061. you lookin' kinda cute in that polka dot bikini, girl [1/2]
Title | you lookin' kinda cute in that polka dot bikini, girl
Chapter | 1/2
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Nate/Serena
Summary | The ways they make up and break up in the summer of 2010.
The first time he sees her after they break up, she's wearing the smallest shorts he has ever seen. They're peach-coloured PJ bottoms with vertical white stripes and lace around the openings for her legs - and beneath them her legs go on and on forever, tan and lean.
Just like the last time they saw one another, they're in a hospital. Only this time it's the middle of the night instead of the afternoon, it's not a joyous occasion but a horrifying one, and they're in Prague.
It's been two weeks. Nate has spent forty-two straight hours sleeping, has had sex with approximately ten girls, and has had coffee with Dan once. He's decided, now that he's had some time to think, that it's not Dan's fault or Serena's fault or anyone's fault, really - but that doesn't mean it sucks (hurts) any less.
He hugs Blair first (because she's shaking and pissed off and her voice is doing that scary thing where it gets sharper with each sentence) and gives her his sweater (because she's standing there in nothing but a flimsy nightgown and sandals).
"Is he okay?" he asks quietly.
"I don't know." Blair stomps her foot and presses her lips together until they turn white. "I don't care."
That is the statement that forces him to look over at Serena, to share a knowing glance with her, because Blair is so obviously lying.
Serena sighs, glancing back at Blair. "My mom will be here soon, and we'll know more then…"
"Did you not hear me?" Blair's voice peaks at a point as sharp as a shard of glass, and Nate sees his wince reflected on Serena's face. "I. Do. Not. Care."
"Right." Serena tugs her into a half-hug, Blair fitting neatly underneath one of her long arms. "I know," she soothes - convincingly, as if she truly believes what Blair's saying.
Nate looks away from them.
He hates the ways they play pretend.
Nate spends a week in Prague. He visits Chuck everyday. He does a little research and snooping to see if he can locate the thugs who shot his best friend. With a bullet. His head is still reeling from the very thought, never mind the fact that it really, truly happened.
He does not stay at the same hotel as Blair and Serena (and Lily and Eric, once they arrive). He hardly sees the girls, except when they run into each other in the hospital's halls. He chills with Eric for a few hours here and there, and one night he does take Blair out to dinner. During the meal she talks to him more honestly than he thinks she's ever spoken to him before, mostly about Chuck; she lets him in on everything that's happening and a lot of what she's feeling, even though she insists that she is not crying, she just has an eye infection since she's barely been sleeping recently.
Late one night, Serena brings him a cup of crappy hospital coffee. He says thanks and she says you're welcome, and that's the end of that.
Fate, he decides, is pretty cruel.
He doesn't really talk to Serena, so they never really discuss each other's travel plans - he only hears whispers from Blair about how Serena's planning to head back to the States soon, while Blair stays on in Prague for a while, to "ensure that Chuck does not commit anymore idiotic acts".
And that's how Serena ends up on his flight.
She arrives to the gate late, of course, a whirlwind of blonde hair and expensive luggage, an apologetic smile on her lips. The other passengers turn to stare, to look at her as she explains her tardiness to the all-too-understanding man currently inspecting her boarding pass. Nate doesn't look at her; he turns around and walks onto the plane, but he somehow still notices how she's not wearing any makeup and her cheeks are getting freckled like they always do in the summertime and that the brown skirt she's wearing beneath her lacy white shirt looks like it's made of soft fabric.
He throws his backpack into the overhead bin and settles into his seat - he's got the aisle, so he waits for whoever's in the window seat next to him before really getting comfortable and buckling his belt up.
It's Serena. Of course.
She looks at his face and then at her boarding pass and then at the number over the seat before her gaze settles on his face again. Nate stands up wordlessly and lets her slide past him, bitter that he has to sit next to her when she looks so fucking perfect and that there's clearly no justice in the world since she even gets the window seat.
Takeoff is bumpy. Nate stares at the back of the seat in front of him while Serena looks out the window, at the clouds around them and the ground below. They hit an air pocket, and for a moment he loses his center of gravity. In his peripheral vision, during that moment, he watches the way Serena's fingers wrap around the armrest, her knuckles turning white.
He doesn't do anything, though; it's not his job to hold her hand anymore.
They're an hour into the flight when Serena gently yanks his earphones out. He keeps his eyes on the little screen embedded into the seat in front of him instead of looking over at her. He could probably watch a movie without hearing any of the dialogue or music. They used to make silent films, after all.
"Nate."
Her voice is soft and familiar and it feels wrong, that she can say his name now and that it sounds the same way it did muffled against his pillows.
She's silent for a few seconds, giving him time. But he doesn't answer, and then she says it again, "Nate." After several more seconds of quiet, she adds, "You're really not going to speak to me?"
He can't look at her. He can't. If he does then he'll think of that Ivy Mixer back in high school, and how the hurt in her eyes then probably matches the hurt in her eyes now, and how they've blown so many chances that it was stupid of him to believe that they'd ever work out - looking at her, it'd be his undoing.
There is a tiny hitch in her breathing then, and he exhales fast as he blurts, "What's there to talk about?"
She winds the cord of his headphones around her fingers and doesn't say anything.
Finally, he snatches the gossip magazine she was reading off of her lap.
"What - "
He huffs, annoyed at her and annoyed at himself. He flips pages rapidly as he tells her, "I'm gonna read you your horoscope."
He still doesn't look at her, but he can feel the warmth of her sudden smile.
In Manhattan, they go their separate ways. Nate goes back to his official summer routine - girls and liquor and the occasional phone call to Dan.
There's no answer, even though he phones Dan twice on his cell phone and once on the number for the loft, and he gets a sinking feeling in his chest when he realizes Dan might be out somewhere with Serena.
There is an earthquake in New York.
It's not that big a deal - it's a 5.5 on the Richter scale, similar to the one that hit Canada just a few days earlier; it causes minimal property damage and not a single injury.
Nonetheless, Nate feels the rumble of the ground, even up on the twenty-somethingth floor of The Empire. He gets out of bed in only his boxers to look at the window, to stare down at the ground. The girl in his bed smokes a cigarette while she waits for him.
Almost twenty minutes later there's a knock on the door, and Nate assumes it's just one of the Empire's employees checking in, so he's shocked to see Serena standing in front of him.
She's wearing a pretty green dress and flat linen shoes and there are wisps of hair coming loose from her braid. They stare at each other for a couple moments and Nate doesn't mind, he just drinks in the look of her.
"Hey," she finally murmurs. She looks just as surprised as he feels. "I just…I don't know. I wanted to make sure you were okay."
There's something like fading panic in her eyes and he doesn't understand it (she broke up with him).
"I'm fine."
She smiles, hesitant as she corrects him teasingly, "You're lazy," with her eyes taking in the way he looks, boxers and messy hair.
"Yeah, well…" He doesn't say much but he can't help but smile back.
"Listen," she begins, inching a little closer, "since I'm here…"
The girl steps out of his bedroom in nothing but her lacy underwear. She looks at Serena, curious but unapologetic, as she calls, "Nate? You coming…?"
