friedclairsalad

[friedclairsalad]

Empire of Secrets

(nate archibald) (chapter four: this is why we don't play dare)

The hallways of Constance Billard buzzed with the usual morning chatter as Claire and Jenny strolled side by side, books in hand. Their conversation was light, filled with laughter as they discussed everything from their upcoming classes to the latest school gossip.

“I swear, if I get another history paper, I might actually lose my mind,” Claire sighed dramatically, adjusting the strap of her bag.

Jenny giggled. “You and me both.”

Before they could continue, a familiar voice interrupted them. “Just the little sister I was looking for.”

Both girls turned to see Serena van der Woodsen approaching with her signature effortless grace. She flashed a bright smile at Claire. “Oh hey, Claire, so nice to see you again.”

Claire returned the smile as Serena pulled her into a short hug. “Enchantée,” Claire teased lightly in French, smirking.

Serena turned her attention back to Jenny, her tone suddenly urgent. “I need answers, and I need them now. Your brother is being very mysterious about our date tonight.”

Jenny exchanged a look with Claire before offering a knowing smile. “Well, he’s a very mysterious guy, apparently.”

The three of them laughed as Serena dramatically sighed. “Look, he won’t even tell me where we’re going. Can you just give me a hint? Are we going to some secret club to see the best unsigned band in Brooklyn? Or a guerilla art exhibit in DUMBO? Or hey—” her eyes lit up as a thought struck her, “isn’t the New York Film Festival still going on?”

Claire chuckled. “I’m not sure Dan’s into the music thing, Serena.”

Serena tilted her head in consideration before laughing at the thought.

Jenny smirked. “You don’t leave much room for surprise, do you?”

Serena shrugged. “Well, I don’t know how to dress for ‘surprise.’ Not everything goes with it, you know.”

Jenny shrugged. “Well, I’d say jeans and a T-shirt is a safe bet.”

Claire, however, shook her head. “No, no. Dan doesn’t come off as the casual surprise guy. He probably has something big planned and will show up in a suit. That kinda thing, you know?”

Serena hummed in thought, but before she could respond, her phone buzzed in her hand. Glancing down at the screen, she sighed. “It’s Eric. Give me a sec.” She stepped aside to take the call.

Jenny and Claire continued walking, reaching the courtyard where Blair Waldorf was already waiting, looking as polished as ever. She took one glance at Serena, still on the phone, and smirked. “What was that I heard? Eric’s coming home? Perfect timing.”

Serena hung up and gave Blair a skeptical look. “How so?”

Blair smiled as if the answer were obvious. “Well, it gives your mother and brother time to bond alone tonight while you get drunk on schnapps and moon the NYU dorms from the limo.”

Serena’s brows furrowed. “Blair, what are you talking about?”

Claire had been wondering the same thing but leaned toward Jenny, whispering, “What’s going on?”

Jenny simply shrugged, looking just as clueless.

Blair sighed dramatically, as if she couldn’t believe she had to explain. “S, it’s only the most important night of the fall.” Then her sharp eyes flickered to Claire. “By the way, Claire, I’m still so sorry about your nose, but it looks great again! The blue is almost gone.”

Claire forced a small smile and brushed it off. “Just don’t play hockey with me again.”

Blair let out a laugh—one that had just a little too much satisfaction in it.

Serena still looked unimpressed. “Oh. The sleepover.”

Blair rolled her eyes. “I prefer soiree. ‘Sleepover’ is so sophomore year.”

Serena sighed, already anticipating where this was going. “Look, you know I can’t go to that. I have that plan.”

Blair feigned surprise. “Serena, when there’s a Waldorf soiree, there’s nothing else on the social calendar.”

Serena folded her arms. “Blair, the plan is Dan. Remember him? The guy you realized is actually a human being worthy of your time and attention?” She exhaled. “Look, I’m really sorry, but this date is unbreakable. Maybe we can swing by later or something—”

Blair’s expression hardened in an instant. “I’m not a stop along the way. I’m a destination. And if you refuse to attend, I’m going to have to find a replacement. Girls, the waiting list?”

Serena looked momentarily guilty before glancing at her watch. “Okay, well, uh, I should get going. Bye, Claire. See you around.” She gave Claire a short wave before turning back to Jenny. “Good luck tonight.”

Serena grinned. “Thank you.”

With that, Serena left, leaving Claire, Jenny, and Blair standing in the courtyard. Blair’s gaze flickered over to Claire, the sharp glint in her eyes unmistakable.

Claire wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly had the distinct feeling that Blair had something up her sleeve.

Blair’s expression suddenly shifted, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her face as she handed the waiting list back to her girls.

“Sweet Claire Sutton, little Jenny Humphrey,” she mused, tilting her head. “Why didn’t I think of you guys before? You have no plans. You’re coming to the soiree.”

Jenny lit up immediately. “Me? Really?”

Claire, on the other hand, hesitated. “Uh, I—”

Before she could finish, a few of Blair’s minions behind her scoffed, their expressions dripping with disdain. “Them? Really?”

Blair barely acknowledged them, keeping her sharp gaze locked on Claire. “The thing is,” she continued smoothly, “if you come, you’ll have to be up to a little more than just sleeping.”

Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable—something that made Claire’s stomach twist uneasily. But if Jenny noticed, she didn’t show it.

“I’m up for anything,” Jenny said eagerly, bouncing on her toes.

Claire turned to her, alarmed. “Jenny, I don’t think that’s—”

Blair cut her off effortlessly. “My place. 7:00 sharp.”

Jenny didn’t hesitate. “Okay! Bye!”

Before Claire could even form another protest, Jenny grabbed her arm and dragged her away. Claire stumbled slightly, still trying to get a word in, but Jenny was already grinning, too caught up in the excitement to listen.

“This is going to be so fun!” Jenny gushed.

Claire, however, wasn’t so sure.

---

Jenny and Claire arrived together at the Waldorf soiree, following the maid’s directions toward the lavish room where the other girls were gathered.

“Jenny, I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Claire whispered as they walked, her heels clicking lightly against the polished floors. “We could still head over to mine, drink hot chocolate, and watch a movie.”

But as they entered the room, Jenny was too stunned to respond. Her eyes widened at the sheer extravagance—the glimmering chandelier, the designer clothing draped over every available surface, the perfectly arranged delicacies waiting to be devoured. This wasn’t a world she was used to. Meanwhile, Claire, though impressed, simply thought it was a bit too much. The only thing that really caught her attention were the cookies—they looked appealing. She might try a few of those.

Blair noticed them and squealed, “Jenny! Claire! I’m so glad you could make it.”

Claire could hear one of the other girls mutter, “Let the games begin,” and immediately felt more uneasy than before. This was definitely a bad idea.

A while later, Jenny found herself trying on different outfits while Blair played the judge, comparing her to Beyoncé, Mary-Kate, Hannah Montana, and every iconic fashion figure in between. Claire, on the other hand, was perfectly content sitting on the couch, munching on the cookies. They were indeed delicious—possibly the only good thing about this night.

After some time, Jenny and Blair settled on a golden dress for Jenny, and Blair handed her a martini.

“Uh, no thanks. I don’t like vodka,” Jenny said hesitantly.

Blair gave her a knowing look. “Oh, that’s nice because this is gin. As it should be.”

Claire, who had already been sipping on her own martini, smirked slightly at this exchange and took another bite of her cookie.

“It’s a party, Jenny,” Blair continued. “Either swallow that like Claire does, or swipe your MetroCard back home. It’s up to you.”

Claire chuckled to herself, watching as Jenny hesitated before taking a careful sip. Blair looked pleased.

“All right, people. Who’s ready for a game of Truth or Dare?” Blair announced.

Jenny’s face lit up. “Oh! I love Truth or Dare.”

Probably not this one, Claire muttered under her breath.

Jenny continued, “Once, I had to eat an entire bag of marshmallows.”

Blair smirked. “That’s nice, little Humphrey, but that’s not how we play.”

Jenny made the mistake of asking how they played, and Claire knew instantly that was a bad move.

Blair turned to Claire, her gaze sharp. “You coming, Claire, or are the cookies better than us?”

The cookies were absolutely better, Claire thought, but she sighed, placing her half-eaten one down and following the girls.

Jenny’s dare was to jailbreak Eric out of wherever he was. Claire tried to scold Jenny, warning her that this was a bad idea, but Jenny and Blair were already on the move.

“Loosen up a little, Claire,” Blair teased. “It’s just fun.”

After successfully getting Eric out, they all headed to a bar. Eric introduced himself to Claire with a small smile.

“Hi, I’m Eric.”

“I figured,” Claire replied, smiling back. “Nice to meet you.”

Eric seemed nice enough, but Claire kept her eyes on Blair, watching her every move in the crowd.

Then came Blair’s dare. Jenny dared her to kiss the guy who had been flirting with her earlier. Blair, of course, did it with ease, reveling in the attention. But then, Blair turned her sights on Jenny.

Blair smirked. “Your turn, little Humphrey. Call his girlfriend.”

Jenny hesitated but ultimately took the phone, dialing the number. “Hello? Amanda? Hi, this is Bl—” She caught Blair’s sharp look and quickly changed course. “Claire. Yeah, I just had my tongue down your boyfriend’s throat, and he neglected to tell me you existed until after it was over. Just thought you should know. He’s a real catch. Bye.”

Jenny hung up the phone as the room erupted into laughter.

Claire, however, nearly choked on her drink, spluttering as she realized what had just happened. “Oh, you did not just use my name.”

Jenny only grinned mischievously, while Blair’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

Claire sighed, already regretting coming here even more than before.

---

Blair, feeling victorious from Jenny’s boldness, turned her attention to Claire with a slow, knowing smirk. “Well, well, Sutton. You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. Just sitting there, sipping martinis and eating cookies—hardly the spirit of the game, don’t you think?"

Claire narrowed her eyes, already regretting coming here. “I’m participating just fine.”

Blair tilted her head, faux innocence dripping from her voice. “Oh, but I think you could do better. Don’t you, ladies?” The other girls murmured in agreement, eager to see what Blair had in store.

Claire let out a slow breath, setting her drink down. “Alright, Waldorf. Hit me.”

Blair’s smirk deepened. “Since we’re playing by my rules, I dare you… to call Nate.”

The room suddenly went still. Even Jenny looked surprised.

Claire felt her stomach twist into a knot. “What?”

Blair feigned confusion. “What? He’s your friend, isn’t he? Shouldn’t be a big deal to give him a little late-night call.”

Claire’s heartbeat thundered in her chest. She could feel Blair watching her, waiting for a reaction, for any sign of discomfort.

Blair leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a purr. “Unless, of course… there’s something you’re hiding?”

The other girls giggled, and Claire could feel their eyes on her. She was trapped. If she hesitated, Blair would see right through her.

So Claire straightened her shoulders, grabbed her phone, and, without another word, dialed Nate’s number. The room held its breath as the line rang. Once. Twice.

Then—

“Claire?” Nate’s voice was thick with confusion.

Claire swallowed hard. “Hey, Archibald. What’s up?”

She could practically hear him frowning. “Uh… nothing? Are you okay?”

Blair grinned wickedly, motioning for Claire to put him on speaker. Claire hesitated for half a second—then did it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said smoothly. “Just thinking about you.”

The room erupted into hushed giggles. Jenny’s mouth fell open slightly.

Nate went silent. Then—

“...You’re drunk.”

Claire laughed, playing along. “Maybe a little. But that doesn’t mean I’m not serious.”

Blair raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed.

Nate sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “Claire, where are you?”

Blair’s smirk faltered for just a second.

Claire hesitated. “Why?”

Nate’s voice was firm now. “Because I’m coming to get you.”

The room went silent. Blair’s fingers tightened around her martini glass.

Claire let out a short laugh, trying to keep things light. “Oh, Archibald, that’s sweet. But I’m fine.”

Nate wasn’t having it. “You’re drunk, Claire. Just tell me where you are.”

Blair’s jaw tightened, but she kept her expression smooth. “She’s fine, Nate,” she called out, her voice dripping with forced sweetness. “It’s just a girls’ night. Nothing to worry about.”

Nate ignored her. “Claire.”

Claire exhaled, glancing at Blair, who was watching her like a hawk. This wasn’t part of the game anymore. This was real.

So she made a choice. “I’m at the bar downtown.”

The girls around them gasped dramatically. Blair’s expression flickered, but she recovered quickly, taking a long sip of her drink.

Nate didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Click.

He hung up.

The room was still for a moment before the girls burst into giggles and whispers. Jenny gave Claire a wide-eyed look, clearly impressed. But Blair?

Blair just smiled—tight, sharp, calculated.

“Well,” she said smoothly, setting her glass down. “Isn’t that interesting?”

Claire shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling way too sober.

---

The second Nate stepped inside the bar, everything changed.

The hum of conversation dulled, the girls’ laughter faded, and Blair—oh, Blair—turned to face him like a queen preparing for war.

Claire felt her stomach tighten. She knew this was about to be bad.

Nate’s eyes found her instantly, and his entire body tensed. “You’re coming with me.”

His voice was steady, but Claire could hear the sharp edge beneath it. It wasn’t a request.

Blair let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, stepping directly into his path. “Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”

Nate barely spared her a glance. “Move, Blair.”

But Blair wasn’t backing down. “No. I don’t think I will.” She crossed her arms, her nails digging into her sides. “Because you must be insane if you think you can waltz in here, into my soiree, and act like you have some kind of claim over Claire.”

Nate clenched his jaw. “Blair—”

“No,” Blair snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through glass. She took a step closer, her eyes wild with disbelief. “She’s not yours, Nate. And more importantly—you’re mine.”

The room went still.

Claire felt like she had just swallowed glass.

Nate exhaled harshly, finally looking at Blair, his expression tight. “Blair—”

“No,” Blair said again, voice shaking with barely contained fury. “You’re my boyfriend. Not hers. So explain to me why the hell you’re here for her instead of me?”

Claire wanted to disappear. The girls were watching with wide, fascinated eyes, Jenny was shifting uncomfortably, and Blair—Blair—looked like she was barely holding herself together.

Nate was silent for a second, his jaw locked. Then he spoke.

“Because I don’t trust you.”

Blair froze.

Nate kept going. “Claire is drunk, Blair. And I know exactly how your games work.” His voice was sharp now, his control slipping. “I wasn’t about to sit around and wait for you to use her as some pawn in whatever bullshit you’re trying to pull.”

Blair’s face flickered—hurt, anger, something dangerous.

Claire finally found her voice. “Nate, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s not,” Nate snapped, turning to her with frustration flashing in his eyes. “I told you to tell me where you were, and now I know why you hesitated.” He shot a glare at Blair. “Because this is exactly what I expected.”

Blair let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “So, what?” she sneered. “You’re here to rescue her?” She tilted her head, mocking. “Is that what we’re doing now, Nate? Saving damsels in distress?”

Nate didn’t rise to the bait. He just grabbed Claire’s wrist—not roughly, not forcefully, but firmly. “Let’s go.”

Blair snapped.

“Oh, are you serious?” Her voice rose, drawing attention from other bar patrons. “You are actually choosing her over me? Your girlfriend?”

Nate’s grip on Claire’s wrist tightened just slightly, protective. “I’m not choosing anyone, Blair.”

Blair scoffed, furious tears shining in her eyes. “No? Because it really looks like you are.”

Nate’s expression darkened. “I’m choosing not to let you ruin someone else just because you’re feeling threatened.”

The words landed like a gunshot.

Blair’s entire body stiffened, her breath hitching for just a second before she masked it with another cruel laugh. “Oh, please,” she spat, rolling her eyes. “As if she could ever be a threat to me.”

Claire flinched.

Nate’s expression was ice. “Then why are you acting like this?”

Blair’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

The silence was suffocating.

Then Nate, without another word, pulled Claire away.

Claire barely had time to register Blair’s stunned expression, the way her hands curled into fists, the way her eyes burned with something unreadable—before she was being led out the door, into the cold night, into the only thing that felt remotely real anymore.

And as the doors shut behind them, Claire realized one thing with absolute certainty—

She had just made an enemy out of Blair Waldorf.

---

As they hurried out of the bar, Claire’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. The crisp night air was doing little to settle her nerves. Nate’s grip on her wrist tightened, almost like he was trying to anchor her, but Claire’s vision was blurring. She wobbled on her feet and barely managed to keep her balance as she staggered beside him.

“Hey, are you alright?” Nate’s voice cut through the fog in her mind, the worry in his tone sending a wave of guilt through her.

Claire’s stomach churned again, this time harder, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she wiggled in Nate’s grip, trying to pull away, and managed to whisper, “I… I’m dizzy.”

Nate’s eyes flickered with concern. “What? Claire?” He turned to face her, brow furrowed, ready to give her a piece of his mind for whatever reckless thing she had done tonight—but then he saw it. Her face was pale, her lips a bit blue, and her entire body swayed like she might fall at any moment.

His expression shifted instantly from frustration to worry. “Shit—” He didn’t wait to hear another word. With a surprising gentleness, he swept her up and maneuvered them toward a corner of the street.

Claire’s head spun, her body lurching as the world seemed to tilt sideways. The last thing she heard was Nate’s voice, softly coaxing, “I got you, Claire. Just hold on a second.”

