Chapter Two: At the Brink of Enchantment

It's been a long year since we last spoke. How's your halo?

Just between you and I—You and me and the satellites.

I never believed you. I only wanted to—before all of this.

What did I miss? Do you ever get homesick?

I can't get used to it. I'll never get used to it

– For Blue Skies by Strays Don't Sleep

:::

You can't really come to know a new place without exploring every crevice of it, every nook and cranny and hidden shadow of it, on your own. Blair couldn't make her slow ascent into ruling The Briar House without knowing it inside out, just as a queen would memorize the plots of lands she conquered. And so, on the weekend before classes officially began, Blair shrugged a trench coat on, tucked her hair into a jet-black beret and set off across campus on her own.

Briar was another world.

It was made up of three enormous buildings—the girls' dormitories, Dexter Hall, and the boys' dormitories, Wentworth Hall, as well as the main building, which held all of the classrooms and recreational centers. The cement bricks were painted in strings of ivy, as rustic as the townhouses were on the more acceptable part of the Lower East Side back in Manhattan. The pathways were complicated, intersecting and overlapping across sprawling fields that were kept green by groundkeepers. There were gardens, too. Sprouting ones that held extravagant fountains and flowers much too tailored to be real.

Blair had seen much of the inside, disappointed in finding nothing to complain about. Everything was high-tech, first-class, only the best. Only the rich could make prison seem like a home away from home. And the room she shared with Jenny had quickly been altered into an exact replica of Blair's suite at the Waldorf Penthouse, her quiet roommate being strung along for the ride. Her bed sheets were Egyptian cotton, swirls of gold and purple. Her vanity was littered, her closet space overflowing with an array of products that would put a floor of Bloomingdales to shame. She'd had her television brought in, too—Briar wasn't exactly the place for communal movie nights and joint student bonding—which Jenny avoided looking at, lest Blair think she was taking advantage.

Blair thought it was ridiculous.

She'd been sprawled out on the opposite bed, much higher with Blair's new mattress, glancing at Jenny, whose head was hidden behind a book.

"You can watch the movie, Jenny," Blair sighed, gesturing at the screen. In front of them, Audrey Hepburn was taking a sip of coffee, decked out in her signature slinky black dress and silver tiara.

"I mean, it's your TV," Jenny murmured. "I didn't want to—"

Blair rolled her eyes. "And now I can't hear with you talking."

Jenny waited a moment before setting the book down and dropping belly first onto the bed to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's. Blair kept her face stern, but as the blonde ooh'ed and aah'ed over Blair's collection of classics, she let out the smallest of smiles.

Which Jenny didn't see, of course.

Blair concluded her little tour with a trip down to Briar's sports fields, on the outskirts of the campus, right where the woods began. She sucked in a breath when she noticed the sea of boys tossing a football down the expanse of green. She nearly tripped, slipping on a rock, when one, then two, then all of them turned to look at her. She glanced to the right of her on impulse, so used to boys gawking at Serena whenever they went out.

But Serena wasn't there.

Blair pursed her lips, straightening herself. They were all so handsome in their uniforms—perfectly trimmed haircuts, their uniforms disheveled, ties loose around their necks. It was then that she noticed a few sprawled out on the grass, off to the side. One was at the center of them all, smoke dripping from his lips in full view.

Blair swallowed as Chuck's eyes brightened, holding her gaze. If this was Hell, Bass was certainly the devil. There was something horribly appealing about that smug look on his face, the way his hair flipped back in the wind. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, the side of his mouth lifting as he nodded at her, winking.

God, he was infuriating.

She spun on her heel, stomping back up the hill. But Blair made the mistake of casting one more glance behind her, to where he was still staring at her retreating form.

And she wondered if it was simply a coincidence that Chuck Bass happened to be everywhere.

Or if it had something to do with her recent arrival.

:::

September 7th, 2007: The Briar Dining Hall

The dining hall was going to be a problem.

Blair slid her tray beside Jenny's, scanning the row of platters—gourmet sandwiches, an array of breads and cheeses, a rainbow of fruits, flatbread pizza, hor d'oeuvres that would be better suited for a society luncheon than a simple school day. She watched in disdain as Jenny piled on the appetizers, the food nearly toppling over when she lifted her tray.

