A few weeks later, Nate and Ella found themselves where they usually were on a Saturday night—on Ella's couch, watching basketball. Well, Nate was watching basketball. Ella was lying down, her feet in his lap and her laptop on her chest, working on a few pieces she felt were still too rough for publishing on Monday. Nate absently massaged her feet. The Lakers weren't his team, but they had an interesting line up this year, so he was watching the game with absorbed interest.
Ella was trying to focus on her work, but she kept glancing at him. He looked so... normal. Like he was just a fixture in her everyday life. And she supposed that, in some ways, he was. Their little secret affair was working out and no one at the office suspected a thing. Even the non-judging breakfast club had been minding their own business-- though Blair and Chuck still gave them odd looks from time to time. Ella should have been happy. She'd wanted to fuck Nate Archibald? Well, now she got to, regularly. But... her anxiety had been flaring up again. Her nails were chewed down to nubs. For a while, she'd tried to blame this solely on stress over her father, who wasn't responding to treatment as well as he should have.
The blood stained coughing was one of the most disturbing parts of his illness. Every time he hacked up a lung when they were Skyping, she froze, staring at the truth of what her father was going through. He was angry a lot these days, sneaking drinks again. But her mom wasn't backing down, either. As much as she feared her husband's temper, she feared his death more
What a complicated situation. So many old toxic patterns being disrupted. It would either leave her father a better, healthier person... or it would kill him. Ella felt more and more homesick, watching all of this from afar. Her mom could have used her help, but she was stuck in New York because of work.
It lead to a constant feeling of guilt that the situation with Nate was definitely not helping. He'd been slowly coming over more and more often until, suddenly, he was sleeping over on weekends. Then came the ever more frequent slip ups where he'd call her "baby" by accident and, when Valentine's day rolled around, she'd come home to find a bouquet of irises on her doorstep. By this point, Nate was spending from Friday afternoon all the way until Sunday morning with her and even had a designated toothbrush in her bathroom.
... Which were all good things, right?
Wrong.
Because, while he had turned her apartment into a home away from home and treated her basically how he would treat a girlfriend in their alone time, it must be reiterated that the inside of her apartment was the ONLY place they could be this way. As in... She'd never seen the inside of his apartment. She tried not to let it bother her, since it would be much easier to be caught with him if they were hanging around the Upper East Side together, but... it did bother her. They couldn't go out together or tell anyone or hang out like normal people. Even that beautiful bouquet of black irises he'd had delivered was a tainted gift-- not only were they black irises (the note had held a joke about the color she most liked to wear, obviously) but when she'd googled the meaning of the flowers (because this was Nate and he'd surely been trained in flower meanings at St. Jude's), it turned out... Irises were the flowers for fucking friendship.
He was a great fuck buddy, she couldn't deny that, always being supportive and affectionate when they were together. But the lying and the secrecy was weighing on her. It seemed more and more, in her tired irrational moments, that their status as Employer and Employee was just an excuse he wielded to avoid letting them get closer. She knew deep down that wasn't true. She knew she was distorting the whole situation because of her insecurity.
The problem was, there was no way to know for sure where she stood with him without confronting him and possibly ruining everything. And if there were two things that triggered her anxiety most it was 1) not knowing things and 2) not being able to express herself honestly. She wanted to throw herself into this with him as enthusiastically as she threw herself into everything else in her life. She wanted more... but felt incapable of asking for it.
Nate always joked that she had an excessive aversion to people giving her things. He didn't seem to understand that receiving gifts and favors made her uncomfortable because accepting them often meant having to admit she was missing something in the first place. With her new, ridiculously rich circle of friends, she felt even more uncomfortable accepting help, or in Nate's case, telling him what she really wanted from him.
Ugh, and here she was, obsessing about her relationship with Nate for the millionth time when she really should be focusing on her father or on the rough drafts she had in front of her. It wasn't as though her work or her life had gotten less stressful just because she was fucking Nate Archibald. Work, in fact, had a new set of frustrations even without those toxic rumors swirling around.
She'd received emails from a few people offering her positions elsewhere that she'd never told Nate about. She didn't know how to bring it up, especially since one of them was from Max Thompson and the other... was from Blair, funnily enough. She'd said no to them both (Max was her competition and she'd just had to tell Blair that she was not cut out for modeling for the 20th time). But. The options were weighing on her more and more as months passed and the promises Nate had made about a transfer and a raise never materialized.
She damned her anxiety straight to hell. It was the part of herself she was most annoyed by. She felt caught in a loop. So weak. So vulnerable. So tired. In ever growing frustration, she looked at Nate just sitting there like everything was fine. He couldn't be oblivious to what she was going through. He just couldn't.
"I think I want to start looking at other job options," She said suddenly. That got his attention. He turned to her, a frown materializing on his face.
"What do you mean...? You hardly have any free time as it is, let alone with a side job," Nate knew that probably wasn't what she meant, but why start with assuming the worst?
She sighed. "Not a side job, Nate. Another job."
"...Another job," He repeated slowly, fixing on her with his eyes.
"Yeah... as in I'd be quitting the Spectator," She swallowed hard. There'd be no taking this back now.
"What? Why now?" He asked, straightening in his seat. Everything had been going so well! No one suspected! Nate didn't understand the timing of this decision in the least.
"Why now?" Ella's eyes flashed. He could play stupid with everyone else, but not with her. "Because I've had three panic attacks this week. You know this."
"Yeah, but... that's because you're worried about your dad. That's what you told me, wasn't it? How does that connect to work?"
