Chapter Five: The Way We Fall
Your salty skin and how it mixes with mine.
The way it feels to be completely intertwined.
Not that I didn't care, it's that I didn't know.
It's not what I didn't feel, it's what I didn't show.
So let me be, and I'll set you free.
– Misery by Maroon 5
:::
And so it began.
A girl with a slanted heart, and a boy who claimed to be empty inside. They skirted around fragile passion, catastrophe disguised as lust. They asked each other only for an escape—he from the dark cloud looming in his mind, her from the cracked version of herself in the mirror, from the dampened dream of perfection that had slipped away. Maybe it was an infatuation or an obsession— just anything but love. They were drenched in fear as they traipsed around like chess pieces across a board of emotions, in a game that belonged to neither of them. His move, her move, and then again. And it was fine that way. It all worked for Chuck and Blair.
Because sometimes, you just need to find someone whose demons play well with your own.
:::
October 15th, 2007: Dexter Hall Dormitories
Blair Cornelia Waldorf,
The Victors and Victrolas of The Briar House request your presence during our November initiation. Should you choose to accept, leave a black stone at the departure of your corridors. Further instructions will follow.
Blair eyed the ivory card, pinching it between two fingers, studying the carefully drawn script. Beside her, Diana and Jenny held identical cards, each with their respective names. They were all in silk pajamas—Jenny's borrowed from Blair's wardrobe—huddled on Blair's bed as reruns of The Hills played in the background. It had been a long time since Blair had taken a moment to relax, and she now had a healthy glow in her cheeks after seeing Chuck the day before…
It was strange, how things could go from being nothing to something in just a month. Years ago, they'd drifted in the same circles, their feeble relationship existing only through tireless banter. And now he was always there—touching her without a second thought. He'd pulled her behind one of the arches near the fields, backing her up against the old bricks. Of course, Blair had protested, claiming that he was going to put a rip in her skirt or tear her new stockings.
"We can't have that now, can we?" Chuck had murmured, sliding his hand down her thigh, tracing imaginary words over her lace stockings. "You know how I adore them."
"Are they the only thing you adore?" Blair tried. Her voice softened when his lips fell to her neck. She felt him tense for a moment, considering her words. But when his head came up, he wore the same smug expression on his lips.
"Our agreement," Chuck stated, effectively dodging her words.
"You make this sound like a legally binding contract," Blair smirked, rolling her eyes. Chuck turned her with the loops of her skirt. He leaned back against the wall and pulled her up against him, sliding his hands to her lower back.
"I prefer to keep my affairs clean," Chuck replied. "And leave the dirty work for…" He trailed off, his hands dropping to hitch one of her legs up around his side.
"Fine," Blair sniffed, feeling an inexplicable twinge when she thought about all of the other girls he'd done this with. How many "agreements" had he drawn up? How many other curves had his hands memorized? Blair frowned, glancing away from him. It wasn't about that. It was about escape. That's what she was there for, right?
"Number one," Chuck murmured. "No one touches you but me."
Blair raised her eyebrows. "Jealous?"
Chuck grinned. "Insatiably so."
"Okay," Blair started. "Then you have to promise to renounce your...promiscuity as well."
"Jealous, Waldorf?" Chuck retorted, mocking her words. She slapped at his chest, and he grabbed her wrists before she could pull away.
"No. I have this thing called dignity. You might have heard of it." She leaned towards him, holding her gaze steady. "If you want me, then you'll have to drop the sideshows for the main attraction."
Chuck paused for a moment, smiling. "Gladly."
"And one other thing," Blair sighed, trailing her fingers down the line of his jaw. "If you think that you're going to deflower me, you're seriously mistaken. Whatever happens between us…happens on my terms."
"Why? Waiting for Nathaniel to swoop in and pop your cherry?" Chuck smirked. "Because I definitely see that happening." Blair winced at his words, dripping with sarcasm, and pulled her hands away. Chuck shook his head, glancing down at the slant on her lips before continuing, "Fine."
"That's it?" Blair asked, cocking her head to the side. "You're not going to file an appeal? Call the Bass attorney to argue your case?" She fought to hide the disappointment in her voice. Instead of answering, Chuck had pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips, sliding a hand under her skirt and giving her ass a light squeeze before spinning on his heel.
Breathless, Blair snapped, "Where are you going?"
Chuck laughed, ignoring her. "I don't need to argue my case, Waldorf. You're going to change your mind. All of those years of pent-up frustration and neglected sexuality…when I'm done with you, you'll be begging for it."
"Ugh," Blair called after him. "Don't count on it."
