A/N: This has another long quote, but I tried to edit it down a lot. The first ficlet is sort of similiar to another one I did, but I tried to make it with more variety.

Summary:

"She looks really good today, doesn't she?"

Of course she did. She looked even better when she was writhing beneath him on his leather interior, purring his name with a seductiveness that Nate couldn't even touch. But he wasn't about to say that, no matter how much he was tempted to.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. All quotes belong to Gossip Girl.

Maxim

Rumor has it you've slept with more Maxim covers than John Meyer.

And better, I might add.

Blair had just got her throne back. She really, really did not have time for this. Especially the part where she had to pretend to her minions that she wasn't so irrevocably in love with that Chuck Bass-tard. Especially the part were she was pretending that she wasn't being jealous. Because she totally wasn't.

Jerk.

"Wow, B," Penelope said mockingly. "Looks like the guy that was actually throwing down for you for all the world to see has moved on. With a model."

"You say that like I actually give a damn," Blair rolled her eyes, turning away from him. "And its not a model. Its a slut."

"'It?'" Hazel laughed.

"Yes. Sluts don't deserve proper pronouns," she said pointedly. "Some of you could keep that in mind."

"Well I didn't lose my virginity to the womanizer of the Upper East Side," Penelope retorted.

"You sure about that?" Blair asked skeptically. "Because I have conformation about a sophomore bedroom that proves otherwise."

"Jealous?"

"Jealous that you're another one of his forgettable lays?" Blair replied. "Of course. Be still my heart."

"And you're saying you're any different?"

"No," Blair said finally. "No. I know that I'm not any different. I need a drink."

Penelope just shook her head as she watched Blair walk to the bar. She shook her head just to see that Chuck Bass was staring right at her.

"Oh, yeah," he said as he approached her. "I remember that party. That was you?"

"Like you can tell the difference."

"Don't tell me that you're ligitimately concerned for your Queen B," Chuck smirked. He wasn't even looking at her. He was looking at the queen at the bar.

"I was just wondering what it was about you that made Blair lower all of her standards."

"Maybe she loves me," Chuck grinned.

"Please," Penelope rolled her eyes. "It wouldn't matter anyway. Not with that pair of silicon you've been toting around."

"And there's that concern again."

"I don't want Blair demeaning herself and having you follow her."

"Well that's just too bad," Chuck replied, "because I'm going to walk over there. And before you know it, she's going to take me back."

"Why are you telling me this?" Penelope asked.

"Because I can be all the more smug when she does take me back."

"She won't," Penelope replied. "Lightning doesn't strike in the same place twice."

"It wasn't just twice," Chuck grinned. "And you'll see. She still wants me. You know how I know? She couldn't take her eyes off me since I walked in with that... 'silicon I've been toting around' as you so elegantly put it. Jealousy is a powerful emotion."

"Again," Penelope said. "Why are you telling me?"

"I need to gloat to someone," Chuck said nonchalantly. "And I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm low on acquaintances at the moment. And there's only so much hetero that little Eric van der Woodsen can take. And again... you'll just see when she's by my side again."

"Chuck Bass doesn't do monogamy."

"And Blair Waldorf doesn't do Chuck Bass," Chuck smirked. "Apparently. But things changed. And she's the one to have changed them. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a queen to conquer."

Is and Hazel looked at each other in surprise.

"Who knew?" Hazel asked. "He's actually... genuine."

"And the only one who doesn't know it is Blair," Is agreed.

"Well I won't be the one to tell her," Penelope said. "No one wants to get into the middle of that."

Agreed.

Chuck made sure Maxim was by his side when he approached the unapproachable woman of his dreams (yeah, like he was ever going to admit that to anyone.) And he only called her Maxim because he literally could not remember her actual name. She was the anti-Blair (the only name that he could even conceive at the moment.) She was blond, leggy, and had practically ever part of her filled with botox and plastic surgery so that her age was undefinable. Like he was even paying attention. He just knew that Blair would immediately hate her and therein lay the fun.

"Is that the best you've got?"

Chuck's insides tightened at Blair's cool gaze. He and his "date" up leaned up against the bar. But looks could be deceiving. Blair's fingers were clutching the stem of the glass so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

"I just wanted to introduce you," Chuck said pleasantly. "I know how much a fan you are of Maxim."

Her eyes narrowed. "I think you've got me confused with yourself."

He watched as her eyes swept over the object of her jealousy.

"Well," she said critically. "Give it your best shot. Does she even possess the ability to speak?"