Before she could protest, her stomach rebelled, and she bent forward with a sudden rush. She barely made it to the side of the alley before the contents of her stomach poured out. Nate, surprisingly calm in the chaos, was right there, gently holding her hair back, his hand brushing against her sweaty forehead as she gagged.

It felt like it took forever before her body stopped heaving. The dizziness didn’t go away, and the sour taste in her mouth lingered long after the last of it. She straightened up, feeling humiliated, but Nate didn’t let go. He stood there, his eyes scanning her face like he was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

Claire wiped her mouth, feeling like a mess, and avoided his gaze. But the panic started to creep back in. “Blair…” she whispered, her breath catching. “She’s going to hate me. She’s going to think I—” She swallowed hard, her voice breaking. “I shouldn’t have called you. She’s going to be so mad.”

Nate exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Claire, you’re fine. Don’t worry about Blair. I told you I wasn’t going to let her use you.”

But Claire wasn’t listening. The panic continued to churn in her chest, suffocating her. “She’s going to ruin everything. She’s going to be so mad at me, Nate, and it’s your fault.” Her voice was almost frantic now, rising with every word.

Nate’s jaw tightened. “My fault? You wanted to play those stupid games, Claire! You wanted to get involved in Blair’s mess. She set you up, not me!”

Claire’s eyes widened, the anger and hurt clouding her vision. “I didn’t ask for any of this! I didn’t ask to be here, Nate. I didn’t ask for your stupid rescue.”

Nate’s temper flared. His hands clenched at his sides as he shot back, “I’m trying to help you, Claire, but if you keep acting like this, I don’t know what else I can do.”

The words hit her like a punch to the stomach, and she staggered back, feeling the walls closing in on her. “I don’t need you to play hero!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “You think you can just come in and save me from Blair like I’m some damsel in distress? You don’t get how much this is going to cost me—how everything you did tonight just made it worse!”

Nate reached for her, his voice dropping to a growl, “Stop. Stop. This isn’t helping. You’re not thinking straight.”

Claire took another step back, feeling the weight of the alcohol and the panic and the guilt crashing over her. She cried harder now, a mix of frustration and sorrow bubbling up. “I hate this. I hate you for making me think you cared. I hate that I came here in the first place."

Nate stood there, frozen for a moment, his expression faltering as he looked at her with shock and frustration. Claire’s words were like knives to him, but he couldn’t get his head around it. He had tried to help her, tried to get her away from all of this, and this—this was the response?

He stepped closer, his own anger flaring, but something in his expression softened when he saw how wrecked she was, how out of control. He didn’t know how to reach her, but he couldn’t back down now.

“Stop,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Stop. This isn’t helping. You’re not thinking straight.”

Claire’s head snapped up, and for a second, their eyes met—hers filled with tears, his full of anger, frustration, but something else, something real beneath it all.

But Claire didn’t have the strength to deal with it. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. “I don’t want your help,” she whispered, almost too softly for him to hear.

Nate froze, his face falling as he realized just how broken she was in that moment. “Fine,” he muttered. “Fine. But we’re not done. You’re coming with me now, Claire. We’re going.”

She didn’t argue. But as Nate pulled her into the car, the silence between them was thick with everything unsaid. Claire leaned her head against the cold window, her emotions raw, her mind reeling, and the weight of everything—Blair, Nate, the game—pushed down on her until she thought she might just break.

The car doors slammed shut with a finality, and the world outside seemed to blur. Inside the car, the tension was unbearable. Claire’s mind raced, thoughts colliding in a storm of anger, regret, and confusion. She closed her eyes, wishing she could shut it all out, wishing she could escape the suffocating weight of it all.

But she couldn’t. The only thing left was the feeling of Nate beside her, the warmth of his body contrasting with the cold air outside, and the tangled mess between them.

“Don’t shut me out, Claire,” Nate’s voice broke the silence, softer now. “Please.”

Claire turned away from him, burying her face in her hands as the tears continued to fall. She couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say anymore.

Nate reached over and placed a hand on her arm, but she flinched away. He exhaled heavily, defeated, and leaned back in his seat.

---

The car was cold. The silence inside felt heavier than ever. Claire’s breath hitched with every sob, but Nate’s gaze remained fixed ahead, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he drove in tense silence.

The air between them was thick—charged with something painful, something irreversible.

He had never been this angry, and it scared him as much as it scared her.

"You're really going to push me like this, Claire?" Nate finally snapped, his voice rising in a way she hadn't expected. He hadn’t raised his voice to her before, but now—he was livid. "Do you even get what you’re doing? What you’re saying right now?"

Claire’s head hung low, her tears soaking into the fabric of her seat, her hands trembling in her lap. She couldn’t look at him—couldn’t find the strength to do anything but let his words crash over her. She was drunk, lost in the chaos of her emotions, and unable to defend herself against the storm Nate was unleashing. The weight of the night pressed down on her chest, suffocating her.

"You’re not thinking, Claire! You never think!" Nate barked, his voice thick with frustration, desperation even. "You call me when Blair dares you to, then you flip out because I actually show up? What did you want from me? What was I supposed to do—just let you drown in whatever game she’s playing?"

Claire's head was spinning. His words didn't make sense, but they hurt more than anything. She couldn’t focus enough to understand why he was so angry with her. But she knew she was the cause of it. Everything was her fault. It was all her fault.

"Please..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, "Please stop yelling, Nate."

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even seem to hear her. His anger was all-consuming.

"No, I’m not going to stop!" Nate shouted, his voice rising to a roar. "You need to hear this, Claire. You’ve pushed me to my limits tonight, and I’m done pretending like I don’t care. You don’t get to make me feel like the villain here. You did this!"

The words stung more than she expected, and Claire instinctively shrank into herself. She wanted to speak, to tell him she didn’t mean any of it, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t make him understand, couldn’t make it right.

"Don’t act like this is all my fault!" she tried to protest, but it sounded weak, nothing more than a whimper. She wasn’t fighting back. She wasn’t even strong enough to defend herself. She just took it. Every word. Every accusation.

Nate’s expression twisted in fury. "You don’t think this is your fault?" he hissed. "You called me because Blair wanted you to, and now you’re acting like it was all some mistake? You think I don’t see how this is tearing everything apart? I’m the one who’s stuck in the middle of this mess because of you!"

Claire’s stomach churned. The guilt weighed heavier than the alcohol in her system. She wanted to say something, to make it stop, but her words got lost in the storm of his voice, drowned by the force of his anger.

"How could you be so selfish?" Nate continued, his voice seething with venom. "You ruined everything tonight, Claire. You didn’t just call me, you called me and made me come. And now Blair… she’s pissed. And it’s because of you."

Claire didn’t even try to fight it. He was right. It was her fault. Everything had gone wrong because of her. She wanted to apologize, but the words wouldn’t come. She was too drunk, too overwhelmed by the guilt crushing her chest. She couldn’t breathe.

Nate’s voice cracked through the air, raw and unforgiving. "I don’t know why I let myself care about you. You always do this, Claire. You always pull me in, and then you destroy everything without even realizing it."

The words hit her like a slap. The truth in them was suffocating, and she felt her heart break into a million pieces. Nate had never looked at her like this before. He was so angry. So disgusted. She didn’t know how to fix it. Didn’t know how to make him understand that she never meant for any of this to happen.

She couldn’t stop the tears now. She didn’t even want to. Her vision blurred, and she closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely as she curled into herself.

"Just stop…" she whispered again, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn’t mean for any of this. I never wanted to hurt you."

Nate’s grip on the wheel tightened until his knuckles were pale. "You never mean to, do you?" he spat bitterly. "But you always do, Claire. You think it’s just about you, don’t you? You think you can keep doing whatever you want without consequences."

Her heart broke further at his words. She was weak. She was useless. She was destroying everything.

Nate’s voice softened just a fraction, but the bitterness remained. "You know, I thought we could figure this out. I thought you were different. But you’re just like everyone else. You’ll tear me apart, then act like nothing happened."

Claire wanted to scream. She wanted to tell him she didn’t mean it. She wanted to scream at him that she wasn’t like this, that she was sorry, but the words wouldn’t leave her lips. Instead, all she could do was sit there, drowning in his accusations, drowning in her guilt, and praying for it to stop.

"Don’t you get it, Claire?" Nate said through gritted teeth. "You’re tearing my relationship apart with Blair. And you don’t even see it. You don’t even care."

Claire’s stomach twisted. His words were a knife, and they hurt deeper than anything else. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She was suffocating in her own guilt, trapped in this mess she’d made. The weight of everything crushed her chest until she couldn’t take it anymore.

"Please, Nate…" she whispered, barely able to keep her eyes open. "I’m sorry."

But Nate didn’t respond. He didn’t say anything as they drove through the empty streets. His eyes were fixed ahead, and Claire could feel the anger radiating off him. She was nothing. Nothing but the one who ruined everything.

And the worst part? She couldn’t fix it. She couldn’t fix any of it.

Nate’s anger was still burning in the air, and Claire was too scared, too broken to say anything else. She sat in silence, letting the weight of his words hang between them like a wall they couldn’t cross.

Finally, the silence was broken by a sharp stop as Nate slammed his foot on the brakes. Claire jolted forward slightly, but she didn’t speak.

He threw a glance at her, just one—and it gutted him.

Her shoulders shook with every silent sob, her face turned away, curled into herself like she was trying to disappear. Like she believed every cruel word he had said. And maybe worse—like she deserved it.

"Claire…" he said, softer this time, turning toward her. "Claire, I—"

But she was already gasping, struggling to catch her breath. Her hands clutched at her chest, panic rising fast and uncontrollable. She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t slow it down.

"Hey, hey—breathe," Nate said quickly, reaching over. "Look at me. Claire, please, just—just look at me."

Her eyes finally met his—wide and glassy with fear, her whole body shaking. “Don’t,” she choked out. “Don’t say sorry. You were right. Everything you said was right.”

Nate’s heart cracked clean down the middle.

"No—Claire, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. I was angry and—God, I was just stupid."

She shook her head violently, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don’t take it back. You should hate me. I messed everything up. I always do. I ruin everything."

She was spiraling, the sobs getting louder, her hands clawing at her seatbelt as if she wanted to escape the moment itself.

And Nate couldn’t take it anymore.

“Claire—Claire,” he said again, louder this time—but not angry. Urgent. And then, with a desperate sort of gentleness, he cupped her cheeks in both hands and leaned in.

And kissed her.

Softly at first. Like an apology. Like a balm.

And when Claire didn’t pull away—when she whimpered into his mouth and kissed him back, her trembling fingers curling into his jacket—it felt like everything in the world stopped hurting for just a second.

She was still crying, but her breathing had slowed, like her heart had found something familiar. Something she didn’t know she needed until that exact moment.

When they pulled apart, Nate’s forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling in the cold, quiet car.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice shaking. “I read somewhere that kissing can help stop hyperventilating. I—I didn’t know what else to do.”

Claire let out a broken, surprised little laugh through her tears. It was barely anything—but it was enough to make Nate smile.

“You’re an idiot,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

“I know,” he murmured back. “But I’m your idiot. If you’ll still have me.”

Claire closed her eyes, letting herself just exist in that moment. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring—or what would happen with Blair, or Serena, or anything else.

But right now, in Nate’s arms, for just a breath of time, she didn’t feel like the villain.

---

The car was quiet again, but this time the silence was different. Softer. No longer sharp and cold, but filled with something tentative—like a truce had been made in the middle of a storm neither of them fully understood.

Nate started the engine again, glancing over at Claire as he pulled the car gently back onto the road. Her eyes were still glassy from crying, her makeup smudged, her lips slightly parted like she was still catching her breath. She looked utterly wrecked… and yet somehow beautiful in the most fragile, human way.

She wiped at her cheeks with the sleeve of her coat and glanced at him, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Are you still mad at me?” she asked softly, voice raw.

Nate looked over, his expression tender. “Not even a little.”

A pause. Then, with a brave little breath, Claire spoke again.

“Do you, uh… want hot chocolate?” she asked, shy now. “I got marshmallows this time.”

Nate actually laughed—really laughed. It burst out of him, light and warm, and Claire felt something melt in her chest at the sound of it.

He glanced at her, eyes sparkling a little in the dark. “You bought marshmallows?”

Claire nodded, her voice small but steady. “Mini ones. The good kind.”

“Well, in that case,” Nate said, smile tugging at his lips, “I’d be an idiot to say no.”

Claire looked out the window, hiding her grin. Her heart was still heavy, still bruised—but something inside her had shifted.

She wasn’t sure where they stood.

But at least, for now, he was still here. Still driving her home.

And maybe that was enough for tonight.

---

Gossip Girl

Spotted: One Porsche. Two ex-besties. And one very public makeout session.

Last night, N. Archibald pulled over on the side of the road—not for a flat tire, but for a full-blown meltdown (and makeout) with none other than Claire Sutton. Yes, that Claire. The same one who was dared to call him. The same one dating… no one, but clearly messing with everyone.

But here’s where it gets messier: sources say J. Humphrey was there for all the build-up, watching the tension boil over during girls’ night. Guess Little J's got front-row seats to the biggest scandal of the season.

Now, Claire’s sipping cocoa with Nate—and marshmallows too? Meanwhile, Blair’s still in the dark. But how long until she finds out her boyfriend’s lips—and loyalty—have wandered?

Careful, Upper East Siders. Nothing stays sweet forever. Especially not when J has receipts, N has regrets, and C? She’s got Nate.

Winter’s coming early… and it’s about to get cold between the girls.

You know you love me.

xoxo, Gossip Girl

[friedclairsalad]

Empire of Secrets

(nate archibald) (chapter three: Cards, Lies, and Consequences)

Claire leaned back against the hotel pillows after Nate had left, the faint smell of him still lingering in the room. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—everything had felt so real, so freeing, and yet now, with the weight of the world starting to settle back on her shoulders, she could almost feel the tension creeping back in.

She let out a sigh, pushing herself up from the bed and reaching for her phone. As she unlocked it, her screen lit up with a message from her mom, Eliza.

Maman: Hey, sweetie, want to grab coffee later?

Claire’s heart skipped a beat. The last thing she wanted was to face her mom right now, especially after everything that had gone down last night. But at the same time, there was a part of her that longed for the comfort of her mother's familiar presence. With a reluctant exhale, she typed out a response.

Claire: Sure, sounds good. I’ll meet you at that café on 5th in an hour?

It didn’t take long for her mom to reply.

Maman: Perfect. I’ll see you then, darling.

---

Claire arrived at the café a few minutes later than planned, her nerves still jangling from the mix of emotions she’d been trying to process since Nate left. As she pushed open the door, the familiar scent of coffee beans and pastries hit her, and she spotted her mother sitting at a small table by the window, her blonde hair perfectly styled and her demeanor calm, as always.

Eliza Sutton looked up, her sharp eyes immediately landing on her daughter. She offered a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, as if she was trying to read Claire without giving away anything herself.

“Sorry I’m late,” Claire said, slipping into the seat across from her.

“No worries, darling.” Eliza placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of her. “I figured you’d be running behind after last night’s adventures.”

Claire stilled, her fingers brushing over the warm mug, suddenly not sure where to start. Her mom’s ability to read her was uncanny, and now she was bracing herself for the inevitable conversation.

Eliza took a slow sip of her coffee, watching her daughter carefully. “You know, Claire, I was in the office this morning, and one of my colleagues showed me something on this blog called Gossip Girl. Your name came up in a post.”

Claire’s stomach dropped. She set her cup down a little too forcefully, her fingers suddenly cold. She didn’t know how to respond. She wanted to laugh it off, pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but with the way her mom was looking at her, Claire knew this wouldn’t be a conversation she could easily shrug off.

“You saw it?” Claire asked, her voice a little too high-pitched.

Eliza smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I did. And I must say, Gossip Girl really knows how to make a moment feel… significant. It seems you’ve become the center of attention.”

Claire’s pulse quickened. “I—Mom, it’s not what you think. It’s just—just some thing I did last night. It doesn’t mean anything.” Her voice faltered as she spoke, guilt creeping up her spine.

Her mom leaned forward slightly, her expression softening. “Sweetheart, I’m not judging you. I just want to understand. What’s all this about a ‘booze-soaked fling’? Who is this Nate?”

Claire's throat tightened. She didn’t want to talk about Nate, not like this. Not in front of her mother. But Eliza’s gaze was insistent, and Claire couldn’t escape the truth any longer. “His name is Nate Archibald,” she said quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her coffee cup. “He was the one who wrapped up my hand at the brunch, remember? Things just got... out of hand, I guess.”

Eliza didn’t flinch at the words, instead sitting back and studying her daughter. “Out of hand, hm? Gossip Girl seems to think you two left together in the early hours of the morning, and not just for coffee.”

Claire’s face burned. She couldn’t even bring herself to look her mom in the eye. “It’s not like that. It was just... one night.”

There was a pause, and then Eliza surprised her by laughing softly. “Darling, I wasn’t any different when I was your age. I had my wild nights. I was a mess. And you know what? I loved every minute of it.”

Claire blinked, her head snapping up to look at her mom. “You? A mess?”

Eliza smiled warmly, her expression almost nostalgic. “Oh, yes. I had my fair share of wild stories. Parties, breakups, Gossip Girl-worthy scandals—though, of course, we didn’t have Gossip Girl back then. But I was just as rebellious as you. Just as free.”

Claire felt her shoulders relax slightly. It was hard to believe, but hearing her mom say that made her feel less alone in all this chaos.

