Heiress ∣ Nate Archibald

Never Been Marcused

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

As summer comes to an end, I'd like to share a few things I've learned about fun in the sun. Gossip Girl's Guide to Summer. tip number one: Don't fall asleep on the job. The best hookups are free of morning breath and awkward conversation. The only thing harder than making up is waking up. 

Sunlight shone through the sheer linen curtains, trickling across the flawless skin of a certain heiress as she found herself shifting in bed. A splitting headache began to make its appearance known the more she started to wake up causing a groan of annoyance to leave her lips. "Will you be quiet?". The familiar voice of a certain Bass boy made Ophelia turn her attention to the side, his shirtless body on full display only made the girl groan again. "Will you get out?". The ravenette sassed, running her hand through her hair before she began to collect her dress from the floor and immediately throw it on. "I would love too, except you're in my room." 

Finally allowing her eyes to travel around the bedroom she became even more frustrated to learn he was right. Standing from the bed once she was sure her body was covered the ravenette turned on her feet towards Chuck, an unimpressed expression on her face. "This-" Using her hands to motion between the pair of them and accentuate her point she continued on. "-never happened." 

"Whatever you say O." Chuck's signature smirk rested upon his lips causing the heiress to grab the nearest pillow and throw it in his face in retaliation. Smiling herself once she saw him fall back at the force. "Okay, okay. It never happened - again." The Bass boy caved and despite the ravenette being well aware of just how awful his secret-keeping abilities were she didn't spare another minute in the room. 

Summer tip number two: There is no "we" in "summer" only "U" and "me." Find out where you stand before you find yourself stood up. Anyone can canoodle in July and August, but will he be gone by September? 

"Things are going south with Lord Marcus." Blair's phone call confused the heiress as she walked down the streets of the Hamptons, desperate for some shopping therapy after her mishap. "Lord Marcus?". Ophelia questioned, her mind not fully connecting the dots in her hungover state. "James. Turns out that he was only pretending to be a commoner. It's like Roman Holiday only I'm Gregory Peck and he's Audrey Hepburn." Her cousin explained, desperate to catch the ravenette up to speed. 

"Good job on the clear explanation there, B." 
"He's not really a college student. He's a lord, and I love him." Blair swooned causing her cousin to laugh at her exaggerations. 
"Love? You've known him a week Blair, settle." 
"Like, very much. And not just because Tom Hanks give him a Kleenex at Lady Di's funeral." Blair's words had Ophelia shaking her head in amusement, the clear difference between actual love and infatuation of a status seemingly non-existent for the brunette. 
"Do you really expect me to believe this isn't all about revenge?" Not wanting to say the Bass boy's name in fear of infuriating her cousin the heiress found herself pausing near a new desired store as she spoke.
"Revenge is so 12 hours ago. And just because Marcus happens to be the perfect post-Bass palate cleanser doesn't mean he isn't a delicious dish in his own right." 
"Wow, sounds like you guys are soul mates so what's the problem?". Ophelia pushed, wondering whether her cousin was just ranting to her or if she actually had an issue.