the rain hadn’t let up all day, and nate archibald was soaked — water dripping from the ends of his hair, blazer clinging awkwardly to his shoulders as he jogged through the stone halls of the met. chuck had dragged him here for some “art girl chase” and, in true chuck fashion, disappeared the second they walked through the doors — taking nate’s wallet with him for “safekeeping.”

now, irritated and wallet-less, nate rounded a corner and took the nearest set of stairs two at a time. he paused halfway up, catching his breath — and then caught sight of someone.

a girl was seated on the wide stone step, fashion magazine splayed open across her knees, plastic container of salad balanced precariously beside her. she looked… completely out of place — and yet somehow like she belonged more than he did.

she looked familiar; perhaps from school? he never paid attention to any girls outside of blair’s friend group, though, so he wouldn’t really know.

“uh, sorry,” he starts, wiping rain from his brow. “didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch. you haven’t seen a guy in a scarf come through here, have you?”