BLU. Ella Ambrose wanted me to let down a 'boy' called Bucky Choi- as if that sentence and name weren't already absurd individually - in Blu.

Not only was it the most expensive restaurant close by and possibly all of New York, New York - because a forty minute drive is okay to do because you signed a contract with the devil Helen of Troy - beating Madame Rocelle's, an already expensive restaurant twenty minutes away from campus that at least had friendly staff - but when they say it worked closely with exclusivity and high profile clients, they weren't joking.

First - it was only open during dinner hours. They didn't do business in the morning because only the poor eat breakfast or lunch apparently. Second- the food will be centered around whatever ingredient they choose for the night so you can't plan your damn order beforehand. And everything seemed to be in French when I learned Latin and German in school, so screw that too. And they had a strict dress code of black-tie and semi-formal.

So a delicate, preposterously expensive dress lent viciously from Ella and about thirty minutes of the quickest application of makeup I had ever seen from Claudia Heinz. Though Ella was far bustier in the chest and had more of a hip than I did, it fitted enough that I didn't look too awkward.

"Just chin up- stop fidgeting - and try your hardest not to fart," was Claudia Heinz's words of wisdom.

Easy to listen, hard to believe because even she was drumming her fingers restlessly, eyes casting glances back from my fuming, nerves-eating-away face to the grandeur of this restaurant, simply named at the front entrance in some nondescript serif font with backlighting BLU in capitals, and just a glossy black building. Short and really just a box.

Modern, sleek, fitting for the suited up valet guy helping park a line of Mercedes-Benzs. People who feed here were Park Avenue residents, just outside of their little bubble of marbled opulence that they can say they've 'eaten out'.

"I hate you, Claudia, I really, really despise you right now," I said all of this out loud, from when it was a small screech in my head to quiet mutterings under my breath, to now full blown grinding my teeth and continuous fidgeting. I felt sick with nerves, enough to let my intrusive thoughts take reign: gnaw on the car seat.

"I know, I know. I don't like myself either right now, Nads. But honestly. Honestly." Her brown eyes pleaded, her hair out of their usual curls or braids but twisted quickly into a bun. She was in a velvet dress and if only she had worn something besides grungy boots, I would've hauled her along with me.

"Just imagine Ella breaking up with Bucky inside that. Just imagine the feeling, the embarrassment. I mean yeah, you don't know him, but just. Imagine getting dumped inside that." I even managed a wince. If I was put in this poor guy's shoes, I would rather have her puncture me with a steak knife to my chest than have at it such a public restaurant for the bourgeois. "He's not like Ella's usuals, Nads. He's pretty decent- not a douche, although he has a resting face that does. But really. He's sweet. Kind. Doesn't deserve this?"

"And I do?" I couldn't help blurting out. Both of us were stalling, the car parked in front of some boutique... which I then realized was Chanel. Christ, this whole street was a flaunt.

"No you don't," she hurriedly said. "But think about the positives- Ella will owe you now. It's also a free meal - order the most expensive crap you want and it wouldn't even make a dent on that girl's bank account. Or her dear daddy dearest's. And it will be quick. I think. Because I mean, once he realizes you're not Ella... You'll both be safe and get a free meal together."

I raised an eyebrow. "I really don't think the guy would have any kind of appetite, Claudia. If he actually adores Ella, he'd be devastated."

Claudia winced, confirming my suspicions that this, indeed, will be rough of a night. "Well yeah, but... Bucky's really nice, Nads. He just really doesn't deserve this. Really thought they'd last too. This is one of Ella's longest relationship to date- a year and two months, and I think they broke up a couple of times? Can't believe she'd really fall for someone who's so decent, angels sing around him."

"Jesus, Audie," I turned to her, eyebrows raised. "From the sound of it, I think you like him."

Her face rushed red and she smacked me in a way that I could already feel a bruise was forming.

"Ow!"

"It's not like that, idiot!" But she continued to blush, even in the despairing sky announcing the night. But the lights of the brightly lit fashion house captured her face perfectly and the expression was so deadly serious, it almost broke through my anxiety.

"You'll see. You'll understand. Once you meet him, prepare not to fall in love with him." She eyed me with a quirk of her lip, half a smile twisting. "And you look drop dead too, god, I feel bad for Bucky. Surrounded by gorgeous women who are only out here to break his heart."