At Constance, Blair never had to worry about this. A grape here, a scoop of yogurt there, and no one ever noticed. But that was in Manhattan, Blair's former kingdom. Briar didn't exactly allow for a quick run to the deli after fifth period. She was stuck there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Blair blanched, cursing whoever thought of living at school.

"I usually eat in the theater, but…" Jenny trailed off, realizing how uncool she sounded. "Everyone eats in the hall's patio, until it gets too cold in November."

Blair glanced up at the cluster of students outside. "Well, it's not the steps of the MET." But she shrugged anyway, tossing a blood orange Chobani onto her tray and taking the lead as they stepped through the glass doors.

They only took two steps before they were intercepted.

Penelope Hayford was going to be a problem, too.

"Blair Waldorf, right?" A faux smile was plastered on Penelope's face, a sneer hidden behind it. She snapped her entourage to attention, a pathetic group of clones trailing her. The entire dining hall turned to them then, awaiting the showdown that would commence. They all knew Penelope, and they'd all heard of Blair's trysts in Manhattan.

Something was bound to go down.

"Hey Penelope," Jenny chirped, lifting her hand in a curt wave.

"Oh." Penelope glanced at her, the smile fading from her lips. "Jill, right?"

When Jenny didn't bother to correct her, Blair sighed impatiently. "Her name is Jenny." She cocked her hip, eyes flitting to the students that made up their little audience. She was immediately drawn to Chuck, who sat at the center table, intrigued by the spectacle unfolding before him. He was surrounded by the boys she'd seen smoking with him on the fields before. Blair turned back to Penelope. "Can I help you?"

Penelope flinched at Blair's cold reception, clearly perturbed. "Well, the Hayfords and the Waldorfs go way back."

"Do they?" Blair mused. "Isn't Hayford the name of a farm?"

"It's not—" Penelope huffed, cutting herself off. "Look, I'm inviting you to sit with us."

Blair held in a laugh, a sympathetic little smile on her lips. "Thanks, but I'm not interested." The crowd seemed to let out a collective gasp when Blair moved past her, eyes searching for another table. Penelope seethed, yanking Blair's elbow back.

"Did you hear what I just said? This offer doesn't get extended twice."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Look, Penelope, is it? I may be new to Briar, but I've had years on the throne. I don't do hand-outs." Blair glanced down. "Especially from fake Prada bearing hands."

Penelope swallowed. "This isn't fake."

"Is that what Daddy told you?" Blair smirked. "Please. I can smell the pleather from here. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"You're going to regret this," Penelope spat under her breath.

"I highly doubt that," Blair replied with a small shrug.

Penelope let out a harsh breath, spinning on her heel. She summoned her tag-alongs as she walked back to her table. But one lingered, a tall girl with black hair dropping to her hips. She leaned towards Blair with a small smile.

"Your headband is fab," the girl murmured. She nodded at Jenny. "Yours too."

Blair cocked her head to the side. "Thanks."

"Look, I hate Penelope anyway. She's a total bitch," the girl confessed, her eyes pleading. "I'm—"

"Diana!" Penelope hissed from across the courtyard, furiously waving her hands. Blair glanced over Diana's shoulder, realizing that Penelope had gone to sit beside Chuck, nearly hanging over his lap. But his eyes were on Blair. Chuck smiled at her as Penelope ranted at him, a look of—awe?—on his face.

"I'll see you two later," Diana sighed, snapping Blair to attention. Blair nodded absently, offering her a small smile before leading Jenny to a table near the gates.

"Oh my God," Jenny breathed. "Did you see her face? You're legendary. I thought she was going to pass out."

Blair smirked, setting her tray down across from Jenny. "Jenny, you're drooling." Jenny rolled her eyes with a newfound comfort that Blair hadn't realized they'd reached. In turn, Blair stuck out her tongue at the girl. From the way Jenny's face lit up, you'd think that Blair had just gifted her one half of those tacky grade school friendship bracelets.

"So, yeah. Maybe we could—"

"Blair Waldorf, proving that you can take the bitch out of Manhattan, but—"

Blair spun around, recognizing the voice instantly. Being an only child, Blair had clung onto the only semblance of a sibling that had been around as she grew up. She'd treated Eric van der Woodsen as a younger brother for as long as she could remember. In fact, she had been the first person he'd officially come out to. To which Blair had replied, "God, Eric. I don't care if you're gay. As long as you don't end up dressing better than I do." Blair had ruffled his hair with compassion that she didn't normally allow.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Eric had laughed.