Chuck arched a brow, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Care to make a bet?" And so, of course, they wagered on it. Shortly after, Chuck had promised her that he would win. And Blair had promised him that he was delusional. She shook her head, dropping the card onto her lap. What was she doing?
"I can't believe this," Jenny whispered, snapping Blair out of her reverie. "This is so cool."
Blair rolled her eyes and cast a disapproving look at her younger friend. "Cool was being asked to a crowning ceremony by the Duke of Newcastle during my sophomore year." Blair smirked, remembering her friends' shell-shocked faces when the duke had sent a car from the embassy to pick her up from school. Of course, she had butchered the truth back then, claiming to be a college freshman ruling the halls of Columbia while Nate was visiting was visiting with his grandfather in Connecticut. White lies never truly hurt anyone, anyway. "This isn't even on heavy cardstock. It's cover paper."
"It only makes sense that we were invited," Diana shrugged, tossing her card aside. "I was a member last year, and both of your boyfriends help run the thing."
Blair frowned, her fingertip skirting over the edge of the sheet. "You think Chuck made this happen?"
Diana and Jenny shared a glance. "Um, by boyfriend I meant the guy you've been seeing for the past month or so. Or has Ethan changed his name?"
"Ethan," Blair repeated, looking away. "Ethan and I are just friends."
"And Chuck?" Diana persisted.
"Ugh," Blair frowned. "We're just benefits."
"So she finally admits it," Diana teased. Blair waved her away, reaching for her cell phone as Diana and Jenny sang juvenile songs about her and Chuck sitting in a tree. God, what were they, in the second grade? Blair shot them a look in warning as she scrolled through her messages, unsurprised by the familiar list of names in her inbox.
Hey, B. Maybe your reception's not great up there. But I was at the Tribeca, and I saw the tables we used to sit at, and…I just miss you. And I can't wait to see you over Thanksgiving break! Text me, okay? —S
Delete.
Hey, Blair. It's Nate. I got a new phone, and I just thought I'd say hey. How's boarding school? Chuck goes there, right? Say hi for me if you see him around. We miss you.
A pensive pause.
And then –
Delete.
I'm in dire need of my daily ounce of Waldorf. Don't make me beg. —C
Blair smirked, her finger poised over the screen. Her cheeks flushed, her mouth lifting up into a wide smile. She caught her reflection in the vanity in front of her and frowned. She looked like a toddler on Christmas, her eyes wide and glowing as if Chuck Bass were some sort of prize. Blair silently scolded herself, sobering her expression as she composed a short reply.
Chuck Bass, a beggar? Maybe I will make you wait.
He replied within the minute.
Don't torture me.
Blair smirked.
As Blair grinned down at her phone, Diana spritzed a bit of Jenny's perfume in the air, sniffing it cautiously. Jenny, unused to talking to Diana without Blair's mediation, just sat and watched, toying with the hem of her gown. It was clear that she and Diana only had Blair's friendship in common. But Diana and Blair looked like they were born to be friends—Diana's pitch black hair offsetting Blair's coppery highlights. Blair's eyes were a honey brown, Diana's a stark blue. Blair was the regal beauty, while Diana was her lustrous sidekick. But what did that leave Jenny? The Plain Jane who carried the yogurt around?
"What brand is this?" Diana asked, spritzing the perfume again. Jenny glanced up, the fruity spray filling her nose. She coughed and sniffed, waving her hand in the air.
"It's um…" Jenny glanced down. "It's Katy Perry for Target."
"Right," Diana laughed, tossing the perfume from hand to hand. Her chuckle faded, the grin dropping from her lips when she took in Jenny's serious expression. "Oh…right. Well, it's nice." Diana crinkled her nose. "Nice and fruity." She paused, eyeing the blonde. "I have a bottle of Chanel that I barely use. You can have it."
"Thanks," Jenny murmured, her grin faltering. If she'd learned one thing from Blair, it was that being treated like a charity case would never get her to the top.
She knew what to expect from Blair. Her words were final, her decisions easy, her judgment blunt and mean if it had to be. But the way Diana looked at her, with an edge of fake sympathy and a cocky grin, tugged at something in Jenny that she didn't even know she had. "But no thanks. Chanel's a little last season, don't you think? And besides—" Jenny stood and plucked the bottle from Diana's hands. "Damien likes it on me." Diana took a step back, her expression darkening before she narrowed her eyes.
"Of course he does," Diana coughed. "Good for you."
It was then that Blair perked up, watching the exchange between the two. Her eyes settled on Jenny as she smiled. "Well Little J, there might just be hope for you yet."
:::
October 17th, 2007: The Student Lounge, The Main Hall
"So, mission accomplished, right?"
