The City | GirlxGirl

sixteen ➳

On Jude's fourth night of staying with Blair, the blonde girl didn't come home from work to greet her. Instead, she headed straight for the bar-straight for the other brunette, who, in Blair's eyes, was just as heartbroken.

Blair laughed at the thought. Heartbroken. An overused word that many people didn't understand. There was Jude, who was torn apart after breaking up with her long-term boyfriend. And then there was Skylar, who was severed-walking around with pieces falling off of her, blood dripping from her veins-because her girlfriend of one year had died.

Who was more heartbroken? Did it matter?

To Blair, both needed a little bit of saving. Maybe by themselves, or maybe by someone else. And what about herself?

There was Skylar. Leaning against the counter, her back to the bar. She hadn't changed at all since the day they'd met. Hair kept at the same length, eyes kept lowered. A sour tone in her voice at all times, and a light smile when something-a mountain, it seemed like-moved her.

A kind soul buried under tragedy.

Blair cleared her throat, already smiling in anticipation. She loved surprising Skylar; the brunette's entire face lit up, brighter than fireworks on July 1st, happier than the smiles elicited by the lights.

"I'd like to order a drink, please."

Skylar spun around, placing both palms on the counter.

"Oh, hey." There it was. The flash of a smile, the aversion of her eyes towards her hands. "The usual?"

"You know me well." Blair kept a smile focused on Skylar, bustling behind the counter, as she sank into a stool. She felt the weight slip gradually off of her shoulders, and even more so when she began to sip the drink Skylar had slid across the sticky counter.

"Where's Jude?" Skylar asked, eyebrows raised.

"At my apartment." Blair spoke into her half empty glass. "I really like her. She's nice. Feel bad for her, though."

Skylar grimaced. As soon as she had made a face, she quickly turned her head to the side. But Blair had seen it, and although Skylar assumed she was oblivious to body language and signs like these, she wasn't.

"What, Skylar?"

Skylar pretended she had no idea what Blair was talking about.

Not wanting to bicker, and fully aware of how stubborn Skylar was, Blair let it slip from their conversation, but not from her mind.

"I think I'm going to break up with Peter," she said.

And then Skylar's entire mood picked up. Mostly with surprise, but she suddenly seemed much happier, and much more interested in what Blair was saying.

Skylar, never very curious, and not wanting to step inside of other people's business, became, at that moment, an interrogator from the FBI. Wanting to know more, more, more. Wanting to know everything.

"Woah," Blair laughed, unsure what to think about this behaviour. She decided to label it as concern for her best-friend's well-being, in terms of her relationship status. "I just don't think I'm that happy with him. I don't know. It's just been weighing on me for the past few days."

"You didn't mention anything."

Their conversation stilled for a moment. Blair scanned the TV playing the Maple Leafs game in the corner of the bar, and Skylar scanned the blonde's expression. Blair pulled her jaw tight.

Skylar poured a glass of beer and passed it, in a hurry, to a middle-aged man who stared at her for a little too long. It splashed over the rim of the cup slightly, a drop landing on Blair's dark jeans.

She turned back towards Skylar.

"I just don't think he's the one for me."

And throughout their suddenly, and strangely, intense conversation about how Blair had felt "off" with Peter for the past few weeks, and a strain on herself to maintain a relationship with him, Blair tried to read Skylar's mind. Why was she so interested in the subject, when she had scowled, turned away, every other time she had mentioned Peter?

Sick of talking about Peter, and about herself, Blair changed the subject. "Is the bar hiring?"

"What?" Skylar's eyebrows raised. Blair wouldn't be able to handle all the catcalls and pick-up lines that were thrown at Skylar each night.

"Not for me. For Jude." Blair sighed. "She wants a job. She feels guilty about staying at my apartment-which, she shouldn't, because it wasn't even her idea, it was yours."

The corner of Skylar's lip lifted.

"I think she could work here. She's tough," said Blair.

Skylar didn't argue, but the ecstasy she had just conveyed in the past half hour of discussing breaking up with Peter seemed to fade.

"Do you think it's a good idea?"

"Sure." Skylar grabbed a towel, started wiping the counter, and kept her eyes down. "Whatever."

There was the Skylar that Blair knew.