Chapter 5

I startled awake as a loud, incessant banging jostled me from my slumber. My heart pounded in my chest from shock until I realized that the banging was actually coming from my front door. I looked over at the clock on my nightstand with blurry vision. After some concentrated effort, I read the numbers as 6:13 AM. Shit! I overslept. How is that even possible? I pride myself on my punctuality and will not tolerate tardiness from anyone. Chuck's strange behavior from the gala last night had me tossing and turning for most of the night, and anxiety sat like a heavy boulder in the pit of my stomach.

This was a terrible idea.

I checked my reflection in the mirror and groaned at the bedhead that I certainly wouldn't have time to tame. I combed my fingers through the tangled strands and pulled it back into a ponytail.

"Blair," Chuck's agitated snarl pierced through the door between his fist's heavy thud against the wood.

I huffed and threw my robe around my shoulders, irritated with the entire situation even though it was a hell of my own creation. "What?!" I snapped as I yanked open the door with as much force as I could muster. My greeting didn't make a lot of sense given that I knew exactly why he was at my door, but my irritation was overpowering my sense of logic at the moment.

"I told you," he growled, "We…Why aren't you dressed?" His eyes raked over my bare legs up to the messy ponytail resting at the base of my neck.

I crossed my arms over my chest in indignation. "I had trouble sleeping. I must've slept through my alarm."

His face softened slightly, but his eyes remained hard. "Why couldn't you sleep, Blair?"

"That's none of your concern," I sneered. "Give me five minutes, and we can leave. I trust that you scheduled our car for the requisite two hour arrival before departure. We should still have plenty of time to make our flight if -"

He closed his eyes and shook his head as though he was trying to follow my train of thought. "I'll be back in forty-five minutes. I imagine that should give you enough time to shower and get ready."

"But our flight -"

"It's fine, Blair," he sighed, "I have it under control. Just be ready at 7."

"I don't want to be late -"

He reached out a hand and pushed a strand of loose hair behind my ear. "Just trust me, okay?"

I did, I realized. I trusted him completely, even after his strange behavior last night. "Okay," I offered him a soft smile, "I'll be ready at 7."

By 7:15, we were settled into the back of Chuck's limo heading for the airport. He was a little tense, but that seemed to be his normal demeanor lately. His hands rested against his thighs, and he faced away from me, watching the highrise buildings pass by on our way out of New York, as though he hadn't seen those same structures every day of his life since he was a child. I took the moment to really study him – his perfectly tailored suit, his sharp jawline, the way his dark eyelashes framed his brown eyes. He's devastatingly handsome when he doesn't have that arrogant smirk on his face, like, right then, I could see that he was deep in thought about some unknown topic. His furrowed brows and clenched jaw accentuated the strong definition of his facial features, and I longed to reach out and trace my hand along his cheekbone. I've been acquainted with this man for over half of a year, and yet, there were so many layers to him that I still had to discover. The scary part was that I really wanted to learn more about him, to figure out what makes him tick.

I was so caught up in my analysis of him that I didn't notice when he turned toward me with an inquisitive gaze. "Is everything okay?" he asked in that husky voice that I liked more than I would ever admit.

I cleared my throat, pretending to rummage through my bag for my lip gloss. Slowly swiping it across my lip, I replied, "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

His eyes fell to my mouth as I puckered them together to spread the gloss evenly on my lips before dumping the tube back into my bag. "You seem anxious," he observed.

"I'm not -" I stopped to really consider his words. "I guess I am a little."

"Why?"

"Chuck," I started, "I am really thankful for you coming with me, and I still don't really understand why you agreed -"

"Blair," he said my name so firmly that I looked up at him, startled. He reached over tentatively, but instead of grasping my hand, he let his linger on the seat between us. Leaning in toward me, he asked again, "Why are you anxious?"

"It's just…" I inhaled an unsteady breath, "We have to be really convincing."

"What do you mean?"

I could feel my face heat up as a blush spread through my cheeks. "I mean, Serena and Nate know me better than my own mother, and we have to convince them that we are in…in love." I felt so pathetic as the words left my mouth. This had to be the most ridiculous plan I had ever come up with in my life.

The corner of his lip twitched up into a slight smirk. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"Um, well," I pondered his question, "First of all, I think we need to know each other a little better. We need to get our story straight. What if someone asks how we met?"