Chuck smirked, rolling his eyes at Damien. They sank back against the student lounge's beige couches, taking up more space than necessary. The nerds who passed through to actually study cast them dirty looks, and Chuck grinned at them all, throwing his hands behind his head. Briar's student lounge looked like it belonged in the lobby of a Five Seasons. The plush couches were huge and immaculate, surrounding glass tables covered in finger foods. The floor-length windows had benches pushed up against them, the drapes cast aside to let the night in. Students trickled in, couples perched in nooks and girls flipping through magazines on the loveseats. Behind them all was a fireplace, its flames casting a sleepy glow on the room.
"Dalgaard, the games have only just begun," Chuck drawled.
"You're so cryptic," Damien said, shaking his head. "Blair's hot. If I were a year older—"
Chuck glanced at him, annoyed. "If you were a year older, you'd be a junior. And I'd still have Blair."
"Oh, so you have Blair now," Damien smirked. "That's new."
"Fuck off," Chuck retorted. "Waldorf and I have a mutual taste for deviousness. She just needs someone to push her over the edge, to take her there. Who better to do that than—" He gestured to himself, tilting his head back. "Chuck Bass?"
"I don't know," Damien shrugged. "Maybe all of this monogamy will turn you into a changed man. She's already been all you can talk about for the past month."
"As if you haven't been practically drooling over a little doe-eyed blonde," Chuck smirked. "You're free, by the way. I have Blair's attention. You can discard the groupie." Damien flinched, glancing at Chuck, then down at the ground. He swiped a hand over his jaw and his mind flickered to Jenny.
And then Diana.
"Unless you've forgotten the rules of the game," Chuck added, raising his eyebrows. "Have I taught you nothing about mixing business with pleasure?"
"It's not like that," Damien snapped, an edge in his voice.
"Isn't it?" Chuck replied. "I suggest you do what you will with Jenny's remaining innocence and then drop the façade. Remember who you are and remember who she is." Chuck smirked. "And remember that you have an eager and willing option who's still available. Diana's been staring at you like she'd be down for anything—"
"Alright. I get it," Damien said, frowning. He turned to Chuck, but he was already looking away, grinning at something over Damien's shoulder. Damien followed his gaze to Blair, who was still in her uniform, her curls loose and wild around her face as she leaned by the fireplace. She held something in her hands, pretending to read it as Chuck stared at her.
"Look, think about what I said," Chuck said, getting up from his seat. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't. Which includes turning this twisted little version of puppy love into an actual relationship. If only for Jenny's sake, man." Damien nodded, but Chuck was gone before he could respond.
He ambled over to Blair and smiled when she greeted him with a slight grin. Chuck watched as she lifted the card in her hand and waved it in front of him.
"I see that you got my invitation," Chuck said, taking the card from her. "You should've read the back." He flipped it over, revealing "Burn This" printed in gold. Blair frowned as Chuck tossed the card into the fireplace, sending the ivory up in flames.
"Nice touch," she smirked.
"I thought so."
Blair cocked her head to the side, waiting for a few students to pass them before continuing. "And what exactly makes you think that I'd want to join your little social club?" At her words, Chuck frowned. He'd never felt the need to impress anyone, and now here he was, scrambling to get her attention like it was the only thing that mattered.
"It's all part of the process," he tried.
"The process," Blair deadpanned. "And what process would that be?"
"Letting loose," Chuck shrugged. "Setting you free. This isn't the Upper East Side. You can get up to whatever debauchery pleases you; no one's looking."
"Sounds like an expulsion to me." Blair grimaced, scanning her nails.
"Sounds like fun," Chuck corrected. "Think about it. By next month, you could be one of us—getting up to absolutely no good."
Blair paused, considering it. "And if I require more immediate attention?"
Chuck grinned, eyeing the entrance to the library at the end of the hall. His hand brushed Blair's as he passed by, nodding at her. "Then I'm at your service, Waldorf."
:::
October 17th, 2007: The Briar House Library
"It's study hour," Chuck reminded her as they ducked behind the reserves. As soon as they were out of sight, he lifted the hem of her skirt and pulled her in for a kiss. His other hand came up to the curve of her shoulder, shoving the collar of her shirt aside, his thumb tracing her collarbone. Blair shivered in anticipation. "You have to be quiet. And we have to be fast. Do you understand?"
"Are you implying that I won't be able to control myself?" Blair retorted, eyeing the hand that had disappeared under her skirt. He wasn't touching her there—not yet. His fingers merely tickled her thighs, making her jerk against the shelves. At her words, Chuck smirked, his body nearing hers and his lips descending on the hollow of her throat.