"Eric," Blair cooed, throwing her arms around the boy's neck. She quickly composed herself, lest anyone think that she was going soft. Her voice dropped when she spoke again. "I feel like I haven't seen you in years."

"That's because you haven't," Eric replied. He dropped beside Jenny, hugging her side. Blair raised her eyebrows, glancing between the two.

"You two know each other?"

"Eric's my best friend," Jenny grinned. She paused, considering her words with wide eyes. "I mean, not my only best friend. Because you—"

"Please, Jenny," Blair smirked. "I'm hardly offended." She glanced at Eric. "So, little van der Woodsen, you'll have to catch me up on the years I missed."

Eric smiled. "Sure, Blair." His expression softened. "And…I know what my sister did to you. I'm so sorry."

"We're not discussing that," Blair coughed. "Serena isn't here, is she? So let's not dampen the mood." Jenny glanced up with interest, dying to know what they were talking about. But Eric simply nodded, and Blair was quick to change the subject.

"It's really a miracle that they found each other," Blair sniffed, nodding at Penelope, Chuck, and the others across the yard.

"They're harmless," Eric sniffed. "Nothing compared to the Upper East Side. It's Chuck Bass who you have to worry about. He's a ticking time bomb."

"Hm," Blair said, watching them all laugh at something Chuck said. "What are they, his congregation of sleaze?"

Eric and Jenny laughed, sharing a knowing look.

"Does she not know?" he asked Jenny. Blair frowned, irritated that there was something she wasn't in on.

"Don't I know what?"

Eric nodded at the group again. "Every good boarding school has a secret society."

Blair coughed on her yogurt. "You're kidding."

"The Victors," Jenny said, pointing to Chuck.

"And Victrolas," Eric finished, rolling his eyes at Penelope.

Blair scoffed. "Sounds ridiculous." She paused. "And tasteless." But it was a blatant lie. These were the things that Blair lived for. She wanted in, despite the club's poor choice in leadership.

"Maybe to you," Eric said. "But a spot with them means parties in the backwoods, all of these crazy rituals and pranks that date back to when Briar first opened. It's the most coveted membership around." Eric laughed, nudging her leg under the table. "Initiation starts in October, if you're interested."

"Hmph," Blair murmured, flicking her hair back to catch another glance at the cluster of students at the center table. Already, Chuck caught her glance, and Diana smiled at her again. Blair smiled back, her gaze purposefully skipping over Chuck.

For Blair Waldorf, it was all or nothing.

And it would only be a matter of time before she achieved the former.

:::

September 10th, 2007: The Briar House Library

Chuck found her perched on his favorite window seat in the library two days after the cafeteria debacle, behind the abandoned reserves, where the old ladies at the front desk were too oblivious to catch him drinking his afternoons away between classes. It was fucking ridiculous, really. He'd never drank more before he arrived at Briar.

It was unintentional pleasantry.

Chuck licked his lips, then licked them again when he saw Blair draped across the seat with a thick book in her tiny hands. The light trickled down the strands of her hair, following to the dip of her school shirt. One leg was crossed over the other, her blue kilt riding up to the very top of her thighs, where her stockings ended in a maze of lace. His hands jerked at his sides, his mind filling with the events that had taken place in Tripp Vanderbilt's room two years ago. He felt the curve of her hips, tasted her tongue as it had been yesterday. Chuck adjusted his collar, swaying on his feet.

And he wasn't even drunk yet.

"Waldorf," he drawled, plopping down at the other end of the throw pillow, eyeing her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Blair let out a crisp, exasperated sigh, her eyes flitting up to him for a second before returning to her book. "My misfortune, apparently."

"Hm," Chuck laughed. "So coy." He tapped the spine of her book, his hand brushing her knee. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Are you?" she retorted. "I thought you were stalking me."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Chuck smirked. "Maybe I am. That was quite the show you pulled with Penelope the other day. I see that you've still got it."

Blair rolled her eyes at her book, lifting it as a barrier between their faces. Chuck grinned, making sure to touch her hand when he pushed the book down again, holding it to her lap. But still, she blatantly ignored him, focusing on the pages in front of her.

"So, where's your shadow?" Chuck tried again, drumming his fingers on her leg. Blair glanced at his fingers, then at him. But she said nothing. Usually, this would be his point of retreat or pure boredom. But Waldorf…she was something else. Something held him there—something masochistic.

