A/N: Hiii. I know it's been forever since my last update, but I'm finally getting back into the groove. If you're still reading this, thank you for not giving up on me. :)

Chapter 7

I sighed deeper into my pillow, slipping blissfully between a state of sleep and awareness. In a dream-like haze, I pulled the comforter tighter around my body, stiffening when I felt a strange pressure low on my abdomen. My eyes fluttered open, and I startled as I took in my unfamiliar surroundings. This isn't my bed, I noted in confusion.

I blinked rapidly as my mind grew more lucid and my body became increasingly aware of the warmth engulfing me. I struggled against the weight of the comforter, but I soon realized that it wasn't the blanket that held me in place. My eyes traveled down the length of my body, and panic settled into my gut at the sight of a strong arm draped across my abdomen, pressing a heated palm into the exposed flesh of my stomach where my camisole had ridden up during the night.

I froze in place, trying to still my unsteady breathing so that I could properly assess the situation. My brain was fuzzy and confused, but my treacherous body didn't care about anything except the delicious sensation of skin-against-skin. I trembled with wanton need, subconsciously willing the hand to move just a fraction lower. The source of the warmth seemed to cede to my secret desires because I was certain that I felt tiny circles being soothed into my flesh. My body arched into the solid, masculine form resting behind me, and a low groan rumbled against my spine.

What the hell? I immediately felt every ridge, bulge, and muscle in Chuck Bass's body tensing against my back, and within seconds, awareness washed through me. I scrambled out of his grasp and yelped, "Get off of me!"

I pulled the sheet with me as I jumped to my feet, wrapping it around myself as an added layer of protection against the goose bumps prickling across my flesh where his hand had been. My belly tingled at the recent memory, but I shook off the strange feeling and narrowed my eyes in his direction. Unfortunately for me, his disheveled hair, unshaven jaw, and dopey expression melted my rage into amusement. The angry insults that I wished to hurl in his direction faded beneath his drowsy smirk and hooded eyes. Sleepy Chuck was far too endearing for my liking. "Please," he drawled, a bit more coherent now, "Don't think I missed your little whimper. You like cuddling with me."

"That was a gasp of annoyance," I snarled. "You clearly don't understand boundaries."

"Oh, yes, you seemed quite concerned about boundaries when I woke up to you drooling against my chest at 2 a.m." He smoothed his hands down the front of his silk pajamas. "I rather like this set, so I hope you didn't leave a stain."

Affronted by his inane accusation, my mouth gaped open. "I do not drool," I spoke quietly, emphasizing each point with pointed enunciation, "and I certainly didn't snuggle against your chest."

"Oh, come on, Blair," he leered, stretching his arms above his head and extracting himself from the comforter. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm quite comfortable, and I'm sure your bed has been lonely for some time."

He stood from the bed, and I refused to let my eyes roam his body. Instead, I turned my attention to the vacant bathroom – the same bathroom he seemed to have set his sights on. I dropped the sheet and darted toward the door, blocking his entry.

"I've had plenty of men to warm my bed, thank you," I retorted in indignation. "But you're right about the first part: I'm sure you are quite comfortable, like a big pillow – soft and fluffy. I see you let your gym membership lapse." It was a blatant lie, but his remark about my pathetic lack of male attention hit a little too close to home. When I'm backed into a corner, I guess I resort to petty comebacks.

"Is that so?" He placed his arm on the door frame right beside my head, leaning in so closely that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. I held my head high, meeting his gaze with unblinking eyes, hoping with everything in me that he didn't see the nervous gulp slide down my throat at his suffocating proximity. His finger trailed lightly down the front of my slinky camisole, stopping just above the waistband of my sleep shorts. This time I could most definitely feel the heat of his touch sear my skin through the thin material. My chest heaved beneath unstable breaths, betraying my poor attempt at indifference. "I don't think you actually believe that, Blair. I think deep, down in this uptight little body, you're dying to know exactly how wrong you are." His bottom lip grazed my ear, causing an involuntary shiver to run down my spine. His whisper was quiet and raspy, but I refused to lose myself to the sensations whirring in my stomach. "Why go to the gym to break a sweat when there are other ways that are far more pleasurable?"

So much for not letting him get the better of me. My knees buckled, and I couldn't move. The only sound I could hear was my blood rushing through my veins to my pounding heart. Before I could register his movements, both of his hands wrapped firmly around my waist, lifting me off my feet and setting me on the opposite side of the door frame, effectively removing the barricade to the bathroom I had created. He winked at me before closing the door and locking it. My jaw ached beneath my clenched teeth, and I banged my fist against the door. "Bass! My beauty routine almost certainly takes longer than yours." I rattled the handle and let out an exaggerated huff. "Open this door now!"

