The city buzzed faintly around them, the soft thrum of life muted beneath the hum of their own restless thoughts. After slipping away from yet another one of Blair Waldorf’s impeccably tense gatherings, Nate and her wandered through the streets, laughing too loudly, pretending too hard that the world behind them didn't exist. An ice cream shop caught their eye — a perfect excuse to stretch the night a little longer, to forget the drama weaving itself tighter by the minute.

She had a smear of vanilla on her lip, a tiny imperfection she tried to erase with a clumsy swipe of her tongue, missing just enough to make him chuckle. Without thinking, "Here.. let me get that for ya." Nate reached out and brushed it away, the touch lingering a fraction too long, stirring something between them both that they'd sworn was long gone.

They had history — tangled, messy, unforgettable — and no matter how many times they told themselves they'd moved past it, moments like this made it clear: some stories never really ended.