"Where's Jenny?" he went on, persistent. Blair let out a sharp breath, and the book snapped shut, nearly closing on Chuck's fingers. She looked up at him with all of the nonchalance she could muster up.

"Where's Damien?"

"Answering a question with a question? That's a bit juvenile, don't you think?"

"Is that a problem?" Blair asked, just to spite him. She fought the smile on her lips, but it came anyway, tugging until her whole face lit up. Chuck grinned again.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"I'm afraid that Dalgaard won't be gracing us with his presence," Chuck said.

Blair regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowed. "Nate used to be your best friend." It wasn't exactly what he was expecting, but he wasn't surprised either. Blair had always had an inexplicable fixation on his old friend. It was this golden complex she had, like she was desperate for perfection, and Nate was as close as it got.

Chuck got a sudden urge to bend that desire.

"He used to be your boyfriend," Chuck challenged, leaning forward. Blair swallowed, her hand curling in her lap, feeling the pinch of the ruby ring on her finger. Of course, it didn't escape Chuck's notice. Nothing ever did. "It's a little pathetic when divorcees hold onto their wedding rings. You should really learn to let go." His words set Blair off, and she fumed, turning away from him in her seat. She opened the book again, eyes looking but not really reading. She focused on the same line over and over again, forcing herself to concentrate.

Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections.

"Did I say something wrong, Waldorf?"

Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern –

"You're wounding me, Blair."

Engage people with what they expect –

"Why the cold—"

His hand found her shoulder, fingers spreading to her collarbone. Blair tensed, closing her book again.

"They say that if you ignore a dog's bark for long enough, it'll stop." She dragged her eyes to him. "Living Environment, Period Two."

Chuck's lips pursed in faux shock, amusement lighting his eyes. "You've got a clever tongue. I bet I could put it to better use."

"How charming," she smirked, finally getting up from her seat. It was then that his hand darted out of its own accord, his fingers grasping her wrist before she could go. Blair stared down at their hands, losing her breath. He pulled his hand away, using it to lift her chin, beckoning her to look at him.

"Wait. Tell me you remember," Chuck insisted. Blair looked away, up at the ceiling, to the dusty shelves, anywhere but at him. But he squeezed her hand more firmly, pulling her down, level with him. "I know that you remember."

"I don't—"

"You remember...that night at the Vanderbilts'," he repeated. Blair wondered how his eyes could darken to pitch black in just one second, his shift in moods giving her whiplash. She fought the memories, but they came anyway. A hazy night, a back room, and his hand, the one on her now, tracing across her skin—touching, pulling, caressing. Blair shut her eyes in shame, the memories tainting her mind like a plague.

She parted her lips, let out a breath. "So what if I do remember?" Blair yanked her hand away. "For you, that was just a failed conquest."

Chuck shook his head. "And for you?"

Blair wanted to know what he wanted from her. It had to be some game he was playing because she was new, because he temporarily had the upper hand. "For me, it was a mistake." His eyes narrowed as she went on. "Besides, shouldn't you be after Penelope?"

He sat back, considering this for a moment. "Interesting."

"What?"

He cocked his head to one side. "What I initially considered rudeness—" He smiled. "Turns out to be jealousy."

"Jealousy implies that one cares," Blair corrected. "Which I don't."

"We'll see. You've been sitting here with me for a half hour. That's awfully long for someone who doesn't care." He stood to up to face her, glancing down at her lips. "You'll give in, Waldorf. You and I, we're the same. We have our vices, we have our issues, let's explore them together."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Don't hold your breath." She backed away, already hearing the sea of students entering the library for fifth period. "As a matter of fact, do hold your breath. Because that'll never happen."

:::

September 15th, 2007: English 120, The Main Hall

"The themes of Pride and Prejudice," Mr. Higgins called, pacing the front of the classroom. Of course, Blair was the first to raise her hand. And of course, Chuck rolled his eyes from across the room.

She resisted the urge to give him the finger.

"Yes, Miss Waldorf?"

"Courtship," she replied, clasping her hands atop her desk.

Higgins raised his eyebrows, urging her to continue. "That's a new one. Can you expand on that?"