"I'm only issuing a warning," Chuck said. His thumb flicked up to press straight against her clit, the heat of his skin burning through the lace of her panties. He laughed when her knees buckled, and she reached up to yank at the hair on the nape of his neck. "Let's play…" He nibbled at the skin under her ear and circled his thumb in a steady rhythm until he drew out a sharp breath from her. "How long does it take Waldorf to crack?"
"I won't," Blair whispered, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her. She could already hear students trickling in, hushed chatter filling the other side of the library. Her eyes widened, but she was secretly thrilled. There was a sick pleasure in having him claim her in the presence of all of their peers—while they went unaware, of course. Just as he had in the field, Chuck hooked his finger through the lace and yanked down until the flimsy material slipped down her legs and pooled around her feet. "Chuck," she warned.
"Already?" Chuck scolded. His fingers slipped across her heat before he pulled them away again. Blair lifted her hips, shaking in protest, but Chuck reached down to her waist, holding her still. "I thought you wanted to play, Blair."
"Shut up," Blair hissed, her voice low in his ear. Chuck smiled against her skin, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as two fingers sank into her. She was dripping, clenching around him, and it only made Chuck push deeper. "Chuck…Chuck."
"This turns you on, doesn't it?" Chuck marveled, finding a steady rhythm as he fingered her, struggling to find the spot that would force her to break. "I would have never guessed that Blair Waldorf…" He smirked, holding her waist as his fingers hit a rough spot and her knees bent, her head falling forward. "Would love the thrill of danger." Blair shook her head, her eyes rolling back as he hit the spot again and again, his fingers spreading inside of her, his hand jerking back and forth.
"Doesn't it?" Chuck hissed. He pushed his knee between her thighs, spreading her legs and goading her on. "Tell me, Blair."
"But—" She couldn't talk, she couldn't moan, she couldn't scream. Blair could only feel him reaching in and tearing her apart. Her vision drowned in lights, and she went deaf to everyone but him. Blair's teeth came down on her lip as her hips jerked up and his fingers followed.
"Tell me," Chuck insisted, struggling to keep his voice down. He was painfully hard, selfishly so. He tugged her against him, his fingers going in deeper—if it were even possible—so that he could rub himself, straining through his pants, against her.
"Yes," she gasped. "It's so good." Blair took the opportunity to dig her face into his neck, breathing into his skin as he thrust against her, his fingers relentless. A string of moans escaped through her broken pants. She shut her eyes as his thumb returned to that throbbing nub of heat, circling as he thrust, pressing as he curled. But an ounce of her pushed back in protest, fighting for control.
She couldn't let Chuck Bass have this…in a library—could she?
"Now."
"No," Blair panted, reaching back for one of the shelves. "I can't. Not here."
"You will," Chuck rasped, grinding against her leg. "Or the game is over." His hand came up to her hair, pulling her head back. When Blair opened her eyes, there were tears in them as she struggled to keep silent, overwhelmed by the rush of excitement, her mouth falling open. He wiped the tears with his thumb, swallowing back the lump in his own throat."You look so fucking beautiful like this, Waldorf," Chuck whispered, attempting a different approach. "Free—uninhibited. I want you so much." It was his proclamation that set her off. Her walls clamped down around his fingers, stopping his thrusts short. Her head fell back against the shelves, knocking the books down around them. He cursed under his breath, keeping his eyes on her as she opened her mouth in a silent scream.
"What the hell was that noise?"
"God, I'm going to—"
"Someone knocked over the books."
"Going to—"
"That's weird."
"Oh my—mmph." He clapped a hand over her mouth as she let out a loud, satisfied groan. Her eyes crossed, and Chuck cocked his head, listening for the conversation on the other side of the shelves as he brought her down with a few gentle strokes. Blair was a trembling mess as she slumped down, bringing her hands up to cover her face. Chuck crouched down, following her to the floor as she steadied her breath.
"Are you..." Chuck wiped his fingers against his pants, struggling to find an ounce of gentleness within him. "You okay, Waldorf?"
"I'm fine," Blair murmured, chancing a glance up at him with a small smile. She lifted her chin and straightened out her legs, running her fingers over one of the knocked-down books. "I won."
Chuck smirked, cupping her face with one hand. He thrust her chin up with his thumb.
"You were crying." His smile dropped as hers did. She shoved his hands away and wiped at her face, looking anywhere but at him. He frowned as she yanked her panties back on and tied her hair into a tight ponytail, sliding her headband back into place.
"I wasn't," Blair spat, fitting the mess of books into a pile. "I don't cry. Especially not in public."
