It was dark in this bar, where Serena had brought me tonight. This has always been out Saturday-Nightly ritual, going to as many bars and clubs as we could make before closing, making sure to have a different drink in each.
Well, that was usually Serena's ritual. I'd be tagging along with her, to watch over her, to make sure she was okay. To carry her bag, hold her up when she was too drunk to stand, and take care of the hangovers and everything else that came with it.
But since she came back from boarding school our ritual had changed. The roles reversed. Now it's always me having the variety of cocktails in the many bars, leaning on her when I've had too many, waking up with the hangover.
And I can't believe I never did this sooner. To be honest, I always told Serena off for this, for the way she got when we went out, because it was horrible having to look after her, when she was so out of it. But I think I deserve to do what I'm doing. And she can't look down her nose at me, 'cause she's the one I learned it all from after all.
"Blair…" She shakes my arm as I started to slide off the bar stool, "Sit up Blair," She then grabbed both of my upper arms forcefully and tugged me up so I could no longer fall.
"Alright," I'm trying my hardest not to slur, even though she knows how drunk I am, "I'm okay, you can let go now." She looks concerned, I think. It isn't her usual look of amusement at my drunken state anyway, I can tell that at least.
The music in this place isn't very loud. It's actually extremely quiet compared to our usual hangouts, but my ears are still ringing and my head aches.
I began to stand from the stool and whisper "I'll be right back", to Serena so she doesn't worry. As I stumble to the restroom, I realise how drunk I have become in such a short amount of time. It can't be much past 12 I think as I push the cubicle door open and slide down to sit on the floor after closing and locking it behind me.
Then it dawned on me, I'm in a public rest room, sitting in the floor. Gross. I could catch all kinds of diseases from this but somehow at this moment it doesn't really bother me. I just want to get rid of this headache. Opening my bag I search for the painkillers I know are in there somewhere, but instead my hand finds something different, a small, half full jar of little white pills. The anxiety medication my doctor told my mother I needed. I don't need them, but right now, I'm sure it won't hurt to be a little more relaxed. Keeping two of the pills I place the jar back where I got it from and continue looking for the paracetamol.
Dry swallowing the four pills was quite a hard task since I can't usually swallow them with heaps of water, but I managed it eventually. I felt instantly relieved, even though nothing could work that fast. It was purely psychological that I felt any different straight away and I knew that, but I welcomed the calmness with open arms.
Sitting here, my mind wanders to a lot of different places, but most of all to him. Chuck Bass. I don't even know why I like him after all that he's done to me. He ruined me, and enjoyed every minute of it. I fell for him, hard. And he didn't give a shit about me. That's what hurt.
I don't know what's coming over me, but I long to call him, hear his voice. Just talk like we used to. We used to be able to talk for hours, just the two of us. And it was nice. We were just friends, but good ones at that and we would always help each other out when it was needed. I miss that, having the security of knowing that he's there if I need him for anything. Now all I have is Serena. Not that she isn't the best friend I've ever had, but she has so much going on herself without me adding to it, so I don't tell her a thing. I let her believe that everything's absolutely fine with me, and that the only thing on my mind now is revenge against the people who ruined me. It's actually far from that. But there's no one around that cares to even see the truth.
Before I even realise what I'm doing, I've hit call. Do I really want to talk to him? I do, but what do I say? Will he even talk to me, he hasn't for the past few weeks. After three rings I hang up, knowing that if he was going to answer it he would have already. I shouldn't have done it in the first place I know now since it's left me feeling lonely and rejected. Where does he get off anyway, being funny with me when he did exactly the same thing. Someone should tell him it takes two to tango, and he was one of them.
I can feel my phone vibrating in my hand and stupidly don't even look at the caller Id before picking up.
After slurring my hello down the phone I'm greeted (if you can call it that) by a seemingly pissed off Chuck Bass,
"Blair, you were drunk dialing again weren't you?"
"Uhm, What? Chuck, you rang me.." My tone was shouting Duh! But he replied in the same one,
"No, you rang before, you know you did. And I thought I'd made myself very clear that I didn't…. "
I could hear him talking but my head was spinning now, and not in a remotely pleasant way. I could only make out bits of what he was saying, but I could tell he wasn't being nice.
"Uhhh.. Chuckk … I .. I.. Urghhh…" I couldn't manage to get my words out as my vision went blurry and I felt like I just needed to sleep, now. His tone changed then, he sounded almost… Concerned? No, Chuck Bass hates me, he isn't bothered. Then again why else would he ask,
"Whats going on? Blair?" He was almost shouting now "Blair? Are you okay? Where are you? Are you alone or is Serena there?"
"I… Errrr… I don't feeeel … I don't feel so good." Was all I managed to get out before it all went black.