Soon enough the sound of the running shower drowned out my incessant demands, and I resigned myself to texting Serena for details of the day's agenda after realizing that I had no idea how to dress for the day. Absently, I thought how, if I were the bride, I would have had professionally printed and laminated itineraries awaiting wedding guests in their rooms alongside a tasteful welcome gift. Honestly, it was quite tacky of Serena to be so inconsiderate of our schedules. Some people need a little advanced notice to be in the right headspace and to plan the perfect outfit. I shuddered at the thought of showing up to a bridal shower dressed for an afternoon luncheon.

Serena's text pinged back instantly: Oh, I completely forgot. I meant to send out the itinerary yesterday, but then I got so wrapped up catching up with everyone that I forgot.

I rolled my eyes at her nonchalant attitude as if her wedding was as inconsequential as a spontaneous drink date between friends. A few seconds later, a blurry photo of a ripped sheet of paper with scribbled notes outlining the week's events through Serena's chaotic handwriting appeared on my screen. I squinted to read today's notes.

Tuesday:

Morning - Girls' Spa Day / Boy's Golf Outing

Evening - Bonfire on the beach after dinner at Angelo's

I let out a sigh of relief that I would finally get some time away from Chuck just as the door to the bathroom opened.

"All yours," came the smug drawl that grated on my nerves in the worst way. I looked up, intent on putting his arrogant ass in his place, but the words lodged in my throat when my eyes registered the panic-inducing image in front of me. Chuck had transformed into a poster boy for a body wash ad campaign, with strands of damp hair falling over mischievous eyes and a low slung towel clinging to narrow hips. I've caught glimpses of his bare chest before, but holy hell, I've never seen this side of him. There was no real softness to his physique. He wasn't necessarily buff, but he was firm and solid…and so devastatingly masculine. My earlier insult had been even more inaccurate than I had realized, and I felt a pang of guilt for throwing such a low blow. Patches of dark hair were littered lightly across his chest, and I was surprised to find that I wasn't repulsed by it. In fact, I found myself wondering how it would feel to run my fingers…

Dammit, Blair! I scolded myself and quickly averted my gaze. Yes, I definitely needed this time away from him to get out of whatever weird Bassian hypnosis his presence had me under.

I threw my hands over my face in a dramatic display of feigned disgust, snarling, "Ew! Why are you half naked?!"

"My clothes are in the closet," he shrugged, a knowing smirk spreading slowly across his features.

"You could've put your pajamas back on," I growled.

"Could've, but what would be the fun in that?" He approached me slowly, raising his hand to my cheek. "Besides, it was worth it to see this pretty little blush bloom all the way down -"

"Watch it!" I swatted his hand away with a huff. "If that towel falls any lower, I'll have to rinse my eyes out with bleach."

"Oh, yeah?" He husked in that soft, seductive voice that I knew caused my blush to redden to a darker shade of crimson.

I scurried into the bathroom as quickly as my shaky legs would move, clenching my eyes tightly to keep them from dropping lower down his torso to find out if I had as strong an effect on him as he clearly had on me. The man oozed sex appeal, and he was using it as a weapon against me. I refused to let him win.

"When I get out," I yelled with as much indifference as I could muster, "You better be dressed in your most pretentious golf attire." I jumped into the scalding shower before my overactive mind had time to consider how much of a disaster Chuck spending time alone with Nate could be.

XOXO

A few hours later, I settled back into a plush massage chair for a much welcomed pedicure, paying little attention to the mindless blathering of the half dozen or so other women surrounding me. Perhaps it made me a selfish person, but I didn't care about Kati's nursery theme or Hazel's boyfriend's record debut, so I just tuned them out and lost myself in the soothing sensation of the therapist's hands working circles into my calves.

"Yeah," I heard Penelope's irritating voice mock, "If you're lucky, he'll even break curfew for you after his first big gig."

I quirked an eyebrow at the obvious snark dripping from her words in search of the target. Hazel rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest in indignation, a clear indication that Penelope's insult had the intended impact. "It's not like that, Pen. He's a serious musician, not a wannabe goth in some high school garage band."

"I have to say," Isabel agreed, "After the last three yuppies, I was surprised to see you with someone so…eclectic. You have to admit – he's not your usual type."

"Opposites attract." Hazel retorted, seeming a little unsure of her response. Having met her boyfriend the night before, I could see why she had trouble defending her choice. In true mean girl fashion, however, she turned her attention to me. "Isn't that right, Blair?"