Chuck rolled his eyes as he bent to help her. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Waldorf. My moves have been known to draw out the hysterics." He leered at her, and she ignored him, piling the books back onto the shelves.
"Mhm," Blair murmured. Her gaze hardened, and Chuck sighed. Every step forward was five steps back. He'd pulled at a rip, but she was quick to seam it back up before he could see inside. The tears had drawn a weakness in her, and she was back to being the cold-hearted queen who'd walked into Briar a month ago.
"You're going?" Chuck coughed, forcing himself to appear careless. He sank back and watched her reapply her lip gloss.
"What?" Blair smirked, avoiding his gaze. "Did you want to cuddle?"
Chuck narrowed his eyes. "Not a chance."
"Good."
"Good."
"I'll see you later, Bass," Blair whispered. His eyes widened when she reached down, her finger skimming over his erection, still straining through his pants. He let out a choked sound, grasping her wrist and pushing her away. She batted her lashes, smiling at him before turning away.
He could still hear her soft laughter—even after she was long gone.
:::
October 20th, 2007: English 120, The Main Hall
"Blair, hey!"
Blair glanced up, watching a loopy-grinned Ethan walk towards her, his hair mussed up and his tie loosened around his neck. He reminded her so much of Nate that it pulled her right back to the courtyard between St. Jude's and Constance, where she and Serena would wait for Nate to surface from lacrosse practice after third period, his uniform sloppily thrown on, his cheeks ruddy from the wind. Blair swallowed, prying her eyes away from Ethan to look at the wall in front of her.
"Hey," Blair sighed. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."
"Really?" Ethan quipped. "So did I. But, you first. What's up?"
"Ethan," she cooed, placing a light hand on his arm. The boy frowned back at her, rumpling his features into an adorable pout. "We're friends, right? Things between you and I are clearly never going to work out—" She braced herself, preparing to launch into a fit of the standard break-up lines. It's not you, it's me. We want different things. Your resemblance to my cheating ex-boyfriend is sort of putting a damper on things.
"Blair," Ethan started, clearly surprised by the turn in conversation. "Don't—"
"Don't make this harder than it has to be," Blair said with a tight smile. "I mean, I can see why you'd be upset. But really—"
"Blair," Ethan interrupted, his voice dropping to a low murmur. He glanced around the empty hallway before dropping his head to level with her. "Blair, I'm gay."
Blair let out a shocked laugh, shaking her head. "You're…"
"Gay," Ethan repeated, backing away from her. Blair frowned, processing the admission, the smile freezing on her lips.
"No," Blair corrected. "You like me."
"As a friend," Ethan said with a small smile. "I mean, don't get me wrong. You're beautiful. I just thought—"
"Don't try to console me," Blair spat, her face reddening. "I'm supposed to do that. I was dumping you. I brought a speech."
Ethan frowned. "But we were never together. You just said that." Blair shrugged one shoulder, pursing her lips. "I would really appreciate it if you kept this between us. I've actually always—I like Eric."
"Little Eric? Eric van der Woodsen?" Blair let out another laugh, incredulous. Was she destined to be dumped for the van der Woodsen family? "How is that even possible? I'll have you know that my gaydar is impeccable."
"It's not exactly something I like to advertise," Ethan shrugged, keeping his voice low. "When I came out to my parents, they sent me away. I guess they thought they could fix me, but…" Ethan shook his head, trailing off. Blair's anger faded, and she cast him a sympathetic smile. It wasn't as if the concept of fixing a problem by making it go away was foreign to her own mother.
And then she realized—
"You were using me," Blair stated. "I was your beard. How dare you? I'm Blair Waldorf. I do the using."
"I'm pretty sure that this was a mutually beneficial relationship," Ethan laughed. "I honestly did want to be your friend. What people assumed from that was just a perk. And when I realized that you needed someone to make Chuck Bass jealous..."
"I was not trying to make Bass jealous. There's nothing between us." But Blair was already flushed, feeling completely caught. Her defense faltered into an embarrassed confession, and she fanned at her cheeks. Ethan smiled knowingly.
"Look, it's not a big deal," Ethan laughed, trying to calm her down. "You two…you look good together. You have the whole Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing going on. And the way you look at each other sometimes…I can't tell if you're about to make out or go into battle." Blair rolled her eyes, but the comment brought a smile to her lips. Any comparison to Angelina Jolie was welcome in her book. She was tired of hearing Serena's endless comparisons to Hollywood's blonde bombshells. It was then that they heard chattering from the other end of the hallway. The period was beginning, and students were making their way to class. The crowd nearly parted for Damien and Chuck, the latter catching her eye instantly. Ethan glanced back at Blair. "Look, we can help each other. If seeing you with me gets on Chuck's nerves, let it. And then maybe…"
"I can help you with Eric," Blair finished. She pondered it, enjoying the idea of playing matchmaker. She seemed to have a handle on everyone else's love life…everyone's but her own. Finally, she let out a small breath and smiled. "Fine. I'm in. The idea of a forbidden relationship holds a certain appeal to me. I'll talk to him."