Serena's face closes off then, losing all of its friendliness and hopefulness and going blank, but not before he sees the quickest flash of unadulterated heartbreak play over her features.
"I shouldn't have," is all she says before she whirls around and walks away.
Nate says Serena's name in bed and the girl he's with doesn't seem to notice but he makes her leave afterward anyway.
He can't stop thinking about it. She had no right to stand in his doorway and look at him like that, as though he was betraying her.
He storms over to her suite on a rainy night.
"You broke up with me."
She's sitting on the couch, drinking lemonade and reading a book that she sets aside when she sees him. Incredulously, she asks, "Are you drunk?"
"No. Maybe. A little bit." She's got this delicate look in her blue eyes, and he hates it; it's unfair. "You hurt me. You can't keep acting like I hurt you."
Serena doesn't move. "You did hurt me," she says quietly.
"I didn't want to. I was trying to…to protect you."
"Nate, this isn't the time to talk about - "
He sits heavily on a chair, suddenly tired. "I think I love you too much."
Her mouth snaps shut.
"Can we skip this part? The part where it hurts and it's hard and it's not the time to talk? We've done this already."
"Nate," she pleads, a tremor in her voice.
"It doesn't fix anything." He wishes she'd understand. "You can leave or you can break up with me but it doesn't change anything."
She looks down, but not before he catches the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "Maybe you deserve better."
He shakes his head. "Can you just…let me? Can it just be okay for me to love you?"
"You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying." She stands up and crosses her arms over her chest. "You should go home."
"I walked here." He doesn't want to walk back.
"I can tell." She runs her fingers gently through his rain-soaked hair. "I'll get Arthur to drive you back, and when you get home you need to put on something dry, okay?"
"Serena." He touches her wrist; her skin is so soft.
She freezes. "What?"
"Are you with Dan?"
All of the tension in her body seems to seep away. "No," she says, and he knows she's telling the truth.
"Why not?"
She sighs as her fingers slip into his hair again. She lets him lean into her, his head against her abdomen. He closes his eyes.
"Because I think I love you too much," she says simply.
He brings her croissants and Audrey on a Sunday morning and her sleepy smile looks like forgiveness.
She doesn't even make him watch Tiffany's.
She's not his girlfriend anymore but it's still his responsibility to make sure she has a good birthday. Eric's at Elliot's cottage, her mother and Rufus are in Tobago, her best friend and her stepbrother are still in Europe. He's the only one who's even with her, and he knows he has to make this birthday the best one ever.
He does some organizing. He finds a place that delivers awesome helium balloons. He goes to a florist and finds a pretty bouquet. He buys a double-chocolate cake. He already has a present, an anchor-shaped diamond necklace he purchased while they were dating on the stupid assumption that they'd still be together by mid-July.
He calls Chuck to get permission from security for late-night access to the family suite. He wraps up the box the necklace is in and sticks a candle into a cupcake; he wants to surprise her exactly at midnight.
She's in bed, asleep, so he perches on the mattress and makes sure not to frighten her. He whispers happy birthday as she slowly comes awake.
"Nate?" she whispers back as she sits up, blinking slowly.
"Hey." He holds out the cupcake, careful to make sure that the flame of the candle comes nowhere near her hair. "Make a wish."
She smiles at him in the flickering light before she leans forward a bit and blows out the flame.
"What did you wish for?" he teases. Her room is dark now, save for the pale glow of the moonlight coming in through the window.
She doesn't answer.
But she does kiss him.
It's this slow, lingering, perfect birthday kiss, her mouth moving in easy rhythm with his. He savours it, lets himself sink into and drown in the feel of her. And then she lays back against the pillows, taking him with her, still kissing, as she kicks her blankets aside.
He groans into her mouth as one of her legs hooks around his hips. He didn't plan on this happening tonight, but she's beautiful and stretched out beneath him in nothing but a silky little pyjama set and god, he's missed her.
"Nate…" she sighs as he trails his lips down her neck.
"Shh," he says against her skin, slipping his hands beneath her shirt.
She reaches between their bodies to unbutton his pants.
They don't talk after that.
When he wakes up in the morning, Serena's standing by the window in a robe tied closed tightly. Her eyes are red, like she's been crying.
"I want you to go."
He sits up, confused. "What - "
"It was a mistake. Last night shouldn't have happened."
"Serena." He blinks. "C'mere for a minute, let's just talk about it."
"No. It was…stupid." She won't look at him. "I want - I want you to leave."
He can't catch up, can't understand what she's thinking. She shouldn't be crying, especially not on her birthday, and he feels guilty but he doesn't know why this is happening - his memories from last night are good ones, her giggling and the quiet way she moaned his name, the incredible feel of her and the way they got so perfectly tangled up in one another.
"Nate. Please. I want you to go."
"Serena," he tries in a gentle voice.
But she walks into her bathroom and slams the door closed behind her and he knows she won't come out until he's gone.
So he goes. He leaves her gift and he still sends all the other things - cake and balloons and even flowers, but he hears nothing from her for the rest of the day.
He finds out from Blair that Serena left for the Hamptons on her birthday.
"Your girlfriend is at her grandmother's summer house," she says.
"She's not my girlfriend."
"Technicalities, Nate." He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Get on the Jitney," she orders.
He doesn't know how she knows when he gets there - maybe from Blair - but two minutes after he steps off the Jitney his cell phone beeps and the text message reads:
about time, Archibald.
A couple days later he arrives at Cece's house at half past seven in the morning. Serena is sitting on the back deck in an old nightie, her tangled hair thrown into a ponytail and her bare feet resting on another chair. There's food spread across the table in front of her, but most of it appears untouched.
She looks at him, bleary eyes and sunshine smile.
"Hey, Natie," she says.
He smiles back and she moves her feet off the other chair so that he can sit down. Reaching over, he takes a long drink of her mimosa.
"Ew," she teases softly as she watches him. "Backwash."
Nate's smile widens. He grabs a fork and cuts a piece of off a crêpe; around his mouthful, he tells her, "I'm helping you eat your breakfast."
She looks more relaxed, then, rolling her eyes and finishing off her drink. He tries very hard not to wonder if their mouths touched the same places on the glass.
Neither of them eat the strawberries, but they don't talk about why.
"Naaaaate."
"Mmph," he responds, burrowing further into his blankets.
'Nate." Something hard and square hits his arm. "Wake up."
He doesn't open his eyes as he groans, "Why?"
She tugs on his ear. "It's past noon, sleepyhead."
"It's summer. I'm relaxing."
"Nate." He can hear from her voice that she's pouting, which isn't really fair. "We have to go."
"No, we don't." With a sigh, he finally opens his eyes, drinking in the sight of her. Her skirt is ocean blue and her skirt is white, flimsy enough for him to see her pink bikini top through it, and he wonders, "How did you get in here?"
She smiles triumphantly. "Your staff loves me."
"Of course they do."
"Up and at 'em," Serena insists. She's standing by his bed, and he knows she's hesitant to actually sit on it.
That bothers him, so he sits up and reaches for her, wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her toward him.
