The library was quiet, the librarian having left for the day. Blair sat on the squashy chair; book in hand, completely absorbed and oblivious to the fact that there were only the two of them left in there.
Chuck sat at his desk, pen lying useless on his essay, gazing at her face. She had a slight frown of concentration as she squinted with her melted chocolate eyes at the page in front of her face. A strand of mahogany hair slowly edged its way into her eyes and he smiled as she impatiently blew it out of the way. She turned the page and settled back in the chair, wrinkling her nose as her eyes refocused.
The clock ticked, very audibly to Chuck, and his essay remained unfinished. Only when the five o'clock bell rang did Blair look round and notice that all the others had left. Chuck hastily picked up his pen and busied himself with his work. She looked over at him and smiled to herself. Closing the book, she got up and walked over to the alcove where he was sitting. She knelt down before the shelf and placed her book back. He could smell the perfume that was exclusively her whenever he smelt it on other women now, her face flashed in front of him. With a flourish, he finished a paragraph and threw his pen down, looking up at the same time.
She smiled at him and lent over his shoulder to read the title of his half-finished essay. Her face was centimetres from his, her hair forming a curtain between him and her cheek. He turned his head slightly, taking a deep breath. Her overwhelming scent invaded his head; it was not only her perfume, but also that minty tang of her breath mingled with the soap of her school jumper. That smell brought memories flooding back to him, ones that he had tried to suppress despite the pleasure they brought to him. She was saying something to him, turning her face towards his, what was it? He looked down and saw her hand pointing to his last sentence. "It's Wittgenstein who says that -" she stopped herself looking nervous and said "sorry." He laughed crossing out the word and turned his face to hers.
They were so close; he could see her pupils grow larger. Their breath was mingling. His eyes flicked down to her full mouth, with cherubic lips slightly parted and he felt his breath catch. "Don't worry," he murmured, "its good you corrected me again, like old times..." he trailed off. Her eyes flickered and she bit her lip "I wasn't sure" she breathed and stammered "if...well, if old times were possible." She looked down at the essay and smiled to herself, and then in one swift movement she stood up and broke the tension. He sighed as she turned fluidly on her heel and picked up her bag.
Blair shrugged on her blazer and turned back, her confident and impenetrable smile was back on her face. He cleared his work away and followed her out, two months ago a moment like that would have ended up with her slammed against a bookcase, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, instead of corrections. He felt his hand curl into a fist in his pocket as he caught up to her and they fell into step. He could not help but feel an uncontrollable frustration with himself and even with her, they both knew that the attraction between them was as undeniable and inevitable the prospect of exams in the summer. Why were they wasting time in this asinine way?
She took a deep breath as he drew up beside her, it was getting harder to resist those moments. She had been saved by his reference to 'old times' on this occasion. That phrase brought back memories of his drug addled face lying next to her on her bed. Images of her holding a bucket for him, as he was violently sick and the desire had ebbed away. So what if he was clean? She was not returning to that, nor was she ever going to give him her time or her thoughts. She grimaced at the irony of that, for the truth was, he was always there in her thoughts. Who is to say that just because you dump a person you have to stop liking him?
She snapped out of her thoughts just as he started talking "so flower, are you coming to my birthday?" his pet name for her cut deep. She smiled up at him and feigned memory loss "birthday? Oh yes, yours. Well I think so, yes." She hoped to God that there would be a distraction for them both, because the combination of the two of them and alcohol was bound to end in fireworks.
Crossing the tennis courts in the dark winter evening, the two of them said no more until they reached the gate. She pulled out her scarf and gloves, he noticed that it was the striped one that he had given her last Christmas, and smiled. He had seen her eyes soften when he had called her flower and knowing this gave him the upper hand, he tried again. "So can I ask you a favour flower?" she looked him straight in the eye and nodded slowly. She bit down on the corner of her lip, it having become a habit when she was nervous, overwrought, or just stressed. He did not know how to read that signal, but continued with his request. "Do you think you could give me a hand with this interview prep? I mean you know what to expect better than I do..." he trailed off. She turned to face him again, a look of relief on her face, and nodded.
Since the break, they had managed to confine all conversation to the thoroughly impersonal. School, university, work and other people seemed to be enough to get them through the obligatory time when they were thrown together. She found herself, now, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. Had it been being that close, something that she wilfully and unerringly made sure never happened? Or had it been him using that name that he'd used to remind her of their secret during the good times? She didn't know anymore.