Ethan grinned, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, Blair. You know, you're not the bitch you pretend to be. You do nice things all of the time, when you think people don't notice." Blair frowned, wiping at her cheek, and cast him a dirty look.
"Me? Nice? No," she snapped. Before Ethan could argue otherwise, Chuck made an appearance. He waved Damien away before shifting past Ethan and Blair. For once, he didn't spew out a snarky comment. He simply held her gaze as he walked by, narrowing his eyes.
Beside her, Ethan laughed. "Seems to be working." He followed Blair inside as they walked into class. When they took their seats, Blair could feel Chuck's eyes on her. She ignored him on purpose, flipping through her notebook. "You two are crazy." Ethan taunted her, tugging at one of her silky curls. "I can see it now. Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck. It's destined."
:::
October 21st, 2007: The Football Field
"You hold it like this," Damien laughed, reaching around Jenny to grip the ball in her hands. The blonde giggled, her heart jumping as his lips brushed her ear. Together, they tossed the football, and it landed a pathetic two feet away from them. "Come on," he laughed, "You'll never make the team that way."
"You're not on the team," Jenny teased, elbowing his side. It had been nearly two months, and Jenny was surprised by how comfortable she felt around him. She wasn't starry-eyed or self-conscious like he was some sort of celebrity. She supposed that this was what popularity felt like from the other side—the nicer side. But every time she imagined Damien meeting her borderline hipster family in their tiny loft apartment, or Blair eating take-out from Fang Fu's in Brooklyn, her throat tightened.
Back on the Upper East Side, she was Cinderella. And the clock was stuck on midnight.
"So, Dan's your brother," Damien said, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He glanced around for teachers before lighting it and pulling Jenny down onto the grass. "He's the one with the Cabbage Patch Kid?" He laughed, and Jenny did too, feeling an ounce of guilt at revealing her brother's secret.
"Yeah," Jenny chirped. "And my dad's in a band."
"Nice. Anything I'd like?"
"You have Miley Cyrus on your iPod," Jenny smirked. "So I'm not sure."
"It's one song," Damien groaned, smoke spilling from his lips. But it was comforting, the way Jenny pulled little tidbits and held onto him, memorizing Damien in a way that even he didn't care to do. "It's a good one to get high to."
Jenny rolled her eyes. "But you know all of the words."
"Subject change," Damien coughed. "I'm dropping the play. I can barely say that 'Wherefore art thou, Juliet…' line." He shook his head, a jet-black lock of hair falling to his forehead. "I'm done."
Jenny frowned in mock disappointment. "I'm so surprised. I thought theater was your calling."
Damien laughed, tucking her into the crook of his elbow. "Was that sarcasm, Jenny Humphrey? Blair would be so proud."
"Shut up," Jenny frowned. "I can be sarcastic."
"Clearly." He sighed, stubbing the cigarette out without even bothering to offer it to Jenny. She'd turned down every forbidden substance he'd presented to her. And although he respected her numerous declines, it always caused an awkward pause, a reminder that she was absolutely innocent.
And not in a reserved, sultry Blair Waldorf way.
She felt more like a slobbering middle schooler who'd accidentally sat at the adult table.
It was then that they heard catcalls from across the field, Diana sauntering in with a skip in her step, blowing kisses as she mocked a celebrity waving to her adoring fans down a carpet of green. The boys at practice were practically drooling over her, completely enamored by her cherry red lips and her messily piled hair. She stopped at Harrison, tugging at his collar and whispering in his ear. He smiled, following her back up the hill she'd come from as the rest of the boys groaned in disappointment.
Jenny looked back to find Damien with a blatant frown on his face, glaring at Diana's retreating form. Jenny bit her lip, forcing herself to ignore the pang she felt whenever she saw the two together. She thought she'd heard rumors last year, of drunken hookups between the two of them. The thought sent a churn to her stomach.
"Are you okay?" Jenny asked, snapping Damien out of his glare.
"I'm fine," Damien said, his eyes flitting to her. "Sorry, I—I'm just a little distracted."
