This is undoutably the best piece I've ever written. I wrote it about a year ago for a submission piece to a two week intensive writing camp at Stanford. Thankfully, I got in. I spent two weeks writing fiction and honing in on my skills. And it was incredible. Here it is. I've been hesitant to post it, mostly because I want to get it officially published somewhere, but I'm posting my NaNoWriMo piece which is the backstory to this...so yeah. Please read, enjoy, and comment! Especially if you're a friend of mine who didn't read and comment on it last year.
The World According To Blair
Blair McBrough knew that today was her day.
From the smell of mocha wafting from the many cavernous room of the house, to the way the sun spilled in and brightened the dingy room, or the feeling of her whole body toasty warm with excitement for upcoming events curled her in, she knew today was spe. But it was a small perfectly wrapped gift sitting at the end of her bed that really confirmed it. All these things- things that only a woman with impeccable taste like herself could possibly string together- made her realize her life was about to get a whole lot better.
With zest, she leapt from her bed, her feet landing on the carpet.
She first looked at the tiny wrapped gift on her bed. It had been sitting there for two weeks- just waiting to be opened. She tore at the gift paper like a feral animal. There was a tiny card she read out loud.
"Happy Birthday. PK."
There was no signature apart from the initial, but she knew from the scrawl of the pen it was from her wonderful boyfriend. It was so mysterious and dreamy. Inside was a tiny silver chain bracelet with a gold heart. She felt that silly tingling that made her giddy starting to well up inside of her.
Her phone was ringing off the hook- eight missed calls, thirty-four text messages, and one incoming phone call from her best friend of seventeen years, Miss Scarlett Austin.
"Today is the day, I just know it!" Blair smiled as her best friend gushed over the phone, "We've all heard the rumors."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Blair murmured, twirling a long strand of her blond hair. Ew- split ends. She needed some major R&R before tonight- that was only 11 hours and twenty-five minutes away. But it wasn't like she was counting, or anything.
"You liar!" A third voice joined the conversation.
"Oh, yeah- Calandria is here with me. She couldn't wait for your lazy butt to get out of bed, so she came to me." Scarlett playfully joked, and Blair could imagine her second best friend-Callie- laughing behind her flawless Spanish skin.
"They saw him!" Calli shrieked, as if she could no longer hold in her words, "They saw him at Tiffany & Co. in NYC when he went to visit his parents." Blair's breath caught in her throat and the whole world seemed to spin- she had been correct. Today was going to be magical.
"Did he-," She didn't even finish her sentence before the loquacious girl began blubbering again.
"They say he had a robin egg blue box! You know what that means? Right? Right?"
"Our little Blair-bear is getting hitched!" Scarlett's strong southern accent only came into play when she got emotional. Blair was emotional too; just thinking about it.
"It's about time…" She gaped, "We've been dating for five years. How romantic! He's proposing on my Golden Birthday!" Blair felt like dancing and screaming and jumping around the room like a love struck pre-teen.
"You lucky duck!" Scarlett exclaimed, "He's going to sweep you off your feet, Cinderella."
"He isn't named Prince just because his father is the King of New York, that's for sure." Blair gave a trill of laugher as she began to nervously pace around her bed, "I'd love to talk-really, but I have to get ready."
"Of course! See you at six?" Scarlett's loud and high-pitched laughter could be heard behind her words.
"If I haven't melted into a puddle by then, yes. Love you both!" Blair gave her final farewell, and snapped the phone shut, throwing it across the room.
It seemed that nothing could possibly deter her excellent mood. She didn't care that if anyone were to talk into her room of her (and unfortunately her twin brother's) stylish apartment, they might see a gleeful and not at all proper young lady.
"Judy! He's going to propose! The love of my life is going to be my fiancée in a few hours!" She grabbed her flat face cat by her paws, swinging him around in a wide circle. Judy- graying, old, and probably much annoyed that he'd been named 'Judy' by Blair when she was six years old, when he was in fact male, hissed at her. The grumpy puss wouldn't allow anyone to touch him except for Blair, but even he didn't like being pet in the first place. Much less treated like a fluffy ragdoll.
She dropped Judy on the carpet, who rushed under the bed to keep from being thrown about again, while Blair began rushing around, trying to handle a thousand different tasks at once. Brush her hair and answer missed calls. Feed Judy, adjust her clothing, and text back urgent messages. Try not to think about the magic that would happen soon while looking over the last few lists of items for her 22nd birthday party tonight.
