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"..I guess I found out the hard way."
Jenny muttered dryly. She caught a vague whiff of tobacco protruding from the glass in her hands, silently grimacing at the bitter, woody aroma. Though there was a distinct hollowness in Chuck's eyes that suggested he had been frequenting something a little harder than Brandy or cigars.
"The hard way is the only way." The young Bass professed, more so to himself. He then reached into his suit pocket, retrieving a small, blue box.
Jenny's breath hitched as he set it down in front of her, the compact equal parts menacing and magnetic. It was common knowledge on the Upper East Side (primarily via Gossip Girl) that Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass were an item. Blasts suddenly featured an "&" between their initials: 'SPOTTED: B & C...'' this, 'C & B' that. They were practically the gender bent versions of each other: cunning, manipulative, scheming...tragically alluring. They seem inevitable, irrevocably and hopelessly destined to be together to the end of time. But in spite of all this, J really couldn't have imagined marriage so soon for them. She supposed it must've just been a subconscious bias towards Chuck, that although "reformed" it was still difficult to see him genuinely settle down, for good. But the more the thought loomed over her the more it became less about Chuck and more about his counterpart.
Blair and Jenny, despite all the drama, had a certain..unspoken mutual understanding between the two of them. Sure, more often than not they were at war with each other. More often than not it resulted in Jenny getting hurt. Not just social humiliation but the kind of hurt that felt like Blair had verbally slapped her across the face. It had hurt when Jenny pined to be her friend all freshman year and ended up with a pity birthday party or vanilla yogurt streaked across her blonde locks. It had hurt when Blair had exposed her for unintentionally stealing Hazel's dress, or when she outed her date for being gay in the middle of a party, just when for once, Jenny had felt like an equal. A Manhattan socialite, attending fabulous parties with hot dates like the rest of the clique; like Blair.
But in times few and far in between, there would be those sporadic moments of clarity. A single light amidst the gauze of berating, battles, and outbursts.
She can still recall trying to replicate the intricate stitching of Blair's cotillion dress, artfully crafted by designers well beyond her years. How incredibly soft the silver fabric was under her fingertips as she worked in the awkward lighting. The immense relief that bloomed inside her when Blair thanked her, when her agonizing scrutiny had finally dissolved into gratitude.
It was merely a year later in some bathroom, at a graduation party Jenny really had no business attending. They were alone, secluded from the outside world of 18-year-old partygoers and Constance Billard/St. Jude alumni. Blair, unprompted, had dropped the biggest gossip bomb of all:
"Well, here's something new: I told Chuck I loved him again. And he didn't say it back, again."
"I would have said it back." Jenny had thought to herself right then, without even realizing it. And for a split second, she's filled with nothing but frustration and fury. "Don't you know how lucky you were to have me? I would've said it, I would've said whatever you fucking wanted." However, the only thing that leaves her lips is:
"Blair, I'm not gonna tell people that." Because as much as she loathes the girl who once ruled Constance with nothing but Jimmy Choos and headbands, she knew better.
"I don't wanna be queen. I just wanted a chance to have a life in school -look what it almost made me do."
"That's the thing. You need to be cool to be queen." Blair had retaliated, as if reciting scripture. Her Anne Boleyn monologue still haunted Jenny sometimes, forever engraved into the back of her mind. Which is funny, because the only thing she had been focusing on at the time was B's lips, hardly at the words coming out of it.
With that being said, going from hearing; "For what it's worth..you're my queen. I choose you."; to "For three years you tried to worm your way into our world. But you will never be a part of it no matter what you do."Nate loves Serena. Dan loves Vanessa, god knows why. And Chuck loves me. But you, Jenny? No one loves you."; was a punch to the gut.
However, judging by Chuck's dilated pupils, it seemed that such love had an expiration date.
Jenny gingerly took hold of the ring box, grazing her thumb over its velvety surface. The inside was even more impressive; she couldn't help but marvel at the exquisite cushion-cut diamonds, the way it seemed to sparkle on its own accord. The 8-carat solitaire would've looked gorgeous on Blair.. If the ring had ever made it to her finger. And deep down, amongst all the hatred and disdain she held for the former queen bee, there was a another much more startling sentiment that was brewing inside her as her gaze traveled from Chuck, to the engagement ring, and back again:
Relief.
Unexplainable, foregone relief that Chuck and Blair weren't getting married.
"Chuck..I'm so sorr-"
Ping!
A notification from Chuck's phone.
"It's Blair." He murmurs.
Well, well, well, look who's finally tied the knot? Once more we've been reminded that anything old can be new again. Wounds don't need time to heal when Harry Winston exists. You may be bound together in sickness and in health, but even newly weds aren't immune to my wrath. Alas, Au Revoir B & C, may this marriage last longer than Jason & Britney's. XOXO, Gossip Girl
A gif of the brunettes hugging outside of the Empire State Building resides below the blast, replaying on Jenny's Blackberry for what feels like the 100th time this morning. She's tempted to just throw the phone across her room at this point, and she would, if she could ever pull her eyes away from it. If it weren't for how stunning the silver band looked sitting on Blair's hand. The auburn-haired beauty's winsome smile and the gleeful glow radiating off her, almost like it was transcending through the screen. She looks happy. Happier than Jenny had ever seen her. Happier than anyone's ever seen her (probably).
