Mother was driving her up the wall, and she’d driven father to the liquor cabinet hours before. Celeste dreaded the evenings that her mother would stop in at their Manhattan flat for a heated family dinner and mindless conversation. Her parents marriage had been from the moment John had announced he was shipping out to Iraq, but societal norms had her mother busting her ass to appear like the typical American household. Regardless of how many times her father had cheated, gambled away her mother’s heirlooms or turned her pretty, unscathed cheek a flushed and stricken red, Celeste’s mother showed up each Monday evening with a home cooked meal and a smile.
What she wanted was a drink stiffer than her father’s breathe, but she refused to resort to drinking in her room alone. That was a tactic better suited for Chuck Bass. She didn’t want to text Serena, and Blair had turned against her in recent weeks, so she wasn’t an option. She unlocked her phone, pressing on the little blue icon with a white bird on it. Perhaps Twitter would have something worthwhile in store for her evening. She scrolled aimlessly through her feed, coming across a number of confessions that were boring at best. Peers being pissed at their parents for lowering their monthly allowance, others getting excited about the Kiss on the Lips party coming up this weekend. But one particular tweet caught Celeste’s attention:
@natearchibald (8:15:21PM): I just want to get wasted.
The occasion was far too opportune to pass up. Nate Archibald was a godsend in a St. Jude’s uniform. He was the epitome of a perfect boyfriend, and Celeste had yearned over him since her first afternoon at Constance Billiard. Misfortune would have it that he was the sole property of Blair Waldorf. Celeste would put money on the suspicion that B had placed her claim on Nate the second she’d entered the world, and that claim had stuck. The two were the couple of the century. Prep school sweethearts that were destined to prevail through the number of statistics built up against them. Yet, here Nate was tweeting about how he wanted to get inebriated. Where was Blair? Was there trouble in paradise for the ill-fated love birds? Her thumbs tapped away the the buttons on her phone, sending a response before Chuck Bass or another one of the asshole prep jobs could extend an invitation.
@princesswindsor (8:17:10PM): That’s an offer I’ll take you up on @natearchibald.
Nate and Celeste weren’t best friends, but their good graces weren’t completely lost on one another. She had been good to Blair while Serena was at boarding school, which she knew Nate had picked up on. The Archibalds and Windsors ran in the same social circle; Celeste’s father was a representative of Nate’s father in the legal aspect. Regardless of the extension of a night out might be a bit random coming from her, Celeste crossed her fingers in hope that he would give her a chance to show him a good time. If there was problems with B, Celeste would be happy to lend a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. She’d be the pick up he needed under such a circumstance.
@natearchibald (8:20:14PM): Really? You sure? @princesswindsor
@princesswindsor (8:21:06PM): Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve had a long week. @natearchibald
@natearchibald (8:23:09PM): I’ll text you @princesswindsor.
Not a second later, her phone buzzed. She thought her heart might burst out of her chest. This was really happening.
Nate Archibald (8:25:17PM): Meet me at Le ‘Echo around 9 pm.
Celeste Windsor (8:25:59PM): You got it, Archibald.
Staring at the clock showed that Nate was a couple of minutes late, but she’d allow him all the time he needed so long as he didn’t stand her up. She ordered a cocktail from the waitress and sipped on it very casually. Le ‘Echo was an intimate, but lively nightclub. There were a number of couples dancing in a drunken stupor, other men hitting on unsuspecting young ladies lingering on the line of bar stools. Just ten minutes past nine before Nate Archibald walked in through the dark entrance. He surveyed the area, but his eyes seemed to lighten a bit when he caught wind of her sitting at the bar. “Get a drink for my friend, will you? He’s just arrived.” She motioned to the waitress, smiling with a coy expression in Nate’s direction.
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