She grabbed her iPod and turned on Carrie Underwood, The Downtown Fiction, 30 Seconds to Mars, and about thirty other strange and mixed genre bands at full blast. The house was soon filled with her favorite thing in the world; amazing music (though her slump of a brother probably wouldn't agree). At the thought of her brother's distaste in her music, she wondered where he was. She caught herself skipping- actually skipping- on the way to his bedroom. She composed herself, deciding to keep the metaphorical cat in the bag as long as possible.
She raised her fist, pounding on his door. It looked like a paint can had thrown up on it. Among ugly and carelessly splashed colors lay sketchy sharpie drawings and tree hugging bumper stickers.
"Trey, you'd better be up! Do you know what today is?" She yelled, kicking the doorframe. The door opened a crack, and she saw blue eyes mirroring her own peek through.
"What?" He sounded tired.
"Happy birthday. Get up; we have stuff to do." She pushed open the door fully, and then saw Trey's girlfriend peeking out from his bathroom, "Hello, Andrea. I see you had an early birthday present, eh Trey?" She nudged him.
"We didn't do anything. We just watched Netflix movies." He grumbled, sitting on the bed, "And if we did- hypothetically speaking- mom and dad don't need to know. Not that I'd tell you either."
"Oh trust me." Blair winced, "I'd really rather not know, so good thing we agree."
"Happy Birthday, Blair." The petite Asian girl sported a full-face blush, looking helplessly at Trey. Trey gave a thin smile back to her, and Blair began picking her way through dried and empty paint bottles, torn canvases, and brittle brushes.
"You need to pick up in here. Didn't you know, we're having a party tonight?" She raised her eyebrows.
"Like I haven't heard about this party for the last six months." Trey grabbed her shoulders, steering her out of the room, "Look- I'll be down in ten minutes. Start being bossy without me." He said, and promptly closed the door behind her with a loud slam.
"That went well." Blair hummed to herself, feeling quite accomplished. Trey hadn't even said anything about the music. The doorbell rang, and she graciously greeted the caterers, all the while her mind running back to that little blue box.
Blair liked to consider herself abnormal at times. Being a carbon copy of everyone else was so overrated.
She made lists. Miles and miles of lists. While her life was chaotic and unorganized at the very best of times, she enjoyed making registers of important things in her life. It was the one thing that had always been completely orderly and in her own making. When she was younger, she'd have piles of notebooks filled with lists of everything.
There were the normal lists that nearly everyone created: shopping lists, things to pack for vacation, and school lists. Blair took it a step further. If anything extraordinary happened in her life, it was numbered and titled. There was one on guys that she'd kept updated to the tiniest details (in fact, Prince's name had been scrawled in ink only this morning) because she didn't want to miss a minute of something that could be very important later.
It was perhaps not too odd of a hobby- if it could even be called so- but it wasn't the way most girls growing up had coped with emotions. While her classmates had sobbed into pillows, written sappy stories or killed off people in these stories, sang, cleaned, or exercised; Blair wrote lists.
Teachers that shouldn't have a degree. Marking of How Many Times Julia Gigan Wore her Ugly Green Sweater. Twenty Movies Every High School Girl Should See. The Best Comfort Foods When It's Winter Break.
Apart from the boy list, there was one other that she had half a mind to forget about at times. She'd written it when she was thirteen.
Twenty-Two things to do before I turn Twenty-Two.
There were two measly things left. Blair felt so defeated. One, she wasn't really quite sure she wanted to do anymore. The other was something that could only happen purely by chance, and it had just never come up. The list was crumpled underneath her pillow, reminding her that she failed to complete it. She loathed that feeling with a burning passion.
Apart from lists, Blair also liked to think at times she had the world figured out. While the universe seems to be grinding against us at the worst of times, she thought she knew the way the scales tipped.
For example, in Blair's eyes, if one had an exceptionally good day then it was only fair to expect an exceptionally bad one to follow. She was fairly certain that tomorrow wouldn't be amazing.
She knew tomorrow would be hours of scraping people and vomit alike from unusual places, bulldozing mountains of plastic cups, overturned food plates, and suspiciously ill placed clothing items, and expecting no help whatsoever from Trey (who would sit on his butt the whole day, continuing like the previous night they had not thrown the party of the century). Even as she mulled over these facts, she couldn't help but feel that perhaps her previous thoughts couldn't be true. She was sure that when she looked on her finger and saw that glistening ring on it- whether it be her birthstone (turquoise), sparkling diamonds, exceptional emeralds and sapphires, or bright rubies- it would be worth it.