"I'm going to tell you the truth, Waldorf," Chuck replied. "I didn't get her for her ability to talk. I don't expect us to talk at all tonight, actually."

"How wonderful for you," Blair said with fake sweetness. "While you and I both know Serena is being accosted by some psycho, you're entertaining yourself with the brainless sect of the modeling industry. And I say 'modeling' lightly. If I were you, I would make sure she doesn't catch sight of something shiny. Those can sure be distracting."

Blair shivered at his look. It was the admiration in eyes that always got to her. He liked it when she got this way and she wished he didn't. She wished she could just ignore him but that wasn't who she was. So she grabbed her drink when he still hadn't retaliated and walked off. She didn't know where she was going but she knew she sure as hell really couldn't face anyone of society tonight.

"That was... impressive."

Damn. She shouldn't have overestimated his fondness for the stick with legs. It wasn't beneath him to just leave her in the middle of the room.

"To the naked eye, that might be construed as a demonstration of jealousy."

Blair finally turned to meet him. "Lucky for me, nothing about you is naked anymore."

"I can change that," he said suggestively, coming so close to her that she could smell his natural musk.

Blair took him by the collar and shoved him away. "Don't you have a 'guest' to tend to?"

"She can tend to herself for now."

"Well go help her with that," Blair snapped. "Don't try to fool me, Bass. You've slept with more Maxim covers than John Meyer."

"Maybe," Chuck said, his breath caressing the side of her face. "But might I add, you were always better."

Blair really wished she hadn't taken that as a compliment.

George Sand

What person, real or imagined, living or dead, would you most like to have dinner with? The rumor is if your answer impresses the Dean enough, it gets you on the short list for early admission. So says Blair.

I should have given my spot to her.

You got invited and she didn't? You're lucky to be alive.

Well I won't be much longer if I don't find an answer fast.

Steal Blair's. She has no use for it anymore.

No, I can't. No matter how good it is.

George Sand.

I did not want to know that. And how do you even know that? Why does Blair want to go to dinner with some guy named George?

I hot girl named George. Dressed like a man. And apparently is the dean's favorite writer. And I know this because talking to Blair about how she's going to get into Yale gets her really--

Chuck, No. you just told me two things I never wanted to hear. And one is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

Chuck stepped out of the doors of St. Jude's and stopped. There she was. Sitting in the courtyard as though she were just waiting for him. At least, his inflated ego would like to think so. Her dark stocking clad legs were crossed over one another as she read from one of the tables in the quad.

Though there was that small problem with Nathaniel Archibald standing right next to him. It wasn't like he couldn't throw her right across the table right now like he wanted to anyway. Not only were they keeping it on the DL, but apparently it was frowned upon to get naked in public. The cops said something about "indecenct exposure" that one time.

"Look, its Blair."

Once again, States-the-Obvious has struck again.

"Hold on," Chuck said, holding Nate back as he was about to walk towards Blair who was oblivious to them, just reading her book. Or that was what she wanted them to think. Chuck knew better. Better than Nate ever would; ever could.

"What?" Nate asked.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"What?" Nate asked again, not looking away from Blair. "She looks really good today, doesn't she?"

Of course she did. She looked even better when she was writhing beneath him on his leather interior, purring his name with a seductiveness that Nate couldn't even touch. But he wasn't about to say that, no matter how much he was tempted to.

"What do you expect me to say?" Chuck asked. Nate finally looked back at him. "She's my friend."

"Do my ears betray me?" Nate laughed. "Is Chuck Bass actually looking at a girl for more than sex?"

Woman.

But whatever.

"You didn't let me finish," Chuck smirked, aiming low. "She's my friend, but I would hit that in a second."

He liked how Nate's face dropped.

"So... yeah. I think she looks good today. I think she looks freaking fantastic."

"Dude," Nate said in shock. "She's my girlfriend."

Chuck raised his eyebrows at Nate.

"Fine," Nate replied. "But still."

"Nathaniel," Chuck sighed. "She's your ex-girlfriend. And she's hot. So what makes you think she's just waiting around for you? What makes you think some guy isn't taking the liberty that you aren't and actually is hitting that?"

"No," Nate said. "She wouldn't... she just... she just wouldn't. She wants it to be special. She's still a virgin."

"Really?" Chuck asked skeptically. "What makes you so sure? Did she tell you that specifically?"

"Well..."