Her moss-colored overcoat flaps gently in the early summer breeze, the loose waves framing her face bristle ever so slightly.
Jenny doesn't quite know what to make of this revelation. Turmoil claws at her insides and she's just as nauseous as she is perturbed or embittered or resentful.
Or jealous.
Because, let's face it, Blair always looked better on Chuck's arm than Jenny's.
Doing something as domestic as watching Blair change meant nothing if you weren't gonna be the one taking the garments off of her. You could be sitting next to her on The Met steps one day and in the blink of the eye you were barely entitled to a spot on the pavement. One minute you were equals and in the next you were indentured.
Jenny closed her eyes, letting out a crisp, grounded exhale. She empties her drawers of their remaining contents and zips up her last suitcase. The bedroom is eerily barren now; the closet's completely wiped out, only a small heap of hangers and dust occupy the space; hair products and cosmetics have been safely tucked away; it's like she had never been here. (Hadn't that been Blair's goal anyway? )
Leaving New York feels like she's shedding a chapter of her life away, memories neatly rolled up and tied with a Chanel-embellished ribbon.
She's even a little saddened to leave the obnoxiously extravagant, slightly sterile Van der Woodsen apartment complex. Stages of her life passes by in a blur from the town car window. From the prestigious, holier-than-thou essence of Constance Billard to her father's red-bricked loft to the froyo shop she and Eric once gleefully patronized with giddy smiles and after-school gossip.
They arrive at Grand Central station all too soon.
Rufus and Lilly adorn her with kisses and hugs and sorrowful goodbyes. Even Serena and Eric show up, thinly smiling, but present.
Chuck wishes her a solemn farewell, they stiffly shake hands. "You've won." Jenny bitterly thinks as she pulls back.
"You triumphed over me once again, and you didn't even know it. She chose you. She. Chose. You."
"Ah! It seems like you have one more goodbye to give." Lilly chirps, clasping her hands in delight.
"Huh?''
Jenny furrows her eyebrows, confused as to what Lilly meant, nearly everyone was here...
"Jenny."
She freezes at once, recognizing the voice like a 6th sense.
She turns around to see Blair, and for a second nothing comes out. What is there to even say?
It feels like it's been forever since their last encounter.
The two walk a short distance from the group, silence engulfing the air.
"What are you doing here?" Jenny asks coldly, crossing her arms. Her heart is beating fast and she can only hope Blair doesn't notice how red her ears are under the blonde mane. It's hard to decide whether the flush comes from anger or something more wretched.
"To pay my respects." Blair retaliates, indifferent. As if she hadn't given Jenny a whole tangent about how worthless she was only a couple hours earlier.
"I'm not dead, Blair." J scoffs.
Ignoring the sentiment, Blair continued, briefly hesitating.
"I can't say I've always enjoyed you having here, but it's difficult to imagine what New York would be like without you. It's been..a thrill for the books. And I wish you nothing but the best, England is lucky to have you."
Suddenly, before either one could make sense of it, she leaned in and hugged her. Nothing grand, just a polite hold. Enough for Blair's Chanel no. 5 to taunt her nostrils and for the Brooklynite to hear the sharp intake of her breath, as if B had surprised herself too. A silent, apologetic admission. Jenny's first instinct is to push her away, to yell and hit and yell some more, to make Blair feel all the pain she had caused the blonde over the years. And she nearly acts on it too, her fingers gently furrowing into the mahogany tresses as if to yank them out of her skull.
Regardless, nothing happens.
Some inconceivable, cosmic-like force stills her, despite the enticing ideas running through her mind. Somewhere deep down housed a more eager, livelier, 14-year-old Jennifer Humphery, one who would be ecstatic by this oddly affectionate interaction. A version of Jenny that used to see Blair as the star of her schoolgirl fantasies, a version who admired her more than anyone. Back when the main objective was to be the queen bee's friend, not her successor.
It feels like Jenny owes her younger self this, because in spite of the glorious title and reputation and power she now held in Constance, such friendship was a goal she never quite attained.
And she'd be lying if she said there wasn't still something in her heart for Blair. As withering and minuscule as It was, it lingered. Like lipstick stains on Champagne flutes or mascara residue on dulcet pillows.
"Um, thanks- and..congratulations..! Good luck with..everything." Jenny blabbed, slightly flustered. She finally took a glimpse on the very ring she'd been avoiding the second Blair had arrived. It looked much more unwelcoming and upsetting to her now that it was out of it's box and on the designated finger.
Blair gave a curt smile, hardly even looking down at the sparkling spectacle.
"I'll have Dorota send for you when the wedding ensues." She says cordially, and Jenny's heart churns, because they already feel like strangers.
She would much rather be an enemy to Blair than no one at all.
But that was the inevitable, right?
Blair would have to forget, and Jenny would have to move on.