The Curious Case of Misty Bass

by EZ11

Living a life full of secrets, Bart Bass' mysterious past is one he'd like to forget. But when Chuck stumbles upon his biggest secret of all, the Basses will never be the same again. If having two Basses is company, then three is definitely a crowd. R&R!

53. The Seventeen-Year-Old Virgin

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you so much to all of the new readers who favourited and followed this story since I posted the last chapter. To the new readers, welcome to the new chapters of this story!

Without further ado, enjoy the chapter!

Rating: This chapter is rated M for mature.

---

Chapter 52: The Seventeen-Year-Old Virgin

---

I made it through the wilderness
Somehow I made it through
Didn't know how lost I was
Until I found you

Evelyn sat up on a fluffy pink duvet bed. Four fuchsia walls trapped her, and across the foot of her bed, a white door was her only exit, padlocked. A long and narrow mirror hung on the back of the door, offering a reflection of Evelyn's distressed face. The rhythmic and howling synthesizer thudded in her ears.

"Madonna? Really?" Evelyn said.

Evelyn looked down at the long sleeves of her teddy bear printed pyjamas. They were soft and fleecy albeit tight around her chest.

I was beat
Incomplete
I'd been had, I was sad and blue
But you made me feel
Yeah, you made me feel
Shiny and new

Evelyn jumped when Ozzy suddenly appeared beside her, shirtless. He was lying back on his elbows, his bare legs stretched out.

"Ozzy? Where are we?"

"I don't know," Ozzy said, his tone dull. "This is your dream isn't it?"

Evelyn turned her head to survey the pink walls. "I guess?"

Ozzy sighed. "Are we going to do this or what?"

"Do what?"

Hoo, like a virgin
Touched for the very first time
Like a virgin
When your heart beats
Next to mine

Ozzy chuckled and shook his head. "Always a tease."

There was a knock on the door. Ozzy got up to answer it, and Evelyn bowed her head, further inspecting her pajamas. When she looked up, Catherine was at the door, wearing a red silk negligée and feather boa.

Gonna give you all my love, boy
My fear is fading fast
Been saving it all for you
'Cause only love can last

"What are you doing here?" Evelyn said.

Catherine reached for Ozzy's hand and led him to the door. She used her other hand to caress Ozzy's cheek. He leaned forward and started kissing her. Evelyn watched one of Ozzy's hands grope Catherine's breast.

"What are you doing?" Evelyn said, her voice becoming increasingly more panicked. "I'm still here!"

He couldn't hear her. Ozzy and Catherine continued, and Evelyn stomped toward them and yanked Ozzy away from Catherine.

You're so fine
And you're mine
Make me strong, yeah you make me bold
Oh your love thawed out
Yeah, your love thawed out
What was scared and cold

"What are you doing?" Evelyn said.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Ozzy said.

"I'm your girlfriend!" Evelyn said.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Ozzy said.

Catherine looped her feather boa around Ozzy's shoulders her and led him away.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm not going to wait forever, Evelyn," Ozzy said. But when he spoke, it didn't sound like him. It sounded like another person's voice she couldn't place.

Like a virgin, hey
Touched for the very first time
Like a virgin
With your heartbeat
Next to mine

Evelyn followed him out of the pink room. Not even a nightlight sparked a path for her. She walked into a black void, and the further she distanced herself from the bedroom, the more the light shifted from radiating like the sun to a speck of a star.

She called Ozzy's name in the darkness. No answer or echo. She only heard the sound of her own feet shuffling down the dark corridor. She kept her arms extended and swung them from time to time until she felt a cold brick wall. She touched each coarse brick, thinking the wall had to either lead her somewhere or end eventually. It didn't.

Her father's voice startled her. "Looking for something?"

Evelyn woke with a start, her entire body cemented under her sheets. She blinked a couple more times, waiting for the pink walls to replace her freshly painted sage walls. They didn't. She wiggled her fingers then wrists. Her breathes began to even out. Evelyn rolled onto her side and slowly peeled her comforter and sheets away from her body. Her forehead prickled with sweat, her skin steamed under her pyjamas.

Evelyn rarely had dreams when she slept, lest along dreams that were that vivid. She thought of the pink room, of Ozzy, Catherine, and Madonna, and she was unsure how they were all connected.

Evelyn stood and saw her reflection on the long mirror that hung on the back of her door, another new addition from her room redecoration. From a distance, she looked bedraggled. When she stepped closer to it, she noticed so much more. Her forehead glistened, her wavy hair matted and slightly frizzy. The underarms of her pyjamas were damp.

Evelyn rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was just a nightmare. A very unsettling nightmare. It didn't mean anything.

And yet, when she opened her dresser drawers to pick out a fresh pair of undergarments, she realized her pyjamas were not only childish, but her undergarments were plain. She didn't own something elaborate like a negligee, corset or bustier. She found herself wondering if she should.

Evelyn held her clothes close to her chest and hastened to the bathroom.

Wakey wakey, Upper East Siders. Gossip Girl here, and it's time for your annual checkup. Lucky for you, doctors take their confidentiality seriously around here. And how are we all feeling on this cold January day? We hear things are looking pretty blue at the Bass household this morning. Why the long face, E? Daddy B isn't behind bars…yet.

---

Chuck watched the steam from his expresso rise from his porcelain cup that morning. He was seated at window booth at City Diner, where retirees ate brunch and men in suits chatted while lathering their toast with jam. A handful of freelancers occupied a whole booth to themselves, their half-eaten breakfast plate forgotten while they typed on their computer.

Chuck sat at his table feeling unproductive. He had no leads since the failure of his last scheme with Blair. The more he reflected on it, the more he recognized the inherent flaws in the plan. It was an elementary plan at best; a miscalculated disaster at worst. Did he really think it would be that easy to take down his Uncle? It was going to take something much more methodical to remove Jack Bass as CEO.

Chuck checked his phone for the time. The day was still early, but his patience was starting to wane. He needed to come up with something, not just anything, but something that would really work. This time, he wasn't settling for trying. Only success.

Aunt Kim appeared wearing a trim pantsuit with a black tote bag slung over her shoulder. "Sorry I'm late," Aunt Kim said. "I still underestimate the time it takes to travel across the city."

Chuck noted that a few pieces of furled paper poked out of Aunt Kim's bag, her name at the top of it in bold letters. "Where were you?"

"I had a meeting with one of my friends from college. We had lots to catch up on."

Chuck nodded and took a sip of his espresso. Aunt Kim had called him the day before to let him know that she would be in the city and that she wanted to see him. Chuck welcomed the distraction.

A waitress appeared and asked Aunt Kim for her order. She ordered a regular coffee.

"I must admit, I was surprised I was able to get through to you considering what happened at Christmas," Aunt Kim said.

"I apologize for leaving so abruptly," Chuck said. "I just needed some time to myself."

The waitress returned with Aunt Kim's coffee. She picked up one of the milk singles in the bowl and poured it into her coffee.

"I understand that," Aunt Kim said. "I still wish you would have stayed." She stirred her spoon in her mug. "How are you now?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Just fine."

Aunt Kim set her spoon down. Drops of coffee stained the white napkin. "You're certainly more forgiving than I am. If I were you, I wouldn't be fine."

"I wouldn't say I'm forgiving," Chuck said. "I've just accepted the situation for what it is."

Aunt Kim took a sip of her coffee. "And what did you accept?"

"My dad is about to face trial for a crime he committed. He will serve some form of a sentence."

"You think he did it?"

"It would clarify a few things from my childhood that were always…murky," Chuck said. "So yes, I think it's likely."

Aunt Kim took another sip of her coffee.

"What do you think?" Chuck asked. "Do you think he did it?"

Aunt Kim didn't reply immediately. She gripped her spoon and looked at the reflection on the dull metal. "I think it's possible, likely even, but I think it's not so cut and dry."

Chuck examined Aunt Kim. She chose her words carefully, specifically even, and Chuck was skeptical enough to suppose that she was avoiding something.

"Why is it not cut and dry?"

"Look, your father and I have had our issues. Lots of them, but if I were being fair, I would admit that although it's very probable that he committed arson to collect the insurance money for his building, he didn't do it to harm your mother in any way."

"But he did harm her, and he then lied about it. He convinced me for years that she died in a plane crash. Then, he changed his story and said that the truth was that I was the reason she died."

"Are you sure that's what he said?"

"Positive."

Aunt Kim looked down at her hands. "Guilt makes you say the most astonishing things, doesn't it?"

Chuck drained the rest of his espresso, leaving coffee grinds behind.

"Have you talked to your father since Christmas?"

"No."

"I expected that. You are more alike than you are different," Aunt Kim said.

"I don't want to be anything like my father," Chuck said.

Aunt Kim paused. "Then who do you want to be?"

The question caught him off guard. All his life he knew he was destined to follow in his father's footsteps professionally. With a billion-dollar company like Bass Industries, he'd be a fool not to. But now that Jack had taken the company away, and his father facing his trial, that certain future that was paved under his feet began to shake. The path ahead was now full of cracks and ridges.

"I'm Chuck Bass."

He said the words, but they now felt hollow.

"I know you are," Aunt Kim said. "But I think you still need to figure out what that means."

He didn't have time to concern himself with ornamental issues like this. He needed to stay focused. The longer that Jack helmed Bass Industries and sunk his claws into the board members and executives, the harder it will be to get rid of him.

"Look, I'm going to have dinner at your father's this evening, and I think you should join us," Aunt Kim said.

"I think I'll pass."

"I had a feeling you'd feel that way," Aunt Kim said. "But here's something to think about. If you don't want to be like your father like you say you do, then you should put your pride aside and talk to him. You don't have to talk about anything you're not comfortable talking about, but you should in the very least know what's going on with his trial because it does affect you."

"What makes you think he wants to talk to me?"

"Parental intuition," Aunt Kim said. "We always worry and care for our kids even if we have a different way of showing it."

"Bart does have a special way, doesn't he?"

"We all do," Aunt Kim said. "But we don't have to throw our hands up in the air and give up because of it. Chuck, if you continue to not talk to your father, that will leave a mark. Do you want to have regrets like he does? This could be the only time you can talk to him freely in a long time. Just think about that."

"You make it sound like I'll never see him again."

"If you keep walking away from him like you did at Christmas, then how will you see him?"

Chuck felt the floor tremble under his feet. What Aunt Kim was suggesting was impossible. There was no way that Bart would disappear from his life, no matter how much Chuck wished it over his adolescence. He took up too much room. His presence was a looming tower, and Chuck was the shadow underneath.

