We're Not Falling In Love, We're Just Falling Apart

I woke to the sound of thunder mixed with the staccato thumping of rain against my skylight. Didn't I just fall asleep? How could it possibly be morning? Surely it wasn't morning.

I raised my pink silk sleep-mask just enough to see the florescent green numbers on my alarm clock and groaned in protest. Six fifteen already.

It was morning.

T-minus two hours till judgment day.

Forcing myself into a sitting position, I shoved aside my 2000 thread count sheets and floral duvet and reached for my Blackberry. I was dying to see not only if Gossip Girl was still operational since my previous days in Manhattan, but if she had anything to say about the events of last night.

"Oh shit," I muttered as soon as I logged in.

Sure enough, real as life, there was a snapshot of Nate and I at last night's gala caught up in each other's arms and carrying the caption: ”There were definite sparks seen flying between N and our old friend P last night at the annual Bass Industries Gala. With a fire this hot someone's bound to get burned. Time will only tell who that may be. XoXo Gossip Girl.”

“Fantastic,” I said bitterly. “Fucking fantastic.”

This was just what I needed on my first day back at school. As if the rumors the last time around hadn't been enough for a lifetime. And what must Nate be thinking?

I felt a familiar twinge in my stomach as his face flashed across my mind. That kiss last night, those few stolen moments, they had been amazing, perfect even. But obviously things weren't going to be that simple. He still had a lot of questions, a lot of questions that were perfectly within his right to ask but questions I wasn't quite ready to answer. I had honestly believed that leaving Manhattan those three long years ago would erase everything that had passed between us, but clearly that wasn't the case. This wasn't going to be a simple matter of picking up where we'd left off. And for the first time in my seventeen years I had no fucking clue what I was going to do.

There was a knock at my door and one of our maids poked her head in hesitantly.

“Ms. Pepper?” she asked, seeming a little taken aback by whatever look was still on my face. “Your mother asked me to give you this and tell you that breakfast is ready whenever you are.”

“Thanks,” I said with a half-hearted smile as she laid out a freshly pressed Constance Billard uniform on my velvet chaise lounge. “Tell her I'll be down in a few minutes.”

She nodded and left the room, the heavy door clicking closed behind her.

I slumped back on my bed, the view through my skylight nothing but gray skies and heavy clouds. For once the weather mirrored my mood. Today wasn't going to be an easy one.

I allowed myself exactly five more minutes of lying idle before I forced myself to get up and get dressed.

The proffered Constance plaid skirt was cut at a modest knee length which was quickly remedied by me rolling it up at the waistband till it sat snugly at mid thigh. Rosa could send it out later for tailoring. There was no way in hell I was getting caught dead in knee length, wool tartan. I might be in mourning for a happier time but I still had a reputation to uphold as a Wellington-Westford. We were nothing if not stylish.

My oxford shirt was tight across my chest in a way that I wasn't quite averse too and I left the top three buttons undone just enough to get a good view of my lacy black Agent Provocateur bra and all the cleavage contained within. If I were going to get Nate's attention I might as well appeal to his baser instincts.

Leaving my shirttails untucked, I pulled on a pair of black thigh-highs and my new suede Louboutin boots and too top it all off I knotted my mandatory school tie loosely around my neck and surveyed the effect in the mirror.

“Not bad,” I said aloud with a grin. At least if I was being forced to go to school today I was going looking damn good.

A bit of makeup and a spritz of Miss Dior Cherie later and I was walking into the breakfast room carrying my brown leather messenger bag and an umbrella.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” my mother said, surveying my outfit with obvious distaste. “Must you flout the rules so early in your career at Constance, my darling?”

“Mother,” I said, bypassing the pastries and grabbing an apple. “We both know that you and Robert pay Constance more than enough money to ensure that Evelyn and I could go to school entirely naked for half the year before they would dare say anything. I doubt a raised hemline is going to cause a stir.”

“Your step sister already left,” Robert said a moment later when he noticed me looking around. “She had a very important engagement to keep with that Bass boy.”

I wrinkled up my nose.

“Chuck Bass? Ew. Why?”

“Hell if I know,” he answered. “I love that girl more than anything in this universe but I'll be damned if I know a single thing that goes on in that head of hers."

I laughed and looked at him fondly. For husband number five, Robert was turning out to be a pretty decent guy.

“I'll see if I can't scout out a few answers for you,” I said with a grin. “See you two tonight.”

I tossed my apple core on the table and took the elevator down to the lobby.

“It's a rough one out there today, Ms. Westford,” the doorman said. “Would you like me to call a cab?”

“Not necessary, Marcus,” I said, unsnapping the band around the base of my umbrella. “A little rain never killed anyone, right?”

Before he could answer, I was out the door and off down the street, the rain falling heavy above me and causing the less well equipped pedestrians to duck for cover under nearby awnings and overhangs. I smiled a bit to myself, plugged in my iPod's earbuds, and started the ten block hike to school. I didn't care that the water was wreaking havoc on my new boots, I didn't care that my hair would surely have gone wavy by the time I got to school, I didn't even care that it was terribly unfashionable to arrive at Constance on foot. No, all I cared about right now was the fact that I couldn't get Nate Archibald off of my mind for the first time in months and I wasn't about to start complaining.

Do we detect a little love in the air? Or is that just the stench of desperation? Careful P, with the way things ended last night you had better have packed your boxing gloves. You're in for a hell of a fight. You Know You Love Me. XoXo, Gossip Girl