"How would I know?" I snapped.

"Chuck Bass?" Penelope snorted. "If you offered me a million dollars to guess who Blair Waldorf would show up to a wedding with, he would be my last choice…behind Dan Humphrey."

"Ew! Dan Humphrey?! I would nev -"

"Whatever," she huffed impatiently. "Point being, I didn't think you," she looked me up and down, judgment seeping out of every inch of her bug eyes, "would stoop so low as to bring someone like Chuck Bass as your wedding date…let alone actually date him."

Rage boiled in my stomach. "What the hell do you know about Chuck Bass?"

"Oh, me?" she chuckled. "Not much, but Angelina Moritz, Diana Lennon, Martina Groves, Ashton Banks…" She drew out each of the names, clearly enjoying the mockery she was making of me. Her dark, taunting eyes cut to Isabel, who'd gone strangely quiet, sinking further back into her seat. "Is, perhaps you can answer exactly why Chuck Bass is such an odd match for Blair Waldorf?"

Tears of inexplicable shame sprung to my eyes, and I blinked them away before anyone noticed. I wasn't embarrassed by Chuck's sexual past; I knew plenty about his reputation when I asked him to accompany me to California, and while he was perhaps more experienced than anyone I've been with, I'm not bothered by that experience. I don't really have a plausible explanation for my reaction, other than the fact that I actually felt some kind of strange allegiance to Chuck, like I should be defending him, but instead I remained quiet, hoping that my silence communicated indifference rather than hurt pride.

Serena narrowed her eyes at Penelope, but her bubbly laughter hid the annoyance I could see in her knitted eyebrows. "Oh, Penelope," she cooed, "Are you still bitter from that time he rejected your drunken advances at Thomas Ledman's graduation party?"

"What? How did you -" Penelope's mouth fell agape, and my heart warmed with gratitude for my best friend. "That's not what…"

"Pillow talk," Serena offered her a taunting winked. "Nate doesn't keep secrets from me. Although, I could've done without that visual."

Serena's intervention gave me the time I needed to compose myself. I raised my champagne flute to my lips, arching my eyebrows and pursing my lips with a newfound confidence that seemed impossible a few moments earlier. "We're in our 20s, ladies," I smiled. "We need men who know exactly what they're doing. I don't have time or patience for anything less. Trust me when I say that Chuck knows how to put all of that experience to good use."

My eyes cut to Isabel for a brief second, but she avoided meeting my gaze. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd slept with her. Does she know him more intimately than I do? Clearly the answer to that question is a resounding yes, and that realization was incredibly unsettling. It wasn't that I was jealous…maybe more like envious? God, this was starting to get way too complicated.

"But how did you get such a notorious playboy to commit?" Hazel asked, a sense of awe reflecting in her wide eyes.

"Every man has his weakness," I asserted, holding my head high now that I had them hanging on to my words. "I just happen to be Chuck's."

After pedicures, I headed into the powder room to wash up for lunch. As I pushed open the door, I nearly collided with Isabel. Panic flickered across her face, and her pulse jumped against her throat as she probably tried to map out the quickest exit. Upon realizing that she was going to have to face the awkward reality between us, she exhaled slowly and said, "Listen, Blair…"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Please -"

"It was nothing," she interjected. "A one time thing at a party senior year. He was the mysterious older guy, and I was drunk…"

"I'm maid of honor in the van der Woodsen/Archibald wedding; I'm kind of used to my friends having sex with my boyfriends -" I laughed with unaffected ease as I ran my hands underneath the faucet.

"We just fooled around; we didn't actually have -" Isabel stopped suddenly, and I looked up into the mirror to see why she'd gone silent.

My mouth fell when I found Serena standing at the door, a look of pure hurt written behind her blue eyes. She shook her head softly, a small tear clinging to her lash line before she turned and exited the bathroom without utilizing the facilities.

Shit.

XOXO

I searched for Serena throughout the spa for fifteen minutes before heading outside. I had no idea why those words left my mouth, but I stubbornly told myself that Serena's reaction was unjustified. I had spoken factually, after all; not a single lie left my mouth. It was true - she'd slept with my boyfriend, and I'd forgiven her. Maybe she needed to do some self-evaluating if she let mere facts hurt her feelings.

I found her sitting in an empty cabana staring out into the ocean with her arms wrapped tightly around her long legs. She wasn't crying, but the glazed over look on her face told me that she was in deep thought. She didn't flinch when I sat down beside her; her eyes were fixed in a steady gaze on the waves splashing against the shore. After a moment, she said, "After all these years, that's what you still think of me." It wasn't a question, and guilt seeped deep into the pit of my stomach.

