Ritz Cracker

2005.

“nate, cut it out!” you shiek-laugh as he holds your back flush against his chest, his fingers tickling your sides ruthlessly. you gasp for breath, feet kicking when he wraps one arm around your middle to lift you, his free hand resuming its attack upon your ribs. “i can’t breathe!”

“say it!” he grins, slowing his fingers but not stopping.

you squeal when he lightly pinches your waist, continuing to wriggle and writhe against him. “never!”

in one swift motion, he launches you onto your bed and traps your legs between his as he stands menacingly before you, hands raised and fingers wiggling. “c’mon, surrender.” he narrows his eyes at you, inching closer so his hands are hovering just above your midsection. “you know you want to.”

taking him by surprise, you grab his wrists and twist your body until you’ve pulled him down beside you, then shift to straddle him with his hands pinned palm-up beneath your knees. “ah-ha! now i’ve got you right where i want you!”

“oh, poor me.” nate smirks, fingertips curling into the tops of your shins. “aren’t people supposed to be face-down during their arrest?”

“sure, if they’re lucky enough to get a good cop.” you harden your features and lift an imaginary baton into the air. “i’m a bad cop.”

he winks. “the baddest. sentence me to life. . . unless you wanna take me downtown for interrogation.”

you snort but keep up the act. “nuh-uh, i have a feeling you’re smuggling illegal goods.” with an arched brow, you peer down at your connected hips. “this package especially has. . . raised my suspicions.” you try your best not to laugh, and he does the same. “could be explosive. might have to radio bomb disposal.”

well, that tickle fight escalated quickly. nate swallows thickly, his blue eyes shimmering up at you. is she actually flirting back?

“i promise whatever i’m carrying is perfectly legal. . . and natural!”

“hmm, i dunno.” you trail a finger down his chest, feeling it hitch in response. his palms become clammy against your skin, but you don’t notice. “i might have to strip search you.”

no way this is happening right now. is it? he takes a slow blink, and when his eyes reopen to stare back at you, they’re a shade darker and a little hooded, his pupils slightly blown. “alright, i’ll comply. how can i say no to a face like yours?”

“glad we’re on the same page.” you spin a pair of invisible handcuffs around your dainty finger. “keep this up and i might let you off easy.”

god, he hopes not. sucking in a shaky breath, he flashes you a boyish smile. “i’ll come willingly.” he waggles his eyebrows.

you hold his gaze for a moment, then you’re overcome by teary giggles. he joins you, more than confused and incredibly flustered. a disappointed groan escapes him when you roll off of his lap and fall back to lie next to him, but you don’t seem to hear it. at least, he hopes you didn’t. “that was funny.”

yeah, hilarious. nate looks over at you, lips parted and cheeks rosy. “uh, yeah. i should tickle you more often.”

with a scoff, you swat at him. he tries to reach for you again, but you dodge him and end up leaping over the foot of the bed with a finger-gun pointed at him.

chuckling, he raises his hands. “don’t shoot! i’ll do anything.”

you suspend a challenging brow. “even my laundry?”

nate wrinkles his nose. “ew, your stinky clothes? okay, almost anything.”

“exterminate my unwanted, eight-legged roommates?” you counteroffer, cocking your imaginary pistol with one eye closed as you ‘take aim’.

with an exaggerated look of panic, nate scans your room. “wait. . . there are spiders in here? where?!”

“they’re everywhere, nathaniel.” you creep closer with a sneer. “in fact, i see one right there. bang!”

he collapses into your pillows and stuffed animals, clutching at his chest. “egghhhh. . .”

you erupt into another fit of laughter and rejoin him on your bed. “was that supposed to be dying-person sounds?”

“i don’t know! i’ve never died before! or. . . pretended to.” his smile widens as you let out a piggy snort through your laughter, clapping a hand to your mouth from embarrassment. “dork.”

once your combined laughter has subsided, you recline beside him and he gives you a nudge. “so. . . i’m a spider, huh?”

“mhmm,” you hum with a snicker. “hairy, gangly, hard to get rid of. just a general pest, to be honest. more active at night. long legs.”

he knows you’re just teasing, but part of him hopes you don’t actually think of him that way. does he really bug you? no pun intended. “i’m not gangly. i can shoot white stuff, though.”

you roll your eyes with mock disgust. “okay, archibald. subject-change, please!”

