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It's messy, and Nate doesn't do messy.
It's a rule of his. It's a stupid rule, that he made up when he was still with Blair, because Nate is a mellow sort of guy, and his friends have enough drama for a whole Shakespearian troupe. Now it doesn't mean much since he managed to get himself in all sorts of trouble since, first with Serena, then with his parents (though arguably that one wasn't his fault), not to forget Gossip Girl's constant meddling into everything ever, and now Jenny Humphrey.
Jenny Humphrey is - well. That's the thing, really. Nate couldn't tell you what Jenny Humphrey is, mostly because Jenny Humphrey herself probably doesn't know. She's a kid. She's not a kid. She's bright, she's sullen, she's attractive, she's childish, she's contrary, she's one of the girls, she really isn't. She's a firework. A great big messy firework that is currently in the process of exploding all over Nate's face, and Nate would like to say that he's doing something to stop it, but he really isn't.
It's wrong in so many ways, too, which is also the thing that makes it so exciting; because Nate is Dan's friend, and he knows her father, who is hooking up with Serena's mother, and Serena... well, it's the usual tangle of Upper East Side incestuous hook-ups, but if Nate had to choose the one to label Do Not Under Any Circumstances it would probably be Jenny Humphrey. He thought about that. He did.
He thought about that for about three days, and then Jenny organized a whole fashion show by herself and was independent and so, so beautiful in that dress with her lips red and her eyes circled with kohl - something raw and untainted, so far from Blair's manipulatory ideas of beauty that it made Nate feel dizzy for a second.
So yeah. Jenny Humphrey. Shoot him.
There's another thing you should know about Nate Archibald, it's that he doesn't fake it. Sure, there were girls he fucked up with, there were meaningless one-night(morning/afternoon)-stands because he's a teenager, there were lost loves and spectacular messes, but he loved them all. He loved Blair, a love that came easy as breathing, still somewhat innocent, arrogant, red-lipped and chaste; he loved Serena with thunder and hail rain; he loved every single one of the bodies he touched, for a minute, for a second, even if it didn't hurt or rock his world and whatever it is that love is supposed to do.
This particular love is like a glass of middle-priced champagne - it tickles the tongue but there's something unfinished to it, some sort of newness that hasn't matured yet. It's bubbly and fun and it warms your insides, it comes in such a pretty glass, even if it's made of plastic. It's unpretentious enough to be pretentious without showing it; it's the inside of an elbow and a big gaudy necklace. It's the slow haze of booze and hash on a cold, illuminated roof at dawn, and it's the pounding bass-driven party lust splashed with glitter.
"What are you thinking about?" Jenny asks. She's left the bed but she's still undressed, prancing around the flat butt naked. Nate watches her in wonder. He doesn't think he's ever seen Blair completely naked.
He rolls over, crossing his arms over the pillow and couching his head there. "Nothing," he says lazily. "You."
Jenny laughs - a brash, surprising laugh. "No you weren't. Don't lie."
Nate can't help but pout a little. "We just slept together! Doesn't that warrant me thinking about you?"
"No," Jenny tosses, bending over to grab a yogurt in the fridge, which she gobbles down in five seconds flat.
"Why?"
"Because," she shrugs; tosses the empty yogurt in the bin in one clean throw and makes her way back to the bed, swaying her hips like she just learned how, "it's not something that needs thinking about."
She might be right, Nate tells himself as she leans down and kisses him, tasting of cold strawberry and the remnants of vodka from last night. Maybe that's the secret to doing this right.