"Nate!" she squeaks, and it feels like a mistake instantly when his hand grazes her breast and her knee digs into his thigh. She's breathing quickly and he's already half-naked and she's on his bed and he could so easily slip a hand under her skirt…
Serena licks her lips and ducks her head shyly, and Nate makes himself focus.
"Why," he begins, tickling her ribs lightly, "have you barged into my room at this ungodly hour?"
She looks at him through her eyelashes (and she's too beautiful, right at that moment; he can't fault himself for missing her). "Book Club," she says, pointing to the two identical novels sitting on his nightstand. "If you don't get up we're going to be late."
"Book Club?" He latches onto the idea, the familiarity and the comfort of it, even as he whines, "Again?"
"For real, this time," she says insistently.
They both freeze when she says that, and he flashes back to two summers ago, her hand linked with his and the citrus-y smell of her hair and the way she'd always share his wicker chair, all cuddled up to him, to how real it was even when it was pretend.
He wants to go back to that day in the hospital and say no, no breaks, no breaking up - don't you know how long it took us to get here?
Serena digs her teeth into her bottom lip. "We're going to actually read the books this time, I mean."
Suddenly he's annoyed with her, and annoyed with himself, but it's summertime and she's Serena and on his bed, so all he does is whine, "That's too much work for the summer."
"So, what, you're going to sleep all day everyday?"
"Yes?" he asks optimistically.
"Na-a-te."
"Se-re-na."
Her lower lip pokes out and her hands tangle in his sheets.
He echoes her expression and her eyes widen.
"We have to be productive or B will yell at us in September," she says.
"You're not scared of Blair."
She smirks. "But you should be."
He gasps at her but he doesn't have time to reply before she's hopping up off his bed and throwing a t-shirt at his face.
"Get dressed," she says as she saunters out of the room, taking both books with her.
Nate gets up a moment after she leaves and pulls on a pair of shorts. He's always followed her. There's no reason to stop now.
Eric comes to the Hamptons for a week, and he brings Elliott with him. Serena bounces on the balls of her feet as they wait for the car to pull up.
"I'm so happy that he's happy," she says, her voice as soft and as warm as the summer breeze.
Nate looks at her, at the way her hair is messily braided and the way the evening shadows play over her face, highlighting her cheekbones.
Somehow, in that moment, she looks younger.
He wants her to be happy, too.
The entire time Elliott and Eric are there, Nate's whole life feels like one endless double-date.
He and Serena accompany the boys on shopping trips and sundae-making missions and dinners with Cece. Nate takes Elliott to his favourite lake to give S and E some alone time to hang out.
A few times, he casually tries to excuse himself, but every time Serena looks right at him and says, "No, I want you to come."
"Why'd you do it?"
It's three o'clock in the morning, or maybe even later. Eric and Elliott are passed out on the carpeted floor, soundly asleep. Nate and Serena are sitting at opposite ends of the couch. There's a movie on the TV but the volume's turned down so low that the dialogue is no longer audible.
"Do what?"
"Break it - us - off."
She curls into her side of the couch. "Nate…"
"Tell me why. Why'd you kiss Dan, why'd you say you needed time when - "
"Nate." The sharp note in her quiet voice halts his words. "This isn't the time to talk about that."
"I think it's the time to talk about it." He is stubborn, but he makes sure to be calm about it.
She won't look at him. "This is hardly the time, it's only going to be…to be upsetting for - "
He cuts her off fiercely: "Don't do that. Don't give me the Lily van der Woodsen treatment, S. I fucking deserve better than that."
Wearily, she runs a hand over her face. "I'm going to bed." She walks behind the couch on her way out of the room, linger near him for a moment. "Goodnight, Nate."
He doesn't reply.
Serena reads a lot.
In Book Club they read The Time Traveller's Wife and The History of Love (both of which are really good books, in Nate's opinion, except for the fact that they are totally girly), but Serena gets sort of obsessed with Fitzgerald and Kerouac and Garcia Marquez.
She reads on the law a lot, lying on her stomach with her legs kicked into the air, or on a floatable mattress in the pool, or sitting on the beach with a huge umbrella providing shade and her toes buried in the sand.
"Well," says Cece, her eyebrows arched regally, "this is certainly one of your better summer habits, Serena."
Nate hides his smile at that comment, but secretly he wonders why she's started reading so much so very suddenly. He wonders if she's trying to escape him.
He goes back to the city for a couple days at his mother's request.
To his surprise, Serena tags along.
She exchanges flip-flops and bathing suits for a slim-cut white skirt and a fluttery black top. She puts her hair up neatly and wears heels and makes perfect small-talk with Anne all through dinner.
When Serena leaves the room to powder her nose Nate watches his mother spin the Vanderbilt diamond around on her finger.
"Mom," he warns before she can say a word.
She sighs wistfully. "Oh, Nathaniel."
Afterward, he sits on the steps outside with Serena, waiting for Arthur to drive over and pick her up, even though it's only a couple blocks to her building.
"What are you doing?" he asks her. He feels tired and lost.
Serena pulls the pins roughly out of her hair, lets waves of gold tumble down onto her shoulder.
"I don't know," she whispers.
It sounds like she might be crying, so he doesn't ask her to stop.
She brings two grande lattes to the steps of the Met. They sit together and sip their coffee as they watch the sunset.
Nate is very careful not to sit close enough to touch her. He says, "I did not sign up to be your Blair replacement for the summer."
"What did you sign up to be?" she giggles.
Back in the Hamptons, they get competitive over croquet.
"You hit that twice!"
"I did no such thing."
"You did!"
"Did not!"
"You cheated."
"Did not."
Nate drops his mallet to the ground and extends his hands outward helplessly. "Will you ever let me win!"
She pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head and punches him very lightly in the stomach.
"Eventually," she says.
Her smile is soft and fleeting.
One afternoon Nate goes to meet Serena for Book Club, and Cece waves him out into the backyard.
Serena's lying outside, half-asleep in a lounge chair. She's wearing a bathing suit he recognizes from two summers ago. It's a black string bikini, help up with perfect little bows that are just begging to be pulled loose. She looks like sin, like sex, her hair all tousled and her lips pink and glossy and her cheeks flushed pink from the time she's spent in the sun.
He turns around and leaves her yard, walks straight into town and flirts with a pretty redhead.
They spend the whole day together, and she invites him to a party that night, and he whispers, "Let's go to your place," into her ear after he's lost count of the number of beers he's chugged.
She gives him a sultry smile and a nod, so they leave, and they have sex on top of her pink-and-white striped comforter, and Nate tries really hard not to think of Serena.
That doesn't mean he succeeds.
Serena gives him his space - that's one thing that she's always been good at.
When she finally does show up at his house, she brings him his favourite kind of smoothie (unfair) and she's wearing terrycloth shorts that barely cover her ass (very unfair) and a Manchester United shirt of his from forever ago (super unfair).
"You missed Book Club."
"Yeah." He feels like crap. He wants to touch her; he misses the way she feels.
She takes a sip from the straw before she hands over the smoothie. "Why?"