"Well," she sighed, flipping through her copy of the novel. "Each courtship takes on a different meaning in the story, an allegory for the different classifications of love. For example, Austen used Darcy's courtship of Elizabeth as a plot device. Obviously, he had feelings for her from the start. But he was insufferable, going about it in the wrong way. And so she was right to be intolerant of his idiocy."

"I beg to differ."

The entire room glanced up at Chuck, Blair included, as he challenged her.

"Mister Bass," Higgins said. "I'm glad that you're finally deigning us with your participation."

"Yeah, whatever," Chuck drawled. "Elizabeth's pride is what doomed them from the start. She was too up on herself to realize that Darcy was the object of her desire."

"Darcy was a stoic bastard," Blair hissed. "And Elizabeth was clearly protecting herself. It was his pride that ruined everything."

"Yeah, and Elizabeth was a frigid bi—"

"Alright, Chuck, Blair. I do encourage you to continue this discussion outside of the classroom," Higgins scolded. "But let's give other students a chance to speak now." Blair rolled her eyes and Chuck relished in his self-awarded victory. It was then that she felt a shift in the desk next to her, a voice in her ear.

"And then there was Wickham." Blair glanced up at the boy with short blonde hair, clear blue eyes. With his kind grin and loosened tie, he reminded her so much of Nate. She swallowed, immediately recognizing him as one of the boys from Chuck's lunch table.

"Excuse me?"

"Wickham was vying for her love as well," the boy clarified. "It was Elizabeth who never gave him a proper chance. It would have been an entirely different story otherwise."

"Oh," Blair whispered, rather dumbly. He left it at that until class finally ended, hovering as a few students trickling out of the room. He hitched his bag over his shoulder, but remained at his seat, waiting for her to gather her books.

"I'm Ethan," he said, hand reaching out to shake hers. Blair took it, fully aware that Chuck was watching from across the room.

"Blair."

"I already know that."

"Of course you do," she said, glancing at Chuck again. He lingered by a few of their classmates, engaging in mindless small talk as he eavesdropped on her conversation with Ethan.

Interesting.

"What's with you and Bass, anyway?" Ethan asked, dropping his tone to a murmur. Blair looked up at him in surprise.

"Nothing," Blair hissed. "And he's your friend. Shouldn't you know?"

Ethan smiled. "Chuck and I are acquaintances. We run in the same circles, I'm sure you know how that is."

Blair cocked an eyebrow knowingly. "Right. A Victor, aren't you?"

"So you've heard the rumors," Ethan stated, following her out of class. She shrugged in slight annoyance. Boys like Ethan and Nate were like puppies, there for companionship, not conversation.

"It isn't a rumor if it's true," Blair shrugged. And she left him with that, twirling away, heading off to her next class. Ethan stared after her, smirking before he headed down the opposite end of the hall. Chuck watched on with a sneer on his face, yanking Damien from the stream of students milling down the hallway.

"I have a project for you," Chuck said, dropping his arm around the boy's shoulders. Damien perked up with interest, beckoning him to continue. "How do you feel about Jenny Humphrey?"

"She's hot, I guess," Damien shrugged. "A little too innocent for my taste."

"Yeah?" Chuck asked, swiping a hand over his jaw. "Not after you're done with her."

"As much as I revel in a good challenge, I have to ask," Damien began, "does this have anything to do with the new girl? Dude, you're obsessed with her."

"Blair isn't just the new girl," Chuck snarled. "No questions. I just need information."

"Right, whatever," Damien shrugged. "I'll take her off your hands for you. Get her out of the way, find out what makes Waldorf tick." Damien shot his fingers at an imaginary target as Chuck smirked.

"Good," he replied. "That's exactly what I need."

:::

September 18th, 2007: The Briar Theatre

Jenny sewed until her fingers were numb.

She was hidden in the theater's costume department, far from where the auditions were being held on stage. It was Romeo and Juliet this year, which was hardly surprising—Briar had a thing for all that was Shakespearean. The year before had been Hamlet in the spring, The Twelfth Night in the fall. Jenny was happy enough to remain behind the scenes, as no one else bothered to enter the dusty costume room behind all of the glamour.

But today was different.

Jenny startled when she heard footsteps behind her, pricking herself with the needle in her hands. She winced, sticking her finger in her mouth.

"I scared you," murmured a voice. "I'm sorry."

Jenny shook her head, releasing her finger. "It was my own fault. I should've been wearing a thimble."