“But, Claire,” Eliza continued, her tone turning more serious, “there’s one thing I’ve learned after all these years—what people think of you doesn’t matter as much as what you think of yourself. So, go ahead and let them gossip. It’s not about them.”

Claire stared at her mother, confused. “But what about them? What about dad? My reputation?”

“Your father…” Eliza trailed off, her lips tightening for a moment before she cleared her throat. “He’ll have his thoughts. You know how he is. But that’s not your concern. You are the one who gets to decide who you want to be. Not him. Not anyone else. Certainly not Gossip Girl.”

Claire took a breath, feeling a weight lift off her chest. Her mom had a way of making everything sound like it could be fixed, like the world wasn’t such a big, scary place. Maybe it didn’t have to be. Maybe she didn’t have to hide behind some perfect image anymore. For the first time in a long while, Claire felt like she could just... be herself.

Eliza smiled at her, a small but genuine expression. “And you know what? I’d like to meet this Nate. If he’s someone you’re spending time with, I think it’s only fair I get to know him. You don’t just get involved with anyone, and I trust you. But I’d like to meet him and see for myself what kind of man he is.”

Claire froze. “You want to meet him?”

“Yes,” Eliza said firmly. “I do. It’s important to me that you’re with someone who treats you well. So, whenever you’re ready, let me know. We’ll make it happen.”

Claire opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come out right away. Her mother’s cool, calm attitude was both comforting and terrifying all at once. She hadn’t expected this, not at all.

“I... I’ll talk to him about it,” Claire said quietly, her stomach flipping again. “Maybe... soon.”

Eliza gave her a knowing smile. “Good. It’s always good to take things slow. Let him prove he’s worthy of your time.” She raised her coffee cup again, her voice lightening. “But for now, darling, let’s focus on the important things—like coffee."

Claire let out a breath and smiled faintly, trying to shake off the anxiety swirling inside her. It wasn’t like she had a choice now. Her mom was determined to meet Nate, and whether or not Claire was ready for that, it seemed like it was going to happen sooner or later.

---

After her mother left for work, Claire stayed behind in the café, absently stirring the foam on her cappuccino with a silver spoon. The warm buzz of conversation around her felt distant, drowned out by the thoughts swirling in her head.

Her mom had been surprisingly understanding, but that didn’t ease the knot of uncertainty tightening in her chest. This morning, she and Nate had woken up tangled in sheets, kissing lazily before he left. But now, something felt... off.

She picked up her phone and typed out a message.

Claire: Hey, we need to talk.

She hovered over the send button, hesitating. It sounded too serious, too desperate. She deleted it.

Claire: You disappeared on me. Everything okay?

It was casual enough to mask how uneasy she felt. She sent it before she could overthink. But as the minutes ticked by with no response, her nerves only got worse.

Nate wasn’t usually like this. He was the guy who sent quick texts back, the one who always checked in. So why was he suddenly acting distant?

Unbeknownst to her, Nate’s phone vibrated in his pocket, ignored as he leaned against the bar at Chuck Bass’s Excess Party—a haze of dim lights, expensive whiskey, and reckless indulgence. He wasn’t alone.

Across from him, Carter Baizen smirked, swirling a drink in his hand. “So, tell me, Archibald, what exactly are you running from this time?”

Nate let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not running.”

Carter raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. So that thing with Sutton? Just another reckless decision?”

Nate’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t in the mood for this conversation, and yet, maybe Carter had a point.

His phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen, saw Claire’s name. For a second, he almost responded. Almost. Instead, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and took another drink.

Back at the café, Claire stared at her screen, heart sinking as the read receipts remained empty.

---

The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the city as Claire adjusted the strap of her bag, barely paying attention to where she was walking. Her mom had left for work, leaving Claire alone with her thoughts—and the growing frustration that Nate hadn’t bothered to text her back.

She told herself it didn’t matter. That she didn’t care. But the moment she heard the unmistakable roar of a limousine engine pulling up near the basketball courts ahead, her breath hitched.

The doors swung open, and out spilled Nate, Chuck, and the rest of their basketball team—dressed in the most ridiculous outfits she had ever seen. Mismatched patterns, oversized sunglasses like some kind of bizarre preppy fashion experiment gone horribly wrong. Chuck, naturally, wore his with absolute confidence, but Nate—Nate just looked slightly uncomfortable, as if he, too, was questioning how he had ended up in whatever theme they were going for.

Claire nearly stopped in her tracks. If Mom saw this, she’d have a heart attack on the spot.

Then—Nate’s eyes locked onto her.

“Claire!”

His voice cut through the usual city sounds, but she didn’t stop.

She kept walking.

Nate stepped forward, confusion flickering across his face. He called her name again, louder this time, but Claire only lifted her chin and quickened her pace.

Chuck, lounging against the limo like he had all the time in the world, let out an amused chuckle. “Well, well. Looks like the princess isn’t in the mood to acknowledge her prince today.”

Nate ignored him, still staring after Claire as she disappeared down the street. A strange feeling settled in his chest. This morning, they had been tangled up in each other, and now? Now she was shutting him out.

For the first time in a long time, Nate Archibald was the one being left behind.

---

The dim glow of neon shamrocks flickered against the pub’s windows as Chuck, Nate, and the rest filed inside. The place was packed, the scent of beer and whiskey hanging thick in the air, with drunken laughter echoing from every direction. It was the perfect setup for a St. Patrick’s Day celebration—at least, according to Chuck.

“Drinks on me, gentlemen,” Chuck declared, throwing an arm around Nate’s shoulders as they reached the bar. “Let’s toast to our victory and to the luck of the Irish—or whatever nonsense this holiday is about.”

Nate barely heard him. He hadn’t been in the mood to go out, and now, standing here, he felt even more out of place. His thoughts kept drifting back to Claire, to the way she had ignored him earlier like he was nothing.

Chuck must have noticed because he scoffed, nudging Nate roughly. “Come on, man. You can think about your girlfriend later. Let’s have some fun.”

“I’m not coming,” Nate said abruptly, stepping back from the bar.

Chuck turned to him, raising a brow. “What?”

“I’m not staying,” Nate clarified.

Chuck let out a dry laugh, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Claire Sutton sucks,” he said, voice dripping with disdain. “I don’t know what spell she’s put you under, but she’s not your friend. She can’t be trusted.”

Nate’s jaw clenched. “And why is that?”

Chuck swirled the drink in his hand, eyes gleaming. “Because she’s exactly what she pretends not to be—spoiled, entitled, a total ice queen. You think Blair is bad? Claire’s worse. She just hides it better. Girls like her only care about two things: power and status.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Trust me, I’ve known her kind my whole life.”

Nate shook his head, his grip tightening around his phone. “You don’t know her, Chuck.”

Chuck smirked. “Don’t I? You really think she’s different?” He laughed, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Wake up, Archibald. The girl didn’t even give you the time of day today, and you’re still running after her?”

Nate opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t want to hear this, especially not from Chuck. Claire wasn’t like that. Was she?

Frustrated, he turned on his heel.

“Where are you going?” Chuck called after him.

Nate didn’t answer.

---

Stepping outside, Nate pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled to Claire’s number. He hesitated, exhaling sharply. It was late. She probably wouldn’t answer. Maybe she didn’t even want to talk to him.

But before he could overthink it, he hit call.

It rang once. Twice.

Then—

“Hello?” Claire’s voice was groggy, heavy with sleep.

For a second, Nate couldn’t say anything. He hadn’t expected her to pick up.

“…Hey,” he finally managed. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Claire shifted, her voice a little clearer now. “It’s fine. What’s up?”

He swallowed, glancing up at the night sky. “Can I come over?”

A pause. Then, softer, “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Nate let out a breath, relief washing over him.

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

---

Nate walked up the stone pathway leading to Claire’s townhouse, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Even in the dim glow of the streetlights, the house stood tall and imposing, its pristine facade practically untouched by the grit of the city. It wasn’t just expensive—it was the kind of place that exuded quiet wealth, the kind of home that had been in a family for generations.

Chuck’s words lingered in his mind. She’s exactly what she pretends not to be—spoiled, entitled, a total ice queen.

Nate frowned slightly. Claire had never felt like that to him. She wasn’t like Blair, who wore her status like armor, or Chuck, who wielded wealth like a weapon. Claire was different. Wasn’t she?

Before he could dwell on it any further, the front door opened, and Claire stepped into view.

She was wrapped in a silvery pyjama, her hair slightly tousled from sleep. She blinked at him, looking surprised that he had actually shown up. “Hi,” she said, her voice soft, a little awkward.

Nate didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stepped closer and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, a quiet hello.

Claire let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Come in,” she murmured, stepping aside to let him through.

The warmth of the house surrounded him instantly, carrying the faint scent of vanilla and something floral—something distinctly Claire. It was a stark contrast to the chill of the night outside.

Claire shut the door behind him and turned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you want some hot chocolate?”

Nate glanced at her, surprised by the offer, then nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

She gave a small smile and motioned for him to follow. He trailed after her through the dimly lit hallway into the kitchen, where the marble countertops gleamed under the soft glow of under-cabinet lighting.

Nate leaned against the counter, watching as Claire pulled out a small pot and set it on the stove. Whatever had been on his mind earlier—the doubts, the second-guessing—it all faded in the quiet warmth of this moment.

Claire moved with quiet precision, pouring milk into the pot and setting it to warm on the stove. The faint scent of chocolate filled the air as she stirred, her back to Nate. He watched her, feeling the weight of unspoken questions pressing against his ribs.

Why had she ignored him earlier? Was she upset with him? Or was this just… how things were between them now—hot and cold, push and pull?

He wanted to ask, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed silent, leaning against the counter as Claire carefully poured the hot chocolate into two mugs. She turned to him then, cradling one in each hand, her gaze meeting his as she gave him a faint, almost hesitant smile.

Nate took the mug she offered, feeling the warmth seep into his hands. Claire gestured toward the adjoining room, and he followed her into what could only be described as a magazine-worthy dining space. The kitchen itself had been impressive, but this—this was something else.

The long wooden table was sleek and modern, its dark finish gleaming under the soft glow of the pendant lighting above. The walls were adorned with tasteful art, subtle yet clearly expensive. Even the chairs, upholstered in rich fabric, looked like they belonged in a designer showroom rather than a place where people actually sat and ate.

Nate had grown up in luxury, but this was different. The Archibald estate had a certain old-money grandeur—history and wealth intertwined. The Suttons? Their wealth felt effortless, modern, like they belonged to a world Nate had only ever brushed against but never truly understood.

How much money does her family actually have?

The thought barely had time to settle before a blur of fur leaped onto the table.

A cat—a sleek, silver-gray feline with striking green eyes—landed gracefully in front of them, tail flicking as she observed Nate with curiosity.

Claire let out a soft laugh, reaching out to scratch behind the cat’s ears. “That’s Banana,” she said. “She likes to make herself the center of attention.”

Nate chuckled, setting his mug down and reaching out cautiously. Banana studied him for a moment before stepping closer, nudging his fingers with her head. He stroked the soft fur, watching as she purred in approval.

For the first time that night, the silence between him and Claire didn’t feel heavy—it felt… comfortable.

Nate smirked, still absentmindedly running his fingers through Banana’s soft fur. “Banana,” he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. He glanced at Claire, amusement flickering in his eyes. “How old were you when you named her?”

Claire tilted her head, thinking for a moment. “Five… maybe six?”

Nate let out a quiet laugh. “That explains a lot.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile playing on her lips. Before she could fire back a response, she felt his hand reach across the table, brushing against hers. Claire hesitated for just a second before letting her fingers curl around his.

Nate stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, his gaze thoughtful. The silence stretched between them for a moment before he finally spoke, his voice quieter than before. “Why did you ignore me earlier today?”

Claire’s eyes flickered to his, and she arched an eyebrow. “Why did you ignore my texts?”

Nate’s smile faltered. His grip on her hand didn’t loosen, but he let out a slow sigh, rubbing a hand over his face before answering. “It wasn’t on purpose. I just… had a lot going on.” He exhaled again, staring down at the table as if gathering his thoughts. “My dad, the Dartmouth rep—they spent the whole day basically telling me what my future should look like. Like I don’t even have a say in it.”

Claire watched him, squeezing his hand slightly, encouraging him to continue.

“And then,” he sighed again, shaking his head, “Chuck. He got in my head, said all this crap about you being spoiled, and how you—” He cut himself off, clearly not wanting to repeat the worst of it.

Claire leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Chuck Bass is a sentient trust fund with the emotional maturity of a goldfish.”

Nate let out a short, surprised laugh before shaking his head. “Okay, that’s… honestly not far off.”

Claire smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I can do worse.”

“Oh, I know,” Nate chuckled, giving her hand another squeeze. “And normally, I wouldn’t care what he says, but today… I don’t know. Everything just felt like too much.”

Claire’s expression softened. She didn’t say anything right away, just let the moment sit between them. Then, with a sigh, she muttered, “I can’t believe you let Chuck of all people mess with your head.”

“Yeah,” Nate admitted, running a hand through his hair. “Me neither.”

Banana let out a soft meow, rubbing her head against Claire’s arm, as if demanding to be included in the conversation. Claire absentmindedly scratched behind the cat’s ear before looking back at Nate. “Well, since you came all the way here to mope, I guess you’re stuck with me for a while.”

Nate grinned, his shoulders finally relaxing. “Could be worse.”

---

Next Day – Five Stars Poker Game

The dimly lit private room at Five Stars smelled of expensive whiskey and cigar smoke. The clink of chips and low murmurs of conversation filled the air as Nate sat at the poker table, tension coiling in his chest. Carter Baizen sat beside him, lounging in his chair like he had all the time in the world, effortlessly blending in with the men who clearly played this game for more than just fun.

A random man placed a card on the table with a smirk. “Bullet, gentlemen. First bet.”

Another man leaned forward, flipping a chip between his fingers. “$5,000. Five to call.”

Nate’s stomach tightened. He leaned toward Carter, whispering urgently, “Hey, I don’t have the money.”

Carter barely spared him a glance, voice smooth as silk. “Call this bet. It’s all luck.” Then he looked up at the others. “Hey, you guys okay with a marker?”

One of the men nodded, sliding a piece of paper and a pen across the table toward Nate.

Nate hesitated, fingers tightening around the pen. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea,” he muttered.

Carter gave him a pointed look. “If you’re ever gonna take a risk, start now. What’s the point of anything less?”

Nate exhaled sharply, the pressure of the room closing in on him. With a resigned sigh, he scrawled $10,000 on the paper.

One of the men narrowed his eyes. “You sure he’s good for it?”

Carter smirked, leaning back lazily. “Of course. He’s an Archibald. And Sutton’s lover.”

Nate clenched his jaw at the mention of Claire but didn’t react beyond that. “Make it $10,000,” he repeated.

The dealer gestured. “Show your cards.”

Nate flipped his hand—two sixes.

The other man revealed trip aces.

Nate’s stomach sank.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “It… it might take me a little while to get the money.”

Carter let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “A little while? Come on, man. Snap your fingers.”

And that’s when it hit him. The casual way Carter had led him here, pushed him to bet, the way these men barely reacted to the stakes—this wasn’t a coincidence.

Nate’s pulse spiked as he turned to Carter, rage boiling over. “Did you play me, man?”

Carter barely blinked before exhaling, exasperated. “Just give him the money, man. Money means nothing to you.” Then his voice dropped lower. “These guys aren’t playing, but no one has to get hurt.”

Before Nate could react, another voice cut through the room.

“You’re a real friend,” Chuck drawled, stepping in as if he had all the time in the world. But there was steel in his voice, an edge that made even the seasoned gamblers shift uncomfortably.

Carter’s easy grin returned, but his eyes were sharp when he turned back to Nate. “Look,” he said, his voice casual, but the underlying threat clear. “If you don’t get the money, I’m gonna tell everyone where your little bitch lives, and they can come get it from her daddy. What do you think about that?”

Nate’s blood ran cold.

Before he could react, Chuck moved. In the span of a second, the tension in the room snapped as Chuck grabbed Carter by the collar and slammed him against the table. The poker chips scattered, a few tumbling onto the floor.

The room fell into stunned silence.

Chuck leaned in, voice dangerously low. “That’s not gonna happen.”

Carter held up his hands in mock surrender, laughing breathlessly. “Easy, Bass. Just business.”

Chuck didn’t let go. “Stay away from him. Stay away from her.”

Nate barely registered anything else as Chuck pulled him away from the table. His heart was still pounding, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. As they stepped outside into the cool night air, he let out a shaky breath.

Chuck turned to him, looking unimpressed. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

Nate shook his head, still processing everything. “I didn’t know—”

Chuck scoffed, cutting him off. “Yeah. That’s the problem.” Then, with one last glance at the club behind them, he sighed. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before you do something even dumber.”

Nate didn’t argue.

---

Nate sat hunched over his laptop, his fingers tapping anxiously against the desk as he logged into his online banking. The dim glow of the screen illuminated his face, his eyes scanning the numbers carefully.

“I’m gonna have to transfer some money,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “And pray the Captain doesn’t notice before I find a way to put it back.”

Chuck, lounging lazily on Nate’s bed, smirked. “You don’t have to pay me back, you know. I mean, it was worth every cent to see the last of that guy.”

Nate shook his head, his voice firm. “No, I want to. I mean it. Thanks.”

