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Chapter 4

Seventeen minutes. It was her first day at Constance and Cheyanne was sitting in her AP Physics class, her first class of the day, and the teacher was already seventeen minutes late. Back at her old school, the students were allowed to leave if a teacher was more than fifteen minutes late. Judging by the way the students were all lounging around, however, she doubted that was the case here. She leaned forward on her hand and propped her chin up, blowing a few strands of hair out of her eyes. Due to the fact that she was in all AP classes, she had virtually none with Jenny, who'd taken a few moments to get over her shock when she'd first seen the younger Bass' schedule.

Ever since she was young, Cheyanne had shown a high degree of competence in STEM subjects, with a special fondness for Natural Sciences. She excelled at them throughout her school years, as did most of her friends back in Canada, who were also in more AP classes than regular. She'd run through the syllabi for her classes the night before and realized that she'd already been taught most of the topics earlier that year at her old school. These classes would be a breeze. Maybe she could even re-use some of her old projects and assignments.

"Excuse me?" The voice behind her was accompanied by a small tap on her shoulder, and she turned to see a pretty blonde girl staring at her. Her lips were red from the lollipop she was sucking on, and she regarded Cheyanne with a smile. "Are you really Chuck's sister?" the girl asked, twirling the lollipop between her fingers. Cheyanne resisted the urge to groan. She'd been hearing the whispers and avoiding the stares all morning, showing her that Chuck was not lying about his high school behaviour. It had not been becoming of someone who had his own baby sister to look out for.

"Yeah," she replied, trying to keep the rudeness out of her tone. The girl had not been mean towards her whatsoever, so there was no reason for any hostility on her part. "Yeah I am." The girl nodded, pulling the candy out of her mouth with a 'pop'. This is fine, Cheyanne thought, at least she's not asking about-

"And what about Carter Baizen?" Nevermind. Cheyanne gave her a stiff smile.

"What about him?" she asked, hoping the girl would sense her tone. She was in an AP class, and hopefully possessed a certain level of intelligence that would allow her to pick up on the fact that Cheyanne had no interest in talking about Carter Baizen. Clearly, that was not the case.

"How do you know him?" The girl's brown eyes narrowed a bit.

"I don't. He just helped me out at the station." The girl raised a delicate eyebrow, prompting her to continue speaking. "You've lived here longer than me. Shouldn't you be aware by now that all Gossip Girl posts is just that- gossip?"

"Aren't you interested in him? Don't you think he's good-looking?" God. This girl was like a mini-Serena when it came to Carter.

"No- I mean, yes, he's handsome. I'm not blind," Cheyanne retorted, "but I'm not interested in him. I barely even know him." The girl tilted her head to the side, staring at Cheyanne in a way that made her uncomfortable. The easy smile that adorned the girl's face slipped off, and she slammed her lollipop on the table, the force cracking it.

"Good," she said, "then we won't have a problem." She was beginning to see that this girl was a bit loose in the head.

"Excuse me?"

"As long as you stay away from Carter, we won't have a problem," the girl enunciated every word as though Cheyanne were slow, and she had the sudden urge to grab a fistful of that blonde hair and pull it out. "I don't care if you are a Bass," the girl said, giving her a disgusted look, "you're not entitled to anything." Okayyyyyyyyy. Cheyanne was saved from having to reply by the sound of the door opening, and she swivelled around in her seat.

A good-looking young man, who had to be around Carter's age, walked through the door, briefcase in hand. He had an athletic build and stood an inch or two below six feet. He stumbled a bit over his laces, almost tripping, before he righted himself and walked over to his desk. "S-sorry for being late," he said, cheeks still red from his entrance, Scottish accent dripping off every word. "I'm new to the city and I'm afraid I haven't yet figured out how to work around the traffic." He gave a nervous laugh, reaching up to scratch at his light brown curls before dropping his hand back to his side.

"Good morning, everyone," he said, dark blue eyes flitting over the students, "and welcome to AP Physics. My name is Fitzgerald Simmons, and I'll be your teacher for the rest of the year- unless I get deported to Scotland." The class gave a small laugh, and Cheyanne decided she liked this shy, new teacher. He reminded her a lot of Leo, a good friend from back home, who was currently in a serious relationship with Brooke.

He took a marker from his briefcase, flipping it over in his hand before continuing, "Today, we'll be discussing the particulate nature of Electromagnetic Radiation…"

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"Her name's Priscilla Calore," Jenny informed her, throwing some books in her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Student body president two years running, head cheerleader and all-around bitch."