Deciding not to think about the little blue box that he may or may not possibly be presenting to her was an order akin to telling Blair to not breathe. It simply was an impossible task; short of dying.
Although, with only hours to spare. Blair sat down to eat a light lunch. She began to think- what if she was wrong? Yes; he had a little blue box- she had pictures from an iPhone to confirm it! But perhaps she was overreacting? Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it wasn't for her- it could very well be something for his parents, or for his teenage sister that adored him. Being away in the army for a good four years, and being back now on leave did make people miss you. Blair knew that better than anyone.
Maybe it was for her, but it wasn't a ring? She doubted this. If it was for her; it was most certainly a ring. Prince wasn't an idiot. He knew that if he walked into that store, someone would see. That they'd expect it to be a ring. When you were the boyfriend of a girlfriend who nested in high places, you didn't simply just wander into Tiffany and Co for just a bracelet. That was the place you went to get a wedding ring. Blair recalled fondly all the long hours she would gush to Prince and Scarlett how her wedding ring just HAD to be from Tiffany and Co's. The days she spent dreaming (and loudly making these dreams audible) had to have remained with him somehow, right?
Her bracelet caught on a swirl on the couch when she got up. It was beautiful; she mused while gazing upon it. Prince knew how to impress a girl. It was so simple, but so well picked for Blair's inner taste that she felt guilty. How could she doubt him? What kind of girlfriend was that? Their relationship was supposed to be built on trust.
The horrible 'what-if' still echoed in the back of her mind.
She pushed it all aside. Prince was ready to come home and start a family- he'd written this to his sister. His sister worshiped the very ground that Blair walked on, and was only too pleased to show her this letter. That confirmed every doubt that clouded her mind.
Twenty minutes until the party was to start; and the whole spacious apartment was cloaked in tendrils of silver, gold, and light blue fabric. Chinese lanterns were strung in the darkest places of the house and patio, music crept through every inch of the house, and the delicious aroma of Blair's favorite food teased her tongue. She and her two favorite girls and Trey's girlfriend sat waiting for the first of the people to arrive.
Calandria was ravishing in red, Scarlett looked gorgeous in green, while Andrea made her pretty purple dress the star of the show. It was Blair, though, who was to be the belle of the ball in a shining blue dress. Trey was wearing a rumpled shirt and blue tie; which was all that the four girls had managed to wrangle him into. He was already tugging at it, like he couldn't wait for the party to be done and over with.
The first to appear to the party were the parents of the twins. The hugged and kissed, marveling at their daughter's party planning skills, dropping off small gifts while they were at it. Trey looked at them with a disgruntled expression, but Blair knew that the best gifts came in the smallest packages. The bracelet she touched reassuringly and the hopeful birthday present confirmed it.
Within the hour the party was in full swing. Everyone she'd invited showed up, and the whole house was filled with warm bodies. There was just one missing; her beau and soon to be husband. She couldn't hold in the nervousness.
"What if he can't make it! What if car broke down!" Blair breathed deeply, looking at Scarlett for affirmation that she wasn't crazy, "What if he was in an accident and is in the hospital somewhere in a coma, and I don't even know!" She wailed. She toyed with the bracelet, rubbing the links together and twirling it between her fingers.
"You know that if he was in a hospital, he'd crawl to this party if he had to." Scarlett let Blair hug her, even though she wasn't really a touchy-feely person. And it was, after all, Blair's golden birthday. This meant that Blair could do whatever she liked, without anyone telling her otherwise. If she wanted to down a couples shots- even though it was common knowledge that Blair didn't exactly like to drink- then people should offer their cups. If she wanted to gorge her worries on chocolate and sweets that made her fat, the guests should be scraping from their own plates to give to her. Heck, if she wanted everyone to go streaking down the road- everyone should oblige.
That was the general knowledge of tonight.
Therefore, if she felt like suffocating her best friend because she desperately needed someone to comfort her, then Scarlett should only be offering her twig-like arms to welcome Blair in further. She knew Scarlett was uncomfortable; the way her skeletal fingers awkwardly patted Blair's shoulder showed that Scarlett wasn't exactly sure how to deal with Blair's physical sorrows. Mental- talking and crying- the southern belle could handle. Touching? No.
The doorbell rang. Blair perked up, lifting her head. Only Prince was missing. Who else could it be? The neighbors were all here partying with her, so she didn't have to worry about complaints. Plus, anyone who reported them could just shut up because it was a party. And parties were fun.