"I'm not saying your relationship with your father has to change. If you don't do something to mend your relationship with your father, it'll disintegrate. I know that's difficult to see now, but you will regret it once you can't do anything to mend it."

Chuck looked outside the window at the people who walked on the street with a purpose. There was one person, a tourist, who looked up and around from his map and at the tall buildings, lost. Chuck felt equally lost while talking to Aunt Kim.

"I have to go," Chuck said. He reached in his pocket for his wallet.

"That's okay," Aunt Kim said while waiving down the waitress. "Coffee's on me."

Chuck stood and buttoned up his winter coat.

"Just think about it, Chuck," Aunt Kim said. "That's all."

---

Ozzy walked through the hallways of St. Jude's with his attention fixed on his phone. He typed a message to his mom whom he hadn't seen before school that morning.

Having dinner at dad's tonight. Will text you when I'm coming home.

Ever since he first visited his father's apartment a few weeks ago, Ozzy had begun to spend more time with his father. He was still cautious around him, as he was still unsure how long this new arrangement would last, but he appreciated the change to his routine.

Ozzy pocketed his phone turned into the Constance hallway. He paid little attention to the curious gazes from the classmates he didn't know, or the snickering and gossiping that came from the groups of freshmen girls who marvelled whenever a guy crossed territory into the Constance hallway.

Ozzy slowed as he neared the bank of lockers. Evelyn's back faced him, and her dark wavy hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. Ozzy touched the small of her back, causing her to flinch.

"Morning," Ozzy said.

"Oh, hi," Evelyn said with a nervous smile. She turned back to her locker and reorganized her notebooks.

"You okay?"

Evelyn shut her locker. Her gaze avoided his. "Of course. Between the trial starting soon, and finals coming up, which I'm nowhere close to being ready for, I'm just a little stressed."

"You're probably more ready than you think," Ozzy said.

"Maybe," Evelyn said. "I just haven't been feeling all that motivated lately."

"Me too," Ozzy said. "Maybe it would help if we studied together?"

He lost count of the hours that Evelyn had spent studying with him afterschool when he wasn't motivated. The least he could do was do the same for her.

"It has helped in the past," Evelyn said with a small smile.

"I'm supposed to go to my dad's place afterschool for dinner, but he said he wouldn't be there until after six. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you came over, so we can study there," Ozzy said.

"Okay," Evelyn said, caressing his cheek. "It's a date."

Evelyn leaned forward and kissed him with an open mouth. He was initially surprised by the public display since Evelyn had said to him on more than one occasion than she didn't like PDA. It was like she was trying to prove something. Whether she wanted to prove something to herself or to others, Ozzy didn't know.

"What was that for?" Ozzy said when they broke apart.

"Because you're my boyfriend, and I can?" Evelyn said.

Something about her tone was off. Uncertain. Like she didn't quite believe what she was saying.

Ozzy leaned forward for another kiss but was interrupted when the bell rang. Evelyn slipped out of his grip, with a playful grin on her face.

"Oh, come on," Ozzy said. A smile stretched across his face.

"You're just going to have to wait," Evelyn said. She paused, her voice turning soft. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Of course," Ozzy said without a thought.

Evelyn leaned forward and gave him another quick kiss. "Good because there's more where that came from."

Ozzy watched her hips sway as she walked away, imagining the many suggestions of what that could mean.

---

Blair knocked on the door of a sixth-floor apartment that faced the south side of Morningside Park. The hallways were dark with yellow wall sconces that illuminated the blue carpeted halls. The hallway reeked of cumin, and Blair held a napkin over her nose to dilute the pungent scent.

While their mission to incriminate Jack was unsuccessful the week prior, Chuck and Blair returned to the drawing board. Chuck insisted that while they continued to think of new ideas, Blair returned to school and focused on her studies. Naturally, this meant that Blair not only returned to her studies, but her mission to become more enmeshed in campus affairs in order to carve out her own power at Columbia University.

A short girl with a honey brown hair and red rimmed glasses opened the door.

"Hi. I'm Blair Waldorf. I'm a friend of Heather's," Blair said, her voice confident. She stretched out her hand in greeting. "I sent an email, but I didn't hear back from you, so I thought it was best to make your acquaintance in person."

The girl leaned against the door. "Oh, that's right. I'm Liz. Nice to meet you. I got your email. I'm sorry I didn't respond to it. I've been swamped. Please, come in. I'm sorry for the mess."

Blair stepped into the colourful apartment where clothes were thrown on top of every piece of furniture available. The walls were painted seafoam green, the living room furniture a velvety purple. A knitted rug covered the dusty wood floors.

"Heather told me quite a bit about your column. You started it in your Sophomore year?" Blair asked as she stepped over a rogue Valentino stiletto.

"You do your research," Liz said. She pushed aside rumples of dresses and sat down on her couch. "I did start it in Sophomore year. I can't believe I'm graduating in a few months. It just feels like yesterday when I started Liz's Closet."

Blair nudged a scrunchie under the glass coffee table and sat on the edge of her chair. She folded her hands in her lap.

"How did you start your column?"

"As you can see, I've always been into fashion, and when I came to Columbia, I realized that there weren't any clubs or places to talk about it unless you went to fashion school like Parsons. I thought it was so criminal because we're in Manhattan and all, so I started volunteering with the student newspaper, The Columbia Spectator. I met the editor, and one day when he was looking to improve our digital presence, I gave him the idea for Liz's Closet, and he gave me a shot. Now, it's a staple column."

"That's an inspiring accomplishment," Blair said. "I would think many people would be disappointed to see it come to an end with you graduating and all."

"All good things do come to an end unfortunately," Liz said while touching the tip of her fishtail braid. "Heather told me you're into fashion. By the looks of it, she was right."

Blair preened at the compliment. "I've always viewed fashion as an art. It's one of the most defining ways we express our identities."

"I completely agree. Is that a Chanel from the spring catalogue?"

Blair patted her quilted emerald leather purse. "Yes, it is."

"Would you mind if I looked at it?"

"Of course not," Blair said while handing her the bag.

"I think I found a knock off quite similar to this at Mango. I planned to include it on my Spring Feature."

Blair felt her insides shrivel. Was she seriously comparing her beloved Chanel to a knockoff?

Knockoff?

This was a mistake. There was no way she wanted any part of this phony fashion column. What was she thinking by diversifying her campus involvement in the fashion scene? This wasn't fashion forward. It was a fashion emergency.

"What trends do you think will make it past the runway?" Liz said while returning Blair's purse.

Blair snatched her purse from Liz's open arms. She took a deep breath and swallowed every insult she was thinking in that moment. Meanwhile, her phone buzzed in her purse.

Blair checked the ID. It was Heather from Locke and Key. She could wait. Blair muted the call.

"Floral prints and maxi dresses will last although minimalism is here to stay," Blair said.

"What about stripes?"

"Those always get recycled every few years."

"That's true I guess," Liz said. "It's so nice to talk to someone who's so knowledgeable about this stuff. My boyfriend is sick of hearing about it."

"That's why I reached out," Blair said. "I've been wanting to get more involved on campus, and I've been told that the best way to do that is through your hobbies."

"Would you be interested in contributing as a guest columnist? I could really use the support."

While Blair wasn't keen on contributing to a fashion column of someone else's name, she knew that with Liz graduating she could take it over and make it her own.

"Why yes I would, actually."

"Great. How about this? Take the week to brainstorm some ideas, and at the end of the week you can pitch them to me."

"Perfect. I'll get started right away."

"Awesome. The column ranges from five hundred to a thousand words, and it's all about how to own your style on a budget. Times are tough right now for so many of us, so try to think of how to take this," Liz motioned to her outfit, "Into something an everyday college student could afford. Sound good?"

Blair felt her heart sink. How could she give this column her own spin if she had these types of parameters? She was fashion forward, not fashioning the masses. She'd never been in a Mango or an H&M store in her life.

Blair did her best to hide her grimace while she said, "Sounds great."

---

Evelyn sat on the sleek black couch with a copy of Hamlet cracked open on her lap. Her gaze wandered away from its furled pages and toward the glass coffee table where three small cactus plants were coupled on one side, a closed laptop and charging cord on the other. A cubed wall unit also captured her attention. It was filled with some books in Spanish, a flatscreen TV, colourful display plates, and a couple pictures.

Evelyn was much more interested in getting up to get a closer look at the pictures than studying but decided against it. The last thing she needed to do was point out to Ozzy how the only pictures in his father's apartment weren't with him.

"Evelyn? Evelyn?" Ozzy said. "Hey," He snapped his fingers to get her attention.

"What? I'm sorry, I wasn't listening," Evelyn said.

"You weren't kidding when you said you couldn't focus," Ozzy said.

"I told you," Evelyn said. She fanned the pages of the play and sighed.

"Is this about your dad's trial?"

It was. Somewhat. It was something that lingered in the back of her mind like a dark cloud, but it was something else too, and she didn't have the words to explain it.

"A little bit," Evelyn said. "Honestly, I'm trying not to think about it."

Ozzy took the book off her lap and placed it on the coffee table. "Then what's bothering you?"

Evelyn ran her hands down the pleats of her uniform. Something about her nightmare continued to bother her. It hit a nerve, an unprotected insecurity that Ozzy would leave her for someone like Catherine. While most dreams faded as the day went on, her dream didn't. Instead, she fixated on it. She tried to disassemble it and put it back together in a way to find its meaning.

Evelyn took a deep breath. She just needed to stop. She needed to stop thinking and needling her fears.

"Nothing. I'm just having a day," Evelyn said. She tossed her pencil beside her copy of Hamlet and shifted her body to face Ozzy.

"So, is this the first time you're staying at your dad's for dinner?"

"Yeah," Ozzy said. "Just the two of us."

Evelyn leaned against the cushions, her hand propping up her head. "Sounds daunting."

"It's not a big deal," Ozzy said, shaking his head, his gaze on his curled fists. "It's just strange. I've never said that out loud before. Is it wrong that I'm waiting for him to leave again?"

"Why would it be wrong?"

"I dunno. I just don't want to get too invested for him to up and leave again."

"Just take it slow," Evelyn said. She reached her free hand forward and placed it on top of Ozzy's. "And if things don't turn out, you won't be alone. You'll still have me."

Ozzy grinned. "Now that's something I can get behind." He opened his fist and weaved his fingers with hers. He drew Evelyn toward him, and she felt her nervousness from the morning begin to melt away. She felt her heartbeat quicken, and her skin tingled from his touch when his gaze fell on her lips.