"Strip club is the wrong answer?" I snarled my nose at him, but couldn't keep the smile from my face when he winked. When did he get so cute? Did I really just think of Chuck Bass as cute? I desperately needed to get a hold of myself.

I shoved his shoulder lightly, "I'm serious. In order for this to work -"

"Okay," he soothed, "We'll work on it on the plane. We've almost made it to the airport."

XOXO

Chuck exited the car before me and held out his hand to help me onto the tarmac. When my hand slipped into his, I felt heat surge up my arm, causing tingles to prick at my flesh. My mouth fell open when I saw the aircraft waiting for us. I should've suspected that he'd arranged a private jet; afterall, I'm no stranger to flying private – it's my preferred method of travel. But this was something different entirely. The Boeing 747 must have cost well over a hundred million dollars; it was the epitome of luxury, and I couldn't wait to get on board.

My parents are exorbitantly wealthy. I couldn't pinpoint an exact number that sits in their bank accounts, but it's certainly more than enough to provide me with a top tier education, lavish accommodations, and any and everything my heart desires. Truthfully, neither one has ever told me no, and I'm sure the value of my handbag collection alone could feed a family of four for the rest of their lives. I have a $38,000 Birken in my closet that I've never carried. I don't feel guilty or ashamed of my status in life, though. I will never apologize for who I am, and that includes being an elitist bitch. I'm self aware enough to admit that. My parents donate hefty sums to various charities every year, but it's mostly for tax purposes and publicity. Because of this, I'm not easily impressed by wealth. It's an important factor in my personal relationships, of course, but owning a private jet doesn't inspire me to awe. But this one? I don't even think the van der Woodsens could afford this one. Chuck Bass must be far richer than even I can comprehend.

"Nice plane," I commented coolly as he guided me up the boarding ramp.

"I told you to trust me, didn't I?" He looked sheepish, and I couldn't help but smile back at him.

"That you did."

He settled into the plush white leather seat and patted the seat next to him, "Come, sit."

After I sat down beside him, he motioned the stewardess over and ordered her to have breakfast brought out as soon as we reached cruising altitude. "We should get to know each other better," I reminded him.

"With an audience present?" He rasped, licking his lips suggestively. "I can have them clear out, so we can -"

"You're relentless," I sighed, but I found myself warming up to his playful flirtation. I knew that it was just who he is; Chuck Bass flirted with women in his sleep, but it helped put me at ease.

"Alright, let's start with you," he sat back in his seat, clearly more relaxed than he had seemed in the car. "What's your favorite color?"

"Really, Bass? My favorite color?" I rolled my eyes. "You think that's what it's going to take to prove to my best friend and ex-boyfriend that you know me well."

"Okay, then, what do you think I need to know?"

"I guess, I should start by telling you a little about my relationship with Nate -" The plane lurched in preparation for takeoff, and I clenched my eyes shut, drawing deep breaths. "Oh, God."

I could feel Chuck's eyes trained on me, concerned. "Are you okay?"

My chest heaved with each dramatic breath as I tried desperately to calm my nerves. I couldn't open my eyes to look at him, so instead I shook my head vigorously. "Yes," I said through gritted teeth, "I just have severe anxiety when flying, especially with take off and landing."

"Look at me, Blair," I felt his hand cover mine; he turned my hand so that my palm was facing up and laced our fingers together. My eyes shot open in shock, and I found a softness in his eyes that wasn't typically there. "Breathe with me."

I mirrored his slow inhalations, focusing my eyes on his full lips. My heart rate slowed until I could no longer feel the pulse jumping in my neck. By the time we were in the air, I was more relaxed than I had ever been on a plane. I cleared my throat and pulled my hand away, "Thank you."

Seconds ticked by while we sat in silence, simply staring at one another, as if something had passed between us in that moment. I couldn't name it, but I appreciated the fact that he helped me through my fear instead of mocking me. Someone who flies as often as I do should be used to it, but my heart dropped into my stomach every single time.

The stewardess returned carrying breakfast trays and poured us each a mimosa. She glared at me, pasting a fake smile onto her face that wasn't fooling anyone. Bitterness radiated from her, and I hoped that she hadn't secretly poisoned my omelet. She pursed her red lips together, fluttering her long eyelashes at me while pushing her blonde curls over her shoulder, "Will that be all, ma'am?" The ma'am on her lips was filled with derision, and it was clearly meant as an insult. She couldn't have been more than a year or two younger than me.