"Well, she seemed kinda crazy to me," Cheyanne replied.

"Who seemed crazy?" Eric asked, coming up to them with his boyfriend, Jonathan, in tow.

"Priscilla," Jenny replied, "Chey had a run in with her today in class. I guess she's still upset that Blair never chose her to be her successor." Eric nodded in understanding.

"Her successor…?" Cheyanne asked, shooting the trio a confused look.

"Didn't you guys explain that to her?" Jonathan asked, looking at the two with a thin-lipped expression. He came over to her, linking arms with her. "Blair used to be the Queen Bee of Constance, and usually, when the Queen graduates, she's supposed to choose a successor. Priscilla was hoping it would be her. It wasn't, and since you're the younger sister of her boyfriend, it makes sense she'd take it out on you, since she can actually get to you." He paused, giving her a confused look, "Didn't this happen at your old school?"

"Um. I had normal people at my school," she explained, "So, no. This did not happen." Jonathan let out a small laugh.

"She also probably thinks that you're trying to usurp what she believes to be her rightful place in the corrupt, social hierarchy that is Constance Billard," Eric added, his dramatics bringing a small smile to her face. "Just stay away from her. She'll move on soon enough." Cheyanne had no intention of 'taking this girl's place', and would make sure to do as Eric suggested.

"And if she doesn't stop, you can just knock her out," Jenny piped up. Everyone looked at her. "What? You said you did martial arts."

"Violence isn't the answer, Jen," Eric sang, but Cheyanne would be lying if she said she hadn't already been considering it. "You coming over to my place to study with us?" It took Cheyanne a few minutes to realize that Eric was speaking to her, and when she did, she made a face.

"Chuck's supposed to pick me up…" It wasn't exactly a lie. She'd originally thought that they were going to Jenny's, and Chuck had told her to text him throughout the day if plans changed and she needed a ride. She had forgotten to do so, but would much rather walk home than risk running into Serena. Having already dealt with one irate blonde, she had no intentions of dealing with another.

"Serena's not a bad person, you know," Eric told her, picking up on her tone. "She just likes to get what she wants. Right now, that's Carter, and she probably saw you as a threat to that." Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, solely for Eric's purpose, she plastered on a smile instead.

"I understand," she said, "and I'll be fine, really. I kinda just want to get home and start all this homework. AP classes are not a joke." She had already planned to go through her old folders and see what she could re-use, since a lot of the homework assignments she received were repeats or similar to ones she'd done before, but no one needed to know that.

"Okay," Eric said, opening the door to a sleek, black limo. "See you tomorrow." She waved at them, and waited until the car was well out of sight before she started walking. After a few blocks, she heard a rumble in the sky, and looked up to see grey clouds gathering above. A few drops fell on her face, but she kept walking, deciding that a few raindrops were nothing to be worried about. Soon enough, the drizzle turned into a full on downpour, fat drops of rain stinging and soaking her in one go.

"Shit," she cursed, placing her bag on top of her head. She decided to make a run for it, and made it halfway up the block before she stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk. Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for her body to hit the ground, but that never happened. Instead, a pair of arms caught her, stopping her fall and pulling her under an umbrella.

"Are you okay?" she recognized the voice instantly, and when she opened her eyes, Carter was standing there, looking quite concerned.

"I'm fine," she snapped, pulling away from him. It'd be just her luck if someone had gotten a picture of him holding her, and sent it into Gossip Girl. "I just tripped."

"Yeah, and almost pitched headfirst into the middle of the street," he told her, looking at her in disbelief. "Why are you running around in the rain?"

"I'm not running around in the rain! I was walking home and the rain started falling." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why didn't your brother send his driver for you?" he asked.

"Because he thought I was getting a ride with someone else, and I forgot to text him to- you know what? That's none of your business. I have to get home." She made to walk off, when Carter's hand shot out and pulled her back under the umbrella.

"It's pouring," he said, in a tone that suggested she was an idiot to not realize this.

"Well I can't just stand here until it stops," she told him, packing as much sass as possible into the sentence. He rolled his eyes at her, jerking a thumb behind him.