Evelyn caressed his cheek and noticed that smooth dark hairs lined his jawline. She ran her index finger along the fine hair before leaning forward to kiss Ozzy. They kissed once, twice, three times, until Evelyn lost count. Ozzy's hands wandered up her sides, while Evelyn ran her fingers through his hair. Their kisses grew more fervent and searing, and Evelyn felt her body grow heated and heavy.

When they broke apart, Ozzy looked at her with a piercing intensity that Evelyn had only seen one other time. Without speaking, Ozzy shifted their position so that he was hovering over her. Evelyn lied back on the couch and drew Ozzy closer.

Any thoughts or worries Evelyn had from the morning were forgotten. Her attention was completely focused on Ozzy who now kissed her neck, sending shivers of pleasure down her body. Evelyn ran her fingers down Ozzy's back, feeling his taunt muscles over his shirt. She remembered what it felt like to touch him when they were at the pool, and Evelyn felt a yearning to do it again.

Ozzy broke the last kiss and hovered over her, his chest heaving. He brushed her hair out of her face, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Ozzy communicated through glance, his desire and need for her apparent.

Embolden by his attention, Evelyn began to unbutton her shirt.

"What are you doing?" Ozzy asked.

"It's getting a little hot in here," Evelyn said. "Don't you think?"

Ozzy smirked and began to unbutton his own shirt. "Now that you mention it…"

Ozzy sat up on his knees and finished unbuttoning his shirt. He tossed it on the floor and dove back in to kiss her fiercely. Evelyn ran her hands down Ozzy's chest, hesitant when her fingers reached his pants. Instead, Evelyn reached for Ozzy's hand and guided it toward her breast, under her bra. Ozzy pulled back to watch her do it. She flattened her hand over his.

"This is okay, right?" Evelyn asked, her sudden boldness replaced with a need for reassurance.

It took a couple beats for Ozzy to look up from her chest. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

She was okay, wasn't she? She trusted Ozzy. There was a level of intimacy they had that made her feel comfortable and protected in his embrace. She didn't want to wait. She wanted to explore.

Ozzy massaged her breast and leaned forward to kiss her chest, then close to her bellybutton. His fingers traced the circumference of her bra from front to back, where he fiddled with the hook. Evelyn sighed, her hand now dipping from his lower back to under the waist band of his pants when the clanging of keys against the hardwood floors startled them.

Evelyn's eyes fluttered open at the sound.

It was Alejandro.

Evelyn immediately pushed Ozzy away from her, her eyes wide. "Oh my God."

Ozzy initially confused by the sudden movement, saw his father and tumbled off the couch.

"Dad," Ozzy said while scrambling to his feet. He picked up his St. Jude's uniform from the floor and fumbled with the buttons. "I thought you weren't going to be back until late."

Alejandro set down his bag of groceries slowly. He then smoothed his facial hair while he collected himself. He turned slightly, his back facing them, to give them the opportunity to dress.

"My meeting finished early," Alejandro said, his gaze fixed away on the kitchen. "I didn't know I was interrupting."

Evelyn threw her books in her bag, her cheeks burning. She couldn't believe this happened. This was what, the second time in her life that she met Ozzy's father? So much for a good impression.

"I'm so sorry…" Evelyn said, unable to address the awkward silence. "I should go," Evelyn said to Ozzy.

The buttons on Ozzy's shirt were completely mismatched. "I'll walk you out."

"No need," Evelyn said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Evelyn found herself waving awkwardly to Ozzy, before bolting to the door. If it was socially acceptable, she would have sprinted out of there.

Once the elevator began its descent, Evelyn covered her face with her hands, as the mortification set in. She had no idea how she was going to face Alejandro ever again.

Spotted: E making the walk of shame fashionable again. Looks like coattails are in this season and first impressions out. Here's hoping that the third impression's the charm for E.

---

That evening, Bart returned from Frank's office with a stack of paperwork weighing down his briefcase. It was a long meeting filled with endless questions, legal reading, and preparations for the trial. Bart loosened his tie and dropped his heavy briefcase on the kitchen counter.

"Bart, you're just in time for dinner," Kim said from the other side of the kitchen counter.

"Kim. Good to see you," Bart said. "Did you meeting go well?"

Kim carried a mixed green salad to the table. "It did. I have another next week."

"Hello darling," Lily said, and kissed him on the cheek in greeting. Lily was still insisting on pretending like everything was normal. "How's Frank?"

"Good. Busy. But good."

Bart walked towards the table, wondering what smelled so good for dinner. It was a beef pot roast with potatoes and carrots.

"Where's Evelyn?"

"She should be here any time. She was studying with Ozzy afterschool," Kim said.

On cue, the elevator pinged. Evelyn appeared, frazzled. She tugged at her shirt and hair before making her appearance.

"Hey everyone," Evelyn said dropping her bag beside the couch. "Sorry I'm late."

"You're just in time," Lily said.

Bart exchanged a curious look with Kim, who looked equally perplexed. The last time they were together, Bart had felt like he had found some kind of footing with Evelyn. They talked about the case, discussed how everything was going to go, and she seemed receptive to it. Something else was off, and Bart couldn't help but think it somehow related to him.

They all sat down at the table, Eric joining them, and started plating their food when the elevator dinged again.

"Are we expecting someone?" Bart asked.

He turned and saw Chuck saunter toward them. Bart stood and moved to greet Chuck.

"Chuck. What brings you here?"

Chuck's gaze remained indirect. He looked past him. "I came here to see you. I have a few matters to discuss with you."

Bart was taken aback although he made no sudden movements to show it. Chuck wanted to talk to him? The first thought that came to his head was if he were in some kind of trouble. Again.

"By all means, we can talk after dinner," Bart said. "Please join us."

Chuck gave a stiff nod and rounded the table to the empty seat beside Aunt Kim. Everyone greeted Chuck with enthusiasm, both genuine and forced, as if he had returned from a long trip.

They began eating, and Bart took the little comfort he felt of having his family all together at the table. He wasn't sure how many more occasions he would have it, so he savoured it no matter how imperfect it was.

Kim and Lily were making light conversation with the kids and after a few minutes, Lily turned her attention to Chuck.

"How's school going Chuck?"

Chuck swallowed and responded, "I took the semester off actually."

The room turned silent. Everyone was surprised with the sudden confession. It was as if Chuck revealed that he was abandoning his life to sail the world.

"And why's that?" Bart said, unable to mask the annoyance in his voice.

"I needed to take a step back and evaluate my priorities," Chuck said.

"And those priorities other than school are?" Bart asked.

"I have some projects I'm working on," Chuck said. "Potential job prospects."

"But you will go back right?" Evelyn asked. Her eyes were narrow, suspicious. Bart was reassured that he wasn't the only one who didn't approve of Chuck's choice.

"I will when I've seen this opportunity through to get some practical experience," Chuck said.

Bart carved into his beef and felt his jaw tighten. All Chuck had to do was go to school. He didn't have to worry about how he could afford it like he did. He didn't have to worry about putting a roof over his head like he did. He didn't have to worry about keeping his grades up high enough to maintain his scholarships like he did. He made sure that he didn't have to worry about being involved in the trial like he was. Now he has the audacity to throw it away? It insulted Bart.

"And what exactly is it that you, a nineteen-year-old college student, has to do that takes precedent over school?" Bart asked.

"Building my future," Chuck said.

"You have no future without an education," Bart said.

"Father, I didn't say I was dropping out. I'm just deferring for one semester."

Bart took a drink of his scotch. "It always starts that way. I met a lot of people when I was in school who walked away for one semester, and they never came back."

"I'm not one of those people," Chuck said.

"You better not," Bart said. "Because it gets you nowhere."

The table fell silent. Cutlery clattered and scratched plates. Everyone took sips of their drinks while avoiding each other's uncomfortable glances.

"Anyone ready for salad?" Kim said while holding up the bowl.

Bart sat back and watched the benign conversation start up at the table again. He watched Chuck scoop salad onto his plate curious why he came to speak to him now. Why did he show up tonight? The last time they spoke, Chuck made it clear he didn't want anything to do with him. What changed now? Chuck was up to something, and Bart was going to find out what it was.

"May I be excused?" Evelyn said.

"Of course, darling," Lily said.

"Thank you for dinner, Aunt Kim. It was delicious," Evelyn said.

"You're welcome dear."

Gradually, the table dispersed until Bart and Chuck remained, their glasses empty.

"Meet me in my office," Bart said. "So, we can discuss those matters of yours."

The more Bart thought about, the more he realized that he too had a few matters to discuss of his own.

---

Ozzy pushed his remaining rice and carrots around on his plate. His father had made pacholas for dinner, and Ozzy would have been able to enjoy the ancho chili flavoured beef more if he wasn't so uncomfortable.

Once Evelyn left, his father said nothing more about the incident. He brought the brown bag of groceries to the kitchen and began to cook dinner like it didn't happen. Yet, an uneasiness lingered like the sizzling hot oil that the pancholas were fried in.

Ozzy didn't know if he should just say something. Even if he did, what could he say?

His father dropped his fork on his plate and sighed. He pushed his chair away from the table and slouched back against the chair. He pulled his right forearm back to rest on the ear of the chair.

"I think we need to talk," his father said.

Ozzy kept his eyes on his plate. "About earlier?"

"Yes." He paused, his gaze not meeting Ozzy's. "When I gave you a key to my apartment, I thought you would know not to bring friends without permission when I'm not home."

"I'm sorry," Ozzy said. "I just thought you'd be okay with it because you've met Evelyn. I wasn't just going to bring whoever."

His father nodded. "Please ask next time."

"I will."

"How…" his father's voice trailed off, whether what he wanted to say was lost in translation or not, Ozzy couldn't say. "How can I say…You are safe?"

Ozzy stole a guarded glance at his father. "With Evelyn?"

His father gave a stiff nod.

"Yes. I mean, we haven't…"

"Have you?"

Ozzy's eyes fell to his plate. "Yeah."

"And you're always using protection, right?"

"Of course," Ozzy said sharply.

His father gave a nod. "Has Evelyn…"

"No. I mean, I don't think so. Actually, I…I'm not sure."

Ozzy assumed that Evelyn was a virgin despite the obvious fact that she dated Dash last year. The assumption placated him in a way. He didn't want to think about Evelyn being with another guy let alone Dash.