I shook my head in affirmation and gave her a sugary smile in return. Bitch. When she walked away, I sneered, "What's her deal?"

"Who? Mariana?" Chuck asked, lifting his glass to his mouth.

"Yes." I narrowed my eyes in the direction of her retreating form, hoping she tripped over her cheap heels.

"Ah," he laughed, "Let's just say she's a bit territorial."

"Territorial?" I scoffed, realization dawning on me. "You slept with your stewardess? You truly are -"

"Calm down," he growled. "I didn't sleep with her, but we did…other things before I knew that she'd been hired as part of the crew. We met at a bar."

"Not much better," I huffed indignantly. "Maybe if you didn't -"

"Am I supposed to interview each of the women I take to bed, Blair? Ask their employment status, their plans for the future, perhaps their social security number?" His tone was contemptuous, and I don't know how we kept switching gears so quickly.

"Uh, yeah, that's what most normal people do before hooking up. Get to know the other person on at least a basic level." I crossed my arms over my chest to convey my severe disapproval of his lecherous behavior.

"Are you jealous of my stewardess, Waldorf?" He offered me an arrogant smirk, and I wanted to slap him across his smug face.

"Pssh, hardly," I scowled. "I just can't believe that I am stuck with someone so disgusting as my fake boyfriend."

"I didn't ask to be here." Something akin to hurt skirted across his face before he replaced it with his typical stoic indifference. Guilt sank into my chest as I realized that I was antagonizing him. His personal relationships were none of my business as long as they didn't interfere with our trip to California.

"I'm sorry," I sighed.

"Let's just get on with the 'get to know you' discussion." He remained guarded, and I cursed both myself for being so judgmental and him for being so stubborn.

"Okay, so I dated Nate for nearly two years, when I found out that he cheated on me with my best friend, Serena." I purposefully left out the fact that their sexcapades were broadcast all over the internet alongside my unsuccessful striptease. It's embarrassing enough that my boyfriend cheated; he doesn't need the gritty details to understand why this wedding is important. "I guess they were truly meant to be because six years later, they're getting married." I tried to hide the emotion in my words, but my voice broke pathetically, betraying my feelings. I've forgiven them both, but, all these years later, it still hurts.

"Hey," Chuck said, that rare softness returning to his features, "You deserve better than either one of them."

I gave him a small smile, trying hard not to break down in front of him. "Anyway, I left for Paris after they got together, and I haven't really been back to the states since then…well, until I moved back a few months ago. I haven't seen most of the people who will be at the wedding in years."

"You let them run you out of town? Pardon my disbelief, but that doesn't sound like you."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but I could tell that he hadn't meant it as an insult. If anything, he meant it as a compliment; he thought I was stronger than that. "You don't understand. It wasn't just Nate and Serena's betrayal…there's more to the story that I don't want to get into."

"Alright," he conceded, "What else do I need to know?"

"Um, after we moved to Paris," I lowered my gaze to my hands, feeling like this was turning into a therapy session. One thing I hated was sympathy, and I certainly didn't want Chuck's pity. "My parents divorced because my dad…"

"Your dad?" He prompted gently.

"My dad had an affair…with one of my mother's models." I left it at that. I'm not ashamed of the fact that my father's gay, and I'm so glad that he's finally happy after years of suppressing who he really is. But none of that changes the fact that it still feels like the single biggest betrayal I've ever experienced in my life.

"Yeah," he commiserated. "My father had a lot of affairs, with a lot of different models."

I nodded, unsure of how to respond. It's the first time I've really heard him mention his father. "So, that's the Cliff's Notes version of my life," I explained, realizing that I also left out the eating disorder that nearly killed me. "What about you? What about your parents?"

He stiffened, his jaw locking beneath the weight of his gritted teeth. "I don't really want to talk about my parents, Blair."

"I just," I stuttered, reeling from the intensity of his gaze, "I…people will ask, so I think I just need the basics."

"My parents are dead." His voice didn't hold an ounce of emotion, but I could see the tension tearing at his features.

"Oh, God," I shook my head, "I'm so sorry."

"I don't want your sympathy," he spat. "I said, I don't want to talk about them, so could we please just move on?"

"Okay," I nodded, feeling equally uncomfortable and guilty. "What do you do, Chuck? Where do you work?"