She threw the door open, and her face went to grinning broadly to scowling. It took everything Blair had to be civil with the monster of a man standing at the door. She forced a smile and closed the door partially behind her, to keep her unexpected guest to see the party bubbling behind her.
"Des. To what I owe this…unanticipated visit?" She imagined always meeting him and greeting him with much more steadiness in her voice. She'd played this exact encounter a thousand times; but nothing could prepare her. Her voice broke halfway through, and she hoped Des was kind enough to ignore this.
Desiderio Lombardi was Mr. I'm-so-tall-dark-handsome-mysterious-every-girl's-dream. He had once been Blair's dream; she could sum up his whole meaning to her in a short sentence. Childhood best friend, to early teenage romance, to an adulthood of mutual dislike. There was more than that of course. In between the sobbing picture-burning nights with Scarlett, to the times where she felt like dirt because of him, to times where his immediate death seemed to be the only plausible way for them to both move on. She was the mature adult, of course, and let him live peaceable far away from her. Why was he coming here now? Of all the times he could show up on her doorstep!
"I see I'm interrupting something." Des was taller than she had remembered him. Was that even possible?
"I'm not stupid Des. Try as I might to forget, I still remember your birthday. Stop pretending like you don't know mine." Blair closed the door completely behind herself, so she was standing in the threshold. The air in the hall was so cold.
"Okay, so I knew what day it was." He admitted, and then wrung his hands. He was nervous. Blair rarely saw him so, "I'm not really here to wish you happy birthday though. I mean, yeah….Happy Birthday, I'm not a complete jerk, I'll wish you a happy birthday. I'm here for a different reason- you see- erm, I…" Blair's eyes widened as he blubbered. If they were still stupid fourteen year old, she may have ran up and put her palm to his forehead to check if he was running a fever. Des did not stutter, blubber, or fumble with words. She fidgeted, tugging on the bottom of her dress, biting her lip. Des turned around and threw up his hands.
"Non riesco a farlo! Non posso! È pazza, che mi chiedeva di dare la notizia. Devo essere il cattivo ... Stavo scherzando. Ma Blair merita di conoscere, diodannazione!" He hit the wall so hard Blair was sure his hand was broken. Or the wall.
From a long pure line of Italian descent, Des' parents expected him to speak fluent Italian- that he only broke into in times of stress. Or when he didn't want Blair to understand him. She figured it was both at this moment in time.
"Des, are you okay?" She was pretty sure she'd heard her own name somewhere in there. She couldn't be sure though. Des turned around, smiling wryly.
"Thanks for caring, Bird." His voice was lanced with sarcasm that made her regret her words, and she recoiled like he'd burned her. He looked down the hall and cupped his hands.
"Kerrigan! Get down here!" Blair's heart leapt. Was all some weird, stupid, ludicrous proposal? What other Kerrigan could he be referring to? She closed her eyes and thought back to all the times she'd found herself doodling 'Mrs. Prince Kerrigan' all over her papers.
When she opened her eyes and caught the glimpse of frizzy red hair, though, she got a very bad feeling in her stomach.
Falyn Kerrigan strode up to Blair, looking more brave and determined than she had in all the years that she'd worship-stalked her brother's girlfriend, and looked without flinching into her eyes.
The look on the fourteen year olds face told Blair that Prince wasn't coming. All of her golden hopes were dashed as the young girl spoke.
"We need to talk."
All Blair could stare at was Falyn's hair. How real it looked; pulled back with a black scrunchie and still poofing out everywhere. How in comparison everyone could tell that Scarlett had dyed hers. She'd have to talk to Scarlett about that; that her shiny cherry red hair looked so ugly when it was put against something so beautiful and real.
The next thing that popped into her mind was her seventh grade health class. She'd had this teacher who didn't matter now, but had loved to yell his lectures. Blair didn't remember half the stuff she learned. But she vividly remembered her teacher screaming the stages of grief and this weird video of a clay giraffe video that was going through them. Why was this even in the curriculum? What did it matter? Still the words echoed in the back of her mind.
DENIAL. ANGER. BARGINGING. DEPRESSION. ACCEPTACE. DENIAL. ANGER. BARGINING. DEPRESSION. ACCEPTANCE.
The words echoed in her mind so loudly she didn't even register when Scarlett, Calli, Andrea, and Trey appeared at the door, wondering what was keeping her from the party.
The words and pictures didn't seem real. It didn't click; not at first. It just couldn't be- she wouldn't believe it.