The cup is too cold in his hands. He stares down at it as he mutters, "Sometimes I hate you."
She doesn't move. She doesn't seem surprised.
"I know," she says, like she understands.
"She's just…" Nate starts to whine and then stops, unsure of how to finish his sentence. He struggles to find words.
Chuck sounds amused. He does not ask who Nate is talking about when he prompts, "She's just what?"
"She's, like…incapable of clothing," he declares. She wanders around in tiny little everything, exposing miles of tanned legs and perfect, long arms and cleavage.
Nate notices. And he notices the way other people (men) notice.
Even over the phone, Chuck's smirk can be felt. "You know she'd never turn you down, Nathaniel."
He frowns, thinking of her birthday and the way she'd been with him, limbs all wrapped around his body and desperate kisses, and the way she'd looked the next morning, like she'd been torn apart.
"That's not the way it works," he decides.
"Fuck her and get it over with."
Nate laughs, and he misses his best friend fiercely even as he says, "Don't say that about my girlfri - my - Serena," he finishes lamely.
Chuck laughs, clearly still amused, but he mercifully changes the subject.
The day Serena's grandmother buys her a horse, the two of them go riding together. He sits behind her in the saddle, cautious about how he touches her. The soft black leggings she's wearing are tucked into her riding boots and her shirt is yellow and long-sleeved. He wraps his arms around her waist tentatively, lets his hands rest against her stomach. He realizes that they match - his surf shorts and yellow-and-black plaid.
The sun beats down. He can feel his pulse, or maybe Serena's, or maybe both.
He leans into her and whispers, "Spoiled brat." He still can't believe that she just showed up in his yard today, full of energy and the casual declaration of oh yeah, Grandma bought me a horse.
She giggles and he feels the way her abs tighten up beneath his fingers and it's kind of really hot.
"I love her," she sighs, content, and pats the horse gently.
Love me, he thinks but does not say.
Instead he asks: "What will you call her?"
"I think…Willow." She slouches back a bit, leaning into his chest.
Daringly, he lets his lips linger on her neck, at a point just below her ear. "That's pretty."
She sighs again, tilting her head to give him better access. His heart is pounding (or maybe hers is). "Nate."
Willow moves at a steady pace, weaving through trees; Serena's hold on her reigns is loose. He doesn't want to ruin this moment, wants to hang onto it for as long as possible.
"Shh," he murmurs, letting his lips pressed against her neck a properly this time. He wraps his arms around her a little more securely.
"Nate, I - "
He stops her with a kiss, and her mouth opens against his immediately, no hesitation whatsoever. He doesn't know where they're going anymore, doesn't really care, all he knows is how much he wants her. One of his hands drifts upward, skimming over her chest, and that's when he feels the outline of a thin chain tucked beneath her shirt. She's wearing a necklace.
Serena breaks the kiss the moment he discovers it, looks at him with bright and troubled eyes. He's not sure how he didn't notice it before; he finds the chain where it rests against her neck and tugs it upward.
The charm on her necklace is an anchor.
It's the present he gave her for her birthday.
She doesn't speak so he doesn't either. They are silent the entire ride home.
Outside the stables, he dismounts and reaches out a hand to help her off the horse. He still doesn't know what the right thing to say is.
When she's standing in front of him, she says, "I want…for us to be friends."
He stays quiet, still. Being her friend means not being her boyfriend. Being her friend means loving her in only certain ways. Being her friend can be painfully exhausting.
Serena takes his lack of response as an answer. She breathes in sharply and leads Willow away.
Days ago, before the moment Nate wishes had never happened, he promised to attend Cece's garden party.
So he shows up, linen slacks and a pale blue blazer. He doesn't know many people there, other than his parents' friends, so he befriends the bartender and sticks close to the alcohol.
Serena shows up dateless, which surprises him and makes his heart leap in a completely unfounded way (was he supposed to be her date?). Her dress is sky blue, almost the colour of his blazer, and short, cut low in the front and very low in the back, and her shoes do wonderful things to her legs.
(She hurts his eyes.)
He misses the days when she'd greet him with a long, deep kiss and all of a sudden he'd be the envy of at least half the guys in the room.
"Grandma said I should say hi," is how she greets him.
"Manners." Nate finishes his drink in one smooth swallow. "Awesome."
He feels the way she bristles beside him and knows that he's hurt her.
"Well." Her voice is crisp and blank. "Have a good party."
Nate looks at her and goes to speak - possibly to mention that he will have a good party, he saw a pretty girl earlier; though it's more probable that he'll just apologize.
But then he sees her necklace. His necklace, that he gave her, sitting on her skin like it belongs there.
Fuck.
Cece is there, suddenly, with two of her friends, and suddenly he's shaking hands and smiling while they coo over how beautiful Serena's become since they saw her last.
"Oh," one of them says, a hand to her heart, "what an utterly precious couple you two make."
"Oh, yes," the other is quick to agree.
Next to him, Serena goes totally still, and he feels his polite smile falter.
"Henriette," the first woman says to her companion. "You'll have to leave the name of that amazing wedding photographer." She winks at Serena. "You'd look like such an angel in a white dress."
Nate does not, does not, think of another garden party two summers ago, her hair and her dress and her mouth, her sympathy and the sparkle in her eyes that accompanied you totally can. He just doesn't.
Henriette nods enthusiastically, misty-eyed as she regards them. "Cece," she sighs, "just think of how gorgeous their babies would be."
He makes sure to exhale slowly. He doesn't know what his heart is doing all the way up in his throat, but he'd really like it to go back down.
Serena reaches for his hand. Her nails dig into his palm.
"Yes," Cece says, her tone even and airy, "They're quite the pair."
"Thank you," Serena tells the woman, her voice a subtle echo of her grandmother's. "But…marriage, and…"
"Babies," Nate fills in for her with a quick, boyish grin at the woman. He holds tight to Serena's hand. "Those are pretty far off."
Henriette smiles sagely. "Time sneaks up on you, young man."
If Serena holds his hand any harder, bones will break.
Cece grants them an escape: "Serena, darling, will you go inside and check with the caterer to make sure everything's running smoothly? Take Nathaniel with you."
They say their goodbyes and as they move away, Nate breathes, "Whoa," very quietly, trying to break some of the tension.
As soon as they're out of sight, Serena runs. She flees from him, from the party, from the yard - her shoes kicked off along the way.
Nate does not go after her.
She crawls into his bed, shaky and shivering, her skin cool from the night air. She's wearing pyjama pants and a polka-dotted tank top, no sweater or shoes; she presses her ice-cold feet against his calves.
"Did I ruin us?" she asks him quietly.
She's curled up to him and they fit together just like they always have. "No," he tells her.
Her eyes glimmer in the darkness. "We were friends before."
"I loved you. Then. Before. I loved you, then, too."
She props herself up on an elbow. "But you…you pretended not to."
"And you let me."
"Yeah." She bites her lip. "Why can't we pretend again?"
Nate sighs heavily. She's still shivering, so he sits up and folds his arms around her. "It hurts too much, now," he says against her hair.