“i meant to ask earlier, actually, but have you got plans tomorrow? i was wondering if—”

the ringing of your cellphone cuts him off and you give him an apologetic smile. “hold that thought.”

you flip it open and place it to your ear. “hey, chuck.”

nate can’t refrain an eye-roll at the mention of one of his closest friend’s names. he and chuck have always had a sort of rivalry when it came to you, but chuck only seemed to gain interest when nate stupidly admitted his feelings for you. chuck also seems to conveniently call whenever he knows you’re with nate; needing you for something that can’t possibly wait until you’re available.

“yeah, he’s here.” you say in response to something chuck said, obviously asking if nate’s at your place.

“oh yanno, elaborate bedroom roleplay with my best friend since forever, the usual.” you go on, and nate can scarcely make out the bitter chuckle that rumbles from your cell’s speaker.

you’re quiet for a beat while chuck rambles on at you, prompting nate’s attempt to scoot a little closer so he can hear.

“yeah, of course! i’ll be right over. try not to miss me too much in the meantime, okay?” you croon into the phone, then snap it shut with a lip-bite.

nate’s brows furrow as he watches you bound to your feet and approach your closet with a skip in your step. “what did he want?”

after selecting a rather flirty number from one of the railings, you throw a seductive smile over your shoulder. “me.”

draping it over your chaise lounge, you begin to strip yourself of your current clothes. “turn around, perv.”

but he’s already averted his gaze, looking down at his hands with a troubled expression.

eventually, you hurry back to him. you’ve refreshened your makeup and fixed your hair, which he noticed long before you moved to lean over him. “so? how do i look?”

you pout your lips slightly and turn your face to the side, eyeing him expectantly.

nate appears wonderstruck, his words failing him. you grow impatient and punch him lightly on the shoulder. “nathaniel!”

back in the present, he gives you a small smile. “you look beautiful.”

the complement pleases you and you straighten-up to observe your reflection one more time. “is the dress too much?”

too little. he thinks to himself, gaze lingering on the lengths of your legs. which is annoyingly perfect, ‘cause chuck will love it.

“not at all.” he forces himself to say with an even faker smile.

“okay, good.” you nod to yourself, retrieving your purse before approaching him again to press a platonic kiss to his forehead. “you can let yourself out, right?” you stop short as you reach your door. “oh, wait. . . you were meant to stay for dinner, weren’t you? that’s okay, you still can. tell my mom i didn’t feel well or something, yeah? i’ll be in your debt.”

nate opens his mouth to protest but you keep talking. “—oh, what were you saying about tomorrow?”

he runs a hand through his hair. “uh. . . nothing. it’s nothing. have fun tonight.”

you beam, wolfish. “oh, we will. text me if you change your mind about tomorrow and i can tell you about it over breakfast, since we were supposed to hang out this weekend.”

nate grimaces at the prospect of hearing about your night with chuck in gory detail, or even vague detail. “that’s okay, i’ll see if serena or blair are free instead. go on, you know how chuck bass feels about being kept waiting.” he tries to act like he doesn’t care, but the waves of jealousy are practically drowning him.

you shoot him a grateful smile and throw a wave over your shoulder on your way out. “you’re the best. bye!”

“bye.” he watches you leave, continuing to stare blankly at your door long after you’ve gone.

2006.

nothing had changed in a year. well, serena left, which meant nate’s distraction; which consisted of casual hookups in an attempt to forget you, was no longer an option.

he’d tried to seek comfort elsewhere but blair wasn’t interested, her heart belonging to the issue of reputation—which a friends with benefits arrangement would surely jeopardize—leaving nate to his thoughts; those of which solely revolved around you.

his mind is on you, as it always is, when he fails to notice your approach.

“earth to nate! you in there?” you poke his cheek and he flinches, eyes brightening when they finally land on you.

“oh, sorry. hey.” he clears his throat with a sniff and pats you fondly on the shoulder. it’s a harmless, excessively ordinary gesture on his part. perhaps a little out of character, as he usually greets you with a firm hug, but you don’t think much of it. nate, on the other hand, inwardly spirals—questioning and utterly overthinking it.