"For the record- I didn't want to do this."

"But Ella's a friend," Claudia muttered, face frank. "And she's the worst at this."

"Yes, she is. And she'll owe me." My smile was bitter. That was enough, I guess. Then I unlocked the door. It was better to just rip off and do it- make it a band-aid and tug. Hard. "Let's just do this. This will be a first. A breakup that didn't even have a relationship."

"You'll do great, honey." Claudia's encouragement did not sound anything less like my mother's encouraging words whenever exams or textiles and construction reviews came. "You'll break his heart gently and we'll have some peace of mind that at least- one less schmuck isn't going down the Ella Ambrose way."

As expected, the place was monstrous inside. Specifically placed lighting that wasn't too dark, but dark enough to struggle trying to find your way. Mirrors, specific, solitary art pieces that made you feel like you were inside a modern art gallery.

I felt the expanse of the place, the situation, the predicament I signed myself into - zoom all the way to me. Sunk in me.

I swallowed as I was led by the maitre'd after I had said Ella's name in a voice that was half-strangled. The man smiled. He knew. And he must've known it was all expenses paid as Ella promised. Apparently, they have a tab.

I was conscious of myself, even more so when I realized a handful of these people were mostly in their thirties and upward. Tight expressions and cleverly pulled skin that made them look far more sinister than possibly intended sat and stared as I walked.

This could've just been my imagination, because I could physically feel my entire body move inside me.

But I kept walking, head high even when my chin wanted to droop. Once I was finally sat on a hard chair with a hard back support, over and done with, I rattle something off the wine list, was poured, and finally left alone.

I exhaled. It was too soon to be relieved.

This boy, Buchanan 'Bucky' Choi, didn't even give me two minutes to compose myself. I thought a few sparse sips, maybe half a glass, then he would appear. By then, my nerves would be calmed, the alcohol taking effect, and I would've stopped looking like a ratty, frazzled squirrel.

But no. Boy was on the dot. At first I wasn't sure it was him. From afar, he looked just about anybody else, until I realized he had pure black hair that was slicked back and the only one being led into the room my age. At first it was a very general outline - man, tall, nicely built but with a little awkward gait. Black hair. The works.

Until he was close enough.

I blinked, my heart stalled somewhere in my throat. Good lord. Claudia was right.

It was most definitely the type of face you'd want to be with. The type of face that was very prince-ly in description and detail. Something a children's book artist used as a reference to draw on their idea of a white knight. He had softened features that somewhat, when put together, produced a smooth, sleek look. A boy that you wouldn't mind getting your heart broken by.

He wore a black turtleneck and a pinstripe suit and pants- the suit a few inches bigger, and even as the maitre'd paused at my table, even faced in front of me, his eyes wandered around, trying to find Ella among the crowd.

It was only when the maitre'd cleared his throat that his eyes turned to him, then to me.

The first hint of a frown appeared. "I think there's been a- "

"There's not." I surprised myself, not only by speaking up, but standing too. He turned back to me again, confusion deepened. Maybe a little annoyance.

Band aid, Nads. Rip it.

"Buchanan Choi? We need to talk."

"So let me get this straight."

He leaned forward, the wine glass sloshing slightly, his eyes half-lidded, turned to me. It's been twenty minutes since I told him. He had ordered more alcohol and I caved, ordering some sort of soup that bubbled up some seafood and a mild spiciness that made my stomach growl harder in retaliation.

I was so hungry.

Though I feel bad for the guy, I was not about to drink myself silly and not eat. I didn't want to wake up in a hospital. Though I insisted, he waved away the menu and continued to drink, still absorbing his breakup. After a quick flare of anger, he was just defeated now.

Reality sets in quick when your girlfriend sets up someone else to break up with you.

But there was still something he was hung up on. He downed the remaining wine in his glass, then pointed it at me.

"You're the one who has to break up with me?"

I swallowed the soup in my mouth and put the spoon down. He was getting drunk and his questions were going around in circles now. I didn't have any idea what type of drunk he is, Claudia didn't cover that, and if he makes a commotion, I would prefer we leave now. I was supposed to deliver a breakup, not handle a broken hearted drunk man.

And here I was just starting to enjoy my food. I swear to God if I get pulled in the middle of eating through a steak...