"Do you…" Jenny started, taking a breath. "Did you ever—" She closed her eyes and shook her head. She straightened up and tried to channel Diana, lifting her shoulders and pouting her lips. Damien glanced down, amused as she leaned toward him. "Kiss me."
"What?" Damien asked. "Out here?" Jenny smiled and nodded, pulling her hair from the simple bun at the back of her head. Her blonde curls came tumbling down as his lips found hers. She tasted peppermint and cigar smoke, a combination more delicious than it sounded.
And when his breathing picked up and her sleeve slipped from her shoulder, she let it.
:::
October 25th, 2007: Guidance Office, The Main Hall
Blair rolled her eyes as Mrs. Reginald tapped away at her computer, her nails clicking against the keys with an annoying tick. Under the opposite end of the desk, Blair scrolled through her texts with Eric, slowly pitching Ethan to him as the conniving saleswoman she could be. When the clicking finally stopped, she spared the haggard woman a glance, dropping the phone into her purse.
"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Blair," Mrs. Reginald said, outstretching her hand. Blair took it gingerly, shaking once before reaching down to wipe her fingers on her skirt. "I've heard great things about you. Wonderful extra-curriculars, top of your class at Constance, with wonderful charity work. You're on the right track to Yale."
Blair suppressed a groan. Of course she was. This was supposed to be a therapy session, not an appraisal. "Thank you."
"Now, let's not waste any time and get right to it," Mrs. Reginald continued, clasping her hands together. Blair sank back. Thank God. "We're here today because you have a troubling disorder, and your mother thinks that talking about it will do you well."
"That's a little counter-intuitive, don't you think?" Blair smirked.
"How so?"
"I've been to a billion of these little sessions. We're going to sit here and talk about how awful eating disorders are," Blair yawned. "I'm not sure that you can insult bulimia until it runs away."
"Why do you make yourself throw up, Blair?" Mrs. Reginald cut in, holding her gaze. Blair frowned, hating to be ignored and detesting being questioned. She dug her nails into her palm and narrowed her eyes.
"Why don't you read my file?" Blair sighed. "Daddy issues…obsessive-compulsive tendencies…a mean streak. I'm not stupid, Mrs. Reginald. We should stop wasting time on things you already know."
"I don't care about your file, Blair," Mrs. Reginald said. "I want to know why you make yourself throw up."
"I—" Blair cleared her throat, wondering which of the hundreds of psychological tricks this one was. Finally, she let bit of the truth escape, her eyes wide as she spoke. "Because nothing is ever good enough. Because nothing is ever right."
"And when you're purging, it is?" Her tone wasn't condescending, but honestly curious. It was strange how conversational therapists could be about these things, as if they were recapping Days of Our Lives over a cup of tea.
"At least," Blair breathed, tugging a strand of her own hair. "It's something I can control."
"But how do you feel afterwards?"
Blair looked down, letting out a long breath. "I don't feel anything."
Instead of delving into it, Mrs. Reginald simply nodded, offering Blair a kind smile. One that was not returned. "Let's try an activity, Blair."
"What?" Blair scoffed. "Are we going to play charades?"
"I want you to close your eyes," Mrs. Reginald said.
"Uh, no thanks," Blair sniffed. She glanced up with a peeved smile. "Trust issues."
"Just try it, Blair," Mrs. Reginald insisted. "I'm not trying to psycho-analyze you, I promise." After a long pause, Blair finally shut her eyes, crinkling her features in obvious annoyance. The room was silent for a moment, and Blair let out an impatient huff, slumping her shoulders.
"I want you to think about the last time you felt good enough," Mrs. Reginald said, her voice nearly echoing off the walls. "I want you to think about the last time you did feel something." Immediately, Chuck Bass flooded her mind. A day before, they'd been back at the fields, perched in the same spot where he'd first touched her. He'd been balanced on his elbows, gazing up at her like there was nothing else in the world. Blair had never been looked at that way. There had always been something else—something better. But Chuck was entranced.
"Are you in that place, Blair?" Mrs. Reginald asked. Blair, lost in the moment, could only manage a quick nod.
Chuck had pulled her down into an open-mouthed kiss, so full of passion that she found herself breathless, falling atop him. She forgot to suck in her already-flat stomach or worry about being too heavy. His hands slid across her back as he pulled her bottom lip between his, sucking and nibbling until the spot was throbbing. She didn't know what possessed her to reach down, grasping him through his pants, which she'd rubbed and grinded against countless of times, but never dared to touch.
"Blair," Chuck had rasped against her lips, his head dropping to her shoulder. Her smile was wicked, but her eyes searched his for approval. He'd nodded, his kisses broken, groans rumbling in his throat as he pushed against her hand. "It's perfect. You're fucking perfect."