"If there's one thing I wish I knew when I was your age, it's that it's good to talk about these things. Sometimes we have different expectations, and even though you think you both want it, sometimes what you want pressures the other. You understand me?"

"I think so."

"What I'm trying to say is that even though you might be ready, Evelyn might not. She may say yes, then no later. It helps to talk about this before you're caught up in the moment. If you both can't talk about these things with each other, then you shouldn't be together."

The last thing Ozzy wanted to talk about was this. Right now.

"And next time, try to find a place with more privacy. The second bedroom in this apartment was meant for you."

"I promise this won't happen again," Ozzy said. "I didn't know what I was thinking."

His father smirked. "In that state, we don't think."

"Yeah," Ozzy said.

"if you have any questions…you can ask me."

Ozzy looked warily at his father. They had only met a handful of times, and now he was offering sex support? It was too much, too soon for Ozzy.

Each occasion he'd spent time with his father felt like he was meeting him for the first time. Over and over again. But this time was different. This conversation presented an opportunity where Ozzy could need and depend on his father for something. He would have a reason to come back to him as more than an estranged acquaintance. His father could have an invested interest in one part of his life, a part that Ozzy would much rather keep private.

"Okay," Ozzy said.

"I never talked about these things with mi papa. He was a devout Catholic, so my understanding of these things was very…simple then," His father said. "We don't have to be like that."

"Thanks," Ozzy said.

Ozzy's father patted his hand and stood. He checked his watch.

"You ready to watch some good football?"

"Are the New York Giant's playing?" Ozzy asked. He was a casual football fan, a fan who had no allegiance to team. He usually cheered for the team he lived closest to at the time.

"Not American football. Good football. What you call soccer."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Ozzy said.

His father turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. He found the Fox Deportes channel where two teams kicked a ball across a grassy pitch.

"Now this is the team you should care about," his father said.

Ozzy had to look at the top left side of the screen to figure out which team his father meant.

"Which team is that?"

"León!"

His father pointed to the players who wore a yellow jersey with a blue strip running across the collarbone.

"Do they win often?"

"Not often enough! The last time we won was the year before you were born."

Ozzy sat beside his father who grew more animated as the game progressed. León was down two to one against Universidad Nacional. His father's passion was infectious, and Ozzy found himself cheering alongside with him.

---

Evelyn knocked on Blair's apartment door shortly after dinner. She pulled down the edges of her shirt, checking once again if the shirt was correctly buttoned, feeling a new wave of embarrassment wash over her as she remembered the events of that afternoon.

Evelyn crossed her arms tight across her middle, wishing she could somehow erase the memory. The memory itself was growing a permanence of its own. The memory of the incident had grown larger in her mind than the actual moment.

Evelyn kicked at Blair's door lightly as she waited. Evelyn texted Blair on her way over, but Blair didn't respond. Evelyn banked on Blair being home on what was it, a Wednesday night, but it was a large assumption on her part. But she needed to talk to Blair about what happened, and Evelyn couldn't think of anyone else who would understand or know what to do than Blair.

The lock on the door clicked, and the door swung open revealing Blair's roommate, Joy. "Hey, Evelyn. What brings you here?"

"I need to talk to Blair. Is she here?"

"Yes," Joy said, stepping out of the way. "She's in her room studying."

Evelyn breezed into Blair's room without introduction. Blair's back faced her as her fingers clicked the keys on her laptop.

"I need your help," Evelyn said.

Blair spun around in her chair with an irritated look on her face. "Well hello to you too."

"I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced, but I need to talk to you."

Blair's wrinkles in between her eyes softened. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's awkward," Evelyn groaned.

Blair pointed to her bed. "Sit."

Evelyn sat on the edge of the bed with her feet firmly planted on the soft Turkish rug.

"What happened?" Blair asked.

Evelyn took a deep breath. "I went over to Ozzy's dad's apartment to study afterschool, and one thing led to another, and then his father walked in on us."

Blair suppressed a smile.

"Blair, this isn't funny," Evelyn said.

"You're right. This is downright tragic."

"Blair! Please. How am I going to face Ozzy's father again?"

"That depends. What state were you in when he walked in?"

Evelyn's cheeks warmed. "He saw me in my bra."

"Hm. It could have been worse," Blair said. "I think you just need to let this settle a bit, and when you're ready, you face him. It's likely that he feels the same way about this as you do, so I doubt he will bring it up again either."

Evelyn rubbed her eyes and groaned. "That's not the answer I was looking for."

"Most answers aren't," Blair said. "Is that what you're so worried about?"

Evelyn paused. "Well, there is something else."

"What is it?"

"I had this really weird dream last night. I was in this pink room, sitting on a bed when one of Madonna's song started playing."

"Sweetie, that's what we call a nightmare," Blair said.

"It turned into one," Evelyn said. "I turn around and see that Ozzy is lying down beside me."

"Ooh," Blair said. "Is this a sex dream?"

"It doesn't get that far. He asks me if we're going to do it, and I asked do what, and then he calls me a tease. Next thing you know, he opens the door ready to leave me where Catherine leads him away," Evelyn said.

"And who's Catherine again?"

"Carter Baizen's younger sister," Evelyn said rolling her eyes. "She and Ozzy have…history."

"Understood," Blair said.

"Do you think dreams try to tell you something, Blair?"

"Sometimes. When they're distressing, I think there's usually something subconscious that we're trying to work through. I've had my fair share of dreams featuring Audrey."

Evelyn stared at the intricate pattern on the Turkish rug. She wasn't sure what her mind was trying to work through. Things were going well with Ozzy. School was uneventful because everyone was focused on final exams. Sure, she was feeling stressed from her father's trial, but that wasn't the main focal point of the dream.

"If only I could figure out what it is," Evelyn said.

"You said Ozzy asked if you two were going to do it. Does that mean you feel pressure there?"

"No…not really. We've never really talked about it," Evelyn said. "I mean, I know he's not a virgin. He's never called me a tease either."

"It could very well mean nothing then," Blair said.

"I'm not so sure. I mean, when he said that, it didn't sound like him at all. It was if someone else's voice said it. I couldn't place it in the dream, but the more that I think about it… the more I'm convinced I know that voice."

"Do you remember anyone ever saying something like that to you?"

Evelyn was silent for a moment. "Yes actually. Dash did."

Suddenly, the dream took on a new meaning. The dream didn't have much to do with Ozzy or her father. It was about Dash.

Evelyn sprung to her feet and began pacing. Why would she be thinking about Dash now? She thought she had moved on from him. She hadn't spared a thought or word on him once for a while now.

"Blair," Evelyn said, pausing from her pacing. "Did you ever worry that you would get cheated on again after Nate?"

Blair paused. "Yes, but that faded over time."

"How?"

"I had to learn to trust again, and let time do the rest. It also didn't come without injuries along the way. Just because your first boyfriend cheated on you doesn't mean every boyfriend will."

Evelyn sat back down on the edge of Blair's bed. It was possible that her dream was a reflection of her insecurities that Dash's betrayal created. Deep down, maybe she was worried that if she didn't give Ozzy enough attention, that he'd leave her and look for it somewhere else like Dash did. If she didn't put out, then he would grow bored of her. It's not like she didn't want to have sex with Dash at the time. She did, but other circumstances got in the way.

"Think of it this way," Blair continued. "Ozzy is not Dash. Dash is not Ozzy. They're both different guys, right? You can't treat or compare the two of them because the circumstances for both relationships are completely different."

"You're right," Evelyn said. "Just because Dash cheated on me doesn't mean Ozzy will."

"Exactly," Blair said. "Have you and Ozzy talked about any of this?"

"No," Evelyn said. "We haven't been really doing much talking lately."

Blair smirked. "If he's as experienced as you say he is, has he been tested?"

"I don't know," Evelyn said. "Should I ask?"

"You have every right to know that he won't be passing on something more than love to you," Blair said.

Blair had a point. The number of pregnant women she saw alone last summer made her swear that she needed to be on the pill for a couple months before engaging in any sexual activity. Now, she didn't think of the other common problem with sexual health. And Ozzy had been with Catherine who had mono, so there was a chance, however small it was, that he was a carrier.

Evelyn's phone pinged. It was a text from Aunt Kim asking where she was.

"I have to go," Evelyn said, her gaze turning to Blair's computer for the first time. "What are you working on?"

Blair sighed and her phone began to ring. "My first foray into fashion journalism." She looked at the caller display. "And now I have a meeting with my pre-law society."

"Good luck with that," Evelyn said, nearing the door. "And Blair? Thanks. For listening."

"If you have any questions about this kind of stuff, you can ask me anytime."

Evelyn returned to the penthouse with a new sense of calm about the situation. It was going to be okay. She'd work past the awkwardness with Alejandro and talk things over with Ozzy tomorrow. She just hoped she didn't have any other bizarre dreams that night either.

---

"So, what did you want to discuss?" Bart asked.

Bart sat in his office chair. He raised his seat to have a better view of Chuck who sank into the couch along the wall of his office.

"Your trial," Chuck said plainly.

"What about it?" Bart said.

"The details. When is it happening, what are the possible outcomes, and if there's anything I need to know about it?"

"I thought I made it clear, Chuck," Bart said. "There's nothing you need to know or prepare for this trial."

"Is there any chance that I would be called to the stand?"

"No," Bart said. "That's something I have been preparing for."

Chuck folded one leg over the other. "What if a reporter tries to talk to me?"

"Then you have no comment," Bart said. "I know this trial is not ideal for you or Evelyn. I know that, and I'm sorry that has disrupted your life. My hope is that you and Evelyn are as far away from it as possible. I thought school would be a good distraction, and the campus community at Columbia might insulate you from the trial somewhat, but it seems you had other plans. Care to share what they are?"

Chuck drummed his hands on the armrest. "I have something that I need to do. For our family."

Bart leaned back in his chair; his arms folded across his chest. "And what might that be?"

For the first time since Christmas, Chuck looked him in the eye and said, "I'm going to win Bass Industries back from Jack."

Bart paused. He saw a determination in his son's eyes that was all too familiar. It was as if he were looking in a mirror.

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I still have to figure that out," Chuck said. "But I will."

Silence slithered between them as they both took a drink.

"Why," Bart said. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Because Bass Industries is ours, not Jack's," Chuck said. "And he's made it very clear that he has no intention of keeping Bass Industries in our family."

Bart nodded. "It won't be easy."

"I know," Chuck said. "But it will be worth it."

"If there's anything I can do," Bart said. "Just ask."