"No," I shook my head, grasping her hand in mine, "Of course not."

"Then, why, Blair?" She turned to face me, and her hair whipped over her shoulders against the breeze. "Why are you still reducing me to the slut who slept with her best friend's boyfriend?"

"That's not…" I paused. "Isabel came out with these confessions in the bathroom, and I felt confused and insecure, and joking about our past was the easiest way to make light of it. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Do you still hate me for it? I thought we were passed it, but…maybe you never really forgave me. Maybe -"

"No, Serena, I promise," I offered her the sincerest smile I could muster. "Coming here was hard, but not because I'm still angry. I thought Nate was the…it's just that…"

Serena nodded, tears gleaming in her bright eyes. "I know. It's one reason I was so excited when I heard that you were dating someone. When you said his name, you sounded so happy that I was hopeful that you'd found someone that…"

"It's so early, Serena. Chuck and I are just taking things slow."

"I saw the way you two looked at each other last night, and it put me at ease. Honestly, I was nervous when Nate -"

"Not you, too," I groaned. "I didn't think having a healthy sexual appetite was something to shame someone for anymore."

"It's not that," Serena denied quickly. "I wasn't worried about his…experience. I was worried about your need for commitment and his reputation for using women."

I got what she was saying. It was the very reason that Chuck and I would never really work as a couple, and at that moment, it was harder to lie to her than it had been since arriving. I smiled for her sake and said, "Like I told Hazel, he realized that no one else can compare to me."

"I just don't want you to get hurt," she leaned her head against my shoulder. "I guess in some way, I feel like I stole your happily ever after."

I chuckled softly, causing her to force a sad smile. "Nate was never my happily ever after," I disagreed. "I was too caught up in the fairytale to see how incompatible we truly were."

"Okay, fine, I stole your belief in happily ever after."

"Yes, for a while," I relented. She would see directly through a lie, so it was best to be honest. "But being here is restoring my faith in my own happy ending."

"With Chuck?" she asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," I shrugged. "But I think he's exactly the person I'm supposed to be with right now."

I wrapped my arms around her, nuzzling my head against hers, realizing that in that moment, at least, it felt wholly true that Chuck and I were meant to be here.

XOXO

I returned to the room later that evening to find Chuck in the bathroom with the door propped open. I stopped and watched him carefully comb his hair into place with such precise movements that I was momentarily mesmerized by the sight of him engaging so intently in such an ordinary task. After a close inspection in the small magnified mirror attached to the wall, he seemed sufficiently satisfied with the final product, and I wondered if, like me, he had developed a meticulous grooming routine over the years, one that he was loath to skip. There was something incredibly endearing about the image, and I softened to him just a little more. If I wasn't careful, I could find myself melting at even the most mundane act if he performed it with such consideration.

I pushed off the wall into the bathroom and, without thought, lifted my hands to adjust his light blue bowtie. His grin caused me to immediately still my movements because there wasn't an ounce of smugness hidden in his features. They were genuine and warm. His eyes caught mine for just a second, and I could've sworn that there was an unfamiliar shyness in his smile, as though he, too, felt unsettled by the unexpected domesticity of the moment.

"How was golf?" I asked with a nonchalance that I certainly didn't feel.

Chuck smirked and bent to wash the hair gel from between his fingers. "You want to know all of the embarrassing stories that Nate shared about you as a teenager, or you want to hear about all of the sordid details I spilled about how I corrupted you in the most delicious ways?"

"Ugh." I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't hide my giggle. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." He dried his hands on the towel hanging beside the sink basin. "At least, not anymore."

"Correction: at least not right now." I followed him out of the bathroom and started rifling through the closet for the most appropriate bonfire attire. "I'm sure you'll do something to piss me off eventually, but you didn't sully my good name in the matter of one golf game, did you?"

"The pristine Waldorf reputation remains firmly intact," he assured me. "Though, I'm not sure how much longer that will remain true when you've chosen a Bass as your significant other. How was your spa day? I'm sure you lost a few brain cells listening to the prattling of that bunch."

I snickered because I'd had the same thought around the time Hazel started explaining the supposed symbolism behind the absurdly sexist lyrics of her boyfriend's latest song. "Well," I sighed, "You're kind of right about your reputation."

He cursed under his breath. "Those halfwitted hens gave you shit about being here with me, didn't they?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "I didn't realize how far tales of your debaucherous behavior spread. Apparently you have quite a reputation throughout the entirety of Manhattan. I guess my six year sojourn left me more unprepared than I thought."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as his throat flexed with tension. "Do you regret bringing me?"

