Those three words out of Dan Humphrey's mouth had put her mind in a tailspin. "Just one kiss" and what was one kiss? Blair Waldorf was a twenty year-old woman now, if tweens could play their silly kissing games was there really any harm in it? There was certainly no romance involved—no spontaneity or grand gestures bared; no candies or flowers to sweeten the deal—just a request made then accepted.

And yet she no longer seemed to be in New York anymore, it was as though she was the lone sane person lost in Stepford. Why else would people assume that she and Humphrey were having an affair? Talking over coffee, watching movies, grabbing breakfast those were all ordinary habits to fall into, nothing at all worth eliciting such an un-called for accusation. All it really came down to was that they were of opposite sexes, and society would automatically pair them off together. It wouldn't care that she was from the Upper East Side, and more shockingly still wouldn't be bothered that he was from Brooklyn. She was young, ambitious, and graced with exceptional breeding… he was under the impression that his pubescent ramblings qualified as good writing. And he wasn't quite horrible to look at… but leading man caliber? Not by a long-shot, perhaps in a low-budget indie film they'd tolerate such a wardrobe, but certainly not Blair Waldorf. If you couldn't show who you were with the clothes you wore, than obviously there was nothing worth knowing. Although, realistically he wouldn't be brought onto stage as himself, there were costume designers for a reason…

Dorota and her "sixth sense" why did she have to spout off about such nonsense? Why did she have to have such bad timing? And who would ever put stock into a word said by Rufus Humphrey? The whole set-up was far too ridiculous, and what was with these so-called adults? Shouldn't they be far too occupied with their own lives to notice the happenings between two non-friends who sometimes went on pre-planned outings?

-―-―――

An affair? Secret relationship? Or his dad's insipid take: "hangout" hangout…

Dan had known that he and Blair were in unchartered waters for at least a week now, but he would have never put that spin on their situation. A Humphrey-Waldorf friendship was in itself an implausibility, and yet that wasn't substantial enough—no let's just go ahead and put a sexual slant on everything. What kind of technological advances have really been made if a guy and girl can't be friends in the twenty-first century?

Although to not advertise their friendship is one thing, but to actively hide it... that was another. Exit strategies, escape routes through en suite bathrooms, misdirection—what was all that for? He had known Blair for four years, for better or for worse, it really shouldn't be that shocking if they can manage to string a couple of conversations together. Or conversations that were never-ending, last into the morning to be continued at any time.

And yet there had been doubts. Doubts that had carried him to the Waldorf penthouse at a time he really had no business to be there. When had she gotten beneath his skin? When did he first hear her berating voice at the back of his mind? When did her words start to lose their edge?

His eyes are jarred open at the incessant drone coming from his pant's pocket. It took two tries before he managed to procure his cell, the screen announcing: 1 New Message.

We're not done here.