"I'm in real estate; I inherited my father's business." He seemed purposefully vague, but, given his reaction to the topic of his parents, I didn't push for more details.

"How old are you?" I asked sheepishly, figuring that that would be an important detail that a woman would know about her significant other.

"25."

Okay, two years older than me. Not too bad. "Alright, I'm -"

"23," he nodded, "I know."

I don't remember ever telling him my age, but I guess I did at some point. "So how did we meet?"

"At a strip club," he smiled goodnaturedly, and I melted into my seat, "We already established this."

"Very funny," I rolled my eyes. "I think we should say that we met as neighbors after I moved in. That's the truth, and it'll be easiest to keep straight."

"Yes, after you saw me, you couldn't resist my natural sex appeal, and you drooled over me constantly until I relented and gave you the date you kept begging for. Perfect cover story," he laughed. "Very believable."

"You're insufferable," I chuckled alongside him. "We became friends first, and slowly realized that we had feelings for each other. You asked me out, of course."

"Because I fell in love with you the first time that I saw you, but it took you a little longer to realize that there was something real between us." His eyes were hooded and intense, as if he was trying to send me some type of silent message that I couldn't quite decipher.

"Real," I echoed, mesmerized by the glint in his eyes. I shook my head, forcing my eyes away from his. "I can't think of anything else, but maybe we should -"

"Blair," He cut me off. "We have a long flight ahead of us and an even longer week. Perhaps we could just relax for a bit."

"I am relaxed," I whined, but it was clearly a lie. "Fine."

"How about we watch a movie?" He grabbed the remote from a table to his right, and it was then that I noticed the peonies in each of the decorative vases scattered around the cabin. They were beautiful blooms, making the luxurious interior cabin feel even more elegant. It must be a good sign that we were surrounded by my favorite flowers, right? Chuck handed me the remote and said, "You pick."

As the large TV panel powered up, my mouth fell open as I scrolled through the available movies: Breakfast at Tiffany's, Roman Holiday, Funny Face, Sabrina, My Fair Lady. I clicked on Tiffany's, prepared to get lost in the world of Holly and Paul. Chuck's hand reached a box toward me labeled Pierre Hermé. "Macaron?" He asked with a wink, and I only stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

"I…Chuck?" I couldn't get the words out. Peonies, Audrey, and macarons. It couldn't be a coincidence.

"Like I said," he shrugged, "I pay attention."

Chuck Bass has shocked me into silence. I missed the entire first part of the movie, trying to figure out what it all meant. How did he know so much about me? My favorite movies? My favorite dessert and flowers? I stared at the TV quietly, occasionally glancing over at him, but his eyes remained fixed on the screen.

As the movie neared the end, I sighed dreamily as Holly looked up from her search for Cat to find Paul standing at the end of the alleyway. "What?" Chuck asked.

"Shhhh!" I admonished, just as Holly's lips connected with Paul's as the rain fell around them. "The rain kiss."

"Rain kiss?" Amusement danced in his dark eyes.

"Yes, they're so unbothered by the rain, paying no attention to the people around them. They're soaked. It's romantic."

He didn't say anything for several moments, but his next question had me choking on my fourth macaron. "Will you let me kiss you, Blair?"

"What?" I sputtered.

My reaction must not have been what he expected because he quickly turned his eyes back to the TV as the rolling credits scrolled across the screen. "I mean in California," he explained. "Couples kiss. I wouldn't want your friends to get suspicious at our lack of PDA."

I swallowed hard and wiped at the corners of my mouth with my napkin. My eyes dropped to his lips, not missing how full and plump they were. I briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss Chuck Bass. I imagined that he's a really good kisser, that he knows exactly the right pressure and the perfect amount of tongue to make a girl swoon. "Um, I don't think that'll be necessary. I mean, we might hold hands, and you can put your arm around my waist, but I don't think anyone will be suspicious if we don't kiss. We just need to act…"

"Like a couple?" He finished my sentence.

"Yeah," I nodded awkwardly, "Like a couple."

"I'll follow your lead." Chuck's eyes burned with a ferocity I'd never noticed before, and heat pooled in my stomach, my thoughts drifting to forbidden territory. "I'm game, Blair, for whatever you need. I'm here, and I'll fulfill my purpose to the best of my ability...just so you know."

"Um," I smiled weakly as if this was the most natural conversation we've had, "Thank you. We can just play it by ear then."