"It's alright to live on the edge, Blondie," the boy drawled, stepping in front of her. Jenny looked up, choking on her response when she realized that the boy was Damien Dalgaard, of all people. Jenny had always watched him from afar, as they were in the same form, entering Briar at the same time a year ago. His eyes were clever and taunting, but his smile was kind. He was the kind of handsome that was much too dark to be good for you.

A girl like Jenny simply couldn't resist.

"Hi," she whispered, dropping the half-sewn dress into her lap.

"Hey," Damien grinned. He nodded at the fabric in her hands. "Looks good."

"Oh…this?" Jenny stammered. "It's not really—It's not finished." He was clearly amused by her stuttering, and she struggled to a get a hold of herself. "What are you doing back here, anyway?"

"You're looking at your new Romeo," he said, sitting back against one of the old chests. There was something about the way he emphasized your that made Jenny lose her focus, forcing her to blink again.

"But they're just auditioning," Jenny frowned. "You can't know—"

"I'll get the part," Damien grinned. "If only for the honor of being dressed by you."

This time Jenny rolled her eyes, letting out a small laugh. "Yeah, right."

"I mean that," Damien insisted, holding her gaze. "But, I'll leave you to it. Wouldn't want to distract you from your masterpiece." Jenny swallowed as he winked at her, going to turn away. Somehow, she found her voice, found the bit of Blair that had already influenced her.

"You can stay," Jenny said. "If you want."

Damien turned with a small smile, cocking an eyebrow before sitting across from her. "I was hoping you'd say that."

:::

September 20th, 2007: The Guidance Office, The Main Hall

Per her mother's obnoxious request, Blair was to see the guidance counselor every week for the remainder of her fall term. It was a wonder, really, how Eleanor managed to run her life and schedule her appointments from four hours away. Blair sat outside of the office, awaiting her turn while she examined the tips of her nails. Unfortunately, it was during moments like these that her mind wandered to Chuck Bass. Since they were young, he'd had this obsession with tormenting her, like he wouldn't give up until he clawed right into her mind and she became another one of those girls, swooning at his name.

Ridiculous.

It was then that the door to the guidance office burst open, a boy barreling through it. Blair startled, realizing that it was Chuck himself. His brows were slanted, his expression furious. She watched as the door slammed shut behind him, and he cursed under his breath.

"Wow," Blair said lightly. "You really are following me." His eyes snapped to her, realizing that she was sitting in front of him.

"You wish," Chuck scoffed before heading down the hall.

Blair frowned, infuriated by his dismissal. And then she was getting up from her seat, chasing after him, forgetting all about her appointment. There was something about the way he pushed that made her pull, and then vice versa. She sped down the main halls, waving to a few of the other students on her way. She watched as Chuck ducked into a side passageway, in between the main building and the boy's dormitories. She took a breath before walking in behind him.

"Bass, what are you—"

"Now who's following who?" Chuck sneered.

Blair pursed her lips. "I only wanted to see if you were alright. But if you're going to be an ass about it—"

She realized how close they were now, in the damp and dark corner of the alley. She tensed as he stepped towards her, his hands pushing against the wall on either side of her head. Blair closed her eyes as they shared a breath, unable to look at the unrepentant anger on his face. He waited a moment before reaching out to tangle his fingers in her hair, hesitating for permission, cradling her head before pushing her back against the wall. Blair let out a small whimper as he caught her mouth with his, bowing her to him until they were touching at every inch. He forced his anger onto her lips, a choked groan surfacing from the back of his throat.

"What are you doing?" Blair panted, jerking her head away.

"I—" Chuck blinked, looking lost for a moment, his hands falling from her hair.

"You kissed me," Blair said. She swept her tongue out over her lips, and Chuck watched. "You taste like vodka."

Chuck backed away from her then, shoving off of the wall. She remained where she was as he swiped a hand over his face, letting out an exasperated sigh. He looked at her one more time before heading down the hall without another word. Blair sank back against the wall, tilting her head back. She recalled Eric's words for a moment, watching Chuck disappear around the corner.

Chuck Bass? A ticking time bomb.

And she was going to set him off.

Author's Note: Thank you all for the kind and thoughtful reviews. They were all really exciting, and I hope you continue to let me know what you think! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I edited it about ten times before I finally posted, so I hope you guys enjoy! Next up will be Chapter Three: The Art of War.