"I ruined us." She presses her face into his chest, shuddering. "I wish we could pretend forever."
tbc.
Chapter | 1/2
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Nate/Serena
Summary | The ways they make up and break up in the summer of 2010.
The first time he sees her after they break up, she's wearing the smallest shorts he has ever seen. They're peach-coloured PJ bottoms with vertical white stripes and lace around the openings for her legs - and beneath them her legs go on and on forever, tan and lean.
Just like the last time they saw one another, they're in a hospital. Only this time it's the middle of the night instead of the afternoon, it's not a joyous occasion but a horrifying one, and they're in Prague.
It's been two weeks. Nate has spent forty-two straight hours sleeping, has had sex with approximately ten girls, and has had coffee with Dan once. He's decided, now that he's had some time to think, that it's not Dan's fault or Serena's fault or anyone's fault, really - but that doesn't mean it sucks (hurts) any less.
He hugs Blair first (because she's shaking and pissed off and her voice is doing that scary thing where it gets sharper with each sentence) and gives her his sweater (because she's standing there in nothing but a flimsy nightgown and sandals).
"Is he okay?" he asks quietly.
"I don't know." Blair stomps her foot and presses her lips together until they turn white. "I don't care."
That is the statement that forces him to look over at Serena, to share a knowing glance with her, because Blair is so obviously lying.
Serena sighs, glancing back at Blair. "My mom will be here soon, and we'll know more then…"
"Did you not hear me?" Blair's voice peaks at a point as sharp as a shard of glass, and Nate sees his wince reflected on Serena's face. "I. Do. Not. Care."
"Right." Serena tugs her into a half-hug, Blair fitting neatly underneath one of her long arms. "I know," she soothes - convincingly, as if she truly believes what Blair's saying.
Nate looks away from them.
He hates the ways they play pretend.
Nate spends a week in Prague. He visits Chuck everyday. He does a little research and snooping to see if he can locate the thugs who shot his best friend. With a bullet. His head is still reeling from the very thought, never mind the fact that it really, truly happened.
He does not stay at the same hotel as Blair and Serena (and Lily and Eric, once they arrive). He hardly sees the girls, except when they run into each other in the hospital's halls. He chills with Eric for a few hours here and there, and one night he does take Blair out to dinner. During the meal she talks to him more honestly than he thinks she's ever spoken to him before, mostly about Chuck; she lets him in on everything that's happening and a lot of what she's feeling, even though she insists that she is not crying, she just has an eye infection since she's barely been sleeping recently.
Late one night, Serena brings him a cup of crappy hospital coffee. He says thanks and she says you're welcome, and that's the end of that.
Fate, he decides, is pretty cruel.
He doesn't really talk to Serena, so they never really discuss each other's travel plans - he only hears whispers from Blair about how Serena's planning to head back to the States soon, while Blair stays on in Prague for a while, to "ensure that Chuck does not commit anymore idiotic acts".
And that's how Serena ends up on his flight.
She arrives to the gate late, of course, a whirlwind of blonde hair and expensive luggage, an apologetic smile on her lips. The other passengers turn to stare, to look at her as she explains her tardiness to the all-too-understanding man currently inspecting her boarding pass. Nate doesn't look at her; he turns around and walks onto the plane, but he somehow still notices how she's not wearing any makeup and her cheeks are getting freckled like they always do in the summertime and that the brown skirt she's wearing beneath her lacy white shirt looks like it's made of soft fabric.
He throws his backpack into the overhead bin and settles into his seat - he's got the aisle, so he waits for whoever's in the window seat next to him before really getting comfortable and buckling his belt up.
It's Serena. Of course.
She looks at his face and then at her boarding pass and then at the number over the seat before her gaze settles on his face again. Nate stands up wordlessly and lets her slide past him, bitter that he has to sit next to her when she looks so fucking perfect and that there's clearly no justice in the world since she even gets the window seat.
Takeoff is bumpy. Nate stares at the back of the seat in front of him while Serena looks out the window, at the clouds around them and the ground below. They hit an air pocket, and for a moment he loses his center of gravity. In his peripheral vision, during that moment, he watches the way Serena's fingers wrap around the armrest, her knuckles turning white.
He doesn't do anything, though; it's not his job to hold her hand anymore.
They're an hour into the flight when Serena gently yanks his earphones out. He keeps his eyes on the little screen embedded into the seat in front of him instead of looking over at her. He could probably watch a movie without hearing any of the dialogue or music. They used to make silent films, after all.
"Nate."
Her voice is soft and familiar and it feels wrong, that she can say his name now and that it sounds the same way it did muffled against his pillows.
She's silent for a few seconds, giving him time. But he doesn't answer, and then she says it again, "Nate." After several more seconds of quiet, she adds, "You're really not going to speak to me?"
He can't look at her. He can't. If he does then he'll think of that Ivy Mixer back in high school, and how the hurt in her eyes then probably matches the hurt in her eyes now, and how they've blown so many chances that it was stupid of him to believe that they'd ever work out - looking at her, it'd be his undoing.
There is a tiny hitch in her breathing then, and he exhales fast as he blurts, "What's there to talk about?"
She winds the cord of his headphones around her fingers and doesn't say anything.
Finally, he snatches the gossip magazine she was reading off of her lap.
"What - "
He huffs, annoyed at her and annoyed at himself. He flips pages rapidly as he tells her, "I'm gonna read you your horoscope."
He still doesn't look at her, but he can feel the warmth of her sudden smile.
In Manhattan, they go their separate ways. Nate goes back to his official summer routine - girls and liquor and the occasional phone call to Dan.
There's no answer, even though he phones Dan twice on his cell phone and once on the number for the loft, and he gets a sinking feeling in his chest when he realizes Dan might be out somewhere with Serena.
There is an earthquake in New York.
It's not that big a deal - it's a 5.5 on the Richter scale, similar to the one that hit Canada just a few days earlier; it causes minimal property damage and not a single injury.
Nonetheless, Nate feels the rumble of the ground, even up on the twenty-somethingth floor of The Empire. He gets out of bed in only his boxers to look at the window, to stare down at the ground. The girl in his bed smokes a cigarette while she waits for him.
Almost twenty minutes later there's a knock on the door, and Nate assumes it's just one of the Empire's employees checking in, so he's shocked to see Serena standing in front of him.
She's wearing a pretty green dress and flat linen shoes and there are wisps of hair coming loose from her braid. They stare at each other for a couple moments and Nate doesn't mind, he just drinks in the look of her.
"Hey," she finally murmurs. She looks just as surprised as he feels. "I just…I don't know. I wanted to make sure you were okay."
There's something like fading panic in her eyes and he doesn't understand it (she broke up with him).
"I'm fine."
She smiles, hesitant as she corrects him teasingly, "You're lazy," with her eyes taking in the way he looks, boxers and messy hair.
"Yeah, well…" He doesn't say much but he can't help but smile back.
"Listen," she begins, inching a little closer, "since I'm here…"
The girl steps out of his bedroom in nothing but her lacy underwear. She looks at Serena, curious but unapologetic, as she calls, "Nate? You coming…?"