"Thanks, but I'm doing this on my own," Chuck said. "I wasn't going to tell you, but I thought you had a right to know."

"I appreciate that."

"Besides, I know you can keep a secret better than anyone," Chuck said.

Bart smirked. He was so good at keeping secrets, he even kept them from himself.

"Well, I'm off," Chuck said. He stood and buttoned his suit jacket. "If there are any updates regarding your case, I would want to know."

"And you will know," Bart said. Bart watched Chuck stuff his hands in pockets, something he picked up from him when he was six when Bart would walk and talk on the phone.

As he neared the door, Bart felt the urge to say something he often left unsaid. "Thank you for coming to see me, Chuck," Bart said.

Chuck paused at the door. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, he gave him a stiff nod and left.

---

Ozzy found Evelyn studying at one of the long library study tables the next afternoon. She was bent over her notebook, her pencil scribbling across a fresh page. Her lips were pursed, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her gaze darted from her textbook to her notebook and with a sigh she dropped her pencil and inspected her work.

"Hey," Ozzy said. He couldn't decide if he wanted to sit beside her or if he should keep his distance. "Finding more focus here?"

"A bit," Evelyn said. Her eyes remained glued to her page. She turned the notebook with a sudden motion to face him. "Can you solve this problem?"

"I guess we'll find out," Ozzy said. He bent over the table and scrawled an equation beside her neatly printed one. When he finished, he turned the notebook back in her direction.

"How did you…" He eyes scanned his work. "Oh my god. Seriously? I can't believe I forgot to cancel out the negative." Evelyn scrubbed her eraser against the page and brushed away the eraser residue.

"It happens," Ozzy said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Evelyn put her pencil down and looked up at him. "Want to join me?"

"I actually wanted to talk to you about yesterday," Ozzy said, pulling up a chair. "I'm sorry for…you know, bringing you over to my dad's place and…distracting you from your studies. It was—"

"Awkward," Evelyn said. "Every time I think of it, I relieve the embarrassment."

"I'm sorry," Ozzy said. "I know that wasn't the way you wanted to meet my dad again."

"You could say that again," Evelyn said, her cheeks turning pink.

"I just got caught up in the moment," Ozzy said. "After you left, I realized that we've never really talked about this kind of stuff before, like about us."

"That also crossed my mind," Evelyn said. "After yesterday, I just didn't know how to start that conversation."

Ozzy loosened the tie around his collar. "Yeah me neither."

Ozzy looked down at his hands, trying to find the right words. Evelyn also was equally tongue tied.

"I hope you didn't feel…pressured at all last night," Ozzy said. "Because if you did—"

Evelyn shook her head vehemently. "I didn't. The truth is…"

Evelyn's heartbeat began to race. "I-I want to be with you. I just, you know, I don't have as much experience as you."

The words came out with difficulty, and she felt exposed. Vulnerable.

"You know that doesn't matter right?" Ozzy said. "If that mattered, then I guess I don't have as much experience in having relationships like you do."

"That's a fair point," Evelyn said.

Ozzy sighed, weighing the importance of the next question he wanted to ask in his mind. "You don't need to spare any details because I know it's in the past, but… have you…done it?"

Evelyn's gaze fell on her paper. Her cheeks flushed, her fingers picking up her pencil and tapping it against the coils of the notebook. "No."

Ozzy looked surprised and somewhat relieved.

"But it's not like I haven't done anything either," Evelyn said.

Ozzy put his hand over hers, stopping the tapping of her pencil.

"I know I don't have the experience like other girls you've been with, but I do want more," Evelyn said. "And I'll tell you if I don't or if I'm not comfortable."

Ozzy nodded. "Okay."

Evelyn felt relief wash over her. "You know, I have to say that I did feel a little pressure before we went to your dad's place yesterday, but not for the reason you think."

"Okay?"

"I know this is irrational, but I just worry that you'll grow bored of me and move on with someone else."

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. I just…worry about that after how things ended with Dash."

"You don't have to worry about that because you are anything but boring," Ozzy said. "And because I want to be with you. Only you. Look, from my experience, you can have sex with anyone. Anytime. But you can't be with just anyone. I wouldn't throw away what we have that carelessly."

"Me neither," Evelyn said. "I just didn't realize that I developed that fear. I thought you should know that because I don't want it to be a problem now or later."

"It won't be," Ozzy said.

"Good," Evelyn said. "Now I have something I need to ask you. About this stuff."

"Shoot."

Evelyn felt her throat tighten. "Have you ever gotten tested?"

"No," Ozzy said in a sharp tone. "Why?"

"Well, since you have been with other people, I would feel more comfortable if you got one done."

"But I've never had an STD."

"I never said you did. I just want to eliminate the possibility that you're a carrier. I trust you, and I know the chances of you having anything are super low, but I just want to be sure," Evelyn said.

Ozzy's jaw tightened. Perhaps it was his pride at stake, but a big part of him wanted to say no. He knew he had nothing, so why should he have to go through the process of getting tested?

"I don't even know where I would go to get that done," Ozzy said.

"There are clinics all over the city," Evelyn said. She leaned forward and placed her hand on his forearm. "Would you do it for me? Please?"

Her blue eyes were imploring, and he had yet to find a reason to say no to Evelyn.

"Yeah," Ozzy sighed. "I'll do it."

Evelyn kissed him lightly, her face brightened. "Thank you."

"Is there anything else you want to ask me?" Evelyn continued.

Ozzy shook his head. "Nope."

"I'm glad we were able to talk about this."

"Me too."

"Say, remember on our first date, I said I'd think of something we don't normally do?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I thought of something. Skating."

"Skating?"

Evelyn nodded. "Have you skated before?"

Ozzy bristled. "A couple times."

"So, this is something you possibly fear?"

"I don't have a fear of skating."

"Then it shouldn't be problem then. The weather this week is perfect for it."

"Fine. We'll go for a skate," Ozzy said flatly.

Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek to resist laughing. He not only agreed to get tested, but also to go skating. She knew he didn't care for winter sports. She could see in his slouched posture and scowl that he'd rather do anything but skate, but he said yes for her.

Evelyn clapped her hands together. "Ozzy, you're going to love it."

---

Chuck flagged the bartender from the end of the frosted glass bar for a refill. How long he'd been lounging there, Chuck couldn't say. He watched the bartender pour the amber liquor in his waiting glass, the ice cubes knocking against one another. Chuck swirled the fresh pour and set it down on the cocktail napkin.

Chuck had a lot on his mind since he spoke with his father earlier that evening. He didn't get as many details as he hoped, but he was used to that. His father remained cagey about the trial, and Chuck wasn't sure what to make of his cautious doubt with his attempt to take Bass Industries back from Jack.

"I thought we agreed you would wait for me," Blair said. She hopped on the bar stool beside him. Her shorter legs dangled as she adjusted herself on the seat.

"You're just in time for my refill," Chuck said.

"Your meeting with Bart went that well, huh?" Blair said. The bartender approached Blair, and she ordered a dry martini.

"It went as well as could be expected," Chuck said.

"Which is…"

"It was full of empty reassurances and vague details for his trial."

"It's starting next week, right?"

Chuck nodded. "We didn't talk much about it. He insists that it's better that the less involved Evelyn and I are with the trial, the better."

"He has a point, doesn't he?"

"That's not the point Blair. He's still hiding things from us, and I can't help but think that there are more scandals that will be revealed in this trial, and we won't be prepared for it." Chuck took a sip of his drink. "I also told him about our plan to take down Jack."

Blair's eyes bulged. "You what?"

"I didn't plan to, but I had to tell him."

"Chuck! I thought this was just between us," Blair said.

"I know, and it still is. Don't get your La Perla's in a bunch. Bart won't say anything. He out of anyone can keep a secret," Chuck said.

"While that might be true, I don't understand. Why would you tell him?"

"I had to tell him that I deferred for the semester, and he wouldn't let up when asking why, so I told him."

The bartender returned with Blair's martini. She pinched the stem of the glass, the tips of her fingernails gone white.

"And what did he say?" Blair said after a pause.

"Aside from his doubts, he said if we need anything, we can ask him," Chuck said.

"Oh," Blair said. "Does that mark his stamp of approval?"

"I've learned long ago to never aim for that Blair because it's unreachable," Chuck said. "I told him that we don't need his help anyway and that we're doing this on our own."

Chuck didn't miss his father's doubtful tone when he asked what Chuck's plan was. He seemed skeptical, as if Chuck wasn't capable of taking down Jack. While his first attempt a couple weeks ago failed, he wasn't going to give up. Not now.

Now that Chuck tasted failure, he had nothing left to lose. He had to be all in.

"We are doing this on our own," Blair said, raising her glass. "Together."

Chuck clicked his glass with hers and drained his glass. Blair's phone buzzed, and she checked it with a sigh.

"I have to take this. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I have to go anyway. Get some work done."

He hadn't given any time to work on their next viable scheme today, so it was about time he started. He worked better at night anyway.

"If you find a lead, let me know," Blair said. She gave him a kiss and left with the phone glued to her ear.

If he was going to find a lead, he needed to start at the beginning. Start at the drawing board and rethink his strategy moving forward. If he were honest to himself, he'd admit that the endeavor daunted him. But he had to start somewhere. His future depended on it.

---

Bart sat in Frank's office the next afternoon with a thick one-and-a-half-inch binder of documents on his lap. The binder compiled all of the documents to help prepare Bart for the trial, organized with colourful tabs to help Bart quickly flip through each section at a moment's notice. While Bart was despondent in anticipation of the trial, he was pleased to know that he was getting his money's worth with his legal team.

"Let's talk witnesses," Frank said. "Your brother's team confirmed that they have several. One of them being Douglas Hunter. Does this ring any bells for you?"

"Yes," Bart said. "He was the witness to the fire and called the cops to the scene."

"Very well," Frank said. "They are going to use him to prove their case of course, so we'll need to have ours. You mentioned to me that your sister-in-law was in the picture at the time?"

"She had just moved out of the city a couple months prior to the fire," Bart said. "She got a job and settled with her fiancée at the time. Kim was the first person I called when I was at the hospital."

"She wasn't there during that night, but she could speak to the months leading up? Perhaps she could speak to your character?" Frank said.

"Yes. We weren't on the best terms then, but we've since made amends."

"We can work with that," Frank said. "Who else was involved with this?"

Bart's gaze remained focused and cold. "My brother of course."