"I live close by. Just come stay at my place until the rain stops. I'll throw your clothes in the dryer and call my driver to take you home." Cheyanne contemplated his offer. On one hand, she did want to get home soon, and had no desire to go home with Carter as she was still reeling from their last meeting. On the other hand, her clothes were soaked, even her underwear, and they were beginning to cling uncomfortably to her. As she was trying to decide what to do, Carter began to get impatient.

"Look," he sighed, "you can either come get dried off at my place and wait out the rain, or you can risk pneumonia and continue running home." She shot him a glare. She really didn't have much of a choice, now did she?

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Carter surveyed the girl over the top of his mug, the sweet brown liquid warming his insides as he sipped slowly. She was barefoot, walking around his living room and picking up random items, her own mug of hot chocolate grasped tightly in one hand. He walked over to her as she began looking at the pictures on his wall, running a finger over one of him as child, next to a pre-teen girl.

"That's my older sister, Caroline," he said. She looked over at him, as though realizing for the first time that he was there. He directed her to another picture of them, more recent, taken a few months ago at her son's birthday party.

"She's pretty." Two words. That was the most he'd gotten out of her since he'd let her into his apartment. That, and the thanks he'd gotten when he'd loaned her a hoodie to wear while her clothes were drying.

"Uh, your clothes are in the dryer. They should be done soon." She hummed, placing her cup down on the coffee table before taking a seat on his leather couch. Not even a word this time. Jeez. She pulled the sleeves up over her hands, rubbing them up and down her arms. "You cold?" He took a seat next to her, and handed her the blanket that was hanging over the back of his couch. He left it there since he often fell asleep on the couch. Taking it from him, she draped it over herself, settling back into the couch with a deep sigh.

"You really don't like me, do you?" he asked, tapping his fingers on the side of the cup. One violet eye snapped open.

"I never said that." She closed her eye again, body so still that if she hadn't spoken a few seconds ago, Carter would've thought she was dead.

"Well you sure act like it," he continued, figuring that if she wasn't going to carry on the conversation, he might as well do so. "Come on, talk to me. You're stuck here until your clothes dry, anyway. How was your first day?" She opened both eyes this time, regarding him with a wary look. Finally, though, she gave him an answer.

"It was fine." He raised an eyebrow at her, knowing fully well that her first day at Constance Billard was not 'fine', especially since she was technically an outsider, with ties to a notorious family to boot. "Okay, it was not fine," she admitted, folding her arms with a huff. "I don't know why everyone here is so, so…" she trailed off, searching for the proper word.

"Superficial?" Carter supplied.

"Bitchy," she corrected, earning a small laugh from him, "and condescending. And why does everyone's lives revolve around Gossip Girl? It's so irritating." Carter watched her as she vented, wondering if he'd opened a pair of floodgates that would not soon close. Truly, he didn't mind. It was the most animated he'd ever seen her, and it was by far the most she'd said to him since the first day he met her. "And there was this girl," she continued, rolling her eyes for emphasis, "Priscilla." Carter inhaled sharply, drawing a large amount of hot chocolate down his throat in one go.

"Priscilla Calore?" he asked, coughing to expel the liquid from his lungs. She leaned over to pat his back.

"Yeah. You know her?" He heard her stress the word 'know', and hurried to reassure her.

"Not like that," he scoffed, leaning back in his chair, "She was a freshman when I was a senior at St. Jude's. She was obsessed with me, or rather, my lifestyle." Cheyanne lay her head on the back of the couch, turning her body to face him, and he did the same, one elbow hanging off the edge. "I was a very different person back then. I used to drink a lot, smoke a lot of weed." He paused, wondering if he should tell her this next part. "I was actually the one who gave your brother and Nate their first joint. Snuck 'em into their first club, invented The Lost Weekend."

"The Lost Weekend?" she repeated, giving him a puzzled glance.

"What I'm trying to tell you," he said, speaking over her question, "is that I was wrong to get upset with you back at the store. I'm no saint, and you don't have to dig that deep to find that out." Unconsciously, he'd been inching towards her as he spoke, and his knee brushed against hers. "I was not a very good person," he whispered, "but I'm trying to be. Some people just don't want to give me that chance." She looked down, and he knew that she'd understood that she was one of those people.

"I spoke to Jenny," she said, after a few moments of silence, "about what you said." She took a deep breath before continuing. "She said that you were right. I mean, Chuck told me how he used to be in high school, but he never told me…" she broke off, looking down at her fingers. "He never told me that." Carter didn't know what to say to that, so he just let her continue talking.