Serena's face closes off then, losing all of its friendliness and hopefulness and going blank, but not before he sees the quickest flash of unadulterated heartbreak play over her features.
"I shouldn't have," is all she says before she whirls around and walks away.
Nate says Serena's name in bed and the girl he's with doesn't seem to notice but he makes her leave afterward anyway.
He can't stop thinking about it. She had no right to stand in his doorway and look at him like that, as though he was betraying her.
He storms over to her suite on a rainy night.
"You broke up with me."
She's sitting on the couch, drinking lemonade and reading a book that she sets aside when she sees him. Incredulously, she asks, "Are you drunk?"
"No. Maybe. A little bit." She's got this delicate look in her blue eyes, and he hates it; it's unfair. "You hurt me. You can't keep acting like I hurt you."
Serena doesn't move. "You did hurt me," she says quietly.
"I didn't want to. I was trying to…to protect you."
"Nate, this isn't the time to talk about - "
He sits heavily on a chair, suddenly tired. "I think I love you too much."
Her mouth snaps shut.
"Can we skip this part? The part where it hurts and it's hard and it's not the time to talk? We've done this already."
"Nate," she pleads, a tremor in her voice.
"It doesn't fix anything." He wishes she'd understand. "You can leave or you can break up with me but it doesn't change anything."
She looks down, but not before he catches the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "Maybe you deserve better."
He shakes his head. "Can you just…let me? Can it just be okay for me to love you?"
"You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying." She stands up and crosses her arms over her chest. "You should go home."
"I walked here." He doesn't want to walk back.
"I can tell." She runs her fingers gently through his rain-soaked hair. "I'll get Arthur to drive you back, and when you get home you need to put on something dry, okay?"
"Serena." He touches her wrist; her skin is so soft.
She freezes. "What?"
"Are you with Dan?"
All of the tension in her body seems to seep away. "No," she says, and he knows she's telling the truth.
"Why not?"
She sighs as her fingers slip into his hair again. She lets him lean into her, his head against her abdomen. He closes his eyes.
"Because I think I love you too much," she says simply.
He brings her croissants and Audrey on a Sunday morning and her sleepy smile looks like forgiveness.
She doesn't even make him watch Tiffany's.
She's not his girlfriend anymore but it's still his responsibility to make sure she has a good birthday. Eric's at Elliot's cottage, her mother and Rufus are in Tobago, her best friend and her stepbrother are still in Europe. He's the only one who's even with her, and he knows he has to make this birthday the best one ever.
He does some organizing. He finds a place that delivers awesome helium balloons. He goes to a florist and finds a pretty bouquet. He buys a double-chocolate cake. He already has a present, an anchor-shaped diamond necklace he purchased while they were dating on the stupid assumption that they'd still be together by mid-July.
He calls Chuck to get permission from security for late-night access to the family suite. He wraps up the box the necklace is in and sticks a candle into a cupcake; he wants to surprise her exactly at midnight.
She's in bed, asleep, so he perches on the mattress and makes sure not to frighten her. He whispers happy birthday as she slowly comes awake.
"Nate?" she whispers back as she sits up, blinking slowly.
"Hey." He holds out the cupcake, careful to make sure that the flame of the candle comes nowhere near her hair. "Make a wish."
She smiles at him in the flickering light before she leans forward a bit and blows out the flame.
"What did you wish for?" he teases. Her room is dark now, save for the pale glow of the moonlight coming in through the window.
She doesn't answer.
But she does kiss him.
It's this slow, lingering, perfect birthday kiss, her mouth moving in easy rhythm with his. He savours it, lets himself sink into and drown in the feel of her. And then she lays back against the pillows, taking him with her, still kissing, as she kicks her blankets aside.
He groans into her mouth as one of her legs hooks around his hips. He didn't plan on this happening tonight, but she's beautiful and stretched out beneath him in nothing but a silky little pyjama set and god, he's missed her.
"Nate…" she sighs as he trails his lips down her neck.
"Shh," he says against her skin, slipping his hands beneath her shirt.
She reaches between their bodies to unbutton his pants.
They don't talk after that.
When he wakes up in the morning, Serena's standing by the window in a robe tied closed tightly. Her eyes are red, like she's been crying.
"I want you to go."
He sits up, confused. "What - "
"It was a mistake. Last night shouldn't have happened."
"Serena." He blinks. "C'mere for a minute, let's just talk about it."
"No. It was…stupid." She won't look at him. "I want - I want you to leave."
He can't catch up, can't understand what she's thinking. She shouldn't be crying, especially not on her birthday, and he feels guilty but he doesn't know why this is happening - his memories from last night are good ones, her giggling and the quiet way she moaned his name, the incredible feel of her and the way they got so perfectly tangled up in one another.
"Nate. Please. I want you to go."
"Serena," he tries in a gentle voice.
But she walks into her bathroom and slams the door closed behind her and he knows she won't come out until he's gone.
So he goes. He leaves her gift and he still sends all the other things - cake and balloons and even flowers, but he hears nothing from her for the rest of the day.
He finds out from Blair that Serena left for the Hamptons on her birthday.
"Your girlfriend is at her grandmother's summer house," she says.
"She's not my girlfriend."
"Technicalities, Nate." He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Get on the Jitney," she orders.
He doesn't know how she knows when he gets there - maybe from Blair - but two minutes after he steps off the Jitney his cell phone beeps and the text message reads:
about time, Archibald.
A couple days later he arrives at Cece's house at half past seven in the morning. Serena is sitting on the back deck in an old nightie, her tangled hair thrown into a ponytail and her bare feet resting on another chair. There's food spread across the table in front of her, but most of it appears untouched.
She looks at him, bleary eyes and sunshine smile.
"Hey, Natie," she says.
He smiles back and she moves her feet off the other chair so that he can sit down. Reaching over, he takes a long drink of her mimosa.
"Ew," she teases softly as she watches him. "Backwash."
Nate's smile widens. He grabs a fork and cuts a piece of off a crêpe; around his mouthful, he tells her, "I'm helping you eat your breakfast."
She looks more relaxed, then, rolling her eyes and finishing off her drink. He tries very hard not to wonder if their mouths touched the same places on the glass.
Neither of them eat the strawberries, but they don't talk about why.
"Naaaaate."
"Mmph," he responds, burrowing further into his blankets.
'Nate." Something hard and square hits his arm. "Wake up."
He doesn't open his eyes as he groans, "Why?"
She tugs on his ear. "It's past noon, sleepyhead."
"It's summer. I'm relaxing."
"Nate." He can hear from her voice that she's pouting, which isn't really fair. "We have to go."
"No, we don't." With a sigh, he finally opens his eyes, drinking in the sight of her. Her skirt is ocean blue and her skirt is white, flimsy enough for him to see her pink bikini top through it, and he wonders, "How did you get in here?"
She smiles triumphantly. "Your staff loves me."
"Of course they do."
"Up and at 'em," Serena insists. She's standing by his bed, and he knows she's hesitant to actually sit on it.
That bothers him, so he sits up and reaches for her, wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her toward him.
