A/N: My first fic posted here :) Please review for me! Thanks! xoxo

"I'd like to know if you'd be open
To starting over from scratch
I'd like to know if you'd be open
To giving me a second chance"

--Kendall Payne "Scratch"

I know she will pass this way on her route home.

I tell the driver to stop, "Mickey, right here will be fine."

"Very good, Mr. Bass." He says to my call.

I check myself in the mirror and ready the peace offerings I gathered in Europe. They seem stupid now. She only asked one thing of me. But that thing was so impossible: Say the scariest three words, the most terrifying 8 letters in the English language. And I couldn't do it. I choked. Gossip girl was right about me. My label might as well have been branded on my chest. It would have hurt less. Coward. I wore my scarlet letter around Europe hoping I could outrun the fear, the shame. But, her voice followed me, haunted me.

I love you. Her ghost would whisper.

I couldn't shut it out. No amount of bourbon could get her out of my brain. Even though I tried over and over to anesthetize the feelings, I couldn't stop hearing her. I just needed it to stop so I could be me again. So I could go no with my pitiable life, the life without her in it.

I love you so much it consumes me.

But, that's how I felt. How could she possibly feel the same? No one can love Chuck Bass that way, the way I love her. Because her happiness, her smile had ruined me, set me aflame. I still get butterflies in her presence, even after all this time. And I couldn't accept the ridiculous notion that I inspired them in her as well. Beyond that, if I said it back, she would know the hold she had over me. And she would draw me in with her hypnotic eyes and sweet, sexy laugh. She would think there was something redeemable here that I couldn't see. I knew that I could never make her happy. I was so sure of it. How could the hollow shell of a man that I am give her what she deserves? I am gutless and I disappoint the ones who care about me.

I know you love me too.

It was a tape on loop in my head and I couldn't hit pause. Moreover, I couldn't shake the mental image of her begging me to be strong enough to love her back, to not break her heart again. I felt sick. I was the one always letting her down. I was the reason her eyes brimmed with tears and her lips trembled. Who does that to someone they love?

The answer was clear: Cowards.

Cowards run when they could stay, take a leap of faith and say three little words.

Tell me you love me. She breathes in my ear for the hundredth time.

And suddenly the clouds cleared. I could say it. She wouldn't hurt me. No, I had already hurt both of us enough. She would be merciful, she would be gracious, the only person in the world who knows the true me and loves me. And not only loves me, likes me, wants me, hungers for me. She deserves so much happiness and I knew how to give it to her. And just maybe through her joy I could find a little of my own. For the past year my mood and contentment have relied on hers. Possibly hers relies on me too, and having her unhappy is never something I wanted. It all seemed so easy after that. I would tell her; I would make those trembling lips smile again. I wouldn't hide; I would be brave for her, always her.

So here I stand, leaning against the limo, my confidence high. When I first spy her walking toward me, I can't fight the slight smile that peeks out. She is a vision in green and gold, her hair catching in the breeze and shimmering in the sun. She travels with an air of carefree purpose, like she knows where she is going, but is in no hurry to get anywhere. She finally turns and sees me. Immediately she falters. I can tell the first reaction to my presence is surprise, and then she watches me warily. I don't blame her. I am the one who ran away. As a result, I am the one here seeking absolution, redemption. She sees the packages I carry, but locks her eyes on mine. I try to remember the paralyzing fear that I once experienced at the mere thought of what I am about to do. Yet, I can't. I am in awe that this beautiful, self assured woman loves me.

"Why aren't you in Europe?" She asks suspiciously. Apparently, she has been reading the Gossip Girl blasts about my travels.

"I was in Paris," I answer. "But only to get your favorite macaroons from Pierre Herme." I offer her the box, smiling assuredly. She takes it.

"And Germany?" A slightly confused, and maybe even amused Blair asks.

"To pick up your favorite foam stockings. You know how I adore them." I really do adore them and I can't help but get hot and bothered at the sheer memory of her petite thighs wrapped in the delicate fabric.

"What are you doing here then?"

The moment of truth. Three words.

"You were right. I was a coward running away again." I hope she can let me explain and hear the honesty in my voice. "Everywhere I went, you caught up with me." I continue ruefully. "So I had to come back."

There it is, my brilliant explanation. To my ears it is lackluster and unconvincing but, Blair has always been the more forgiving of the two of us and I hope that precedent remains true today.

"I want to believe you, but I can't." I hear the sadness in her voice and I know I'm the one who put it there. My face becomes serious and my jaw clenches. I really don't want her to feel this way. "You've hurt me too many times."

"You can believe me this time." I say, conviction in my voice because I know she won't have to wait much longer to get what she needs. Eight letters. I'm ready.

"Oh…" She is unconvinced and pauses, dropping her eyes. "That's it?" She hedges, daring to hope, her eyes looking toward me once more.

I smirk, just the opening I was waiting for. I can read the suspense on her face.

"I love you too."

She looks so taken aback, but so elated. She moves toward me and then the world stops when her lips meet mine. I wish my hands were free to hold her closer.

She pulls away and says, "Like can you say it twice?" accompanied by genuine laugh and broad smile. I've missed that laugh.

I smile, about to say it again, but she kisses me. Of course I can say it twice, I can say it a thousand times if it keeps you in my arms. I think to myself.

"No I'm serious, say it twice."

She doesn't stop kissing me so I utter, "I love you," in between our lips, "I love you, there's three." I can feel her delight and relief mixing with mine, "four, I love you."

"Enough talking." She manages to say kissing me another time.

I can taste her tongue as it eagerly deepens the playful smooching. We make out on the New York sidewalk, pedestrians passing, probably staring. Neither one of us could give a care. Kissing her is an enigma, it feels new, but familiar all at once. Consequently, I can't get enough. She is the strongest drug I've ever taken and I always want just one more hit. We stay there for an eternity, because time stops here.

Suddenly our phones go off in unison. That can only mean one thing. We both stop for a beat before reaching for our cells.

Looks like B just can't seem learn her lessons.

And trying to teach and old Bass new tricks is harder than it looks.

But, remember B, those who don't learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them.

Hope you have better luck with your latest episode of déjà vu.

xoxo, Gossip Girl

Attached is a picture of our street side lip lock, supplied no doubt by a helpful gossip hound.

She looks at me, defiance written all over her face. Gossip Girl was dead wrong about her, weak is one thing she is not.

"Bitch." Blair states with finality snapping her phone shut. She reaches for me, pressing her lips to mine another time.

I laugh gently, searching for the door handle to the limo. I find it and usher her in quickly. The moment I lower myself in and hear the door latch, she is all over me.

"Take us for a ride, Mickey." I say to the driver.

He smiles at me in the rearview mirror.

"We may be a while." I add, rolling up the partition as Blair moves on to sucking my neck.

"Very good, Mr. Bass." Mickey replies as the divider slides shut.