“that assignment was kick-ass, huh? i’ve still got cramp.” you frown as you massage your hand, sore from writing.

“i’ll say. math used to be my least-favorite subject, but at least that doesn’t have essays.” he smirks as you throw your head back with a groan.

“whaaat? math is way worse! why does it have random letters in it? at least english sticks to its roots and doesn’t throw erroneous numbers in there.” just then, your phone beeps and you move swiftly to take it from your purse.

nate’s mood sours, already knowing who’s paging you. “so, you didn’t call yesterday.”

“hmm?” you’re completely engrossed in your text, thumbs racing to type out a response.

“we always chat on sundays, remember?” he probes, a little hurt that you’ve seemingly forgotten about the little tradition.

you used to have weekly study sessions together, him stopping by yours or vice versa. you’ve just been so. . . preoccupied lately.

“oh, right.” you smile, finally tearing your gaze from your screen to refocus it on him. “well, you didn’t call me, either.”

call it stupid, but the concept of calling you unnerves him now. he definitely won’t tell you that he spent a good portion of his allotted study time last night staring at his phone, pondering whether he should. “well, when you didn’t call, i assumed you were busy.”

you start your walk to class together, walking side-by-side. “you assumed correctly.” your face stretches into a giddy smile. “i was with chuck again.”

of course, you were. and study, he’s willing to bet, wasn’t all you did. “ah,” he scrapes a hand through his hair, then rewraps his scarf. “glad i didn’t interrupt, then.”

“you wouldn’t have been, but i appreciate it.” you sling your arm around his waist, an innocent gesture, but it leaves him hopeful. “i’ve missed you, yanno.”

“oh?” he looks down at you, eyes full of longing. you don’t really take notice because to you, that’s how he always looks. if you weren’t so oblivious, or maybe it’s ignorance and the refusal not to know, you’d realize that you’re the only person to receive such a look from him. always have been.

“yeah,” your expression turns nostalgic, maybe even wistful. “i miss being around you. you’re my favorite person to spend time with, after all.” the moment only lasts until you proceed to add, “after chuck, of course.”

“obviously.” he bites, not really caring if you hear the iciness to his tone.

you give him a searching look, slightly concerned. it riddles him with guilt, because at the end of the day, he does want you to be happy, even if he’d rather it was with him. “everything okay? it’s just, you seem different lately. actually, something’s been off for a while. is it your parents?”

nate’s lips part as he begins to form words, but as usual, your cell cuts him off.

“hey, you.”

he’s almost sick in his mouth.

“sure! wait for me? i’m with nate but he won’t mind.”

he huffs, his breath steaming as it curls against the morning chill. “not at all.” he mumbles, kicking a stone.

you spin back to him, resting a gloved hand atop his forearm. “i’ve gotta go meet chuck. we should do something later!”

“sure,” he smiles bitterly, and it almost hurts. “if you decide you have the time.”

you tilt your head. “hey. . . don’t be like that. it’s not like we haven’t spent every waking day together for the better part of our lives. i don’t know how you’re not sick of the sight of me by now.”

never. “we’ve barely seen each other except at social occasions or blair’s parties. i think the last time we were in each other’s company longer than a few minutes was at the buffet table.” he tells you, a little harsher than intended. “but it’s fine, just go. i’ll make an excuse for you, since you’re skipping classes now.”

that angers him, not just because you’re truanting to neck with his best friend, but because senior year matters and you used to take your education seriously. you’re slipping, and he doesn’t like it.

“nate—”

“see you somewhen.” he grumbles, adjusting his bag on his shoulder before leaving you to stare after him.

“catch you at the kiss on the lips party?” you call to his retreating figure, having to throw your voice when his pace quickens.

he doesn’t answer.