The silence lasted until the train arrived and they were forced into closer proximity by the number of people. He was pushed up against her back with no space between them. He could feel her body through the layers of uniform, could see the minute details of her hair. She closed her eyes and tried to stem the flow of memories that were attacking her. She felt his warm breath in her ear and hear him whisper "sorry" as he was pushed even closer into her. She turned her face to look at his, which was barely centimetres away. Her mouth pulled itself into a smile again and her breath caught as their eyes met. He'd forgotten how he could drown in those pools.
The train jolted to a start and she slipped sideways, her lips knocked against his and his arm inadvertently gripped her waist. She pulled her head back in surprise; it had been enough though, easily enough, to reawaken what she'd suppressed for so long. He saw the flash of life in her eyes flare up as she bowed her head and laughed softly "oops" she murmured into his ear. Her lips stayed there and he kept his head bent to her shoulder, enjoying her soft warmth, savouring it in the knowledge that it would not happen again anytime soon.
Slowly but surely he tightened his light hold on her wais; snaking his arm under her blazer. He felt her hold her breath and then felt a cold hand rest on his for a moment unsure, before lacing her fingers with his. Her lips moved from his ear and her head came to rest on his shoulder, her forehead pressed into his neck. She whispered something to herself that sounded like "no point."
The train reached the next stop and they were separated by the throng of commuters pushing pas them. He moved to stand against the glass panel by the door and looked her straight in the eye, asking her if she'd pass it off as mere bustle. She blushed, something she hadn't done since, well since. She stood biting her lip in concentration, but her decision was taken from her by the new batch of unaware business people. She was pushed forward into him and only stopped herself being totally on top of him by throwing her hands either side of him and pushing him away. This barrier did not work for long as one more desperate shove by a man pushed her right into him. He was very, very conscious of her leg resting between his. She buried her face in his shirt, not wanting to look at him or those eyes. She made no objection though when his arms went around her and his lips went to her hair.
Her warm breath was permeating his shirt, her hands still rested where she'd thrown them out to protect herself, on his chest. She looked up at last and shook her head gently. "What in God's name am I doing Chuck?" she murmured and as if to answer her own question, she smiled hesitantly and placed a kiss on his chest. He took his hand from her waist and lifted her head again. He whispered, "You're doing this" and placed his lips on hers. For the second time in that journey her eyes flashed at him, but this time, she did not pull away as quickly. Her lips lingered in place and when she pulled back, her eyes were closed. He could see her mouth twitch into a smile as she moved her head to his shoulder quietly.
***
Chuck's birthday had arrived and she had no conceivable way of getting out of it. She had spent the last few days trying to avoid any situation where any intimacy could be achieved between them. She had kept her word about helping him with his interview, and every day they spent two hours in the library huddled in a corner by the heater. She made sure that they were never alone again by having a friend waiting to walk home with them.
And now it was Saturday and he'd said as they'd parted the day before at the entrance to the tube "Blair, I'll see you tomorrow, OK?" and she'd nodded her head speechlessly. She stood in her room perusing her wardrobe. Eventually she decided on the safest possible outfit, one she'd worn before, during their time together and it seemed to have been fairly unevocative. Mind you, he'd never commented on her appearance then, the relationship had been all him.
Chuck saw her stepping through the barriers at the tube station, noticed as his best friend's hands wander down from her waist as he hugged her and winced. There was going to be a problem there tonight and he knew he wouldn't be able to take it if she did something with Nate of all people. He joined them and she reached up to kiss him on the cheek, smiling a "happy birthday" and giving him a wrapped present. She looked incredible; he remembered that blue top, which was notorious for slipping down. He could see Nate's eyes on her even now and felt himself tense. They were joined by a group of the others and she went characteristically quiet when greeted by the loud and ostentatious girls he knew. He could see Nate hovering still and he noticed him whisper something in her ear and saw her blush and laugh. This was not good at all.
Three hours later and he was no better, the people surrounding him were in varying stages of intoxication and he was all too sober. Blair had laughed and smiled all evening, but had drunk very little. By comparison, her constant companion Nate had the air of an alcoholic as he leaned closer to her.