He hit a few more keys, then suddenly frowned. His brows furrowed deeper as he clicked around the screen.

“That… that can’t be right.”

Chuck glanced up from his phone. “What’s up?”

Nate’s heartbeat quickened. “It says I’m zeroed out.”

Chuck sat up straighter. “Maybe you have the wrong account.”

“No, no, no, no.” Nate’s voice grew more urgent, his fingers moving faster over the keyboard. “There must be something wrong. I accessed this account last month, and it said there was almost $200,000.”

Chuck leaned over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at the empty balance. The air in the room suddenly felt ten degrees colder.

The screen didn’t lie. The money was gone.

---

Nate’s hands trembled slightly as he held his phone to his ear, pacing back and forth. The dial tone rang once, twice—

“Tom? Yeah, it’s Nate Archibald. I—I just checked my account, and there’s been some kind of mistake. It’s showing zero.”

There was a pause on the other end before Tom, his bank account manager, cleared his throat. “Nate… that money was withdrawn weeks ago.”

Nate stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“Your father. He made a series of large transfers. The account was drained completely.”

Nate felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sorry, Nate. I thought you knew.”

Nate couldn’t even respond. The phone felt heavy in his grip as the weight of the truth settled on him. His father—his own father—had taken everything.

Tom was still talking, saying something about policies and how there was nothing he could do, but Nate wasn’t listening anymore.

He slowly lowered the phone from his ear, his expression blank.

Chuck, who had been watching from across the room, exhaled sharply. “Well, shit.”

Nate sank down onto the edge of his bed, staring at nothing.

Chuck, ever the opportunist, smirked. “You know, as fun as this has been… we could always go ask Claire for money.”

Nate shot him a sharp look, but Chuck only raised an eyebrow.

“Relax, I’m kidding… mostly.”

---

Gossip Girl

Spotted: Nate Archibald, once UES royalty, now just another broke boy with a bad poker face. Word on the street? Daddy dearest drained his bank account dry, leaving our golden boy with nothing but his last name and a pile of debt. And just when you thought things couldn’t get worse—turns out his “friendly” poker game was nothing but a trap, courtesy of one very charming, very dangerous Carter Baizen.

But don’t worry, darlings. When there’s blood in the water, the sharks always circle—and guess who swooped in to save the day? None other than Chuck Bass, stepping in like some dark knight in a cashmere coat. But let’s be real: Chuck never does anything for free. So the question is—what does he want in return?

And speaking of debts, let’s talk Claire Sutton—Nate’s beautiful, oblivious girlfriend, who still thinks she’s dating a prince. How long before she realizes her knight in shining armor is actually a pauper in Prada? Will she stick around out of love, or will she start taking calls from men with actual credit limits?

Money, power, betrayal—it’s just another night in the Upper East Side. But for Nate Archibald, the game’s changed.

And something tells me he’s already lost.

XOXO, Gossip Girl

last next masterlist

[friedclairsalad]

Empire of Secrets

(nate archibald) (chapter two: golden lies, silver tears)

The early September sun shone brightly over the Constance Billard hockey field, the warmth of the afternoon lingering just enough to make the chill of the fall air feel refreshing. The girls were spread out in their hockey uniforms, skirts swishing as they shuffled into positions. Claire, standing near the midfield, shifted uncomfortably, adjusting her ponytail.

Hockey wasn’t her favorite sport—too much chaos and too many swinging sticks for her liking—but she was determined to make the most of it. The game was supposed to be fun, but Claire couldn’t ignore the sharp tension crackling between Serena and Blair.

“Come on, Waldorf,” Serena called teasingly from the other end of the field, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder. “Try to keep up!”

Blair’s jaw tightened, her knuckles white as she gripped her hockey stick. “Oh, don’t worry, S. I’m just getting warmed up.”

Claire stood somewhere between them, carefully out of the line of fire, though she couldn’t help but notice Blair’s stick movements were becoming more aggressive with each passing second.

The whistle blew, and the game began.

Serena sprinted after the ball, weaving past their teammates with ease. Blair was hot on her heels, her eyes sharp and calculating as she swung her stick a little too close to Serena’s legs.

“Blair, chill out,” Claire called lightly, trying to diffuse the tension.

Blair shot her a quick glance, but her focus remained on Serena. “I’m playing the game,” she snapped.

Claire shook her head, muttering, “If this is how you play, remind me to stay far away from tennis matches.”

The ball skidded toward Claire, and she instinctively moved to intercept it. She caught it cleanly, dribbling toward the goal with surprising precision. Just as she was about to pass it, Blair came charging toward her.

“Blair, wait!” Claire shouted, a flicker of panic in her voice.

Blair swung her stick. It missed the ball completely and came up far too high.

The impact was immediate and brutal.

The stick connected with Claire’s face, right across the bridge of her nose. A sharp, sickening crack echoed in her ears, followed by an explosion of pain that radiated through her entire head. Claire stumbled back, her hands flying up to her face as tears sprang to her eyes.

“Oh my God!” Serena’s voice was sharp and panicked as she abandoned the ball and ran toward Claire.

Claire could feel the warm trickle of blood streaming down her face, soaking into her fingers. “I-Is my nose broken?!” she cried, her voice muffled and panicked.

Her knees buckled, and she sat down hard on the grass, her breathing quick and uneven.

“Let me see,” Serena said urgently, crouching beside her.

“No, don’t look!” Claire shrieked, pulling her hands away for half a second before covering her nose again. “Is it bad? It feels bad. Oh my God, what if it’s crooked forever?!”

Serena’s face softened as she gently pried Claire’s hands away, revealing her bloodied but still-straight nose. “Claire, it’s not broken. You’re fine. Just bleeding a little, that’s all.”

“‘A little’?” Claire’s voice wavered. “Serena, I’m gushing blood! This is not ‘a little!’”

“Claire, I swear, it looks worse than it is,” Serena said soothingly, grabbing a towel from the gym teacher who had hurried over. “Here, press this to your nose. Deep breaths.”

Meanwhile, Blair stood frozen, her hockey stick dangling from her hands. “I—I didn’t mean to,” she stammered, looking genuinely horrified.

Serena turned, her voice sharp. “Didn’t mean to? You’ve been swinging that stick like a maniac all game!”

“It was an accident!” Blair shot back, though her tone lacked its usual venom.

Claire whimpered, leaning into Serena as she pressed the towel to her nose. “Can someone call my parents? I think I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying,” Serena said gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I promise you’re going to be okay. And for the record, your nose still looks perfect.”

Claire glanced at her, her wide, teary eyes full of disbelief. “Really?”

Serena smiled reassuringly. “Really. The blood just makes it look a little... dramatic.”

Before Claire could respond, Blair took a hesitant step forward. “Claire, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t even,” Serena snapped, standing up. “You’ve done enough.”

And before anyone could stop her, Serena tackled Blair to the ground, her stick clattering to the side as the two girls wrestled in the grass.

“Girls!” one of the gym teachers shouted, rushing over to separate them.

Claire groaned, her head throbbing as she leaned back on her elbows. “You guys, please stop. This day is already terrible enough.”

The teacher finally managed to pull Serena off Blair, both of them looking disheveled and furious. Serena shot one last glare at Blair before turning her attention back to Claire.

“Let’s get you to the nurse,” Serena said, her voice softening again as she helped Claire to her feet. “And then I’ll call your parents, okay?”

Claire nodded weakly, letting Serena guide her off the field. “This is the worst hockey game in history.”

Serena chuckled softly. “I don’t think you’ll get any arguments there.”

As they walked away, Claire glanced back at Blair, who was standing alone in the middle of the field, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Claire almost felt bad for her—but the throbbing in her nose quickly erased any sympathy.

“Next time,” Claire muttered as they approached the school building, “I’m skipping gym class.”

Serena smirked, keeping a steady arm around her. “Probably a good idea.”

---

Sitting in the school nurse's office with an ice pack pressed to her still-throbbing nose, Claire let out a groan. The antiseptic smell of the room didn’t help her mood, nor did the growing embarrassment of how dramatically she’d reacted on the field. Her nose wasn’t broken, but it felt broken, and that was enough to make her sulk.

Her phone buzzed on the counter next to her. She reached for it, wincing slightly as the movement jostled her face.

Nate: Don’t forget—coffee later?

A small smile tugged at her lips despite the situation. Nate. Of course, he was texting her now, just when she felt like an absolute wreck. Claire debated whether to answer. She hated the idea of him knowing she was here.

Nate: Claire?

Claire: I didn’t forget. Just… busy right now.

Nate: Busy? Doing what?

Claire hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She glanced around the sterile room and sighed.

Claire: Just at school. Nothing exciting.

Nate: Come on, Sutton. What’s really going on?

Her brows knitted together as she chewed on her bottom lip. She should have known he wouldn’t let it go.

Claire: I’m at the nurse’s office.

The response came almost immediately.

Nate: The nurse? What happened?

Claire: Nothing serious. Just a hockey incident.

Nate: Are you okay?

Claire hesitated again before typing: I’m fine, really. Just resting.

Nate: Where’s the nurse’s office?

Claire blinked at her phone, realizing where this was heading.

Claire: Nate, no. You don’t need to come here.

Nate: On my way.

She stared at the screen in disbelief, her heart thumping just a little faster.

“Of course, he’s on his way,” she muttered to herself.

She glanced at her phone again, hoping Nate wasn’t serious about coming over.

But, as if on cue, the door opened, and there he was—slightly breathless, his hair a little windswept, and an expression of worry etched on his face.

“Claire,” he said, immediately walking over to her. “Are you okay? What happened?”

She sighed, pulling the ice pack away from her face. “I’m fine. It’s just a little bruise. Nothing to worry about.”

Nate crouched in front of her, his brow furrowing as he inspected her. “A little bruise? Claire, your nose is bluer than my tie.”

Claire froze, her heart skipping a beat. “Wait, what?”

“Your nose,” he repeated, gesturing to it as if she didn’t already know where it was located. “It’s blue. Like, really blue.”

Claire’s eyes widened in horror. “What do you mean blue? It can’t be blue!”

Nate winced. “Uh… it’s sort of like a… moldy blueberry.”

“Moldy blueberry?!” she shrieked, dropping the ice pack onto her lap. Her free hand shot up to touch her nose, but the slight sting of contact made her wince. “I haven’t even seen it! How bad is it?!”

Nate blinked, clearly regretting his choice of words. “I mean, it’s not that bad…”

“Nate!”

“Okay, hold on, hold on,” he said quickly, standing up. He grabbed a small hand mirror off the nurse’s desk and handed it to her. “Just… take a look.”

Claire took the mirror reluctantly, holding it up to her face. The second she caught sight of her reflection, her jaw dropped. Her nose wasn’t just bruised—it was a vibrant, blotchy shade of blue and purple, the swelling making it look even worse.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Claire…” Nate started, but it was too late.

Her eyes filled with tears, and before she could stop herself, they spilled over. “I look like a human fruit!”

Nate’s face softened immediately. “Hey, no, no, no. Don’t cry. It’s just a bruise. It’ll heal!”

“But what if it doesn’t?” she wailed, her words muffled by the tears. “What if my nose stays like this forever? I’ll have to change my name to Claire Blueberry and move to the countryside where no one can see me!”

Nate bit back a laugh, knowing it wouldn’t help, and crouched in front of her again. “Claire, listen to me. Your nose isn’t going to stay like this. I promise. You’re still… you. You’re beautiful, even if your nose does look like it lost a fight with a can of paint.”

She sniffled, glaring at him through her tears. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I’m terrible,” he agreed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But you’re still gorgeous. Even if you’re the world’s first human blueberry.”

Against her will, a small laugh bubbled out of her, and she quickly pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle it. “Stop it, Nate!”

“There she is,” he said softly, his hand resting lightly on the edge of her chair. “See? It’s not that bad. And hey, now you’ve got a good excuse to make me buy you coffee later.”

She sniffed again, her tears slowing. “You think coffee will fix my face?”

“No,” he said, standing and grabbing the ice pack to press gently back to her nose. “But I think it’ll make you feel better. And I’ll be there, which is just as good, right?”

Claire rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But you’re still going on that coffee date with me, blueberry nose and all.”

She couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking her head as he gently adjusted the ice pack. And as she looked at him—really looked at him—she realized that maybe, just maybe, having someone like Nate around made moments like these a little easier to bear.

---

The crisp September evening set the perfect backdrop for the Ivy Mixer, hosted in the extravagant ballroom of a Central Park venue. Glittering chandeliers illuminated the sea of well-dressed students, each with a laser-focused ambition to impress one of the Ivy League representatives circling the room. The event screamed exclusivity, sophistication, and—Claire thought to herself—unbearable pressure.

Dressed in a sleek, simple black cocktail dress that highlighted her Parisian elegance, Claire stood near the refreshments table, her hand delicately wrapped around a glass of sparkling water. Around her, Constance and St. Jude’s students flitted between the reps, their laughter a little too loud, their smiles a little too rehearsed.

“Quite the circus, isn’t it?” Dan Humphrey’s sarcastic voice cut through the chatter. He stood behind the refreshments table, his blazer slightly wrinkled, a tray of hors d’oeuvres in his hands.

Claire turned, letting out a small laugh. “Oh, absolutely. It’s like watching animals at the zoo. Except these animals are vying for Ivy League approval.”

Dan smirked. “And yet, here you are.”

“Not by choice,” Claire said, wrinkling her nose. “Everyone insisted I come. I have no interest in attending an Ivy school in the U.S. If anything, I’d stay in Europe.”

Dan raised a brow. “Well, that makes two of us who aren’t tripping over ourselves to impress the admissions gods tonight. Welcome to the outcast corner.”

“Merci,” Claire said with a small curtsy. “Do you get extra credit for manning the snacks?”

“Apparently, yes,” Dan deadpanned, placing the tray down. “But honestly, it’s more entertaining than trying to talk to a Yale rep who clearly already has a Serena van der Woodsen-shaped spot in mind.”

Claire’s gaze flicked across the room, and sure enough, Serena was dazzling the Yale representative with her golden hair and effortless charm, while Blair stood nearby, her knuckles white as she clutched her champagne flute.

“Serena seems to be enjoying herself,” Claire said lightly, though she could already see the storm brewing on Blair’s face.

“Enjoying herself at Blair’s expense,” Dan muttered. “It’s like watching a train wreck, but with more glitter.”

Before Claire could respond, a familiar voice called her name. She turned to see Nate weaving through the crowd, looking impossibly handsome in a tailored navy suit that made his blue eyes pop. He smiled as he approached, though his expression carried a hint of concern.

“Claire,” Nate said, stopping beside her. “Why aren’t you mingling with the reps?”

Claire shrugged, swirling her water. “Why would I? I don’t plan on going to any of these schools.”

Nate blinked, confused. “Wait, really? You don’t want to go to an Ivy?”

“Not particularly,” Claire replied, offering a faint smile. “I’ve always imagined myself staying in Europe. Maybe Paris or London. Somewhere that feels like home.”

Nate frowned, leaning slightly closer. “Then why are you here?”

Claire’s smile wavered, but before she could answer, a voice interrupted them.

“Well, someone like Claire Sutton doesn’t need to worry about making impressions,” the Dartmouth representative said, appearing beside Nate. He was tall, in his late thirties, with a practiced, professional smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “In fact, if Ms. Sutton wanted to attend Dartmouth, she wouldn’t even have to apply. We’d make it happen.”

Claire’s fingers tightened around her glass, but she forced a polite laugh. “That’s... flattering. But I’m sure that’s not how it works.”

The rep chuckled. “For most people, no. But for you? With your family name? Colleges like ours would be fighting to get you.”

Claire’s stomach twisted, though she kept her expression light. “How generous.”

The rep turned to Nate, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you two talk. Nate, we’ll catch up in a bit.”

As he walked away, Nate turned back to Claire, his brows furrowed. “That guy’s an idiot.”

Claire let out a small, forced laugh. “He’s just being honest.”

Nate shook his head. “No, he’s being a jerk. You’re more than your name, Claire. You know that, right?”

Her chest tightened at his words, and she quickly looked down at her glass. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like that’s all people see. Sutton Royale. Elysian Couture. The perfect package.” She glanced up at him, forcing a smile. “Who cares about me when my last name can do all the work?”

Nate’s expression softened, his voice quiet. “I care about you.”

Claire’s breath caught, her heart skipping a beat. But before she could respond, she let out a laugh, light and teasing. “Well, that makes one person.”

“I’m serious, Claire,” Nate said, stepping closer. His voice was gentle but firm. “You’re smart, funny, and way too good for half the people in this room. Your name doesn’t define you.”

Her eyes flicked to his, and for a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade away. “Thanks, Nate,” she said softly, her smile this time more genuine.

“Anytime,” he said, flashing her a crooked grin. “And hey, if you’re not here to schmooze, does that mean I get to steal you away from Dan?”

Claire laughed. “Considering Dan just disappeared to refill his tray, I think you’re safe.”

“Perfect,” Nate said, holding out his arm. “Let’s get out of here. I think you could use some air.”

She hesitated for a moment before looping her arm through his, allowing him to lead her toward the exit. As they stepped outside into the cool September air, Claire felt the weight of the evening lift slightly. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to play by everyone else’s rules. At least not tonight.