"Ah yes," Frank said. "We'll definitely need to cross-examine him." He took a drink from his maroon coloured Harvard mug. "What about Misty's parents?"

"They passed away years ago."

"Anyone else? Perhaps someone you worked closely with at Bass Industries at the time?"

"Philip Montgomery," Bart said. "He was one of the first investors, and he was involved with business matters at the time. We've been good friends ever since."

"That's also helpful. He can validate your business goals at the time and what was going on in your work life at the time." Frank scribbled a couple notes. "We'll need to contact both Kim and Philip to ask them to testify before court. Should they be cooperative, this won't be a problem."

Bart's thoughts drifted to Kim after Frank said cooperative. Although they made amends, Bart wasn't sure that Kim would willingly speak to his credibility in a court of law.

"And if they aren't cooperative?" Bart asked.

"We can force them to testify by issuing a subpoena, but we won't worry about that unless it's necessary." Frank leaned back in his chair, his ruddy cheeks especially red today. "We'll also need to prepare them for it, you know, answering questions in a court of law from our team and how to answer questions when cross-examined by Jack's team. We will also need to coach you too."

"To testify, right?"

"Yes."

Great. He knew it was inevitable, but he wasn't any more enthusiastic about it.

"Your brother's team will do their best to try to catch any small detail when cross-examining you. We'll coach you on what to say, how to say it, and how to conduct yourself on your body language too. The unsaid is just as important in court as what is said."

"Which is why I have this binder?"

"Treat it as your Bible," Frank said. "The best thing you can do is keep your story, your truth, consistent. There are lots of tedious and technical details that will be asked of you, and even the slightest lapse will cause you to lose credibility. Study the binder we've given you, and we'll walk you through the rest over the next few days as well as through the trial."

Bart leafed through the pages, feeling an eerie déjà vu to his school days where he poured over his economics textbooks at the public library. He had no distractions then. No cellphones. Pagers. Or responsibilities outside himself. He had something he knew he was running out of. Time.

"I better get to studying," Bart said.

"Please do," Frank said. "And it's not about memorizing what's in the binder. It's about having the instinctual knowledge of what information is where when referenced during the trial, and how it correlates to your story. I want you to think that your story is the only story."

"I think many people would disagree with you, Frank."

"We're not moralizing here. We're strategizing. The prosecution is going to try and break you down and exploit any errors or lapses in your story to cast doubt on your credibility. The best thing you can do is to make sure that you are well versed in your story. You are innocent, aren't you?"

"I think so," Bart said after a pause.

"Then act like it. If you want a shot at winning this trial, you'll need to be on your game at all times."

Bart looked down at the binder and lifted the front cover. He examined the crisp edges of the pages that stacked on top of one another, the pressure fusing them together. Bart felt like every drop of his story would be squeezed between the pages. It would be twisted and mangled by the prosecutors first and then the media.

No matter how much truth Bart revealed in his story during the trial, it would probably be molded into something else. There was something to be said to keeping your story private. To keep the prying eyes of the public out of your life was an intentional choice for Bart, and it was a choice he no longer had.

Bart closed the front cover of the binder and cradled it out of Frank's office like he would if he were carrying a new book in the middle of a thunderstorm.

---

Blair pressed the delete button and watched the printed black letters disappear off the page. It had been days since her meeting with Liz, and Blair was no closer to having a list of ideas to pitch to her tomorrow. With one window open to Liz's column and another open to her blank Microsoft word document, Blair was starting to panic. She was always someone who could come up with a vision and run with it. Order by it. But the task Liz had given her seemed impossible. How could she write a fashion column about budgeting? Who restricted fashion like that?

Blair scrolled through Liz's latest column again wondering if this was all a bad idea from the start. Sure, the prospect of taking over Liz's column and making it her own was tempting, but what could she possibly contribute to it? Blair's idea of fashion was couture, right off the runway, not some fast fashion copy. Blair didn't like to share her fashion secrets, she liked to flaunt them.

Blair typed out a couple more ideas, but quickly deleted them. Perhaps she could pitch a redesign to Liz. Take a more Vogue approach and discuss the art behind fashion. Or even better, talk about the history of fashion in relation to the trends that are resurging in the spring collections.

Blair heard a knock on her door, and she'd never been more relieved for an interruption. She was quickly devolving down a bad idea rabbit hole.

"Hello, again," Evelyn said. She was wearing her school uniform, her signature white shoes replaced with black knee-high winter boots. "I remembered to knock this time."

"And I thank you for that," Blair said, rising from her desk chair. "Let me guess. More trouble in lover's paradise?"

"No actually," Evelyn said, adjusting her school bag over her shoulder. "I took your advice, and I talked to Ozzy about everything."

"And?"

"I think it went well. It wasn't easy, sometimes at bit awkward, but I feel much better having done it. We talked about where we're at in our relationship and cleared the air on any concerns either of us were having."

"That's great news," Blair said and returned to her desk chair. While she was floundering on her fashion advice, Blair was uplifted to hear that her relationship advice was of help and value.

"I also asked him if he'd get tested like you suggested," Evelyn said.

Blair arched her brow. She knew how touchy men could be about the subject, and Blair wasn't sure if that piece of advice would help or harm Evelyn's relationship with Ozzy.

"And what did he say?"

"He was a little put off by it at first, but he agreed."

"Good. If he said no, then that would be reason enough to ditch him."

"Well thank God he passed the test."

"Here's hoping he passes the next one with flying colours," Blair said.

Evelyn chuckled. "I just wanted to come by and say thank you. It really means a lot to know that I can come to you to talk about this stuff with."

"Like I said, anytime," Blair said.

Evelyn saw Blair's February edition of Vogue cracked open. "What's new with you? Working on a fashion project?"

"You could say that," Blair sighed. "I met up with the student newspaper's fashion columnist to discuss a proposition to be her guest columnist."

"Blair, that's awesome."

"It was until I realized that her column is about staying fashionable on a budget. Here I thought I would get some good exposure with hopes to build a resume to get an internship at Vogue, and I ended up working with Neiman Marcus Last Call."

"I'm sure you can work with that."

"I thought so too, but every idea I have doesn't fit the word budget."

"Well, what ideas do you have?"

Blair turned to her computer and noted the blank screen staring back at her.

"Right now, none," Blair said.

Evelyn placed her bag beside Blair's dresser and came over to Blair's desk. "How many ideas do you need?"

"I need to pitch her a list of ideas, so I was thinking of coming up with five to run by her."

"What kinds of things has she written in the past?"

"She's written about where to find the best consignment shops, best practices for online shopping to get the best deal on designer wears, and she breaks down each season's new trends, that kind of stuff."

"Okay," Evelyn said. "So why don't you write about window shopping at Saks and then find out where to get that look?"

"Liz has already written a lot about that," Blair said. She still shivered at the thought of comparing her Chanel to a knock off.

"I'm sure you can find something. Blair, you're like the queen of fashion."

"I know, but I lead by example, not through tips," Blair said.

"You don't have to lead through tips," Evelyn said. "Although I do remember you being really good at putting looks together for other people. Myself included."

Evelyn did have a point. But how could that skill be translated to the page?

As Evelyn adjusted her Constance skirt, Blair noted that she wore more accessories than she remembered. Evelyn wore diamond studded leverback earrings and a chain length necklace with a golden locket hanging at the bottom. She also wore a cardigan with a thin black belt around her waist.

Blair thought back to her Constance days where she had to come up with creative solutions to personalize her uniform. It was the only way to break up the monotony of wearing the same look each day.

"Evelyn do you wish you didn't have to wear a uniform every day?" Blair asked.

"I'm okay with it," Evelyn said picking up a copy of Vogue. "Makes it easier to not have to put together an outfit every morning."

Evelyn sat on Blair's bed and leafed through the pages. "It's too bad you can't just suggest a uniform based on next season's collection."

"Wait a minute," Blair said, springing up from her chair. "Evelyn, you may be on to something."

Evelyn flipped another glossy page. "I am?"

"What if I curate a look book based on next season's trends? Each column I write has a different theme to the look."

"I like it," Evelyn said. "It's like you can help people put the look together or in the very least, give people ideas."

Blair returned to her desk and started typing the idea out. Her phone buzzed on the table, but she pressed the ignore button. She was on the brink of a breakthrough. Whoever was on the phone could wait.

"Oh! You know what else you could do?" Evelyn said. "Each look should be a mix and match. Each collection you make can span the week and all the looks someone would need for that. That's always a go-to for budgeting."

Blair, who was unfamiliar to the concept of mixing and matching, knew she could adapt to make that happen. She typed Evelyn's idea into her word document. That would definitely fit Liz's budgeting theme.

"It would be like making a fashion uniform as a seasonal reference," Evelyn said.

Blair could see it now. She was already pulling outfits together, shoes, accessories, all of it. More ideas were spawning from this idea, and Blair typed and talked through them with Evelyn for the next hour.

Who would have thought that our very own B has gone from being Queen B to Fashion Godmother? With a wave of a wand, anything is possible.

---

Ozzy struggled with the lock to his dad's apartment that evening. He turned the key once, twice even, and the key was jammed. It wasn't until he gave a firm tug that the lock gave way, opening the door.

Ozzy's stomach growled from the mouth-watering smell that wafted from the kitchen. The smell of garlic, onion, and a blended ancho chilis filled the apartment. Ozzy followed the scent to the kitchen where his father and a Pyrex dish of pechuga de pollo adobado were waiting.

"Óscar?"

"It's me," Ozzy said.

"I was just about to call you. Where were you?"

Ozzy felt the receipt from the health clinic burn in his pocket. "I had an appointment, but they were running behind. Sorry I'm late."

"That's okay," his father said. "I'm not known to be on time myself."

Ozzy helped his father bring out the food onto the table, and they started eating. His father was a slow, methodical eater. He chewed his food in an unhurried way, and Ozzy quickly learned that he wasn't intent on keeping dinner table conversation idle.

"How was school today?"

"Fine," Ozzy said while shovelling food in his mouth.

"What kinds of things did you learn today?"

Ozzy took a minute to chew the saucy chicken and swallowed. "Nothing. It was all review. Finals are coming up."

"And Evelyn?"

"Fine."

His father put down his fork and leaned back in his chair. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Seems like something's bothering you."

As much as Ozzy didn't want to follow-up with their sex talk a couple days ago, he knew he had to tell his father something because he wasn't going to let up.

"It's not a big deal. My appointment was to get a test done, and I have to wait a couple days to get the results."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm fine. It's just a formality really."