Chuck just shrugged and walked towards her. He sat next to her. She didn't make any movement that made it look like she noticed his presence. At least... to anyone else. Once again, Chuck knew better. He knew as soon as he took his first step towards her, her spine stiffened. She flicked the page of her book over. She definitely knew he was there.

"You brought a friend," she muttered snidely so that Nate, who had followed quickly in pursuit, couldn't hear. Chuck slung an arm casually across her rigid shoulders for Nate's benefit. But he could feel her relax underneath his touch, calming her. But she still didn't look up. She still ignored Nate.

"My apologies, lover," he muttered in her ear. "Can you blame him for being so attracted to you? He's not the only one."

Blair shot him a covert glance of annoyance but just returned to her reading.

"Hey, Blair," Nate said. She didn't look up. "What are you reading?" Blair sighed in agitation. Nate wasn't giving up.

"George Sand," Nate said, reading the author. "Is he any good?" Blair finally got to her feet, looking cruelly down at Nate.

"She is great," she replied. "That why I'm reading her."

"Oh," Nate said awkwardly. Blair rolled her eyes.

"I'll see you later."

No matter what Nate would think, Chuck knew she could only be talking to him. He watched her walk away with appreciation.

"You think she's mad at me?" Nate asked.

Chuck sighed. "No, Nathaniel. I don't think that she's mad at you."

Shaking off Nate was easy. And he was an expert at cruising for a Waldorf. She always walked. Chuck didn't press this, but he liked thinking that it was because she liked having him pursue her in his limo. She pretended she didn't, but he knew her better than anyone.

"Get in."

"Was that a question or a demand?" Blair asked coolly, never breaking her stride.

"Consider it a suggestion."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, glaring at him.

"Oh, come on," he said. "You can't possibly be mad at me."

"Try me," she sneered.

"I didn't ask him to come," Chuck told her.

"You didn't really break your back trying to get rid of him, either," she snapped.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. He knew he could always catch her off guard with that one. Especially when he meant it. He wasn't too fond of being sincere. But she seemed to just bring that out in him.

"Just get in, Waldorf."

She looked at him curiously. "No."

"No?" Chuck asked.

"Yes, Bass," she said, continuing her walk down the street. "No. Know the meaning of the word?"

"I've heard it once or twice," he replied. "I know you didn't mean it, though."

"Clever," Blair rolled her eyes.

"I would love to give you a ride," he said charmingly.

"Don't have time."

"For me to give you a ride home?" Chuck asked. "I would think that it would be faster than walking."

"There's only one reason you want me in that car," Blair replied, "and you and I both know that once I get in, you taking me home will be the last thing that we'll be doing."

"Well if you have other ideas..." Chuck smirked.

"I'm doing stuff for Yale today," Blair said. "I don't have time for you."

"I'm hurt."

"Please," Blair said. "You take up too much time as it is and you know it."

"It is one of my many talents."

"Ugh. Whatever."

"If you let me give you a ride, I promise I won't try anything."

Blair let out a breath of mirthless laughter. "Like I'm going to fall for that one again."

"Oh come on," Chuck said. "I hadn't had you in like three days, what else was I supposed to say?"

Blair sighed. "You can drive me home. But that's it."

"Fine," Chuck said with satisfaction, holding the door open for her. Blair got in cautiously, eying him carefully as she lay her book on the seat next to him. He looked at the back flap.

"George Sand," he said. "She's hot."

She snatched the book away from him.

"Excuse me," she snapped, hitting his shoulder hard with it.

"Relax," he said, massaging his shoulder.

"This isn't some joke," she snapped. "George Sand is my in to early admission."

"Meaning?"

"After your first interview, if the dean likes you enough he invites you to his house for a gathering. He asks you what person real or imagined, living or dead would you most like to have dinner with. If your answer impresses him enough then you get early admission. George Sand is his favorite writer."

"I see," Chuck said. "So you've got it all figured out."

"What is wrong with you?" Blair demanded. "This isn't just some game. This is my future."

She kept berating him with her book.

"Hey," Chuck said catching her dainty wrists in his hands. "Relax. Yale makes you feisty."

He wasn't about to embellish how it was probably going to make him break his promise about taking her straight home.

Blair groaned as she struggled against his hands.

"I hate you," Blair said when Chuck realized how close their faces were together. Apparently Blair realized it a second later because she quickly closed the distance between them.

"I guess I won't be taking you immediately home," Chuck muttered.

"Shut up," Blair said and crushed her lips against his once again. And again. And again.