The air outside was a welcome relief after the stifling heat of the room. The streetlights flickered softly above, casting a mellow glow across the sidewalk as the sounds of the party seemed to fade away with each step they took away from the venue.

Claire exhaled deeply, the cool breeze brushing against her flushed cheeks. "I’m so glad you dragged me out of there," she said, offering Nate a playful glance. "If I had to listen to one more conversation about SAT scores or legacy admissions, I might’ve thrown myself into the Hudson."

Nate chuckled, his hands casually shoved in his pockets. "Well, I figured the last thing you needed was to be stuck in a room full of people pretending they actually care about getting into these schools. Besides, I’m pretty sure you can do a lot better than the Ivy League."

Claire smirked, lifting an eyebrow. "And how do you figure that?"

"Well, for starters," he said, turning to face her with a grin, "You already have better taste in everything. Fashion, music, food..." He paused for a moment, his expression softening. "And you certainly have better company than anyone inside that party."

Her heart fluttered a little at his words, but she played it cool, shrugging lightly. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Nathaniel Archibald. But it’s not going to get me into an Ivy League school."

Nate laughed again, shaking his head. "That’s not what I’m trying to do here. Honestly, I think you’re better off with a school that actually gets you. But, uh..." He paused, glancing around, seemingly hesitant. "I just don’t get why you’re so against these schools in the first place."

Claire sighed, looking out at the distant lights of the city. "It’s not that I’m against them. It’s just... everything feels like a performance. People pretend like these schools are the be-all and end-all of everything, but I don’t know. It doesn’t feel real to me." She let out a soft laugh. "And I don’t exactly need a degree to get into some fancy job. I mean, who needs a college diploma when your family can buy you your own PR team?"

Nate’s gaze softened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he listened. He was quiet for a moment, walking beside her. "You know, I’m starting to think you’re more of a realist than most of the people in that room," he said with a quiet chuckle. "And maybe that’s a good thing. Not everyone’s cut out to be another brainwashed Ivy League student."

Claire glanced at him, her lips quirking into a small smile. "Maybe you’re right. But I don’t think it matters what I think in the grand scheme of things. I mean, they don’t care what I want. It’s all about what’s expected of me."

There was a brief pause, and for a second, Claire thought she saw something flicker in Nate’s expression—something almost protective. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual easygoing demeanor.

"You don’t have to play by anyone’s rules," Nate said, the words carrying a sense of reassurance. "And you definitely don’t have to go along with what they think is best for you. Whatever you decide, I’ll be here."

Claire stopped walking for a second, looking at him in surprise. She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say, but that hadn’t been it. It was... comforting. She smiled softly, genuinely this time, and gave a nod. "Thanks, Nate. That means more than you know."

Nate nodded back, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "Anytime. I mean it."

The night had taken an unexpected turn—one she hadn’t anticipated. There was something so effortlessly easy about being with Nate. He didn’t make her feel like she had to put on a performance, or try to fit into any mold. He seemed to get her in a way that no one else had, and it made her heart beat just a little bit faster.

They continued walking along the edge of Central Park, the noise of the city humming in the background. Claire glanced up at the stars above, her mind swirling with everything that had happened. The Ivy Mixer, the conversation with the Dartmouth rep, and her brief but very real moment of doubt. For a moment, she wondered if Nate was right. Maybe there was more to life than legacy schools. Maybe she didn’t have to be defined by her name or the expectations placed on her.

"Hey," Nate said suddenly, breaking her train of thought. "You wanna grab something to eat? I know this place nearby that does amazing waffles at 8 p.m."

Claire turned toward him, surprised by the suggestion. "Waffles at 8 p.m.? I mean, sure, I’m not going to turn that down."

"Good," Nate said with a grin, his hand brushing against hers briefly. "Because I’m starving, and I think you need to stop sulking about the Ivy League for at least one more hour."

She laughed, her chest loosening from the tension that had been building throughout the evening. "Alright, alright. Waffles it is. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when I eat all the syrup."

Nate shot her a teasing smile. "Challenge accepted."

And just like that, the weight of the night lifted. Claire didn’t have to be anyone other than herself with Nate, and she found that she was okay with that.

As they walked side by side through the streets of New York, her earlier worries about her future seemed far less important. For once, it didn’t matter what the world expected of her. All that mattered was the moment they were sharing—and that, for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.

Claire and Nate sat across from each other, munching on the waffles, the sugary scent of syrup filling the air. Claire had never felt more relaxed, a comfortable silence hanging between them as they dug into their food. There was something oddly peaceful about it—like this moment was theirs and theirs alone.

"This might just be the best waffles I've ever had," Nate said, taking a slow bite and looking at Claire. He grinned at her. "And the best company."

Claire laughed lightly, the corners of her mouth turning upward. "I’m glad you think so. I can’t remember the last time I had waffles at almost 9 p.m."

"Almost 9 p.m," Nate echoed, glancing at the clock on the wall. "That’s almost a crime, isn’t it?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. But who’s going to stop us?" She paused, her fingers tapping lightly on the side of her glass.

---

After the waffles, the two of them lingered in the cozy dinner, Nate sipping his drink with a contemplative look, while Claire stared absentmindedly out the window. The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows over the empty sidewalks.

Then, C's phone buzzed on the table. She glanced down and smiled when she saw it was a message from Elliot.

Elliot (legendary party host): You up for a party tonight? At my place —everyone's going to be there. I think you's have blast, C.

Claire paused, biting her lip. The thought of a wild, loud party felt like exactly what she needed. She looked at Nate, whovwas still half-distracted by his phone, and made a snap decision.

"Hey," she said, leaning forward. "How about we go to a party?"

Nate raised an eyebrow, looking up from his screen. "A party? In the middle of nowhere?"

Claire shrugged, already standing up and grabbing her purse. "Why not? I'm in the mood for something... legendary. A friend of mine is throwing one."

Nate leaned back, surprised. "Legendary, huh? ais this some kind of 'you regret it tomorrow' thing?"

Claire grinned, her eyes gleaming. "Probably. But when has that ever stopped us?"

Without waiting for his response, she grabbed his hand, practically dragging him out of the diner. Nate let out a surprised laugh but followed her, the idea of a wild night of chaos and fun too tempting to pass up.

---

By the time they arrived, the party was already in full swing. Loud music spilled out onto the streets, the thumping bass vibrating through their chests as they walked up to Elliot's place. The house was massive, with people spilling out of the front floor onto the lawn. People were laughing, drinks in hand, some doing... drugs, and the energy was palpable.

"You sure about this?" Nate asked, but his girl was already pushing through the crowd, her hand never leaving his as they made their way inside.

The living room was packed. Music blasted from huge speakers in the corners, and the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of alcohol. Claire felt a familiar pull of excitement — the kind that made her feel alive and reckless. The kind of night where nothing mattered except losing herself in the chaos.

Nate looked around, clearly trying to assess the situation, but Claire had already moved into the throng of people. She could feel Nate's hand on her back as they squeezed past people, their bodies brushing with every step. She could see Elliot in the distance, talking to a group if people, but ,she had no interest in that right now. her attention was on Nate.

"I'm getting a drink," she said, her voice raised over the music. Nate nodded, grin starting to form.

"Not so fast, line queen!", Elliot came slendering towards them. Before Nate could ask about the nickname ge gave Claire, Elliot fetched out a small platic bag from his pants. Nate's unspoken question was answered, his lips pressed into a line.

Claire was somehow excited Elliot remembered about her little obsession at partys. "Elliot, you are a hyprocrite," C said laughing. Elliot dismissed her statement with a simple wave of his hand. "This you boy?"

Claire looked at Nate with big eyes, a look on her features Nate couldn't figure out.

---

At the bar area, several shots and drinks later, Claire grabbed drinks for her and Nate, tossing back a shot of something strong before slamming the cup down, already feeling the heat of the alcohol, feeling intoxicated. She could see Nate's eyes following her, mixture of amusement and intrigue in his gaze.

"Having fun?" she asked, her voice louder than usual from the drinks already flowing through her.

Nate just laughed, shaking his head. "You really do know how to turn a night around, don't you?"

"Come on, live a little," Claire urged, pulling him closer to her. Without waiting for a response, she kissed him, the taste of alcohol and something more dangerous on her lips. Nate hesitated for just a second, before kissing her back, his hands cupping her face as the crowd around them seemed to vanish.

The kiss was fast and furious, both of them lost in the madness of the party and the buzz in their veins. People bumped into them, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the way their lips met, pulling her even closer, as if he couldn't get enough.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their eyes wide and full of something unspoken.

"Let's get out of here," Nate said, a wicked grin on his face. Claire didn't need to be told twice.

---

They found an empty hallway upstairs, the music a distant rumble now. The world felt hazy, everything coated in the glow of flashing lights and the lingering taste of alcohol on their tongues.

Nate backed Claire against the wall, his lips finding hers again, but this time it was more frantic, more desperate. Their hands tangled in each other's clothes, hearts pounding in their chests. They couldn't get enough of each other— the chaos of the night, the intoxication, the heat between them.

Claire's body pressed against his, and she could feel every inch of him, her heart racing as he kissed her with abandon. His hands slid under her shirt, pulling her even closer, the sound of muffled laughter and music from downstairs doing nothing do break the intensity of the moment.

"Claire," Nate muttered between kisses, his voice hoarse with desire. "You're insane."

Claire pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. "I know," she whispered with a smirk. "And I think you're starting to like it."

Before he could respond, she pulled him back in, kissing him with everything she had. And this time, it was like nothing mattered. There was no tomorrow, no consequences — just the wild freedom of the night, the way their bodies tangled together, the way the party seemed to swirl around them.

---

Later as the night wore on, they foung themselves stumbling down the stairs, still laughing and lost in each other's company. The world was spinning, but in that moment, it didn't matter.

They made their way back to the crowded dance floor, where bodies moved together in a frenzy of alcohol, sweat and music. Claire found herseld pulled back into Nate's arms, her lips on his once again as they kissed like no one else was around The world was a blur of flashing lights, pounding beats, and the heat of their touch

And in that moment, they were completely lost in the night, in the madness, in each other.

---

Nate woke up to sunlight stabbing mercilessly through the curtains, his head pounding like a drum. The rich, expensive sheets beneath him felt too smooth, the air too crisp, and for a moment, he couldn’t figure out where he was. He sat on the edge of the hotel bed, his fingers brushing through his messy hair as he watched a girl, Claire, stir beneath the pristine white sheets.

Nate froze.

Her tousled hair, golden in the sunlight, spilled across the pillow, her bare shoulder peeking out from beneath the silky white sheet that barely covered her. Her face was relaxed, peaceful, her lips still slightly smudged with last night’s lipstick. Nate couldn't help but smile. And then it hit him like a freight train:

The party.

Claire had gotten a text from Elliot, someone he’d only vaguely heard about before, inviting her to one of his infamous "legendary" parties. Claire had turned to Nate, that mischievous glint in her eyes.

At first, Nate had been hesitant. Parties weren’t new to him—he’d been to enough to know how they usually ended. But Claire’s energy was infectious, and before he knew it, he was following her out of the diner, and into a cab.

The party had been chaos in the best way possible. People crammed wall to wall, music shaking the foundation, a haze of smoke and neon lights. Claire had been electric, dragging Nate through the crowd, laughing and tossing back shots like she’d done it a thousand times before. She’d introduced him to Elliot, who had handed them drinks and declared them the most “unexpected but hottest duo of the night.”

Then there had been the dancing.

Claire, spinning and swaying to the beat, her hands in the air, her laughter ringing out above the music. Nate couldn’t take his eyes off her. She’d grabbed his hand, pulling him closer, and then her arms were around his neck, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered something he couldn’t even hear over the music.

But he didn’t need to.

Because the next thing he knew, her lips were on his, and everything else disappeared.

Nate rubbed a hand over his face, the memory flooding back in vivid detail. The way she tasted like tequila and something sweet. The way her fingers tangled in his hair as she kissed him with wild abandon, uncaring who saw. And then later—the hotel. How they’d stumbled through the door, laughing and breathless, their hands all over each other. How they’d collapsed onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heat.

Now, looking at her, Nate felt a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite untangle. There was no regret—he knew that much. If anything, he felt… lighter. Like for once, he hadn’t been weighed down by expectations or his family or his image. With Claire, it had just been real.

Nate’s expression shifted slightly as Claire waked up and rubbed her temples. She looked stunning even in her disheveled state.

“Nate…” Claire started, her voice rasping from the dryness of her throat. “We didn’t, like… do anything, right?”

Nate paused. His jaw tensed for a second, and he rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish but amused smile creeping onto his face.

“Uh… actually,” he began, his voice low and careful, “we, uh, did do… well, everything.”

Claire froze, her wide, brown eyes locking onto his. “We what?”

Nate shifted closer, propping himself on his elbow as his other hand reached out to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You don’t remember?” he asked softly, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

Claire’s cheeks flushed a deep red. “I—no. I mean, kind of?” She buried her face in her hands. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Nate said, his voice lighter now, teasing. “But, uh, just so you know—you were very enthusiastic about it.”

Claire peeked at him through her fingers, her blush intensifying. “Nate!”

He laughed, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Relax, love. I’m not about to give you a play-by-play.” His tone softened, and his gaze turned serious. “But for what it’s worth, it wasn’t just some drunken hookup for me.”

Claire blinked, her heart skipping a beat at his tone. “It wasn’t?”

Nate leaned closer, his hand resting on the mattress beside her. “No. I mean, yeah, we were drunk and… pretty reckless, but it felt different with you. Like I could actually… breathe for once. Like nothing else mattered.”

Her breath caught in her throat as his words settled over her. She could see it in his eyes—the sincerity, the raw vulnerability that made her chest ache.

Before she could stop herself, she whispered, “Last night’s kind of a blur, but I… I felt the same.”

Nate’s gaze flicked to her lips, and suddenly the space between them felt electric.

“You felt the same, huh?” he murmured, his voice a low hum.

Claire nodded slowly, her pulse racing as he leaned closer. “Oui…”

He didn’t hesitate. Closing the small gap between them, Nate’s lips found hers, soft and warm and unhurried. Claire let out a small gasp, her hands instinctively reaching up to cup his face as she kissed him back.

It started slow, tender—like they were both savoring the moment. But as Claire’s fingers slid into his messy hair, and Nate’s hand moved to her waist, pulling her closer, the kiss deepened.

Her body melted into his, the sheet slipping slightly as Nate tilted her back against the pillows. His lips trailed from hers to her jawline, then down to the curve of her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“Nate,” she breathed, her voice catching as his mouth found her collarbone.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath. His eyes searched hers, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You sure you don’t remember last night?”

Claire let out a soft laugh, her cheeks still flushed. “Not all of it. But this… this feels familiar.”

“Good,” Nate murmured, pressing another soft kiss to her lips before pulling back reluctantly, biting his lip as he whispered, “Because as much as I’d love to keep going…” His hand reached out, brushing her cheek tenderly. “We should probably deal with whatever fresh hell Gossip Girl has cooked up for us.”

Claire blinked her eyes open, squinting against the light. “Gossip Girl?” she croaked, her voice rough from a mix of exhaustion and… well, tequila.

Nate froze, realizing what he’d said. “You… don’t know who Gossip Girl is?”

She shook her head, her brows knitting together in confusion. “No. Who or what is Gossip Girl?”

Nate sighed, running a hand down his face. “It’s… a blog. But not just any blog. It’s the blog. She—or whoever runs it—basically runs our social lives. She knows everything about everyone, and when she posts something, it spreads like wildfire. And I mean everything. Secrets, scandals, hookups, breakups—you name it.”

Claire sat up a little, clutching the sheet to her chest. “What are you saying, Nate?” Her voice was hesitant now, the edge of fear creeping in.

“I’m saying,” Nate said softly, grabbing his phone from the bedside table, “she’s probably already got us plastered all over her site. And whatever she’s saying… it’s not going to leave a lot of room for imagination.”

He opened the Gossip Girl post with a heavy sigh and handed the phone to Claire. Her hands shook slightly as she took it, her eyes scanning the screen.

“Looks like Sutton Royale and Elysian Couture’s princess found a new heir to the throne—or at least to her heart. Claire Sutton and Nate Archibald were spotted at Elliot Reeves’ infamous penthouse bash last night, stealing more than just glances. They left together in the early hours, but don’t let their perfectly polished names fool you. Witnesses say they were far from innocent. Hookups, hookups everywhere! Did we just witness the birth of the UES’s hottest new couple, or was this just a booze-soaked fling? Either way, Daddy Sutton and Mommy Couture are bound to have thoughts on their little debutante’s scandalous night. Careful, Claire, you don’t want to become Gossip Girl’s favorite plaything.”

The words felt like a slap in the face. Claire’s lips parted as she re-read the post, her stomach twisting into knots. “oh mon Dieu” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “Mes parents… mon père…”

Her breathing quickened as panic rose. She could practically see her mother’s stern gaze and her father’s silent but devastating disappointment. Gossip Girl had taken what was supposed to be her wild night of freedom and turned it into ammunition.

“Hey, hey,” Nate said quickly, sliding closer to her on the bed. He took the phone from her trembling hands and set it aside. “Claire, look at me. It’s going to be okay.”

Her eyes welled with tears, her chest tightening. “No, it’s not,” she said, her voice cracking. “Do you know what my parents will do when they see this? What they’ll think of me? They already expect me to be perfect all the time. And now the whole world knows I—” Her voice faltered, and she buried her face in her hands.