Blair was blond. Legitimate blond hair. If there was one thing that she abhorred more than Des, it was being labeled a 'dumb-blond'. She was not a dumb blond. Her perfect manuscript and scholarship should tell anyone that. Even still, it took Blair much longer than it should have for everything to click. It didn't help that she felt like she was in a fishbowl with Des, Trey, Andrea, Scarlett, Falyn, and Calli all in the suffocating hallway.
"I need air."
The party scene on the other side of her door made her want to barf. All the little things that had made her smile hours ago now seemed pale and dull. She made a beeline for the stairs and outside where the air wasn't all bottled up. Fayln and Des didn't follow right away. Perhaps they sensed she needed just a moment to herself.
It was raining so hard for it being the end of December, and snow had not yet touched ground. It was so sad. The rain bit her skin and washed away hours of primping and perfecting. She watched it wash away in seconds. Why was it so dark? Was rain always this cold? The pavement always this slippery?
"It's not fair!" She flung off her heels, letting the grit wash over her feet. Who would they send to retrieve her? Trey? Scarlett? Falyn? If they sent Des she might kill someone.
This made her laugh. That they could really send someone to drag her back to that party now. Like they way they'd 'sent' the nanny when Trey misbehaved in school. He was always a troublemaker, and Blair would look on with disgust. He barley made it out of high school without failing. To be honest, she'd watched him be hauled away so many times that Blair never thought someone would have to be 'sent' for her. Then again, nothing was turning out how she had thought.
She drew in a shaky breath and walked around the parking lot. She hadn't been wrong. He had been ready to come and get married and he had bought a perfect diamond, emerald, and sapphire cut ring in that perfect little blue box. It wasn't for her, though.
It had been for the ex-girlfriend he'd resumed his relationship with while he was overseas, all while still dating Blair.
The scumbag had even planned to break up with her golden birthday. Falyn was so loyal- to Blair, at least. She'd learned of this and yelled and screamed at him until his parents joined in (oh, they'd always loved Blair so much, she was already like their daughter-in-law) and then demanded Des drive her all the way down from upstate, because she knew in the end that Prince was too much of a coward to actually show up. As much as it pained him, Des had offered to break the news to Blair.
"You already hate me," he had explained to her with a shrug of his shoulders. "Just add it to the list I know you have somewhere."
Blair had always thought that the little playground outside the apartments was tacky and space consuming. But now she gratefully sunk down onto a swing. Someone sat down beside her. She didn't look. She didn't want to look.
"It's just all so unfair." She whispered brokenly, "I mean, is it too much to ask that he would marry me? I'm not ugly or anything. Maybe I'm not the smartest or the prettiest at times, but I'm faithful. And so loyal! That's what kills me the most, you know?"
There was no reply, so Blair kept talking, "It's been nearly four years and I never dated anyone in all the time he's been away. I knew better than to go near truth or dare, spin the bottle, or any other of those party games I used to love because I knew that someone would ask me to kiss someone else, but I never could! It's so cliché, though- but not! It's not like I'm the one who went away to serve us for years, and then stayed loyal. It's not like he was left alone and abandoned and just couldn't resist the lure of his perfect ex! That's what's so crazy- how was he dating her all these years?" Blair tugged her hair, feeling anger bubbling up inside of her.
The bracelet caught the light. The anger overflowed as she unhinged it savagely, crushing it in her palm. The point of the golden heart pricked her skin. Just like he'd riddled her heart.
"I hate him!" She rocketed off the swing, the woodchips breaking underneath her soles as she paced, "That fox-faced, low life, bottom feeding imbecile! How dare he? She's such a slut; she doesn't love him like I do! How could he…how could he?" She felt like collapsing in a giant, sobbing heap. She didn't care who'd see her.
God had never been a strong presence in her life but she felt like offering up everything she had at the moment. Did she really want to give away something for someone like him, though? Who cheated on her for multiple years and had no qualms ending a perfect twenty-second golden birthday? The empty feeling that entered her stomach next was so much worse than any other feeling she'd ever felt.
"I've been dumped. Left for another women…" The swing clanged as she fell backwards.
"Does acceptance come next?"
"F-off, Des!" She turned around, snarling at him. She didn't swear. Even saying 'F' just made her feel dirty. At the moment, she didn't quite care though. Des almost laughed. Someone was most definately going to die back up there. Maybe she'd go and kill Prince. Therefore a good murder wouldn't be wasted on a friend.