Perfect.
Mrs. Reginald's voice snapped her back to the present. Blair was flushed, her eyes still closed as she breathed much too loudly in a room so quiet. She fought to compose herself, biting down on her lip until she drew blood.
"Stay in that place, Blair. Wherever that may be," Mrs. Reginald insisted. "What is it like? What does it make you feel?"
Blair let out an unsteady breath, smiling for a moment.
"Alive."
:::
October 26th, 2007: The Briar House Library
The library was quiet when she found him there the next day. He was at his usual spot, far in the back, on the window seat he'd claimed as his own. Blair felt a rush of excitement upon seeing his form-fitting button-down, his blazer cast to his side. His hair was artfully pushed back, all suave, reminding her of the dark heroes in the classics she loved. She picked his blazer up and hugged it to herself, sinking down beside Chuck.
"Hi."
"Hey, Waldorf," Chuck replied, pulling the book in his hands behind his back, hiding the cover from her. Blair narrowed her eyes, trying to subtly take a peek.
"You're reading?" Blair smirked. "Did you need a cover for your issue of Playboy?" Chuck rolled his eyes at her, his face going dark as he shifted over the book. Blair gave up, finally settling back against the cold window.
"Not exactly," Chuck drawled, his hand instinctively reaching out to massage her thigh. But the act was more caring than sexual, and it forced them both to tense up, staring down at the spot where they touched. He ceased his movements but kept his hand there, his fingertips brushing her skirt. Blair let out a breath before relaxing against him.
"Do you ever miss home?" Blair finally asked. "Fifth Avenue, Central Park, the parties. We belong there, don't we?"
"I belong wherever I go, Waldorf," Chuck said, unused to the serious turn in conversation between them. "As do you. You and I—we were born to lead, whether it's the Upper East Side or Briar." He paused, a smile tugging at his lips. "Or Yale."
Blair pursed her lips, hiding her smile. "Or Yale," she repeated. "If I get in."
"When you get in," Chuck corrected. "You're an admissions officer's wet dream."
"Ugh," Blair groaned, kicking at his shin. "You're so gross." He laughed as she frowned at him. "Anyway," she continued. "I'm sure that you miss your night clubs, and your limo…"
"I have The Victors here," Chuck shrugged, his eyes going vacant of emotion. "And I still have my limo."
Blair let out a sharp laugh. "Why? Do you need Arthur to walk you to class?"
Chuck rolled his eyes at her. "Chuck Bass doesn't get exiled without a point of escape. I have him on hand for emergencies." He paused, his hand reaching up to her chin, tipping her face up. "Besides, I've found something that makes Briar ten times more appealing."
"Oh?"
Chuck pulled her up against him until she was practically draped across his lap, an undignified position for a girl who prided herself on being so prim and proper. But when he kissed her, the thoughts fled her brain, her eyes closing in utter pleasure. When he broke away, his expression was dark.
"You've still been hanging around Ethan," Chuck stated, neither accusatory nor simply. Blair fought a smile, placing a hand on his chest for leverage.
"And?"
"And?" Chuck repeated. "Have you forgotten the terms of our agreement? He doesn't touch you." Chuck slid his hand around her waist, his hand smoothing over her ass, down her thigh, up and under her skirt. Blair closed her eyes as he explored. "You're mine." Blair didn't know if he'd meant to say the words in the way that she heard them—or if he felt the spark that lit up the air, electrified her skin. He said it again, and she remembered Mrs. Reginald's words. Think about the last time you felt good enough—the last time you felt something. What was it like? How did it make you feel? Blair swallowed, gasping for air as kissed her again and again. And they stayed together that night, long after study hours finished, long after they were supposed to be in the library, long after their throats had gone dry and witty banter faded into comfortable conversation.
Long after an agreement was forgotten, and two stubborn hearts found their rhythm once again.
Author's Note: Basically, I adore you all. Your reviews have been like Christmas presents, and I've been eating them all up. I'm in the middle of moving to a new apartment, but I absolutely had to get this done, so I'm really excited to hear what you guys think about it.
Teaser: I have to tell you all that I'm beyond excited about the next chapter. Out of all of the ones I've outlined, Chapter Six has been my favorite, and I'm so excited to write it. It's called Somewhere Only We Know, and rumor has it that Chuck and Blair will be making a brave return to the Upper East Side for Thanksgiving break. My Briar world and the canon world are going to collide, resulting in a load of drama, angst, smut, and a bunch of revelations that will answer a lot of your questions. As always, leave your predictions and opinions - rants, raves, and all. I'll see you soon!