"Turns out you were right about Blair, and about Nate." She gave a shrug. "So yeah, you all did terrible things, but at least you told me. They didn't. They just told me to stay away from you." One of her hands was resting on the couch, palm down, fingers splayed out. Very slowly, he slid his hand over, fitting his own fingers in the spaces between hers. Her eyes widened, but she didn't move away.

"Maybe you should stay away from me," he whispered. She was still looking at their connected hands. "Maybe I will end up corrupting you." She rolled her eyes, mouth thinning into a line at his reference.

"Gossip Girl needs to chill," she whispered, finally looking up at him. "Do you want me to stay away from you?" He disconnected their hands, placing it on her face instead, thumb caressing her cheek.

"No," he admitted, "I do not." Her tongue darted out, running over her bottom lip before she captured it between her teeth.

"Why?" He leaned in a bit closer to her, forehead a few inches from hers. Her eyes locked onto his, and he could see the pulse point in her neck throbbing rapidly.

"I don't know," he murmured, running his thumb over her long eyelashes. "You have very pretty eyes." The reddening of her cheeks was the only response, and Carter noticed that her eyes kept darting down to his lips. He wet them, since they suddenly felt a tad too dry. He gently removed her bottom lip from between her teeth, smoothing out the indents with the pad of his finger. Her pupils had dilated, so much so that only a tiny ring of violet was visible, and he was sure that his had as well.

"Carter…" He leaned in even closer, their noses touching now. She had yet to stop him, and if she didn't, Carter had already intended to take the plunge. There was barely any space left between their lips, and as she inhaled sharply, her lips just brushed against his. He tilted his head a bit, intending to capture her bottom lip between his, but she turned her head at the last second, and he was left staring at the side of her face.

"My clothes should be dry by now," she mumbled, still not looking at him. He didn't move, heartbeat sounding so loud to his own ears that he was almost surprised she didn't hear it as well. Instead, he placed a kiss against her cheek, closing his eyes as he heard her sigh. He let his head rest against hers for a few seconds, willing his heart to slow. Once it did, he let out a sigh of his own.

"I don't want you to stay away from me."

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When Cheyanne got home that evening, she lingered outside the door, a slight smile on her lips as she looked at Carter's contact in her phone. She was still wearing his hoodie, having pulled on just her skirt and underwear, not feeling to wear a bra for the rest of the evening. Once she was able to school her features, she opened the door slowly, hoping that Chuck wouldn't be too upset that she was late. Finding no one inside of the apartment, she decided to sneak off to her room. If they asked later, she'd just say she'd always been at home.

"Hey there," a voice called behind her, making her curse under her breath as she closed the door. She turned around to see Nate standing in the middle of the living room with his arms folded, a smile on his face. "First day and you're already sneaking in the house hours after you were supposed to be home?" She winced.

"Sorry," she apologized, "I got caught in the rain and waited it out at a friend's house." Technically, it wasn't a lie.

"I was wondering whose sweater that was," he said, eyes roaming over the grey sweater that was clearly too big for her.

"Uh, it's mine. It's an old one." Again, not a lie. It had been an old hoodie of Carter's, and he'd let her keep it. Thankfully, Nate didn't press.

"Well, next time just call and let us know you're gonna be late so we don't get worried," he told her. "Chuck's out with Blair, and they'll be back in about an hour with dinner. Want me to whip you up something by the time?"

"No, I'm good. I think I'll just take a nap." He gave her a nod, motioning to the counter where a white box sat, wrapped in purple ribbon.

"That was outside the door earlier. It's for you."

She walked over to it, taking it up carefully, and bringing it back to her room. Once there, she placed it on the middle of her bed, carefully untying the ribbon so as not to rip it. When she opened the box, and moved back the tissue paper, she gasped. Sitting in the box, neatly folded, was the dress she'd seen at the store. There was a small card on top of the dress, and before she even read the note, she knew who it was from.

I'm sorry I made you cry.

~A semi-nice guy

It was hard to prevent the smile that spread across her face, so she didn't bother holding it back. She placed the note back in the box, covering it carefully, and shimmied out of her skirt. Placing the box on her vanity chair, she grabbed her phone, setting an alarm before climbing under the covers. She'd drop by his house tomorrow and thank him in person. A text didn't feel quite right. She curled up, pulling the hood of his sweater over her head, and letting his scent lull her to sleep.

Why was this chapter so hard to write? Lemme know what you guys thought!