Ozzy's father frowned. He had stopped eating minutes before, as if the more Ozzy explained, the more concerned he became.

"I talked to Evelyn like you said, and we worked things out. She asked me to get tested. I mean, it's not that I've have symptoms or anything, but just in case I'm a carrier."

His father dipped his head in an exaggerated nod of understanding. "That was a very responsible thing to do."

"Yeah," Ozzy said while running a hand through his hair. It was something he probably should have done a long time ago, but it wasn't something he was running to go get done.

"I wish you would have told me," his father said. "I could have told you what to expect."

"It's okay," Ozzy said. "I just wanted to go alone."

In many ways, he still felt like he was meeting and getting to know his father. If they were to have any form of a relationship, Ozzy wanted to put in some boundaries.

"I hope you know that you don't have to do things alone now," his father said.

"I know," Ozzy said. "It's just," Ozzy paused to collect his thoughts, an attempt he'd been working on to better articulate himself, "We're still getting to know each other. I'm not there yet to talk about this stuff."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ozzy felt a weight lift off his chest. For once, he felt like he actually said what he needed to say when he needed to say it. And he found the right words to say it.

"Of course," His father said quietly and picked up his fork. He resumed his methodical eating and chewed on his food thoughtfully.

As much as Ozzy wanted to have a relationship with his father, it was going to take time. He was willing to make the time, and it seemed like his father was too, so he was content to put up some guardrails on their way to chart their relationship. Sometimes, acting with caution was necessary.

As they cleaned the dishes, Ozzy's phone rang. It was his mom.

"Ozzy? Where are you?"

"Mom, I told you. I'm having dinner at dad's tonight."

"Oh, right," His mom said, her voice deflating. "I thought you were only going to be going over once a week?"

There was something off with the way she asked the question. It came off like an accusation.

"I didn't realize I was only allowed to visit once a week."

Ozzy's father made a great attempt at pretending he wasn't listening to the conversation while he washed the pots and pans in the sink.

Ozzy wandered away from the kitchen, the phone pressed against his ear.

"That's not true," His mom sighed. "I just thought you'd be home for dinner is all. Everyone was wondering where you've been. It feels like we've barely seen you this week."

"We just finished dinner, so I'll be coming home soon."

"Okay. Say hi to your father for me."

Ozzy hung up and returned to the kitchen.

---

"I have to say, I'm impressed," Liz said as she sat across from Blair in her cluttered apartment the next afternoon. "You have a well of ideas."

Liz leafed through Blair's proposal. Not only did Blair come up with a list of ideas to pitch Liz, but Blair also took what she considered her strongest idea and wrote a draft that included pictures so Liz could have an example of what her style and tone would sound like.

"This would be a start," Blair said. "And I think this would be a nice compliment with your current features."

When Blair initially arrived, she had to remove a shoe that was lodged in between the magenta seat cushions and her back before she could find a comfortable position. She kept her Chanel close, guarded with both hands in her lap.

"I love the idea of making a uniform based on the seasons' upcoming looks. I'd love to see a column on floral prints and the maxi and mini dress comeback."

Blair smiled to herself. Okay, so maybe there could be a compromise with fashion. She could still talk about haute couture and show the best way she would make the look herself, and everyone else could do what they wanted with that information.

"Here's what we'll do," Liz said. She pulled her laptop onto her lap and started typing. "I'll schedule you in to write two columns next month that are staggered every other week in publication. We go to print on Wednesday evenings, so submit your final draft on Monday at five so the proofreading team has enough time to look through to make copy edits."

"Done and done," Blair said.

"If you have any questions or need help at any point, don't hesitate to call me. I can assure you I'll respond faster through phoning me direct instead of email," Liz said.

"Likewise," Blair said. She felt her phone buzzing in her Chanel but left it. It was probably Chuck sending her another scheme idea to take down his Uncle Jack.

"I'm really excited to see where this partnership goes, Blair," Liz said. She offered her hand, and Blair shook it.

"So am I."

Blair stood and clutched her bag close to her. She didn't want to make it obvious that she wanted to leave Liz's overstuffed apartment, that in Blair's opinion looked like it vomited the formula inside a lava lamp, so she continued her small talk with Liz as they ambled to her front door.

"I look forward to reading your column in two weeks."

Blair waved her goodbye and hurried down the cumin smelling hallway toward the waiting elevator. Blair exhaled heavily once the doors closed. She unlatched her purse and pulled out her phone. She expected a message from Chuck and wondered what kind of scheme he thought up this time.

But it hadn't been Chuck who called her. It was Heather from Locke and Key demanding Blair to call her back.

Once the elevator doors parted, Blair dialled her number.

"Hello?"

"Heather, it's Blair. I'm sorry I missed your call. Is something wrong?"

"Yes actually," Heather said, her voice tart. "Where are you right now?"

"I was just leaving a meeting. Why?"

Heather sighed. "Did you forget about our meeting? For Council members?"

Council meetings were help once a week for members who help positions to discuss and plan things that would be presented during their general meetings.

Blair stopped walking. "I thought that was starting next Thursday."

"No, it's happening right now, and we can't start it without all of our VPs present."

Blair's blood froze. "Oh my God. I completely forgot. I-I'm on my way now."

"Don't bother. We'll just mark you as absent. Blair, are you sure you can handle the responsibilities required for this position?"

"Of course, I can!" Blair said. "This is just a misunderstanding. A one off. Heather, I promise you it won't happen again."

"I hope you're right," Heather said. "Blair, I hope you know that I just want to see you do well here. I'm just trying to look out for you, and if other forces in your life make all of this too much for you, you can tell me."

"I do know that," Blair said. "And I assure you that I can handle this. This won't happen again."

Heather hung up leaving Blair to stare at her phone, aghast.

How did she forget about meeting? She diarized everything in her planner and phone, and she received no notification from either. It may have been a rookie mistake, but Blair had to admit that she had a lot of things to remember as of late.

Perhaps Heather did have a point after all. Between Chuck's crusade, Locke and Key, working with Liz, schoolwork, and helping Evelyn, maybe she was starting to stretch herself too thin. But she could handle it. She had to. If she couldn't handle the stress and responsibilities she had now, how could she expect to progress and flourish in her life later? She had always trained herself to work hard and honour her commitments above all else.

Blair hailed a cab and offed to pay the driver double to get her to St. Anthony Hall in ten minutes. She may be late, but Blair was determined to prove to Heather and herself that she could and would handle it.

Uh oh B. Having too many irons in the fire can leave more than burns on your hands.

---

Evelyn set her ice skates on the freshly steamed limo carpet with one hand while she held a cup of hot chocolate in the other. She took the last sip of the sweet milky drink, feeling it warm her insides all the way down to her stomach.

Ozzy tossed his skates next to hers with an irritated huff.

"Need some help?" Evelyn said. She set her empty coffee cup in the side cup holder.

Ozzy slammed the car door and settled back in his seat. "Nope. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? The last fall was pretty nasty."

"I know."

"That one speed skater almost cut your finger off."

Ozzy rubbed his hands together. "I remember."

When Evelyn suggested they go ice staking, she didn't expect Ozzy to struggle as much as he did. She figured that since he was so good in the water, that water in another form wouldn't be a problem. She couldn't have been more wrong, and Ozzy would probably have the bruises to prove it.

"Want me to kiss it better?" Evelyn asked with a laugh.

Ozzy's pursed lips broke into a slight smile. "It's the least you could do after suggesting this awful idea."

"And your swimming lesson was any better?"

"Yes. You actually learned something important from my lesson."

"So, did you from mine."

"Yeah. I learned that skating is incredibly overrated not to mention crowded."

"There were too many people on the rink, I'll give you that," Evelyn said. "If only I could have given you a private lesson."

Evelyn caressed his cold cheek and kissed him softly. His nose was frosty against her cheek.

"I can think of other subjects that our lessons could cover," Ozzy said, his lips on her throat.

"Like what?"

"Ones that don't need three layers of clothing," Ozzy said, his cold hands pressing against her skin on her back.

Evelyn inhaled sharply from the sensation of his cold hands on her warm skin. "I would sign up for that, but wouldn't I need a permission slip first?"

"About that," Ozzy said.

He unzipped his coat and produced an envelope.

"What's this?"

"The test results. I already looked at them. They found nothing."

Evelyn opened the envelop and reviewed the results anyway. She didn't doubt Ozzy's claim, but she was curious to see what the report looked like from a scientific perspective.

"Thank you for doing this," Evelyn said. She folded the paper back into its envelope. "What was it like?"

"Well, I didn't get a lollypop after like you do at the doctor's office," Ozzy said.

"That bad?"

"Just uncomfortable. But it's done."

"Aren't you happy that you now know for sure though?"

"If you feel better about it, than that's what I'm most happy about."

Evelyn kissed him again. Despite the cold, she felt herself thaw in Ozzy's embrace and with that thaw, she felt a greater closeness to him. It was not only a physical closeness driven by desire, but it was an emotional closeness that was strong enough to endure any difficult or awkward conversation. Most of all, it was a closeness that made her feel more at ease with her vulnerabilities.

"Is there anything I can do to show my appreciation?" Evelyn said, her voice husky.

Ozzy captured her lips with his and sucked on her lower lip. Evelyn felt waves of pleasure course through her. A tender ache of want reignited in her lower belly.

The limo rolled to a stop, and Ozzy opened the door. They were outside his dad's apartment building.

"This time, I promise we have complete privacy," Ozzy said.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive," Ozzy flashed his phone showing a text conversation with his father.

Ozzy pulled the phone back, his lips turning to a concerned frown. "Unless…you don't want to?"

Before, she would have been afraid and intimidated at the prospect of being in such a vulnerable position. This time, she felt calm. She knew what she wanted, how much she wanted it, and now, she had the words to make both clear.

Evelyn stepped out of the limo. "I want to," She said.

Ozzy pulled her by the hand toward the building's front doors.

As they waited for the elevator, Ozzy asked, "Is there…anything you have in mind?"

"I just want us to be together."

The elevator door slid open, and this time, it was Evelyn who pulled him inside.

Once Ozzy unlocked the apartment door, they kicked off their wet boots and shrugged out of their coats. Evelyn felt lighter once she shed the heaviest layer, and felt Ozzy hook his arm around her waist, pulling her back to him.

They kissed as they stumbled down the hall. Ozzy's free hand groped the white walls for the door to his room. Evelyn hadn't seen the inside of Ozzy's room from her visit earlier this week, and she barely noticed anything about it now. The room was dark with a double bed dressed in white linens. A small closet with mirrored doors reflected the yellow streetlights outside.