2007.

dartmouth this, dartmouth that. god forbid it’s ucla. hidden cocaine stashes, fraud and embezzlement, his mothers worsening valium dependency; plus her insistence on defending howard and his every wrongdoing. it’s been rough.

but you were hardly there. physically, yes. but your emotional availability was another thing. a nonexistent thing. he can’t blame you entirely. this last year, he’s done the very thing he found himself loathing you for. he distanced himself.

family scandals aside; it wasn’t that he actively refused to put the effort in. he just couldn’t face you. plus, serena came back; which meant he could think about something other than his life falling apart.

he couldn’t bring himself to ghost your texts. at least you still seemed to care—the notion that almost two decade’s worth of friendship wasn’t meaningless provided him with an ounce of solace, if anything. and of course anne didn’t turn you away the night you turned up on their doorstep, ill with worry for her son.

you were always the one constant his life. the moon in his sky, the air in his lungs. now, he’s lucky if he catches a glimpse of you amid the bustling crowd of some party. serena won’t talk, probably not wanting to get caught in the middle or risk going behind your back. blair says you’re fine but nate knows both of you better. and chuck? pretends nothing is amiss, like this whole thing isn’t his fault.

and he’s watching you now, laughing at something jenny said. the sound travels to welcome ears and he can’t help but smile. your happiness, even at his expense, that’s what he wants. but he can’t help but ask himself: what if?

what if you do, or could someday soon, feel the same way? it’s a long shot, he knows. he’s been pining for you since you were both learning your abc’s and 123’s.

but you didn’t express an interest in chuck until he showed some in you, and that wasn’t until nate drunkenly confided in him his love for you. that never sat right with him.

could your relationship with chuck, by any chance, be a fling? a very long-lived, publicly affectionate fling? it’s surely within the realms of possibility. as someone currently engaging in fling-y behavior, nate knows as well as the next man that they can mean as little as nothing.

“are you gonna go over there, or not?” blair suddenly appears at his side, passing him a champagne flute.

nate takes it with a grateful head-tip. “jury’s still out.”

“then allow me to be the judge.” she sips from her own golden fizz. “or executioner, doesn’t matter to me.”

“i appreciate the counsel.” he chugs his whole glass down. “answer me this: does she love him?”

blair thinks on it, observing you as you continue to enjoy yourself, unaware of the two pairs of eyes watching you closely. “i don’t know, that’s the honest truth.” she swaps their flutes, deciding she’s no longer thirsty, or he needs it more than her. “but there’s only one way to find out.”

and with that slice of wisdom, she disappears back into the fray.

finishing his dutch courage, he places it on the table behind him, then makes his way in your direction before he talks himself out of it. with a light touch to your elbow, he draws you closer, the surprised look on your face hitting him like a freight train.

“mind if i borrow her?” he asks jenny, who glances at you knowingly before turning back to nate.

“sure.”

“hey.” you speak softly, even reaching with your hand to take his in a familiar, friendly grip. “it’s good to see you.”

nate smiles, and before he loses his nerve, he leans closer. “you too. shall we take the terrace?”

when you nod, he leads you by the hand. as he navigates the sea of partygoers, he senses a set of eyes on him and spots chuck across the room, a girl nate doesn’t recognize clinging to his friend’s arm as she whispers sweet nothings. nate shoots him a mean smirk, then winks as he pulls you along, disappearing from chuck’s sight.

you allow him to do so, trusting him to guide you safely but also gladdened by the opportunity to have some peace and quiet with your oldest friend. you’ve practically been strangers this year, and you were hoping you’d have the chance to amend that tonight.

once outside, you’re both relieved to find the space empty, save for the stars above and the city’s bustle below.

without giving him the chance to speak, you launch yourself into his arms and snuggle him, overcome with relief that you’re here with him, right now in this moment. “i’ve missed you so much, archibald. i’ve been worried sick about you.”

he doesn’t hesitate to encircle his arms around you and hold you close to him, dipping his head to nuzzle his nose into your hair. “i miss you, too. and i’m okay. better now, though.” he rubs your back until you eventually part from the embrace, looking up into his eyes.

“so?”

“so,” he nods, scratching the edge of his jaw. “i have some things i’d like to get off my chest, if you’ll hear me out.”

“okay.” you smile, taking a seat on the patio furniture expectantly. “is this a happy talk or should i brace myself?”

“uh, hopefully the first one.” he huffs out a nervous laugh. “i should probably be sitting for this, too.”

you give his hand a brief, encouraging squeeze. “it’s just me, nate. go ahead.”

right. it’s just you.