"Do you still keep lists like you used to? You used to be almost OCD about those. Notebooks and notebooks of lists. There were some funny ones- 'People I wish a random bus will randomly run over…randomly.' Or 'Things parents think they know but they don't.' My favorite had to be the boy list though, all the crushes you ever had all on a piece of paper with all this cross referring stuff you did. Hair color, years liked, ages, eye color…"
"Shut. Up." Blair put her fingertips on her temples, trying to tune him out. He wasn't leaving.
"I was on there for a long time, of course. Then Prince moved to town. Dumped me and ran to him. Look where that's put you. Dumped you, I guess. Full circle, right?" Blair wondered if she ignored him he'd go away. He really wasn't helping things. Des stretched out, and continued on, "I always knew he was bad news. The little ginger girl and the rest of his ginger siblings aren't bad, but his black hair can't be trusted."
You're such a freaking hypocrite Des! She wanted to get up and scream this at his face, considering he had black hair as well. Then again, Des couldn't be trusted as far as Blair could throw him. And her arms were really wimpy.
"Same goes for his other dark haired little sibling. Yeah, she's only a year old but those two cause all the trouble. Just look at me. Out of my parents will at the age of fifteen." He sounded so proud of himself, and Blair remembered the day, "What was I talking about before? Oh yeah, lists. There was one…twenty-two things to do before I turn twenty-two. Did you ever finish that one?"
Blair glared at him, a look that could only mean one thing. She knew very well that list was crumpled under her pillow. There were but two stupid things left- one that she had thought she could finish off with Prince. The other was something she could do any old time- go get a tattoo. Silly, but she wanted a music note on her wrist. Lately she'd been a bit afraid to go and get it, so it remained un-checked.
"Sad. I would have loved to see you all tattooed up. Yep, I still remember." He answered breezily when her face contorted into surprise.
"I decided not to get a tattoo. So costly." She argued weakly.
"Whatever." Des shrugged, "I know you finished a lot of them, last I heard from you."
"There's one left." Blair said, "Not that I care to tell you, of course."
"Of course. Was it…number 8? No…erm, then number 16?" Blair shook her head.
"Wow, you managed that one? How about number…what was it…9? Not that either." Des rubbed his chin, deep in thought, then looked up at the pouring sky, "Number 11?" Blair looked away as well, closing her baby blues.
"Out of all of them! You could have done that a million times with Prince!" Des jumped up.
"Why do you care! I wanted it to be special! I wanted it to be magic! So what if it's not! Nothing tonight is! I just really don't want to-," Des had kissed her before she even realized that he'd come close enough to do so. She stumbled back, falling over a bar on the playground. She landed in a puddle. Des gave a smile; not warm, but not cold.
"Number 11. Every girl deserves to get kissed in the rain." He recited, and looked at his watch, "With twenty minuets to spare until midnight. You know, if we really wanted there's this great tattoo place just a little bit away from here!" He sang, smiling.
Blair picked herself up. She looked at where Des had begun to talk animatedly again, not quite understanding what just transpired. It was magical, it was picturesque, it was a moment that didn't happen to girls that had just been dumped by who they thought they were going to marry this morning. Yet- it had.
She got up, and was disgusted at her dress. She didn't want to accept it, but Prince was a slimeball. He had gone behind her and done the absolute worst thing in the world, and Blair still half hoped it was his twisted sense of humor.
"Des?" Her voice felt usually weak and small. Des stopped in the middle of talking, his dark eyes roaming her.
"We still hate each other, right?" She asked, really hoping he'd say yes. It would make life so much easier.
Des shrugged. "Nah- I was sorta thinking about mending the bridge before the little fireball showed up. It's like she knew. To be honest, fighting is so 21, wouldn't you say?"
He offered her his hand. "I'm not saying that we'll date again-,"
"But…we'll be cool again. Start a new list. 'People I Formally despised but now secretly love again', right?" He winked. Blair began to offer her hand but realized the bracelet was still there. Simply, she discreetly dropped it on the ground by just opening her hand. Some lucky hobo would find more use for it than herself. Or tomorrow morning she would run back out and find it, and then sell it off again. She wasn't thinking about what she was going to do tomorrow morning though. For once, she had no idea what she was doing in the next five minutes.
"Whatever you say, Lombardi." She rolled her eyes.
Her day had gone from amazing, to bad, to horrible, to okay. If she were grading her day- it deserved about a C+. Maybe just a C. Even at this revelation, Blair still smiled.
Because her slightly worse than average day opened the gateway for an even better tomorrow.