"Nate!" she squeaks, and it feels like a mistake instantly when his hand grazes her breast and her knee digs into his thigh. She's breathing quickly and he's already half-naked and she's on his bed and he could so easily slip a hand under her skirt…
Serena licks her lips and ducks her head shyly, and Nate makes himself focus.
"Why," he begins, tickling her ribs lightly, "have you barged into my room at this ungodly hour?"
She looks at him through her eyelashes (and she's too beautiful, right at that moment; he can't fault himself for missing her). "Book Club," she says, pointing to the two identical novels sitting on his nightstand. "If you don't get up we're going to be late."
"Book Club?" He latches onto the idea, the familiarity and the comfort of it, even as he whines, "Again?"
"For real, this time," she says insistently.
They both freeze when she says that, and he flashes back to two summers ago, her hand linked with his and the citrus-y smell of her hair and the way she'd always share his wicker chair, all cuddled up to him, to how real it was even when it was pretend.
He wants to go back to that day in the hospital and say no, no breaks, no breaking up - don't you know how long it took us to get here?
Serena digs her teeth into her bottom lip. "We're going to actually read the books this time, I mean."
Suddenly he's annoyed with her, and annoyed with himself, but it's summertime and she's Serena and on his bed, so all he does is whine, "That's too much work for the summer."
"So, what, you're going to sleep all day everyday?"
"Yes?" he asks optimistically.
"Na-a-te."
"Se-re-na."
Her lower lip pokes out and her hands tangle in his sheets.
He echoes her expression and her eyes widen.
"We have to be productive or B will yell at us in September," she says.
"You're not scared of Blair."
She smirks. "But you should be."
He gasps at her but he doesn't have time to reply before she's hopping up off his bed and throwing a t-shirt at his face.
"Get dressed," she says as she saunters out of the room, taking both books with her.
Nate gets up a moment after she leaves and pulls on a pair of shorts. He's always followed her. There's no reason to stop now.
Eric comes to the Hamptons for a week, and he brings Elliott with him. Serena bounces on the balls of her feet as they wait for the car to pull up.
"I'm so happy that he's happy," she says, her voice as soft and as warm as the summer breeze.
Nate looks at her, at the way her hair is messily braided and the way the evening shadows play over her face, highlighting her cheekbones.
Somehow, in that moment, she looks younger.
He wants her to be happy, too.
The entire time Elliott and Eric are there, Nate's whole life feels like one endless double-date.
He and Serena accompany the boys on shopping trips and sundae-making missions and dinners with Cece. Nate takes Elliott to his favourite lake to give S and E some alone time to hang out.
A few times, he casually tries to excuse himself, but every time Serena looks right at him and says, "No, I want you to come."
"Why'd you do it?"
It's three o'clock in the morning, or maybe even later. Eric and Elliott are passed out on the carpeted floor, soundly asleep. Nate and Serena are sitting at opposite ends of the couch. There's a movie on the TV but the volume's turned down so low that the dialogue is no longer audible.
"Do what?"
"Break it - us - off."
She curls into her side of the couch. "Nate…"
"Tell me why. Why'd you kiss Dan, why'd you say you needed time when - "
"Nate." The sharp note in her quiet voice halts his words. "This isn't the time to talk about that."
"I think it's the time to talk about it." He is stubborn, but he makes sure to be calm about it.
She won't look at him. "This is hardly the time, it's only going to be…to be upsetting for - "
He cuts her off fiercely: "Don't do that. Don't give me the Lily van der Woodsen treatment, S. I fucking deserve better than that."
Wearily, she runs a hand over her face. "I'm going to bed." She walks behind the couch on her way out of the room, linger near him for a moment. "Goodnight, Nate."
He doesn't reply.
Serena reads a lot.
In Book Club they read The Time Traveller's Wife and The History of Love (both of which are really good books, in Nate's opinion, except for the fact that they are totally girly), but Serena gets sort of obsessed with Fitzgerald and Kerouac and Garcia Marquez.
She reads on the law a lot, lying on her stomach with her legs kicked into the air, or on a floatable mattress in the pool, or sitting on the beach with a huge umbrella providing shade and her toes buried in the sand.
"Well," says Cece, her eyebrows arched regally, "this is certainly one of your better summer habits, Serena."
Nate hides his smile at that comment, but secretly he wonders why she's started reading so much so very suddenly. He wonders if she's trying to escape him.
He goes back to the city for a couple days at his mother's request.
To his surprise, Serena tags along.
She exchanges flip-flops and bathing suits for a slim-cut white skirt and a fluttery black top. She puts her hair up neatly and wears heels and makes perfect small-talk with Anne all through dinner.
When Serena leaves the room to powder her nose Nate watches his mother spin the Vanderbilt diamond around on her finger.
"Mom," he warns before she can say a word.
She sighs wistfully. "Oh, Nathaniel."
Afterward, he sits on the steps outside with Serena, waiting for Arthur to drive over and pick her up, even though it's only a couple blocks to her building.
"What are you doing?" he asks her. He feels tired and lost.
Serena pulls the pins roughly out of her hair, lets waves of gold tumble down onto her shoulder.
"I don't know," she whispers.
It sounds like she might be crying, so he doesn't ask her to stop.
She brings two grande lattes to the steps of the Met. They sit together and sip their coffee as they watch the sunset.
Nate is very careful not to sit close enough to touch her. He says, "I did not sign up to be your Blair replacement for the summer."
"What did you sign up to be?" she giggles.
Back in the Hamptons, they get competitive over croquet.
"You hit that twice!"
"I did no such thing."
"You did!"
"Did not!"
"You cheated."
"Did not."
Nate drops his mallet to the ground and extends his hands outward helplessly. "Will you ever let me win!"
She pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head and punches him very lightly in the stomach.
"Eventually," she says.
Her smile is soft and fleeting.
One afternoon Nate goes to meet Serena for Book Club, and Cece waves him out into the backyard.
Serena's lying outside, half-asleep in a lounge chair. She's wearing a bathing suit he recognizes from two summers ago. It's a black string bikini, help up with perfect little bows that are just begging to be pulled loose. She looks like sin, like sex, her hair all tousled and her lips pink and glossy and her cheeks flushed pink from the time she's spent in the sun.
He turns around and leaves her yard, walks straight into town and flirts with a pretty redhead.
They spend the whole day together, and she invites him to a party that night, and he whispers, "Let's go to your place," into her ear after he's lost count of the number of beers he's chugged.
She gives him a sultry smile and a nod, so they leave, and they have sex on top of her pink-and-white striped comforter, and Nate tries really hard not to think of Serena.
That doesn't mean he succeeds.
Serena gives him his space - that's one thing that she's always been good at.
When she finally does show up at his house, she brings him his favourite kind of smoothie (unfair) and she's wearing terrycloth shorts that barely cover her ass (very unfair) and a Manchester United shirt of his from forever ago (super unfair).
"You missed Book Club."
"Yeah." He feels like crap. He wants to touch her; he misses the way she feels.
She takes a sip from the straw before she hands over the smoothie. "Why?"
The cup is too cold in his hands. He stares down at it as he mutters, "Sometimes I hate you."