Nate reached out, gently prying her hands away. “Claire. Stop. Listen to me.”

She looked up at him, her tear-filled eyes searching his face for some kind of reassurance.

“You’re not perfect,” he said softly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to be. You had one crazy night, and you had fun. That doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human.”

Claire sniffled, her lips trembling. “Vous ne comprenez pas. My dad’s entire hotel empire, my mom’s brand—it’s all about appearances. If they think I’m some reckless party girl—”

“They won’t,” Nate interrupted, his tone firm. “And if they do, that’s their problem, not yours. You’re allowed to live your life, Claire. You’re allowed to make mistakes. And anyone who tries to hold this over you is just jealous they’re not you.”

She let out a shaky breath, staring at him as his words sank in. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked quietly.

Nate smiled softly, leaning closer. “Because I care about you. And because last night… last night wasn’t just some mistake.”

Her breath hitched as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her jawline. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

And then he kissed her, slow and gentle, as if trying to pour every ounce of comfort and reassurance he had into that single moment. Claire melted into him, her arms winding around his neck as her fears momentarily faded into the background.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, and for the first time since she’d woken up, Claire felt a spark of hope.

“You promise?” she asked softly.

“I promise,” Nate said, his voice steady. “Whatever happens next, we’ll deal with it together.”

Just then, Nate’s phone buzzed again, lighting up with an incoming call. Blair’s name flashed on the screen, but Nate ignored it, letting it go to voicemail. Claire noticed but didn’t say anything, her focus still on him.

“Let’s just stay here a little longer,” he said, his lips brushing against her temple. “We’ll figure everything out later. Right now, it’s just us.”

And for the first time in a long time, Claire let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—things really would be okay.

Just as the quiet comfort of the hotel room began to settle in, Nate’s phone buzzed again. He groaned, reaching for it reluctantly. “If that’s Blair again…” he muttered under his breath, but the name on the screen wasn’t hers this time.

“Dad,” he said aloud, his tone tightening as he sat up straighter. He hesitated for a beat before answering, glancing at Claire apologetically. She waved him off, gesturing for him to take the call.

“Hey,” he said, his voice stiff.

“Nathaniel,” came his father’s clipped tone, sharp as ever. “Where are you? Jed and I are already running. You’re late.”

Nate blinked, standing upright as if instinctively preparing for an interrogation. “Running?” he repeated, as if his brain was still foggy from last night.

“Yes, running. Dartmouth, Nathaniel. You do remember Dartmouth, don’t you? Jed’s here, ready to be impressed, and I told him you had food poisoning last night. A little heads-up that you weren’t at the Ivy mixer would’ve been nice.”

“Right,” Nate said quickly, his stomach knotting. “Sorry about that. I’ll be there soon.”

“You’d better be,” The Captain said sternly. “The last thing I need is another screw-up. You’ve already been making things difficult lately.”

Nate gritted his teeth, gripping the phone tightly. “I said I’ll be there,” he muttered before ending the call abruptly, unable to stomach another second of his father’s voice.

He set the phone down and let out a deep breath, raking a hand through his messy hair.

“Food poisoning?” Claire teased lightly, tilting her head. “That’s creative.”

Nate turned to her, shaking his head in exasperation. “Yeah. Apparently, that’s the official story. Better than the truth, I guess.”

Claire smiled faintly, pulling the covers tighter around herself. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you do look like someone who just barely survived food poisoning.”

He smirked, but the tension in his jaw didn’t ease. “My dad doesn’t care where I actually was, as long as it doesn’t embarrass him or mess with his plans.”

Her smile faded, her eyes softening. “Nate…”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, though his tone betrayed him. “It’s just… this is what he does. He micromanages every second of my life, acts like every decision I make is a direct reflection on him.” He let out a bitter laugh. “He doesn’t even care if I want Dartmouth. As long as I’m playing along, that’s all that matters.”

Claire’s gaze lingered on him, her heart twisting at how tired he sounded. “I get it,” she said softly. “Parents like ours… they don’t see us as people. They see us as projects. They don’t want us to live our lives; they want us to live theirs.”

Nate’s head turned sharply, his eyes meeting hers. “Yeah. Exactly that.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of shared understanding settling between them. Finally, Nate sighed, standing and reaching for his jeans on the floor.

“I should get going,” he said reluctantly. “My dad’s probably timing me.”

Claire watched as he dressed, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You don’t have to let him run your life, you know,” she said quietly.

He paused, pulling his shirt over his head. “It’s easier to just go along with it,” he admitted. “Less fighting that way.”

“Easier,” she repeated, frowning. “But not better.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. “Thanks, Claire,” he murmured. “For everything.”

She smiled faintly. “Don’t forget—food poisoning. Stick to the script.”

He chuckled dryly. “Got it.”

Claire watched him go, the door clicking shut behind him. She leaned back into the pillows, letting out a long sigh. If only Nate could see himself the way she did. If only his father could see it too.

---

As Nate stepped outside the hotel, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from his dad.

Dad: “Jed doesn’t have all day, Nathaniel. Get moving.”

Nate rolled his eyes and shoved the phone into his pocket. It was going to be a long morning.

---

last next masterlist

[friedclairsalad]

Empire of Secrets

(nate archibald) (chapter one: lavender lies and champagne secrets)

The Suttons arrived at the Palace Hotel brunch with effortless grace. Claire, dressed in a lavender blouse and crisp white pants, walked between her parents. Her soft waves framed her delicate features, and her smile was as warm as the morning sun. The Sutton family didn’t need to flaunt their wealth—it was in the way people instinctively stepped aside for them as they walked by, whispers trailing behind them.

They were shown to a reserved table near the center of the room, but Claire’s attention was quickly drawn to the familiar, somewhat awkward duo seated at the far end—Serena van der Woodsen and Dan Humphrey. Both looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.

“Papa, Maman, may I?” Claire gestured toward Serena and Dan’s table. “They are friends, and they look as uncomfortable as I feel.”

John Sutton gave her a knowing smile. “Go ahead, Claire. We’ll be fine here.”

“Merci!” Claire beamed before making her way across the room, her lavender blouse catching the light as she glided between tables.

Nate Archibald, seated a few tables away with Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass, noticed her immediately. His easygoing slouch straightened as his gaze followed her.

She’s here, Nate thought, his heart beating faster. He hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, and now, here she was, glowing in the soft lavender that made her look like something out of a dream. He felt a tug in his chest, that same pull he’d felt when they’d locked eyes during his run with his father. What was it about her that made everything else fade away?

“Where are you going?” Blair asked sharply as Nate suddenly stood up, smoothing his blazer.

“Just saying hi,” Nate said, flashing her a quick smile before walking away.

Blair exchanged a look with Chuck, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Who is she?”

Chuck smirked, leaning back with practiced ease. “Claire Sutton. Her father owns Sutton Royale—you know, the luxury hotel chain that basically invented the concept of exclusivity—and her mother runs Elysian Couture. It’s the kind of brand where even I need an invite to shop.”

Blair’s lips parted in surprise before snapping shut. She glanced over at Claire, who had just reached Serena and Dan’s table. “Of course. She’s that Sutton.”

“Jealous, Waldorf?” Chuck drawled, his tone half-teasing.

Blair’s gaze darkened as she tracked Nate’s purposeful stride toward Claire. Jealous? Maybe a little. But mostly, she was annoyed—annoyed that Nate was making a spectacle of himself for some girl she didn’t even know. And that girl’s family, of all people. The Suttons. Of course, they’re perfect. Her thoughts were a storm of questions. Who was this Claire Sutton, and why did Nate seem so... captivated?

Meanwhile, Claire reached Serena and Dan’s table, her accent wrapping around her words like honey. “Bonjour, Serena, Dan. May I join you? You look as if you’ve been cornered by wolves.”

Serena laughed, grateful for the distraction. “Please, Claire, sit. You’ve no idea how right you are.”

“Hey, Claire,” Dan said, surprised but genuinely happy to see her. “Thanks for rescuing us.”

Claire smiled as she slid into the chair next to Serena. “I thought I was the one being rescued. These events are... suffocating, no?”

Before Serena could reply, Nate appeared beside their table. “Claire,” he greeted, his voice softer than usual.

Claire looked up, her expression brightening. “Oh, Nate! Bonjour. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Nate smiled, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I could say the same. It’s good to see you.” His voice was warm, and his eyes lingered on hers for just a moment too long.

Dan’s brow furrowed slightly as he watched the interaction. “Hey, Nate,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Dan.” Nate nodded, sparing him a glance before turning back to Claire. “I hope you’re enjoying the brunch. It’s kind of... well, it’s a lot.”

“It is,” Claire agreed, her laugh soft. “But at least I have Serena and Dan to keep me company.”

“Good,” Nate said, his smile widening. “That’s good.”

From across the room, Blair’s sharp gaze didn’t miss a thing. She leaned closer to Chuck, her voice low and icy. “Why is he smiling like that?”

Chuck shrugged, barely hiding his amusement. “Looks like Archibald’s got a new obsession.”

Blair’s jaw tightened. She hated this—not knowing, not being in control. Nate was hers, wasn’t he? And yet here he was, looking at Claire Sutton like she hung the moon.

Back at the table, Nate lingered a moment longer, as if reluctant to leave. He wanted to ask her if she’d be around later, or if she was planning on staying long in New York. But then he remembered Blair and Chuck sitting at their table, Blair’s sharp eyes surely burning a hole into his back.

Reluctantly, he cleared his throat. “I should probably get back. See you around, Claire.”

“À bientôt,” Claire replied, her voice gentle.

As Nate walked back to Blair and Chuck, Serena leaned closer to Claire, lowering her voice. “What’s that about?”

Claire blinked, feigning confusion. “What’s what about?”

Serena smirked knowingly. “Never mind.”

Claire laughed softly, brushing it off, but even she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her chest.

For Nate, the walk back to Blair’s table felt heavy. He could feel Blair’s expectant gaze before he even sat down. He knew the questions were coming. But all he could think about was Claire’s soft smile and the way her voice sounded like sunlight.

---

Serena looked increasingly restless at the table. She pushed her food around her plate before leaning toward Dan. “I need to use the bathroom,” she murmured, excusing herself. Dan nodded, oblivious, as he glanced back at Claire, who was quietly sipping her champagne and observing the room with a thoughtful expression.

Claire’s eyes followed Serena, watching her weave through the crowd. Something in her demeanor felt... off. Claire set her glass down, excusing herself quietly.

As Serena approached the grand hallway leading to the restrooms, Nate appeared, leaning casually against the wall. His expression shifted when he saw her—hesitation and urgency battling across his face.

“Nate,” Serena said, startled. Her voice was low, laced with frustration. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,” Nate said quickly, stepping closer.

“Nate, this isn’t the time or place,” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder as though someone might catch them.

“Serena, please,” he pleaded, his voice softer now. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine. I need to talk to you—about us, about everything.”

Serena crossed her arms, exhaling sharply. “Nate...”

He reached into his pocket and handed her a key. “Chuck’s suite. Just meet me there, okay? We need to figure this out.”

Serena hesitated, her hand hovering over the key for a moment before reluctantly taking it. “Fine,” she whispered, her tone conflicted. “But this doesn’t mean anything.” Without another word, she turned and headed toward the elevators, her steps quick and deliberate.

Claire, who had lingered by the edge of the hallway, saw Serena disappear into the elevator. She turned, and her breath hitched when Nate rounded the corner and almost bumped into her.

“Oh, pardon,” Claire said softly, stepping aside with her usual grace.

Nate froze, his eyes wide, his expression a mix of surprise and guilt. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Claire tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a polite smile. “Good luck with her,” she said lightly, her French accent softening the words.

Nate’s jaw dropped slightly. “I—what?” he stammered, his face flushing.

Claire’s expression didn’t waver, though something in her eyes seemed deeper, knowing. “Whatever it is you need to fix, I hope it works out.” She gave him a small nod before brushing past him, her lavender blouse catching the light as she walked back to the table.

Nate stood frozen for a moment, his heart racing. He turned slightly, watching her retreat. He didn’t know why, but something about her words made him feel even more conflicted than before.

When Claire returned to the table, Dan glanced up, puzzled. “You okay?”

Claire smiled, sliding into her chair. “Oui, of course.” She paused, glancing toward the elevator Serena had disappeared into. “Your sister... does she like Serena?”

Dan blinked at the sudden question. “Jenny? Uh, I guess so. Why?”

Claire shrugged, her tone light but her mind far away. “Just wondering.”

Dan tilted his head, studying her. “You’ve been asking a lot of questions lately. Everything good?”

“Oui,” she said again, her smile soft but inscrutable. “Sometimes I think too much, that’s all.”

Dan smirked. “You and me both.”

Claire’s attention lingered on the hallway for just a moment longer before she turned her focus back to the conversation at the table, but her mind remained unsettled.

---

Claire swirled her glass of champagne, barely listening to Dan as her sharp eyes followed Blair’s every move. Chuck had just handed Blair a key—to his suite, no doubt. Claire’s suspicions flared when Blair glided back toward Nate, her expression one of smug determination.

Blair leaned over Nate, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder, her voice syrupy sweet. “Nate, let’s go somewhere private. We need to talk.”

Nate blinked, glancing up at her. “Uh, now?”

“Yes,” Blair insisted, looping her arm around his as she tugged him to his feet. “Now.”

Claire watched as Blair led Nate away, her hand possessively gripping his arm. She could see the calculated sway in Blair’s hips, the glint of mischief in her eyes. Blair wasn’t just talking. She was plotting.

Nate, for his part, seemed reluctant, his steps uneven as he followed Blair. His mind was a tangled mess, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of regret, guilt, and longing. He wasn’t even sure why he was letting her lead him. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was guilt over how things had been unraveling between them. Or maybe it was just easier than resisting.

As they reached the hallway leading to the elevator, Blair’s grip tightened. She leaned closer, her voice low and seductive. “You remember all the good times we’ve had, don’t you, Nate?” she murmured. “Kindergarten to now… we’ve always been meant to be.”

Nate forced a half-smile, trying to focus, but his heart wasn’t in it. His thoughts betrayed him, drifting back to Claire—the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled, the gentle lilt of her French accent, the ease with which she carried herself in this world of endless facades.

Blair stopped short in front of the elevator, her hand reaching out to press the button. As the doors opened, Nate’s gaze wandered back toward the brunch. And that’s when he saw her.

Claire sat at the table, listening politely as Dan prattled on about something Nate couldn’t hear. Her brunette hair framed her face in soft waves, and she leaned forward slightly, her smile polite but distant. Then her eyes lifted, locking with Nate’s.

She smiled—but it wasn’t her usual kind, warm smile. It was sharp, knowing, almost mocking. Her devious expression sent a jolt through him, and for a second, Nate froze, his feet rooted to the floor.

She knows.

Blair tugged at his arm impatiently, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Nate? Are you coming?”

He blinked, looking back at Blair as she stepped into the elevator. He hesitated, torn between the path ahead of him and the weight of Claire’s gaze.

But Blair’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him inside. The elevator doors closed with a soft chime, and Nate felt a sinking pit in his stomach.

Meanwhile, Claire sat back in her chair, letting the smile fade from her lips. She swirled her champagne absently, muttering under her breath, “Oh, pauvre idiot.”

Dan furrowed his brow, confused. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Claire replied, her voice cheerful but tight. She reached for her glass again, determined to let the drama unfold without her interference. If Nate wanted to play games, so it be.

Still, her eyes lingered on the hallway for a moment longer. She couldn’t help but wonder just how far Nate would let himself be led astray—and how much damage he was willing to cause in the process.

---

Blair storms out of the suite, her heels clicking furiously against the marble floor as she fights back tears. Her carefully crafted plan to seduce Nate has just crumbled before her eyes, replaced with the searing image of Serena—her best friend—standing in Chuck's suite waiting for Nate.

The room buzzed with quiet chatter as Blair returned to the brunch, her perfectly styled hair bouncing with each sharp step. Fury boiled beneath her composed exterior, but her lips curled into a smirk as she scanned the room for Dan.

There he was, standing near the buffet, awkward and unsure as ever. Blair stalked over, the heels of her shoes clicking against the marble like a warning.

“Dan!” Blair’s voice rang out across the room. Heads turned. Dan stiffened, he looked up, his brow furrowing.

“Blair?” he asked, confused.

Blair’s expression was deceptively calm, but her voice dripped with venom. “I thought you should know something about your girlfriend,” she said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

Blair's voice cut through the hum of brunch chatter like a knife, sharp and attention-grabbing, her words aimed directly at Dan, but loud enough for nearby tables to overhear.

Dan's eyes widened as he straightened up, gripping his plate awkwardly. "What are you talking about?"

Just as Blair was about to drop her bombshell, Nate and Serena appeared at the bottom of the grand staircase, both pale and breathless. Nate grabbed Serena’s arm, urging her to pick up her pace. “Blair, stop!” Nate called as they descended rapidly, his voice strained.

But Blair had already made up her mind. Her anger simmered just beneath the surface, fueling her resolve. She stepped closer to Dan, her lips curling into a faux sweet smile. “Serena was waiting in Chuck’s suite. For Nate,” she said plainly, savoring the way Dan’s face twisted in confusion. “I just thought you should know before you fall head over heels for your perfect girl and her perfect world, and then get left all alone with no one but your cabbage patch kid.”