"Can I ask you something?" Evelyn said, drawing her hands to rest on his chest. "Have you ever… fantasized about me?"

Ozzy's hands cupped her bottom. "Of course."

"What was it like?"

"Well…you know…good?"

"You know, I've never felt that complete release before."

Ozzy gave a slight nod, an understanding registering in his eyes. "You haven't?"

"Well, I have tried a couple times myself, but I don't think I got there."

"Here's an idea," Ozzy said. "Let's do something about that."

Ozzy lifted Evelyn and carried her over to the bed. Evelyn watched him take off his sweater with ease, his bare torso lean and muscular. Ozzy's knees sunk into the bed and he hovered over her where he began to kiss her mouth before moving down her jaw and to her neck.

Evelyn's hands grazed the heat on his back, feeling the ripples of muscles along the way. Evelyn felt her body heat up with every kiss and felt the need to peel off another layer.

"Ozzy?"

"Yeah?" Ozzy said after pulling away from her.

Evelyn tugged at the ends of her sweater and peeled it up her torso and rib cage. Her criss-crossed arms stuck over her face causing Evelyn to laugh.

"Let me help you," Ozzy said. He tossed her sweater to the side and leaned in to kiss her again.

Evelyn began to feel many sensations buzz all over her body. Ozzy trailed kisses from her mouth to her stomach, blazing a path of pleasure that Evelyn hadn't felt in a long time.

With each wave of pleasure, the bolder she became. She rolled over, so she was on top and in control. Evelyn hovered over him, feeling a sense of power and desire to explore. That was when she began to learn what Ozzy liked. She nibbled his ear lobe, kissed him while darting her tongue back and forth playfully, and let her hands wander over his skin and lingered over his pants, which were starting to feel noticeably tighter.

Ozzy's grip tightened around her waist and he swiftly flipped them, so he was hovering over her again. He unbuttoned her pants, which began to feel stifling. Ozzy's hands gripped her bare thighs, and he began to massage them. His hands dipped between her legs as he continued to massage her inner thighs.

"How does this feel?" He said in a low tone.

Evelyn griped onto his balmy arms, as she began to lose her ability to focus on anything other than Ozzy's movement.

"Really good."

"How about this?"

Ozzy's fingers dipped underneath her underwear, and Evelyn inhaled sharply. His index finger circled around her core. Ozzy swooped in for a long kiss that left her breathless while he continued to touch her, his fingers moving around and over her centre careful not to apply too much pressure to such a sensitive spot.

"Just tell me if you want me to stop."

"Don't stop," Evelyn exhaled, her breathes getting shallower and shallower. She shook her head from side to side as she moaned with pleasure. There was no stopping now. There would nothing but unfulfilled disappointment if they stopped now.

Ozzy kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, her chest while his hand further explored her.

"Do you want more?" He said, his voice strained.

"Yes," Evelyn moaned. "Please."

Without warning, Ozzy pushed one of his fingers inside her. She gasped; her body momentarily disoriented by the intrusion. He began to swirl and pump in and out of her, and while Evelyn initially felt discomfort, it faded. With each pump, his thumb still grazing her centre, Evelyn felt the waves of pleasure get stronger.

"Ozzy," Evelyn moaned. "Don't stop."

Ozzy grunted; his eyes scrunched closed in an attempt to maintain his composure.

The waves of pleasure continued to get stronger, the lapses in between each wave grew shorter and shorter.

Evelyn felt Ozzy's laboured breathing on the shell of her ear. "Look at me when it happens."

Evelyn locked eyes with Ozzy and felt the tense anticipation culminate in a consuming tidal wave of pleasure wash over her. "Oh, ohhh, OHHHH."

Ozzy watched as Evelyn's eyes once locked with his rolled back, as she rode the wave of pleasure for the first time. It was euphoric, exhilarating, and full of rapture.

Ozzy released his slick fingers from her and got to his feet quickly.

"Where are you going?" Evelyn asked.

The swinging door bounced against the wall in response.

Evelyn lied on the bed feeling her body grow pleasantly still and relaxed. She revelled in the feeling of release, marvelling in how it happened and how she swelled with pleasure. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before.

Ozzy returned a couple minutes later, sheepish, with his own tension relieved. He lied next to her and asked, "So?"

Evelyn rolled onto her side and curled up beside him with a lazy smile on her face. "I totally get it now."

Ozzy tightened his grip around her. "There's no turning back now."

"Good because I don't want to," Evelyn said. She brushed her fingers over the few chest hairs that sprouted on his sternum. "Why did you leave so quickly?"

"I had to take care of my own...you know."

"I could have helped take care of it," Evelyn said.

"You would?"

Evelyn ran her fingers down the middle of his chest and over his pants, cupping her fingers along the inseam. "Is that a surprise?"

"No," Ozzy said. "I wasn't really thinking."

Evelyn returned her hand to rest on his chest, her head leaning on Ozzy's shoulder. Her eyelids began to droop, a feeling of contentment stilling everything around her.

"Ozzy?"

"Yeah."

I've fantasized about you too, you know."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"Which was better so far? Real Ozzy or dream Ozzy?"

"Real obviously," Evelyn said.

"Good," Ozzy said while draping a blanket over them. "Because real Evelyn is out of this world."

---

Bart leafed through his binder while yellow flames flickered through the metal grated fireplace. Bart sipped his scotch, as he read through the meticulously composed documents. Lily had gone up to bed early due to a migraine, and the kids were out leaving Bart sipping his drink alone that night.

The elevator pinged, which was a welcome distraction to Bart. He supposed it would be either Eric or Evelyn returning home, to which he would be welcome with curt responses and downcast eyes. Instead, Bart was met with a friendly face instead.

"Philp," Bart said. He shut his binder and got to his feet. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"I was in the neighbourhood for dinner, and I thought I'd drop by if you were in," Philip said.

"You thought right," Bart said. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Of course. I'll have what you're having."

Bart poured a glass for Philip with a steady hand. "How are things?" Bart said.

With Philip, there was no need for pleasantries and polite small talk. They always got right to the point of things.

Philip accepted his glass and unbuttoned his suit jacket, so he could sit down comfortably.

"Not as bad as they are for you," Philip said.

Bart raised his glass. "Cheers to that."

Philip cleared his throat. "In all seriousness, it's been stressful. We finally were able to push away the corporate espionage charge, so there will be no trial."

Bart knew there was no reason for a trial. For Philip's accused crime was nothing but a reprimand for his involvement in Bart's attempt to remove Jack's leverage against him. He was innocent.

"I'm so pleased to hear that," Bart said. "I'll admit, I felt partially responsible for that happening to you in the first place."

"Don't be, Bart," Philip said. "You have enough on your plate as is, and I know your brother Jack was behind it. We made a deal, so he would drop the charges."

Bart's ears perked up.

"What kind of deal?"

"One that meant I couldn't sue him for false charges, and he couldn't fire me from Bass Industries."

While Bart was disappointed to hear that Jack was protected again, he was relieved to hear that Philip was still in a senior position at Bass Industries and couldn't be moved.

"I see," Bart said. "Jack's all about making deals these days."

"I'm just happy to have it behind me. It was really putting a lot of stress on Ruby and me. I'm sure you know what that's like."

Bart took another drink. "I do. How are the boys handling it?"

"Oh, they're fine," Philip said. "Just a blip in the road for them. How are your kids?"

"They're still processing," Bart said. "It's been a lot for them."

Philip nodded. "They're more resilient than you think. They'll come around."

They both took another drink and sat in silence for a few beats.

"I heard your trial starts next week?"

Bart nodded and pointed to the binder. "I've been preparing."

"I don't envy you," Philip said.

"Did you receive a call from my lawyer's office?"

"About testifying? Yes."

"I meant to call you before they did. Are you okay with testifying?"

"Of course," Philip said. "Anything I can do to help is what I will do."

"Thanks, Philip. I appreciate that."

"Listen. I know it's going to be hard, but this'll all be over before you know it."

On his more optimistic days, he would consider believing Philip. But Bart had to face the reality of it all. This wouldn't be over soon, it wouldn't be over when the trial finished, and it wouldn't ever really be finished. Anything involving a death left behind more loose threads then endings.

"I appreciate your optimism, Philip."

"Hey, it's all about perspective. I was working alongside with you all those years ago, and I remember how devastated you were after Misty's passing. If I'm being frank, I'm not sure you fully recovered."

Bart felt as if Philip had shot an arrow of truth between his eyes. Once Philips words impaled him, he was left stunned, unable to blink.

Bart's silence made Philip try to backtrack. "Bart, forgive me if I was being too insensitive."

"There's no need to apologize," Bart said. "You've said something that I needed to hear."

Bart couldn't count how many restarts of his life he had after Misty's death. Each time he would try to reboot his life, to find the freshness of a new beginning, everything remained stale. Sure, he married Lily almost fifteen years later, but it wasn't the same. Nothing was.

For the first time, Bart honestly considered whether this trial was actually a good thing. He had no doubt that the trial would turn his world, his whole being even, inside out. But maybe he needed that. He needed to air out the grievances, the truths that were too difficult to bear, in order to get the closure that remained elusive after all of these years. Most people considered justice the satisfactory way to fill the void that a lack of closure created, but perhaps the mere expression of what happened, an opportunity to put this episode to rest and accept the lack of concrete answers was what was needed.

"I've never forgiven myself for what happened all those years ago," Bart said.

"You really should," Philip said. "It happened, and there's nothing you can do to change anything from the past. Why torture yourself over something you can't change?"

Soon enough, Philip would know. His children would know. The world would know. There were things he could have changed then, during that night even. There were opportunities to change something about himself, about where everything was going to stop the collision course they were nearing.

He just chose not to.

A wise man once said, "We must all suffer one of two things: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret." Hindsight may always be 20/20, but on the Upper East Side it symbolizes regret more than knowledge after the fact. And those facts never fade. Regret is forever.

You Know You Love Me,

XOXO Gossip Girl

---

A/N: And there you have it! Evelyn/Ozzy grow more intimate, Blair tries and fails to juggle everything, Bart and Chuck actually talked, and the trial is set to begin next chapter.

So what's coming up next? The next chapter will be titled: "Bass vs. Bass." Lots of family drama is on the way.

So what did you think? Let me know in a review!

Till next time, stay safe everyone!

XOXO EZ11