She doesn't move. She doesn't seem surprised.
"I know," she says, like she understands.
"She's just…" Nate starts to whine and then stops, unsure of how to finish his sentence. He struggles to find words.
Chuck sounds amused. He does not ask who Nate is talking about when he prompts, "She's just what?"
"She's, like…incapable of clothing," he declares. She wanders around in tiny little everything, exposing miles of tanned legs and perfect, long arms and cleavage.
Nate notices. And he notices the way other people (men) notice.
Even over the phone, Chuck's smirk can be felt. "You know she'd never turn you down, Nathaniel."
He frowns, thinking of her birthday and the way she'd been with him, limbs all wrapped around his body and desperate kisses, and the way she'd looked the next morning, like she'd been torn apart.
"That's not the way it works," he decides.
"Fuck her and get it over with."
Nate laughs, and he misses his best friend fiercely even as he says, "Don't say that about my girlfri - my - Serena," he finishes lamely.
Chuck laughs, clearly still amused, but he mercifully changes the subject.
The day Serena's grandmother buys her a horse, the two of them go riding together. He sits behind her in the saddle, cautious about how he touches her. The soft black leggings she's wearing are tucked into her riding boots and her shirt is yellow and long-sleeved. He wraps his arms around her waist tentatively, lets his hands rest against her stomach. He realizes that they match - his surf shorts and yellow-and-black plaid.
The sun beats down. He can feel his pulse, or maybe Serena's, or maybe both.
He leans into her and whispers, "Spoiled brat." He still can't believe that she just showed up in his yard today, full of energy and the casual declaration of oh yeah, Grandma bought me a horse.
She giggles and he feels the way her abs tighten up beneath his fingers and it's kind of really hot.
"I love her," she sighs, content, and pats the horse gently.
Love me, he thinks but does not say.
Instead he asks: "What will you call her?"
"I think…Willow." She slouches back a bit, leaning into his chest.
Daringly, he lets his lips linger on her neck, at a point just below her ear. "That's pretty."
She sighs again, tilting her head to give him better access. His heart is pounding (or maybe hers is). "Nate."
Willow moves at a steady pace, weaving through trees; Serena's hold on her reigns is loose. He doesn't want to ruin this moment, wants to hang onto it for as long as possible.
"Shh," he murmurs, letting his lips pressed against her neck a properly this time. He wraps his arms around her a little more securely.
"Nate, I - "
He stops her with a kiss, and her mouth opens against his immediately, no hesitation whatsoever. He doesn't know where they're going anymore, doesn't really care, all he knows is how much he wants her. One of his hands drifts upward, skimming over her chest, and that's when he feels the outline of a thin chain tucked beneath her shirt. She's wearing a necklace.
Serena breaks the kiss the moment he discovers it, looks at him with bright and troubled eyes. He's not sure how he didn't notice it before; he finds the chain where it rests against her neck and tugs it upward.
The charm on her necklace is an anchor.
It's the present he gave her for her birthday.
She doesn't speak so he doesn't either. They are silent the entire ride home.
Outside the stables, he dismounts and reaches out a hand to help her off the horse. He still doesn't know what the right thing to say is.
When she's standing in front of him, she says, "I want…for us to be friends."
He stays quiet, still. Being her friend means not being her boyfriend. Being her friend means loving her in only certain ways. Being her friend can be painfully exhausting.
Serena takes his lack of response as an answer. She breathes in sharply and leads Willow away.
Days ago, before the moment Nate wishes had never happened, he promised to attend Cece's garden party.
So he shows up, linen slacks and a pale blue blazer. He doesn't know many people there, other than his parents' friends, so he befriends the bartender and sticks close to the alcohol.
Serena shows up dateless, which surprises him and makes his heart leap in a completely unfounded way (was he supposed to be her date?). Her dress is sky blue, almost the colour of his blazer, and short, cut low in the front and very low in the back, and her shoes do wonderful things to her legs.
(She hurts his eyes.)
He misses the days when she'd greet him with a long, deep kiss and all of a sudden he'd be the envy of at least half the guys in the room.
"Grandma said I should say hi," is how she greets him.
"Manners." Nate finishes his drink in one smooth swallow. "Awesome."
He feels the way she bristles beside him and knows that he's hurt her.
"Well." Her voice is crisp and blank. "Have a good party."
Nate looks at her and goes to speak - possibly to mention that he will have a good party, he saw a pretty girl earlier; though it's more probable that he'll just apologize.
But then he sees her necklace. His necklace, that he gave her, sitting on her skin like it belongs there.
Fuck.
Cece is there, suddenly, with two of her friends, and suddenly he's shaking hands and smiling while they coo over how beautiful Serena's become since they saw her last.
"Oh," one of them says, a hand to her heart, "what an utterly precious couple you two make."
"Oh, yes," the other is quick to agree.
Next to him, Serena goes totally still, and he feels his polite smile falter.
"Henriette," the first woman says to her companion. "You'll have to leave the name of that amazing wedding photographer." She winks at Serena. "You'd look like such an angel in a white dress."
Nate does not, does not, think of another garden party two summers ago, her hair and her dress and her mouth, her sympathy and the sparkle in her eyes that accompanied you totally can. He just doesn't.
Henriette nods enthusiastically, misty-eyed as she regards them. "Cece," she sighs, "just think of how gorgeous their babies would be."
He makes sure to exhale slowly. He doesn't know what his heart is doing all the way up in his throat, but he'd really like it to go back down.
Serena reaches for his hand. Her nails dig into his palm.
"Yes," Cece says, her tone even and airy, "They're quite the pair."
"Thank you," Serena tells the woman, her voice a subtle echo of her grandmother's. "But…marriage, and…"
"Babies," Nate fills in for her with a quick, boyish grin at the woman. He holds tight to Serena's hand. "Those are pretty far off."
Henriette smiles sagely. "Time sneaks up on you, young man."
If Serena holds his hand any harder, bones will break.
Cece grants them an escape: "Serena, darling, will you go inside and check with the caterer to make sure everything's running smoothly? Take Nathaniel with you."
They say their goodbyes and as they move away, Nate breathes, "Whoa," very quietly, trying to break some of the tension.
As soon as they're out of sight, Serena runs. She flees from him, from the party, from the yard - her shoes kicked off along the way.
Nate does not go after her.
She crawls into his bed, shaky and shivering, her skin cool from the night air. She's wearing pyjama pants and a polka-dotted tank top, no sweater or shoes; she presses her ice-cold feet against his calves.
"Did I ruin us?" she asks him quietly.
She's curled up to him and they fit together just like they always have. "No," he tells her.
Her eyes glimmer in the darkness. "We were friends before."
"I loved you. Then. Before. I loved you, then, too."
She props herself up on an elbow. "But you…you pretended not to."
"And you let me."
"Yeah." She bites her lip. "Why can't we pretend again?"
Nate sighs heavily. She's still shivering, so he sits up and folds his arms around her. "It hurts too much, now," he says against her hair.
"I ruined us." She presses her face into his chest, shuddering. "I wish we could pretend forever."
tbc.