The room went deathly silent, the weight of Blair’s words crashing into Dan like a tidal wave. His brows furrowed deeply, disbelief etched across his face as he processed the accusation. “Wait, what?” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze darted toward Serena, who froze beside Nate, guilt written all over her face.

Dan’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his mind racing. His jaw clenched tightly as he turned his attention back to Blair. “Have you talked to my sister ?”

Before she could say more, Chuck’s voice slid into the conversation, dripping with smugness. “Ah, yes, little Jenny. I do believe she and I have some unfinished business.”

Dan’s head snapped toward Chuck, his body tensing as anger flared in his eyes. “Stay away from her,” Dan growled, his voice low but laced with fury.

Chuck smirked, taking a casual step closer, his usual air of arrogance firmly in place. “Poor Daniel,” he sneered. “So little time and so many sluts to defend.”

And that was it. Dan’s restraint snapped like a fragile thread. He lunged forward and shoved Chuck hard in the chest, catching everyone off guard. Chuck stumbled backward, his arms flailing slightly as he collided with Claire, who had been standing behind him quietly, observing the drama unfold.

It all happened so fast. Claire, who had been holding a glass of champagne, didn’t have time to steady herself. She let out a soft gasp as she toppled to the ground, the champagne glass shattering against the marble floor. Shards of glass dug into her palm as her hand hit the floor, and a sharp hiss of pain escaped her lips as blood seeped from the cuts.

Nate was the first to break through the chaos. He rushed to her side, dropping to his knees as he reached for her hand. His movements were frantic, his eyes scanning her bleeding palm with growing panic. “Are you okay? Claire, look at me.”

Blair, standing a few steps away, watched with a sharp pang of jealousy as Nate’s concern for Claire overtook him completely. “She’s fine, Nate,” Blair snapped, her tone dismissive. “It’s just a little glass.”

Nate ignored her, his focus entirely on Claire. “Don’t move,” he said softly, his voice calming as he reached for a napkin from a nearby table. He pressed it gently against her palm, trying to stop the bleeding. “Does it hurt? Can you move your fingers?”

Claire winced but nodded slightly, her face pale as she looked up at him. “Oui, I’m fine,” she murmured, her voice shaky. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Serena hovered nearby, her face a mix of shock and guilt. “Claire, I’m so sorry,” she said, wringing her hands nervously. “I—”

“Don’t,” Claire interrupted, her voice soft but firm. She glanced briefly at Serena before turning her attention back to Nate. “Merci, Nate. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Nate shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Of course, I’m going to worry. You’re bleeding.”

From the corner, Chuck dusted off his jacket, his face a mix of irritation and smug amusement. “Always the hero, Archibald,” he drawled, earning a glare from Nate.

“Shut up, Chuck,” Nate snapped, his voice sharp.

Blair’s jealousy finally bubbled over. “Nate, she said she’s fine,” Blair said coldly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Can we get back to what’s important?”

Nate shot her a pointed look, his expression unreadable. “She is important, Blair.”

Blair’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She stared at him, stunned into silence.

Dan, meanwhile, had stepped away from the group, his face dark with anger and betrayal as he looked at Serena. “So, it’s true,” he said quietly, his voice heavy. “You and Nate.”

Serena’s eyes filled with tears as she reached for him. “Dan, I—”

“Save it,” he snapped, taking a step back. “I can’t do this right now.”

With that, Dan turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Serena standing there, her tears spilling over. Claire, still on the ground, watched him go with a heavy sigh, shaking her head slightly. The drama was far from over, and she had a feeling this was just the beginning.

Nate helped Claire to her feet carefully, his hand lingering on hers longer than necessary. “You need to get this cleaned up,” he said softly.

“Oui,” Claire said with a faint smile, her gaze meeting his. “Merci.”

Blair’s icy stare bore into Claire as Nate led her away toward the kitchen to find a first aid kit, leaving Serena and Chuck to deal with Blair’s simmering rage.

For Blair, this wasn’t just about Serena anymore. Claire Sutton was quickly becoming a problem—and Blair Waldorf didn’t tolerate problems.

---

Nate gently guided Claire toward the kitchen, his hand resting lightly on her waist. He glanced at her every few steps, his worry evident. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady.

Claire let him lead her, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at his overprotectiveness. “Nate, it’s just a cut,” she said lightly. “Not a war wound.”

He didn’t respond, though his lips quirked slightly at her remark. Once they reached the kitchen, he paused in front of the counter. “Sit,” he instructed, his hand leaving her waist only to help her up.

Before she could protest, Nate placed his hands gently on her sides and lifted her onto the counter as if she weighed nothing. “There. Stay put,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Claire blinked, a little startled but not displeased. “Well, aren’t you decisive,” she teased, swinging her legs slightly as he moved to search through the cabinets.

“You’re not exactly in a position to argue,” he shot back, though there was no heat in his words.

She tilted her head, watching him fumble through drawers with an almost frantic energy. “If you keep pulling out every drawer like that, we’re going to need a cleanup crew for the cleanup.”

“I’m trying,” Nate muttered, pulling out what looked like a first aid kit. He opened it with a relieved sigh and brought it over to her. “I just don’t want to grab the wrong thing and make it worse.”

Claire smiled softly at his careful tone. “You’re really taking this seriously, huh?”

He gave her a quick glance, his blue eyes earnest. “Of course, I am. You’re hurt, Claire. That’s kind of a big deal.”

“It’s a cut,” she said gently. “I’m not dying.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he murmured, opening the kit and pulling out antiseptic wipes. His hands hovered over hers, and for a moment, he hesitated, afraid of hurting her.

Claire, touched by his care, tilted her head with a small, teasing smile. “I promise I won’t break, Nate.”

“I don’t want to take that chance,” he replied quietly, finally starting to clean the wound with soft, deliberate movements.

Her teasing expression softened, and she studied him in silence for a moment. “You’re not usually this serious,” she said softly.

He gave a small shrug, focusing on his task. “I guess I’m not usually taking care of someone who matters to me.”

Her breath caught at his words, but she recovered quickly. “Well, I can’t complain about the attention,” she joked lightly, trying to ease the heaviness in the air. “Though I will say, you’re treating this like I’ve been shot.”

His lips twitched, but the tension didn’t leave his face. “You don’t get it, Claire. I feel like I keep messing up. With Blair, Serena… and now you’re here, bleeding because of me.”

Her brow furrowed at the pain in his voice. “Hey, this isn’t your fault. If anyone owes me an apology, it’s Dan—or maybe Chuck, for being the world’s biggest sleaze.”

Nate let out a quiet laugh, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Still. I dragged you into all of this… chaos. You don’t deserve that.”

Claire reached out with her uninjured hand, lightly touching his arm. “Nate, listen to me. You didn’t drag me into anything. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

He looked up, his expression conflicted. “You’ve seen how messy my life is, Claire. Blair, Serena—it’s like I’m always stuck between them, trying to keep everything from falling apart. And then you show up, and suddenly, none of it seems to matter as much. But I don’t know how to be what you deserve.”

Claire’s heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, her voice warm and steady. “Nate, you’re being ridiculous. You’re sweet, you’re thoughtful, and you care. That’s all anyone could ask for. And if you think a little brunch drama is going to scare me off, you clearly don’t know me very well.”

He looked at her, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

“Of course, I do,” she said with a small smile. Then, her tone lightening, she added, “Though, if you wanted to prove it to me, you could always take me out for coffee.”

Nate blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. “Coffee?”

“Yes, coffee,” she repeated, her smile widening. “Somewhere quiet, somewhere normal. No drama, no chaos—just you and me. What do you say?”

His expression softened as he finished wrapping the bandage around her hand. “I’d say that sounds perfect.”

“Good,” she said, leaning back slightly. “Then consider it a date.”

Nate stood there for a moment, looking at her as though he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “You’re something else, Claire.”

She tilted her head, her smile playful. “And yet, here you are.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he gently helped her down from the counter. His hands lingered on her waist for a moment, steadying her. “I guess I just can’t help myself.”

Claire glanced up at him, her expression soft. “You don’t have to, Nate. I’m not going anywhere.”

His chest tightened at her words, and he smiled, a little more sure of himself now. “Neither am I.”

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of the world outside fading into the background. And in that quiet kitchen, amidst first aid kits and bandages, something warm and hopeful bloomed between them.

---

Outside the Palace Hotel, Claire was slipping into the sleek black town car her parents had waiting. Her father, John Sutton, stood tall in a tailored suit, his presence commanding as ever, holding the door open. Meanwhile, Eliza Sutton hovered nearby, her pristine white blouse and understated diamond earrings glinting in the evening light, a picture of polished elegance.

“Darling, let me see your hand again,” Eliza said, reaching for Claire’s bandaged fingers. “You need to be more careful in these situations. Honestly, it’s a miracle the glass didn’t do more damage.”

“Maman, vraiment,” Claire said with a light laugh, switching to French, “you’re going to make me think I’ve lost my whole hand.”

John’s sharp blue eyes softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. “She’s your mother, Claire. Let her fuss. You’re lucky that boy was there to help. What was his name?”

Claire hesitated, glancing back at the hotel doors as though Nate might appear again. “Nate. Nate Archibald. He’s... kind.”

John frowned slightly. “Kind, you say. Well, I’d like to know more about him.”

“Papa, non. He’s just a friend,” Claire insisted, though her voice faltered on the word “friend.”

Eliza raised a perfectly arched brow, her expression both amused and inquisitive. “If he’s just a friend, why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing!” Claire protested, though the heat creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.

John sighed. “Regardless, if he’s spending time with you, I want to know who he is. I didn’t build Sutton Royale by trusting people at face value.”

Claire rolled her eyes affectionately. “You two are impossible. You do realize I’m 16, not nine?”

Her father’s lips twitched into a rare smile. “You’ll always be our little girl.”

With that, Claire slid into the car, Eliza following as John shut the door. As they pulled away, Claire rested her head against the seat and let out a quiet sigh. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering what Nate was thinking now—or if he was thinking of her at all.

Inside the brunch, Nate had just re-entered the room when Chuck sauntered up beside him, swirling a glass of champagne.

“Ah, Archibald,” Chuck drawled with a smirk. “You know, I’ve been doing some thinking.”

Nate sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Not in the mood, Chuck.”

Chuck ignored him, stepping in closer. “You’re into Claire Sutton, aren’t you?”

Nate froze for half a second before glaring at him. “What are you talking about?”

Chuck chuckled, the sound low and self-satisfied. “You do realize who her parents are, don’t you?” He took a leisurely sip of his drink, clearly enjoying this.

Nate frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Chuck raised a brow. “John Sutton. Sutton Royale. A hotel empire that makes your dad’s real estate portfolio look like pocket change. And Eliza Sutton—CEO of Elysian Couture. You know, the Eliza Sutton. Their family doesn’t just exist in high society—they own it.”

Nate blinked, absorbing the information. “And you’re telling me this because...?”

“Because,” Chuck said smoothly, “you clearly have no idea who you’re dealing with. The Suttons don’t just hang out with people like us for fun. They’re practically untouchable.”

Nate’s jaw tightened, his mind flashing back to the way Claire had looked at him earlier. “She’s not like that.”

Chuck snorted. “Sure she isn’t. But you’ve got to admit, the wounded damsel act is a good look for her.”

Nate’s glare darkened. “Back off, Chuck.”

Chuck smirked, clearly unfazed. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when the Suttons decide you’re not worth their time.”

Nate didn’t respond. He turned and walked away, letting Chuck’s words hang in the air behind him.

---

That evening, Claire was curled up in her room, a soft blanket draped over her as she scrolled aimlessly through her phone. She paused when a message popped up, her heart skipping slightly when she saw Nate’s name.

Nate: Hey. Just wanted to check in. How’s your hand?

A smile tugged at her lips as she replied.

Claire: Bonsoir, Nate. My hand is fine, thanks to you. Though I think my parents are ready to wrap me in bubble wrap.

His reply came quickly.

Nate: Sounds like they care about you a lot. That’s good.

Claire: Oui, but sometimes they overdo it. You should have heard my dad threatening to investigate you.

She hesitated, then added with a playful smile, Though I told him you were a perfect gentleman.

There was a pause before Nate replied.

Nate: I owe you for that. And for the record, I still owe you coffee.

Claire’s smile widened.

Claire: You do, don’t you? Shall we call it even tomorrow? There’s a little café near Central Park I think you’ll like.

Nate: Tomorrow it is. I’ll text you when I’m close.

As Claire set her phone down, a warm flutter settled in her chest. Despite the chaos of the day, she couldn’t help but feel a quiet thrill at the thought of seeing Nate again.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt like something good was just beginning.

---

Gossip Girl

Spotted: Nate Archibald in the company of a mysterious new face. And no, it's not Serena. The infamous heartthrob of the Upper East Side has swapped old flames for a fresh one—Claire Sutton, heiress to the Sutton Royale empire. The perfect blend of grace, wealth, and a smile that can melt hearts... but will she break his?

Don’t worry, Blair, I’m sure you won’t mind sharing Nate with someone who doesn’t even know the meaning of “loyalty”... at least, not yet. But the real question is, how long until Chuck Bass notices his little game of one-upmanship is getting a bit too close for comfort? Something tells me his silence won’t last forever.

Meanwhile, Dan Humphrey is still clueless, and we all know how that story goes. Will he figure out what’s really going on behind his back? Or will Jenny be the one to spill the beans? Oops.

And as for Serena... well, honey, I don’t think she’ll be getting a happy ending anytime soon.

As for Claire and Nate? You know what they say, things that start over coffee, usually end with fireworks. Care to make a bet?

XOXO,

Gossip Girl

last next masterlist

[friedclairsalad]

Empire of Secrets

(nate archibald) (meetings)

Claire Sutton stepped out of the tiny flower shop on the corner, clutching a bouquet of red tulips tied neatly with a yellow ribbon. She admired the bright blooms, their colors lifting her spirits as she hummed softly to herself. The Upper East Side buzzed with its usual energy, but Claire always seemed to move through it like a ray of sunshine cutting through a cloudy sky.

Across the street, Dan Humphrey was sprinting, his bag bouncing awkwardly against his side and a book nearly slipping from his grip. His eyes were fixed on the bus pulling up to the curb, his mind racing with the same mantra: Gotta catch it, gotta catch it… He dodged pedestrians clumsily, completely unaware of the girl stepping into his path until—

Crash.

Dan collided with her, sending her bouquet and his books scattering to the ground. “Oh, no!” Claire exclaimed, immediately crouching to gather the fallen tulips. “Are you okay? That looked like it hurt!” Her voice was bright and full of concern as she glanced up at him, her brown eyes wide.

Dan, flushed with embarrassment, knelt to scoop up his books. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m so sorry—I wasn’t paying attention!” He looked up, his apology faltering when he noticed her kind, unbothered smile.

“No need to apologize,” Claire said lightly, handing him a slightly crumpled tulip that had fallen out of the bouquet. “But maybe slow down next time? You looked like you were on some kind of mission.”

Dan chuckled nervously, brushing off his well-loved paperback. “Just trying to keep my streak of almost missing the bus intact.”

Claire laughed, the sound warm and unpretentious. “Well, I hope you catch it! But maybe give yourself more time tomorrow?”

Dan finally smiled back, relaxing a little under her easy demeanor. “I’ll try. Thanks, uh…”

“Claire,” she offered, tucking a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear.

“Thanks, Claire. I’m Dan. Dan Humphrey.” He glanced at the bus, now boarding passengers. “I gotta run, but… nice meeting you!”

“Nice meeting you too, Dan,” she called, her voice carrying over the city’s noise. As he jogged toward the bus, she added cheerfully, “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again—hopefully not so literally!”

Dan turned back briefly as he reached the bus, catching one last glimpse of Claire with her tulips and radiant smile.

Something about her told him this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths.

---

Serena van der Woodsen sat on the steps outside Constance Billard, her golden hair gleaming in the morning sunlight. Her usual radiance was dimmed, though, her face tight with frustration and hurt. She fiddled with the strap of her bag, replaying Blair’s sharp words in her mind: “You’re not invited.”

Behind her, Claire Sutton lingered near the stone column, clutching her books to her chest. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but Blair’s voice had carried through the courtyard like a dagger. The conversation had left her unsettled, and as she peeked around the corner, her heart ached at the sight of Serena sitting alone, looking so lost.

Do I say something? Claire hesitated, biting her lip. She didn’t know Serena, but her instincts told her that someone needed to reach out. After a moment, she stepped forward, her ballet flats making soft taps against the pavement.

“Bonjour,” Claire said gently, her French accent curling warmly around the word.

Serena looked up, startled, her blue eyes meeting Claire’s soft brown ones. “Oh,” she said, quickly wiping at her face even though there were no tears—yet. “Hi.”

Claire smiled shyly, her hands tightening on her books. “I… I hope I am not intruding. I just thought you might, um… need someone to talk to?”

Serena blinked, a little caught off guard. She wasn’t used to strangers offering comfort, let alone with such kindness. “Oh. That’s… sweet of you. But I’m fine.”

Claire tilted her head, her wavy hair falling over one shoulder. “You do not seem fine. And I know I am new here, but… well, I have a feeling you could use a friend right now.”

The corners of Serena’s mouth twitched upward despite herself. “What gave me away?” she asked dryly.