"Because it's not just my dad! It's everything! It's too much!" She exploded, yanking her feet out of his lap and setting aside her computer. She rubbed at her face. "I'm so nervous all the time at work and I... this is so stupid, but I... I just keep missing you more and more and I... I don't know..."
"Miss me? We spend every weekend together," he said softly, taking in her miserable expression. She was turning red, embarrassed to even be saying this out loud but she couldn't keep it to herself anymore.
"I know. And I've enjoyed every second of it, but... it just drives me crazy that I can't have that all the time," She finished her thought rapidly, like she hoped he might not hear it. But he did and his frown deepened. It had occurred to him that her increasing anxiety might have something to do with him, but had also thought she'd be honest with him about it. They'd agreed to honesty and openness, hadn't they? She couldn't just expect him to assume shit like this...
"Do you... Do you want to take a break? From this? We can do that, if it's been affecting you at work," He offered, using all of his discipline to actually get the words out. He didn't want to end things. But she couldn't just leave him like that, with the guilt of knowing it was his lack of self-control that shoved her out of a stable job.
"I don't want to end this, Nate," She shook her head. "That's part of why I'm leaving."
"You're leaving so we can..." He trailed off. She wanted a relationship. He'd been trying his hardest to give one to her in whatever way he could, but work... It got in the way of everything. He knew this, but their careers were more important, weren't they? He thought she'd been on board for that. He shook his head and re-focused. What mattered was Ella and her career. "Ella, you're a junior editor at the Spectator. You would have to probably start all over again if you went somewhere else."
"Maybe. Maybe not," her brow furrowed. "Either way, I'm willing to put in the work if it means I know I'm progressing because of my own merits instead of just relying on you to promote me. Which you haven't, by the way. You told me you wanted to start exploring a position for me somewhere other than the Lifestyle column when you made me junior editor, remember?"
"Yes, but I meant when the time was right..."
"And when will that time be? When will you ever feel comfortable giving me a pay raise now that we're sleeping together?" She quirked an eyebrow, looking at him expectantly for an answer. He searched for a response, and she took in the long silence, nodding. "That's what I thought. I need a new job, Nate, whether you want to stick around afterwards or not. But I would like it if you did."
Nate exhaled. "Ella, I don't think you understand how tough the job market is..."
"Did you hear anything I just said?" She exclaimed. "I know! But I'm good at my job aren't I? You hired me because of my talent, remember? Unless you just hired me so you could fuck me. Is that it, Nate? Is that what all of this was? Is that why you don't believe I can do this?" She was standing now, and yelling. Her neighbors would definitely be able to hear the muffled sounds of shouting. They'd already complained about how loud their sex was. Oh, well.
"Don't say shit like that," He growled, standing up as well. He pulled up to his full height. "You know that's not why I hired you. I spent months trying not to— don't act like I didn't try to keep this from happening!"
"Fat lot of good it did us," She said bitterly, rubbing at her eyes. "You obviously don't think I can handle the real world—."
"That's not what I said!" He yelled.
"You literally just told me I don't understand how tough the job market is!" She yelled louder, flailing her arms. "What the fuck else is that supposed to imply, Nathaniel?"
"That you've had it easy at the Spectator! Not everywhere is like that, it could take you years to get the same position at another paper—."
"Max Thompson offered me a better position months ago!" She screamed. He froze, blue eyes wide open. She quickly lowered her voice. "I didn't take it, obviously, but he said he'd always be willing to consider me..." She crossed her arms and continued, looking at the floor. "I know my fucking value, Nate."
"Ella..." He stepped forward, reaching his hands toward her. She stepped away, too riled up to want to be touched.
"I... I'm really not in the mood for basketball anymore. I think you should leave."
"So you're not even going to let me talk about this with you?" He exclaimed. "You're just going to kick me out? You know that I'm not trying to hold you back. You know that I care about you. I'm sorry about how I said that shit about the job market, it was condescending but... you can't blame me for being concerned, El! And now you tell me you've been talking with my competition without telling me? How am I the only bad guy in this situation?"
Ella closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "You aren't, Nate. This is my point— this thing we have is ruining us. It's turning us into people who lie all the time to the ones we care about and hold each other back from opportunity—."
"Is that all this is to you? Something holding you back? You said it yourself you enjoy it when we're together," He stepped closer, desperation and exasperation making it feel like his chest was breaking in half. "Why can't all of this wait until you've really established yourself in the business? I won't get in your way, we can go back to being friends—."
Her face contorted and turned red as he said the words. The image of black irises swam in front of her.
"Nate, we are not friends." She said with quiet violence, knowing it would hurt him. How could he suggest that, after how close they'd become? This quiet affair had felt more like a relationship than anything she'd had in years but he was so willing to discard it... In her anger, she let herself twist the knife. "We have never been friends. I'm turning in my two weeks notice tomorrow. Thank you for your concern, but I've given this a lot of thought and I'm going to be better off somewhere else."
She crossed her arms, clearly wanting him to leave. He stared at her, feeling his blood boil. Nostrils flaring, he put on his shoes. There was nothing about this situation that didn't piss him off. He headed for the door, and paused, hand on the knob.
"You were never special to me just because I wanted to fuck you," He turned to her, voice low and angry. "Sex was always secondary. Just know that."
With that, he scraped her door open and left. She followed and yanked it closed. She knew she'd made the right decision. Had she yelled more than she had planned to? Yes. Did she feel like shit right now? Yes. But she'd made the right decision. She knew where she stood with him. That fact would comfort her eventually. Just as soon as her guilt was done with her.