“alright, so,” he exhales, the force of it inflating his cheeks. come on, just say it.

when he doesn’t say anything you chuckle. “out with it already! you’re making me nervous!”

he should’ve brought flash cards, maybe rehearsed it in the mirror. he clenches his eyes shut, then turns his attention to his feet. “i, uh. . .”

you wait patiently, the breeze carrying your hair like it’s a veil floating behind you. “you what, nate?”

he expels another puff of air, his collar suddenly too tight. afraid he’ll go back on his plan, if you can even call it that, he blurts it out in a clumsy jumble. “i’m in love with you.”

the silence that follows is heavy and he regrets it in an instant, but you don’t move a muscle. bored of looking at his own reflection in the polished toecaps of his shoes, he sheepishly redirects his gaze to you. you’re already staring at him.

“nate. . .”

“chuck doesn’t.” he quickly adds, a little more confident in himself. “the only person chuck loves is chuck. i’ll bet you the entirety of my trust fund that he’s cozied-up to some other girl as we speak. i don’t know what you guys are, or if you’re anything at all. but i wanted to tell you before the two of you do become something.”

tears reflect in your eyes, your mouth agape as you process his words. he moves closer to you and takes your face in his hands, then wipes at the tear that strays from your lower lash line with a tender touch. “i’d never hurt you. i’d give you everything, and then some. if by any chance, i’m not wrong on this, does that sound like something you’d want?”

slowly, torturously, you lift your hands to hold his wrists. “oh, nate.”

his heart skips about ten beats when you angle yourself forward to close the gap between your faces, gently pressing your lips to his. just as he starts to kiss you back, you retract your mouth. it’s then that he notices the sadness on your face and the way it creases at your brow and tugs down on the corners of your lips. his skipping heart slows almost to a stop, then drops into his stomach.

“i love you, too.” you whisper, cupping his cheek.

his face lights up like a beacon, his pulse quickening again.

“not in the same way, but i do. very much.”

he goes cold, the chill seeping into his bones and settling at his joints, now stiff and aching.

“chuck and i, we’re—”

“no need to explain.” nate waves you off with a smile. he realizes how unconvincing he must look when your expression twists with genuine anguish. “i’ve had too much to drink. we’ll laugh about this in a few days, right?”

he chuckles to himself, pulling his face away from the warmth of your palm as he takes to his feet. “i should get going, anyway.”

“nate, wait.”

you stand with him, but he’s quick to slide past you and head for the doors. “enjoy the rest of your night. i’ll see you.”

he wants to hate you.

hate you for all the mixed messages that he misinterpreted. the flirtations he mistook for romantic interest. the good times that remain his happiest memories, while you probably don’t even remember most of them. he tries to hate you for choosing chuck, a man he deems undeserving. but most of all, he wants to hate you for making him love you.

but he just can’t, ‘cause if there’s anything in the world he could obtain the power of, it wouldn’t be the ability to hate you. and even then, he still doesn’t think it would manifest.

so he leaves, making a pit stop at the refreshment table on his way.

“look at this portrait of desperation.” chuck’s voice drawls behind him, and nate can tell by the manner in which his words are spoken that he’s smirking. “i take it she doesn’t love you back.”

nate waits until he’s quenched his thirst before answering. “evidently so.”

“i almost feel bad for you.” chuck helps himself to a drink of his own, gauging his friend’s reaction with a victorious glint in his dark eyes.

“how kind of you.” nate clucks his tongue, then turns to the man at his side. “all i ask, is that you treat her right. no girls, no funny business, none of it.”

“don’t act like it’s not my downfall you’re praying for. it’ll be your arms she runs into.” chuck challenges, turning himself so they’re face-to-face.

“as comforting as that image is,” nate narrows his eyes. “it would be at the cost of her happiness. unlike you, i actually give a damn about that.” he takes a step forward. “so please, don’t be the reason she isn’t.”

chuck studies him with an unreadable expression. “alright, nathaniel, i’ll give you that.” he holds out a hand. “i’m in a generous mood tonight.”

nate scoffs and shakes his head. “this isn’t a business transaction, chuck.” he spins on his heel to barge his way out of the venue, but stops to say. “you don’t realize how lucky you are.”