Claire laughed lightly, her accent making it sound like music. “The look in your eyes,” she said honestly, sitting down beside Serena without waiting for an invitation. “Sometimes people wear their sadness like a perfume. It is very subtle, but… impossible to miss.”

Serena blinked, not sure whether to laugh or cry at the poetic observation. “I guess you’re right,” she admitted, leaning back against the steps. She studied Claire for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

Claire shook her head, her smile widening. “I just transferred here. I moved from Paris to New York with my mom. Dad has always lived here, though. I am Claire.”

“Serena van der Woodsen,” Serena replied, her expression softening. “Welcome to Constance Billard.”

“Merci,” Claire said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And… Serena? I am sorry if I am being too forward, but whoever made you feel like this… they do not deserve your sadness.”

Serena blinked, the words hitting her harder than she expected. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the bell rang in the distance, signaling the start of the school day.

Claire stood, smoothing her lavender sweater. “Maybe we can talk again soon?” she asked, her voice tentative but hopeful.

Serena nodded, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As Claire walked away, her books tucked neatly under one arm, Serena watched her, feeling a strange sense of warmth. Claire Sutton might have been new to this world, but in just a few minutes, she had already done something no one else had managed to do that day—she made Serena feel seen.

---

Claire was browsing through the boutique when she noticed a familiar face standing by one of the racks—a boy, looking a bit lost in a sea of clothing. She recognized him instantly. It was Dan Humphrey, the biy she’d bumped into earlier that day.

“Dan?” Claire said, her voice light and friendly, causing him to turn toward her.

“Oh, hey!” Dan replied with a smile, clearly glad to see a familiar face. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

Claire smiled warmly. “I could say the same. Are you... shopping?”

Dan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Not exactly. I’m here with my sister, but, uh, she’s busy in another section.”

“Well, I’m here for a little... retail therapy,” Claire said, her eyes scanning the elegant racks. “Do you need help finding something?”

Dan chuckled, glancing around the store, clearly overwhelmed by all the choices. “Yeah, actually, I could use some advice. This whole shopping thing... not my strong suit.”

Before Claire could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps caught her attention. A girl walked up beside them, a bit of an anxious look on her face, holding a dress in her hands.

Claire turned to look at her and noticed the girl’s uncertain expression. “Hi,” the girl said, looking at both Claire and Dan. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I just... I need some help.”

Claire smiled warmly. “No interruption at all. What’s the matter?”

The girl, who was clearly a little younger than Claire, hesitated for a moment, holding up the dress. “I’m not sure if this is... me. It’s for a party, but I’m not really sure it’s my style.”

Dan, ever the skeptic about fashion, looked at the dress with raised eyebrows. “Well, it’s definitely bold.”

Claire, who had an eye for design thanks to her mother’s influence, took the dress into her hands with a practiced gaze. “It’s beautiful. But I think you need to think about how it makes you feel when you wear it. If you’re comfortable, that’s what matters most.”

The girl seemed to brighten up a little at her advice. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Claire said with a smile. “It’s about confidence. And besides, with the right accessories, you can make anything work.”

Jenny, the girl, still seemed unsure but was nodding. “I mean, it’s pretty expensive though. I don’t know if I can really afford it...”

Claire’s heart went out to her, but before she could respond, Dan spoke up, noticing the tension. “I think what Claire means is that sometimes it’s not about the price—it’s about how you feel in it. But yeah, you don’t want to go beyond your budget, obviously.”

Jenny nodded, still uncertain. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Claire looked at the dress in her hands, then back at the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Jenny,” the girl replied, shyly.

“Jenny, this dress is stunning,” Claire said, her French accent softening the words, “but if it doesn’t feel right, you should go for something that speaks to you.” She glanced over at Dan, and then back to Jenny. “There’s no need to rush, you know? Sometimes, the right thing finds you when you’re not looking.”

Jenny took a deep breath, a small smile forming on her lips. “Okay... I think I’ll take your advice. Maybe I’ll try something else.”

Dan gave Claire a surprised look, then turned to Jenny. “I think Claire’s right. Maybe less is more sometimes. I know it’s hard, but it’s about what makes you feel good, not what everyone else thinks.”

Claire nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling. “Exactly. And hey, there are a lot of stores out there with dresses that will make you feel amazing.”

Jenny smiled, more at ease now, and thanked Claire before turning to leave, still holding the dress but now with a little more confidence.

Dan gave Claire a curious look. “You really know your stuff when it comes to this. Are you sure you’re not secretly a fashion expert?”

Claire laughed softly. “I don’t know about expert, but... my mom does run a fashion brand. I guess it rubs off on you a bit.”

Dan’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, that makes sense.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time around fashion,” Claire explained. “It’s more than just clothes—it’s about feeling good in your own skin. That’s the most important thing.”

Dan smiled, impressed. “Well, it looks like you’ve got it all figured out.”

---

Claire and her father, John Sutton, were taking a leisurely stroll through the Upper East Side, the crisp autumn air just enough to make Claire pull her coat a little tighter around herself. Her father’s presence was larger than life, as always. John Sutton wasn’t just another wealthy businessman—he was the owner of Sutton Royale, a chain of luxurious hotels that catered to the world’s elite. His influence stretched far beyond the city, and his name was a fixture in high society.

As they walked, Claire’s mind wandered. She was so caught up in her own world that she barely registered the voices ahead of them, until she heard the words that caught her attention.

"You’ve been with Blair for so long, Nate," came the deep voice of a man, someone Claire didn’t recognize, though she could hear the tension in his tone. "This isn’t just about a breakup. It’s about your future, about getting ahead. If you’re serious about the Waldorfs, sealing the deal with their family could change everything."

Claire’s father, John, stopped walking for a moment, narrowing his eyes as if contemplating something. He had a natural way of stepping into conversations, whether he knew the people involved or not. Without missing a beat, he stepped forward, his rich baritone voice cutting through the air.

"I couldn’t help but overhear," John said, turning his attention to the two men in front of him. "You’re speaking of the Waldorfs as if they’re some kind of business deal. I’ve had my fair share of negotiations in my time, but I can tell you, no deal is worth your soul, my friend."

Claire looked up at her father, eyes wide. She wasn’t used to him getting involved in matters like this, especially with strangers. Her father’s reputation preceded him, and while she adored him, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of his authority in situations like this.

The man who had been speaking, Nate Archibald’s father, seemed caught off guard, his eyes flicking from John Sutton to his son, Nate. Nate was standing beside his father, arms crossed, looking uncomfortably between the two men.

"Who are you?" Nate’s father asked, trying to mask the tension with a friendly tone.

John Sutton’s smile was smooth, practiced. "John Sutton. Sutton Royale. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? And this is my daughter, Claire."

Nate’s eyes flicked to Claire for the first time, meeting her gaze for a split second. Claire felt a strange flutter in her chest. There was something in those deep blue eyes of his, something that made her stomach do a little flip. It was as if time slowed down for a moment, and she could feel the weight of that gaze, heavy with unspoken words.

"Oh," Nate’s father said, extending his hand with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sutton. And you, Miss Sutton."

Claire gave a polite smile, still a little distracted by the strange, magnetic pull she felt toward Nate. She shook his hand, trying to ignore the odd fluttering in her chest. She glanced up at her father, who was still looking at Nate’s father with a hint of skepticism.

"I’m sure you and your son are quite well-acquainted with the Waldorfs," John said, his voice calm but firm, "but let me remind you that a good reputation can be built by integrity, not just by sealing deals."

Nate’s father gave a stiff nod, clearly not wanting to engage too deeply, and looked back at Nate. Nate’s gaze lingered on Claire again, and for a moment, everything around them seemed to fade. Claire, despite being naturally guarded and trusting in the goodness of people, couldn’t ignore the sensation that something was happening here, something she couldn’t fully explain.

Nate shifted his stance, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips as he addressed Claire.

"Nice to meet you, Claire," he said softly, his voice warmer than she’d expected.

Claire blinked, a little startled by the way his voice sounded when he said her name. "Nice to meet you too, Nate," she replied.

Nate seemed taken aback, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer. Claire didn’t say anything more, feeling a little out of her element as her father and Nate’s father continued their conversation. Her attention kept drifting back to Nate, unable to ignore the strange connection she felt despite their brief exchange.

As the conversation wound down, Claire’s father turned to her. "Come on, sweetheart," John said, his tone light and easy, as if the earlier conversation hadn’t occurred at all. "Let’s head back home."

Claire nodded, taking one last glance at Nate before following her father. But as they walked away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her path and Nate Archibald’s had just crossed in some strange, inexplicable way.

---

Nate sat in the limousine, the music and chatter filling the space, but it all felt distant. As they drove toward the Kiss on the Lips Party, his thoughts were consumed by Claire. He couldn't shake the way her eyes had looked at him that day, like she saw more in him than he saw in himself. He’d tried to put it out of his mind, to focus on Blair beside him, but every time he did, his thoughts drifted back to Claire—her warmth, her kindness, the way she made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could be something better. He couldn’t deny the pull he felt toward her. But here he was, heading to a party where he would have to pretend everything was fine with Blair, when all he could think about was what could be with Claire. Would she be at the party too? He couldn’t help but wonder if she would show up, if their paths would cross again. What would happen if they did? The thought lingered, distracting him from the chaos of the night ahead.

last next masterlist

[friedclairsalad]

Empire of Secrets Masterlist

a nate archibald love story

Intro

Characters

Meetings

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

soon more...

[friedclairsalad]

Empire of Secrets

(nate archibald) (introduction)

Claire Sutton

Spotted: Claire Sutton, Upper East Side’s so-called sweetheart with a heart of gold—or is it gold-plated? Behind those doe eyes and perfect brunette waves lies a girl who’s just as good at playing the game as the rest of us. How else could she snag Nate Archibald right out from under Blair Waldorf’s nose?

Queen B's claws are out, and Little J got her sewing machine ready to stitch up C's downfall.

Tick-tock, Claire. Your time at the top could be up very soon.

Nate Archibald

Spotted: Nate Archibald, the golden boy with a reputation as shiny as his smile—or is it just a well-polished facade? Behind that charming exterior lies a man who’s played more than his fair share of hearts. How else could he juggle Blair, Serena, and now Claire without a single scratch?

But not everyone’s impressed. Blair’s fuming, Serena’s lurking, and Jenny and Vanessa are sharpening their knives. They may not have Nate’s heart, but they’re all too eager to make sure Claire’s downfall is spectacular.

Tick-tock, Nate. Your perfect world’s about to come crashing down.

Blair Waldorf

Spotted: Blair Waldorf, the queen who refuses to be dethroned—even if it means burning the entire Upper East Side to the ground.

After losing Nate to Claire (can you imagine?), Blair’s not just plotting her revenge, she’s practically redecorating her life with destruction. Every glare, every whispered word—she’s got a plan, and that plan involves making sure Claire doesn’t survive the fallout.

But don’t worry, Blair’s not heartless, she’ll make sure everyone else gets burned along the way. Who needs true love when you have a kingdom to ruin?

Tick-tock, Blair. The world’s about to feel your wrath, and it’s going to be delicious.

Serena van der Woodsen

Serena van der Woodsen, the blonde bombshell with a reputation for making hearts—and lives—explode.

You thought she was laying low? Ha, think again. Serena’s been watching all this drama unfold from the sidelines, biding her time, and now? Now, she’s ready to swoop in and take what’s rightfully hers.

Forget about the good girl act; Serena’s about to remind everyone just how chaotic and calculating she can be. Nate? He’s on her radar. Claire? Pfft, just another obstacle.

Serena’s been waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and darling, it’s coming. And when it does, trust me, it’ll be a blowout of epic proportions.

Jenny Humphrey

Jenny Humphrey, the girl who so desperately wants to be the queen, but doesn’t realize she’s still the pawn.

Jenny’s been running around in her little couture dresses pretending she’s all grown up, but newsflash, sweetie: the Upper East Side doesn’t just hand out power.

Jenny might think she’s playing a game, but it’s more like she’s playing with fire—and trust me, she’s about to get burned. No one cares that you’re the underdog, Little J. You can’t take down Blair just by sewing yourself a fancy new outfit.

So go ahead, keep making your little power moves, because they’ll make for one spectacular fall. Can’t wait for the headline.

Dan Humphrey

Dan Humphrey, the outsider who thinks he’s somehow better than the chaos he’s so eagerly wrapped up in.

Dan’s been pretending to be the moral one in the group, the one who doesn’t play the dirty games the rest of us do—except when he’s playing them, and then acting all surprised when the consequences hit.

Oh, Dan. Don’t pretend you don’t love the drama. You’ve been tangled in every love affair, scandal, and backstabbing this city has to offer, and now? Now, he’s too deep to get out. He thinks he’s above it, but guess what, Humphrey? You’re part of it now—and just wait for the moment you realize you’re in way over your head.

Here’s a little spoiler: it’s coming soon.

Chuck Bass

Chuck Bass, the Upper East Side’s charming devil with a trust fund the size of his ego and a moral compass that’s permanently on vacation. While Nate’s busy perfecting his golden boy act and Claire’s still pretending she’s too good for the drama, Chuck’s out here playing everyone like a grand piano. Blair may think she’s pulling the strings, but Chuck’s already rewriting the script. Serena? Let’s just say she’s a little too comfortable in Chuck’s orbit, and Jenny? Poor Little J is clawing her way to the top without realizing Chuck’s handing her a shovel to dig her own grave.

And Nate? Sweet, loyal Nate. Chuck’s favorite hobby is sprinkling chaos into his best friend’s love life, because what are friends for if not a little harmless sabotage? As for Dan Humphrey—Brooklyn’s very own Captain Morality—Chuck’s got one word for him: amateur. Whether he’s mocking Dan’s self-righteous act or dangling secrets just out of reach, Chuck knows exactly how to remind him he’s out of his depth.

Chuck’s just lit the match, and you can bet he’ll be sipping scotch while the rest of you burn. You know you love him.

Tick-tock, Upper East Siders. The chaos is about to hit its peak, and trust me, no one’s walking away unscathed. This show? It’s just getting started. You know you love me. XOXO, Gossip Girl.

---

eh, just a little character description for my cute little story, right..?

anyways enjoy :)

(i forgot chuck, lol)

(update: i added chuck)

last next masterlist

[friedclairsalad]

Empire of Secrets

(nate archibald)

Welcome to the Upper East Side, where secrets are worth more than diamonds and betrayal is practically a sport. Claire Sutton may think she’s winning with Nate Archibald, but spoiler alert:

Blair isn’t done with him, and Serena? Well, she’s about to remind everyone how to steal the show without breaking a sweat. Jenny’s trying to play queen, but she’s still the pawn in someone else’s game. And Dan? The outsider who’s too moral for all of this is about to get his hands very dirty.

Everyone’s got a secret they’ll kill to protect, and trust me, no one’s leaving this game without a few scars. Power plays, stolen hearts, and a whole lot of backstabbing. Think you know who’s in control? You’re wrong. Everyone’s fighting for the crown, but not everyone will survive the fall.

Tick-tock, darling. It’s almost time for the fireworks—and the scorched earth that’ll follow. You know you love me. XOXO, Gossip Girl.

---

hello ladys and gentlemen,

this is my gossip girl story with nate archibald as the love interest as in:

charcter x nate archibald

but i'll use my character claire sutton as one of the main characters, hope you don't mind.

enough of me i'l let gossip girl take over in the chapter (it's a character introduction o.O)

next masterlist

[friedclairsalad]

mc: stop! you're crushing my spleen

mwaf: you don't even know where your spleen is

mc: in my arm..?

mwaf: ...

mwaf: oh my god

[friedclairsalad]

thomas: well, if you want my opinion —

mc: i don't

mc: i have my own.

go girl ;)

[friedclairsalad]

MC: I like your last name. Can I have it? Jake: Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot your name. Can i just call you mine? Dan: *whispering* I didn't know Hackerman could flirt Lilly: *whispering back* he might be weird, but he for sure has a date now Jessy: *happy voice* Just like a calender!

[friedclairsalad]

AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

EPISODE 10 SPOILER!!

OMG HE FINALLY SAID ITTTTTTTTT

JAKE FINALLY SAID IT!!!!!!!!

[friedclairsalad]

[friedclairsalad]

jake: i hear bells ringing

mc: i hear bells ringing a lot too... wedding bells!

jake: wake up to reality

mc: but love is in the air

jake: don't worry, i'm wearing a gas mask

mc: love is an open door

jake: close it

[friedclairsalad]

mc: on a scale from one to ten, how bad do you think it would be if-

jake: at least a twenty

[friedclairsalad]

lilly: mom says if you blow up the house she's going to put you up for adoption

jake: if anything i make sure all evidence points at you

Lilly: how sweet of you

Jake: i know! I'm a very generous brother

lilly: i'll be more generous with my fist on your nose

jake: so aggressive

lilly: i know. It evolved from growing up with you

[friedclairsalad]

mwaf: i'm not done with you get back here!

mc: guys, it's time to initiate escape plan 3.27, dash b, bracketed column twenty three, underlined paragraph 19, highlighted text 13, quoted text marked f, section fifty-four-eight-zero-three-negative two, subdivision eight—

mwaf: what the f- are you doing?

mc: *watches the group sprint away over mwaf's shoulder*

mc: *smirks*

mc: distracting you

mwaf:

mwaf:

jake: that's my girl