God, what have I gotten myself into? Chuck Bass practically just offered himself up to me on a platter, and now I can't stop thinking about what his lips might feel like…nope, I have to stop that train of thought now, or this trip could prove to be even more dangerous. I cannot start having dirty thoughts about Chuck.

"We'll be landing soon, Blair." Relief washed over me when Chuck changed the topic. "Hold my hand and talk to me." He laced our fingers together for the second time. "Tell me what you want to get out of this weekend."

I exhaled slowly, "I want…I want to show my friends - to show everyone - that I'm okay. I can take care of myself. I want them to know that I'm happy and that what happened years ago has no control over me anymore."

"Are you happy, Blair?" His eyes searched mine with an intensity that I was starting to believe would one day expose all of my secrets to this complicated man.

"Maybe," I said unconvincingly. "I mean, yes, I'm happy. I'm successful in my career, I have a chance to move up into an editor position if I keep working hard; I'm planning to pursue my Master's at Columbia -"

"Wait," he interrupted me. "All of those are career ambitions, and that's great, but what about your personal life?"

"I don't have time for a personal life," I retorted. "I have my group of friends, my parents, my colleagues," who I'm certain actually hate me, but he doesn't need to know that, "I am not looking for anything romantic because I don't need any distractions," and I don't want to risk getting hurt or humiliated in the name of love again.

Chuck's expression turned skeptical. "So then why do you need a pretend boyfriend? What's the point of convincing your friends that you're in a relationship if you don't want one anyway."

"Because they equate happiness with romantic love," I explained. "I don't want everyone to think I'm lonely and single because I'm…" I stopped, afraid that I said too much. When he didn't fill the silence, I continued, "I need them to believe that we are really in love, Chuck. If they find out about our arrangement, I'll never live it down. It will be a million times more humiliating than just attending the wedding alone and having to face all of their pity."

His eyes sparked with understanding, as if my words finally clicked for him, but before he could say anything, the wheels hit the runway. I had been so focused on our conversation that I didn't even realize that we were preparing to land. I looked down to find our hands still interlocked, but he didn't pull away, even after the plane was safely on solid ground. I didn't either.

"Mr. Bass," Mariana said, her eyes falling to our joined hands. I could feel the anger emanating from her eyes. "We've landed. Would you like me to prepare drinks for the ride to Magnolia Hall?"

"Yes, Mariana," he said without turning his attention to her. He focused his eyes intently on mine. "Prepare a bottle of champagne and a couple of flutes. We have reason to celebrate. Isn't that right, baby?"

Baby?

"Um, yes, of course," I forced a smile.

Baby?! I hated it when Nate called me 'babe' when we were dating because it felt cheesy and insincere, but something about the word 'baby' on Chuck's lips had my stomach doing a somersault.

When we were settled into the back of the town car, I turned to Chuck, who'd finally dropped my hand after helping me into the backseat, and asked, "Baby? What the hell was that?"

He shrugged, "Figured most guys call their girlfriend pet names, and it seemed like a good time to try it out. Plus, it pissed Mariana off."

Her obvious irritation had definitely been a plus, but my insides had no business melting at a fake term of endearment from this man's lips. "I don't know if baby is appropriate -"

"Trust me," he purred, leaning in to whisper in my ear after brushing my hair behind my shoulder. "It's perfect, baby." I visibly shivered as those words tickled my earlobe; maybe he was right because, holy shit, my entire body reacted to him in that moment. "See?" he said, pulling back, "That's the reaction your friends need to witness."

"Yeah," I cleared my throat, "It'll do." I couldn't breathe. I've gotten myself way in over my head. He was no longer touching me, but I still felt like my whole body was on fire. I couldn't pretend that Chuck doesn't have some kind of strange effect on me, and now I'm trapped with him by my side for the next seven days. I desperately needed to put some distance between us; hopefully Serena has some bachelorette events planned away from the boys.

Chuck raised his flute and said, "Here's to being convincing lovers, whatever it takes." I clinked my glass against his and gulped down a generous sip, definitely feeling more than willing to do 'whatever it takes' to be 'convincing lovers'.

California, here we come.

A/N: It's been over two months since I updated this story, so I hope you all are still invested in it, too. Sorry for the delay, but I've been pretty focused on Come Rescue Me. I added the small age gap for a reason that will become evident in later chapters.