I sighed. He's just broken up, Naddy. Have a heart. "Has is a strong word. She asked me, after getting some idea from Claudia, that it'd be better if I break up with you. I have a... let's say a kinder way of breaking up with people."

"You were frank. You told me the minute I sat down."

"Because you don't look like the type to appreciate getting moved around like food that's unable to be eaten." I raised my head to look at him, my posture earnest. "It's already unfair that Ella won't be the one to tell you that you two have broken up, toying with the words and facts when you can already feel the hunches go on in your head. That's not fair. You deserve the truth and straight on. Like a band aid."

"Rip it quick and rip it good," he murmured, leaning back, looking utterly defeated. He exhaled. "Well in any way, you've succeeded. Thank you for telling me."

My hand was twitching for the spoon, but now I just sighed.

"Look. Friend- acquaintance or if you want, Boy Whose Heart I Broke -" his eyes lifted to me after a wince, wariness crept in his features. " - it's inevitable for it to happen. If you had known Ella Ambrose before this, you would understand that she falls in love with a snap of her fingers. I'm not even kidding when I say it. It's like a complex- she finds herself enamored with something, she obsesses and pours every ounce of her with it until she gets... bored. Or finds a new thing. I'm not saying you are a thing!"

I bit my lip, eyebrows furrowed. How to explain Ella Ambrose to people wasn't something I've ever done before. "The easiest explanation would be, is the very basic idea of it. Ella falls in love, she falls hard. But she can also fall out real fast. So she did love you... in her very reckless, temporary way."

"She just got bored."

I frowned at him. He stared at me, somehow looking cold and pissed at the same time. He had one of those faces, though innocent looking, when reorganized right, could look like he could go Psycho on my ass in a heartbeat. I have to remind myself this isn't my fault nor his. We were just two people led together by Ella Ambrose' unfortunate string.

Mine was admittedly for a more selfish reason.

"I can't reassure you, nor will I try. I'm good at breaking up and understanding what the other person needs, but I usually leave after a breakup. And I'm sorry you're going through something right now, especially since I was used as a tool for what happened, but I am willing to eat here. I haven't eaten lunch either, so..." I waved my spoon and dug in. "If you're wondering, no, I'm not paying for this either, so I am on a very, 'I'm hungry and it's free' type of way."

He sighed. Then covered his face with his hands and rested his entire hand-covered face on the table. I blinked at him- then at the people not so covertly glaring or staring at us like a couple of monkeys. Not only does our age construct enough attention, he just had to garner some more.

I kicked him under the table. He didn't budge. "Hey- hey. Listen, Bucky was it? Claudia calls you Bucky. Are your parents Marvel fans?"

"Mmmm."

"What?"

His head shot up, face red, eyes half opened. "Yes. I have an older sister called Leia and a younger one called Hermione. Now, if you could just let me finish my wallowing- "

" - Stop wallowing, Jesus. Or like, leave. But I feel bad. So just eat. You'll feel better."

"I won't."

I glared, grinding my teeth. "Then sit up and take it like a guy with someone who's got a pair."

He shot up, his posture rigid, glaring now. "Why are you pissing me off?"

"Because wallowing about it won't do you any good." I wasn't going to bite. I promised myself I wasn't going to. But the words didn't stop, and before I knew it, I was ignoring my soup and pointing the spoon at him. "I mean, yeah, you'll get all of it out of your chest, but who knows how long it will take before you can get out of your house and get a change of clothes again? Or even think about showering? It'll take time to make you feel better again. Time that you could've used to do something else instead of pitying yourself, wallowing, curled in a corner like some kicked pup."

He raised a stoic eyebrow. 

"Who hurt you?"

He said it in a huff, a rhetoric. But it still stilled me.

"That's not the issue."

He blinked, too drunk to notice anything. "I guess as an expert in breaking up, you'll need someone to hurt you."

I closed my eyes. "I'm forgiving you because you're broken hearted yourself and maybe drunk, and there's a good percent I'll never see you again. So cheers." I raised my glass and tilted everything else I could drink.

After soundly exhaling how refreshing it is to feel alcohol go down my throat, my eyes re-focused on Bucky's intense, half-drunk staring.

I set the glass down. "What?"

"What should I do then? Instead of... curling up in the corner?"

I matched his expression- stoic, cool. Dangerous. Then smiled.

"Fight back."