to herself.
Blair had to keep up appearances. Maybe the grapevine was forgiving for once. Maybe someone spread that she got back into Yale. Blair sighed to herself and leaned her head on the counter. She was tired of all the posturing and keeping a good posture.
Yale was a faraway fantasy never realized. Something that wasn't fun when she pursued it. All those hours studying, editing, group projects, and managing the school— wasn’t fun. She got rejected by most universities— even the low-tier ones and she had to wait until the next registration period or swallow her pride.
She thought she would finally see the fruits of her labour. Now she's in the kitchen with Dan Humphrey, lamenting Yale.
“Indeed, Yale should be fun,” Dan said with a sigh, mirroring her inexplicable sadness.
Blair scoffed. “You’re not going. I heard that.”
“You’re not either. ” Dan shot back, rising to the occasion. “I was being nice by not mentioning it. Decorum.”
“Spare me. You don’t have any decorum. I didn't want to share Yale with you anyway. Imagine you being the only person I know between Boston and New York in Connecticut.”
Dan shrugged. “I'm goin’ somewhere else—”
Blair held up her hand. “Don’t want to know. Don't need to know.”
Her heart was saved. No more finding Dan… liminally attractive. His body, mannerisms, humour, and grounded disposition— she was attracted to Dan’s person . A Brooklynite who had way less than the money of the Bass Industries and the moneyed family of politicians and socialites of the Vanderbilts. He had nothing but realness!
This had to be the long-term effects of all those glasses of Dom 95, fountain pen ink in her bloodstream and secondhand smoke from hash and New York traffic, the rolled down windows in taxis that made her hair smell bad— it couldn't be. This was nipped in the bud last fall. At the root. The trellis was hacked down . Maybe she’ll test for brain parasites at her next checkup. Luckily, it was the end of the school year, and he was going somewhere else. She was just meeting the depths of desperation with Dan because Chuck was Chuck, and Nate was Nate . Nothing more.
Dan had the power to break her usual narratives. She hated that. This— thing, talking in the white darkness of the under-cabinet lights, must stop.
An acute sense of relief washed over her, so the panic abated. She said, “We likely won't run in the same circles after May, so sayonara.”
Blair reached into the wine refrigerator for something she knew Eleanor wouldn’t mind parting with: a 1989 Pichon Lalande. It was soft-textured, flowery and textbook Bordeaux. He probably doesn’t know the price or quality.
Working at keeping Serena was a full-time job. She rescued Serena constantly, yet the chaos was never-ending. Dan was also enlisted for help because… he gets it. Cyrus and Eleanor liked Dan, whereas they generally distrusted Chuck and Nate. Dan also… begrudgingly and sometimes willingly helped Blair. He wasn’t a source of pain like the others. And that’s more and better than others in her life. Wine was always a good send-off beverage. They’re adults— it’s always wine o’clock in the Upper East Side.
Blair slid the bottle towards him, through the maze of drying charger plates and china. “For listening.”
Unlike his social-climbing sister, Dan didn’t jump at the opportunity. “I prefer Italian.”
Blair was shocked, mouth agape. He chose the losing side of this immortal argument. What a snob! She… offered because it was her respect wrapped in French labels and crystal. She couldn’t hand someone her true thoughts—but she could hand them a glass. She was being generous; that mattered. She grew up in a world where she didn’t say what she felt—she demonstrated it with elegance. Offering a drink was a power move and a peace offering, Eleanor said.
Dan laughed softly at her perturbed expression. He rounded off the polite decline with, “Keep it. I’m sure the Waldorf estate needs it for a future gathering.”
Blair was rarely met with a soft rebuff for alcohol. Her lot of her friends were casual heavy drinkers. Nothing too crazy lest their parents would lose their heirs.Whatever. She tried to repay him. She hated owing someone. Especially when you couldn’t repay kindness with anything but kindness. She wasn’t ready for that. Especially for Humphrey.
In the future, Blair wonders why it couldn’t have stopped there. People from High School rarely interact after graduation. Blair noted that he mentioned Italy for the first time. Blair tch-tched at his choice, but she was soon called to Nate and thanked Cyrus with a hug for his continued support and NYU favour.
Once again, she dismissed Dan Humphrey. Dan was another non-thing not to worry about. He wasn't a part of her world despite their reunions and conversations. He would just fade out… They always leave, so Blair banked on that. Still, Blair really should've asked him where he was going, university-wise.