AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for the reviews, guys. It means a lot. Hope this doesn't dissapoint. It's a little more angsty than the first chapter, but...
PROMPTS USED: A pair of red silk boxers and a final letter.
DISCLAIMER: Still don't own anything.
PART TWO
Blair's Magic
"I don't know about youuuu," Blair Waldorf said with a dainty flick of the wrist - almost like she was wielding a magic wand. "But I need a drink." The brunette then decided to go drain the van der Woodsen's liquor cabinet - of its exact location a pre-boarding school Serena had shown her to on many a Friday night. Her French-manicured finger trailed over label after label of vintage wine and other pleasures. She stopped when she reached a relatively new bottle of tequila.
Eric fretted. Blair was not a good drunk. She could handle champagne and fine wine like no other. He knew from watching her - not that was ever watching her - interact with fellow celebutantes, Constance-Billard peers and the under-20 and worth over 20-mill set. Tequila was a whole nother thing.
"Are you sure about that?" he asked. She cradled the neck of the bottle lovingly, like it was her adopted child. Blair's eyes narrowed.
"Of course I'm sure." On second thought, the current UES queen added, "I'm Blair Waldorf." As if that was explanation enough. He shrugged. She was the older one, here. She was supposed to be telling him that consuming the elixir of the Gods was a poor idea. Not the other way around.
"Of course," he mocked, raising his voice to match her girlie lilt. Looking affronted, she placed a delicate hand on her chest. Without saying anything, she began to march down the empty halls of the penthouse. If Lily could see the scene...Blair's boots would be hurled out the window, where they couldn't leave any tracks on the Spanish-imported carpet. Lily van der Woodsen was a complete clean freak. She liked everything neat, organized. Perfect. He also knew that Lily wished she was Blair's mother.
"So this is your room," she announced. His eyebrows hit his hairline as he scrambled to catch up with the speed-walker. When he finally did, aforementioned speed-walker had already taken a seat on his thankfully-made bed. What would anyone do without a house staff?
It was complete chaos. He expected that his messy corner of the Earth was the polar opposite of hers. All her books were probably in alphabetic order. Hell, her underwear was probably colour-coded or something weird like that. Eric blushed to his roots when he realized he'd been thinking about her underwear.
He snapped back to reality and was greeted with a quizzical look from Blair. He shrugged. She shrugged and took a long, bitter swig from the bottle. It was then that he realized how drunk she was - the bottle was less than half-full. Or, almost half-empty depending on how you saw things.
"Come sit," she drawled, tripping over her words. At least she didn't dissolve into giggles like Serena did when drunk - which happened a lot pre-boarding school. He obeyed.
Blair's head tilted; she was looking at something intently. "Eric?" she inquired flatly, tilting her head back to an upright position. "Why do you have...that?"
Ugh.
He thought he'd thrown those away.
For his thirteenth birthday, the year Serena claimed he "finally" became a man, the bubbly blond entity that was his sister took it upon herself to give him a pair of red silk boxers. She thought it was hilarious. No one else seemed to think so.
He chose not to answer that, instead bowing his head. Several strands of highlighted hair fell into his face. In an almost motherly act, Blair leaned over and brushed them away. It would be a lot easier to handle this situation if he thought of her like a mother. Like his sister's best friend. But she'd always be Blair Waldorf to him. An enigma, hidden behind curls and lip-liner and lace.
"Have you ever kissed a girl?"
Eric flushed a rosy shade of red. "Yes. 'Course I have," he lied. She saw right through it and shook her head in front of his face.
"Tsk, tsk, Mr. van der Woodsen." She waved a finger like a teacher might if a student was being...naughty. "You musn't tell lies. Or then you'll just be like Serena..."
An idea popped into her head. "Have you ever kissed a Blair?"
"...No."
"Wanna try?"
And before he had the chance to answer, her ruby-red lips were crushed against his and her more-experienced hands were pulling at buttons. Apparently, his earlier thought about Blair and her magic was true. She had magic fingers, magic lips. She was his first kiss with a girl and his last. The pair stopped short of doing anything they would later regret - not that Blair would ever remember - because of Blair's timely falling asleep.
Eric had dressed the underwear-clad beauty and called for a taxi to take her home, paying the man ahead of time and trusting that Blair's doorman would see her up to her suite.
After one suicide attempt, another one seemed inevitable. Eric realized he'd have to add someone's name to his final letter. Blair's.
It was a strange Sunday afternoon, that was for sure.
It was the Sunday afternoon that an Eric kissed a Blair.
