The Spectator

Chapter 13: Lost on the Way to the Bathroom

     So this was how she ended up alone with Nate Archibald again— by telling him she had to use the bathroom. Not that that was a lie. She really, really did. The facilities upstairs had been jam packed with a line that extended twenty-some feet, so it only took one look at Ella's desperate expression and Nate had immediately suggested trying the restroom on the Spectator's floor.

     Now, the operator that usually manned the controls being on his night off, they were in an elevator alone together, the first time they'd been so since the dinner party. It would have made Ella nervous if she could have stopped bouncing up and down.

     "God damn it," She muttered. "I have the world's tiniest bladder."

     Nate laughed. "Poor thing."

     "It's a curse, Nate!" She insisted. "Is it just me or is this elevator slower than usual?"

     "That's just you... and your bladder."

     "Oh, hush," Ella rolled her eyes. "Tell me something interesting to distract me."

     "Uh...the Patriots beat the Vikings 25 to 8 yesterday," he supplied. It had been a hell of a game too, but he doubted she actually cared. From what he knew, she was more of a basketball fan.

     "Fascinating," She replied dryly.

     "Don't be such a snob," Nate rolled his eyes. "My fantasy league has never been in better shape..."

     "Is it? Gosh, and I was so worried about your financial well-being..." Ella looked up at him through her eyelashes, all innocence.

     Nate narrowed his eyes at her, but was not able to control the grin on his face.

     "Haven't you ever been told that if you don't have anything nice to say, you should say nothing at all?" He asked.

     "But then I'd basically be mute," She said thoughtfully. "And I can't even imagine how boring your life would be."

     "Oh, please," Nate scoffed. The elevator doors dinged open.

     "Thank God!" Ella rushed out without hesitation, running to the nearby bathrooms. Nate made his way to the men's room at a more leisurely pace, so she was waiting for him when he exited, leaning on one of the desks. Her honest-to-goodness stilettos lay at her feet, the sore pink soles of which she was rubbing together.

     "All better?" He asked, after a brief pause.

     "All better," She smiled in response, pushing off her perch. She turned a moment to take in the deserted newsroom, while she stepped back into her shoes. "It's so quiet, isn't it?"

     "Yeah, it's strange," Nate agreed, looking over at her turned figure. He was suddenly thankful that dresses and heels were not what she usually wore. People already couldn't shut up about how attractive she was, but this... He usually tried to stop himself from looking, feeling like a creeper whenever he couldn't help himself. But not looking didn't always help-- she had that mouth of hers, running a mile a minute, making everything funnier. And now here she was, wearing that dress Serena had lent her. It looked so good on her he couldn't imagine it on anyone else. The way it hugged her waist, floating around her with every move she made... All of it was just so fucking distracting. A sigh escaped him.

     Ella turned to him, brows furrowed a little with concern. "What's wrong?"

     "Nothing, I just..." He tried not to but couldn't help looking her in the eye. "I kind of wish I wasn't throwing this after party. I feel exhausted."