They were sitting beside each other at the bar and Nate intruded on her thoughts by saying the one thing that she never wanted or needed to hear. "He loves you petal, he hasn't gotten over you. Spent the whole night watching us you know." She stared at him in shock, "I'm sorry what?" he sighed "come on you know who I mean, Chuck told me all about your dirty little secret. Did you really expect me not to notice when he suddenly cleaned up and simultaneously descended into depression?" Blair stared at Nate "you're not serious?" he nodded and grimaced "I guess I'm shooting myself in the foot by saying this, but what the hell. Chivalry isn't dead after all. Truth is love Chuck hasn't been with anyone since you and that's not for lack of offers." He put his glass down on the bar and having dropped that bombshell on her resolve, slid off his stool and joined the group. Blair let her head fall into her hands, allowing the ocean of feelings wash over her, before signalling the barman and ordering a double G&T. A voice behind her made her jump "make that two"; Chuck slid into his best friend's vacant chair and smiled at her.
They sat in silence until the drinks had finished. Chuck turned to her "Can I get you another?" She nodded and smiled her first genuine smile at him, the smile turned into a laugh and he found himself laughing too. She couldn't stop herself, it felt so good just to laugh with him and this time the memories that came back to her had a positive taste to them. Pictures of them sitting in his garden and throwing twigs at each other, lying on the lawn of that same garden and staring at clouds and probably the most pleasant, waking up one morning to find herself lying next to him. They managed to stop themselves and Chuck ordered another round and as they were, being delivered up she raised her glass and said "Happy Birthday" smiled nervously and added "my love." He touched his glass to hers and Blair looked him directly in the eye and on an impulse leant forward to whisper in his ear "meet me outside in a couple of minutes" her lips brushed his cheek as she pulled away. She left a burning path along his cheek and he felt every nerve ending in him start to tingle.
Blair got up, made her way to the door of the bar and disappeared through it without being stopped by any overly friendly man. He took a sip of his drink and looked at his group of friends. He saw that only one of them had seen her go and he now had his attention fixed on Chuck. Nate smiled at him and slowly raised his finger to his lips, before mouthing "you owe me" and drawing any stray attention towards himself by shouting "RING OF FIRE!" at the top of his voice.
Chuck slipped out of the bar, unnoticed by any of the drunken group and found Blair sitting on one of the tables, shivering slightly. He put a hand on her shoulder and she turned her head slightly while reaching up to take the hand in her own. A stream of smoke poured from her mouth and she put the glowing cigarette to her lips again, inhaling deeply then throwing it into the flowerbed in front of her. He moved round to the front of the table to face her and she looked him in the eye. Blair stood up slowly and put her hands on his shoulders tentatively. Chuck's arms went around her waist and she murmured "I don't want to talk." He nodded slowly and closed the gap between them.
As their lips touched, through the haze of alcohol, he felt his whole body erupt into flames, burning off any confusion. His arms circled her waist tighter and he felt her hands move from his shoulders to around his neck and into his hair. Then as he deepened the kiss and their tongues touched for the first time in 3 months, he felt her shudder and he felt himself tense in sheer desire. This had always felt so right before; it seemed incomprehensible to him that they had remained apart for so long. He delved deeper into her mouth, tasting gin and cigarettes, exploring the mouth that he'd been dreaming about since she'd left him. He felt her pull back gently and as their mouths lost contact, he felt his feeling of comfort drain away.
She smiled and bit her lip, still holding his gaze. She laughed softly, "My God that felt good!" he found himself smiling as well "More than good, fantastic." He pulled her away from the table and into the shadow of the pub wall. She backed up against it and looked up at him with a mischievous smile that he hardly recognized, having not seen it for so long. She pulled his head down to hers and they kissed again, he felt her hand leave his head and slide down his front and under his shirt. He gasped as her cold hand went found his waist and rested on the small of his back. He felt a spasm of pleasure run up his spine and pulled her closer to him. She still knew how to push his buttons and he loved it.
He pulled away abruptly as the pub door opened and loud voices spilled out into the night. Her hands went to her pockets and a cigarette was produced and lit just as Nate and two others stumbled out. She sat back on the table and he joined her. Smoke plumed from her mouth and she laughed as Nate started trying to find the packet that he'd dropped. Blair held her hand out to him and he took the proffered cigarette and inhaled, revelling in the knowledge that it had been in contact with her mouth.