"No," I shook my head honestly. "I'm not embarrassed by being here with you, Chuck."

"Good." His shoulders relaxed visibly. "Because, like I told you, I won't apologize for who I am or what I've done."

"I know, but I was caught off guard when…" I chewed on the inside of my cheek, unsure if I should just leave it be.

"When what, Blair?"

"When one of the girls revealed that she'd had…relations with you."

He narrowed his eyes in thought, studying my reaction. When he didn't find condemnation in my expression, he said, "That's unfortunate, but, for the rest of the trip, we'll prove to everyone that you're the only one who matters. They'll know that sex and love are two entirely different concepts to me."

Suddenly, the room seemed unbearably warm, and I pulled my hair off my neck and fanned my face. Chuck's eyes dropped to the place where my fingers brushed against my clavicle; the muscle in his jaw visibly flexed. I could clearly read the unbridled lust in his eyes, and frustration washed through me. Sex and love certainly were two different things to him, and I was starting to realize that perhaps the former was the reason that he went along with this whole asinine plan. Chuck Bass would have no problem bedding just about anyone he wanted, but perhaps someone like me offered a new challenge. I've been pegged as an uptight prude or an unapproachable ice queen for my entire life; maybe there was an ulterior motive here after all.

I cleared my throat and shook my head free of those ludicrous thoughts. If Chuck wanted to sleep with me, he would've been more forward from the beginning – certainly while we were still in New York. He wasn't one to dance around what he wanted, and I highly doubt he'd go through that much effort for sex when he has the country's most beautiful women at his beck and call. "What does one even wear to a beach bonfire?" I asked, changing the subject before I could dwell too much on Chuck's unclear motives for following me to California.

"Most people," he arched his eyebrow teasingly, "wear denim shorts and crop tops."

"Ew," I scrunched my nose in disgust.

"As much as I would love to partake firsthand in that visual -" He joined me in the closet and pulled a cotton Azzurra sundress with a sweetheart neckline down from the rack. "I imagine Blair Waldorf would wear something like this."

"Perfect," I yanked the hanger from his hand and grabbed my white Hermés Oran sandals on my way to the bathroom.

XOXO

After a pleasant dinner, we headed to the beach with the wedding party, and I was happy that Carter kept his distance this time. I wouldn't be surprised if Chuck had given him a not-so-subtle warning to stay away during their golf trip, but I didn't really mind. I made a mental note to ask Chuck about it later, but I wasn't about to let my curiosity ruin the evening.

I've never been much of a beach person; my hair always ends up a tangled mess, and the salt water dries out my skin. However, tonight, everything was perfect, and I wasn't even bothered by the grains of sand marring my new pedicure. The warmth of the fire felt nice, but I still felt chilly from the strong breeze blowing in from the ocean. I shivered uncontrollably when Chuck and I stopped at the large beach blankets laid out around the fire.

"Here," he shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. I inhaled the heady masculine scent, letting myself imagine for the briefest of moments that it was actually my real boyfriend's jacket I was snuggling into.

"Thanks," I smiled at him, acutely aware of several sets of curious eyes watching our first real public interaction outside of a restaurant.

Chuck sat down on the closest blanket and motioned for me to sit with him. It felt awkward, as though I was unprepared for some major performance in front of a critical audience, but I lowered myself to the blanket in front of him, careful to smooth my dress over my bare legs. A gasp escaped my mouth as Chuck's hands wrapped around my waist and pulled my body between his bent legs, flush against his chest. His fingers slowly brushed the hair away from my neck, placing gentle kisses against the side of my throat. He worked his way to my ear and whispered, "Relax and just go with it. People are watching."

I settled back into his embrace, lulled into a calmer state by the steady rhythm of his heart beating against my back. I nuzzled my head into his chest and closed my eyes. His arms were warm and comfortable, and I made a conscious decision to ignore everyone else around us. In another world - in a world where I wasn't a Waldorf and he wasn't a Bass - I think I could actually fall for him. The utter contentment I was experiencing was amplified by the feeling of his fingers idly running a path along my rib cage underneath his coat. "This is nice," I whispered quietly so that only he could hear me.

"Mmhmm," he murmured in agreement, pressing a kiss to my temple. He removed one hand from my waist and stroked my cheek gently. I opened my eyes and felt my heart thud erratically against my chest when I found his face a mere few inches from mine. He cupped my chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in until his nose brushed against mine. My eyes fluttered closed again, anticipation welling inside my heaving breast. Excitement and terror rushed through my veins like ice water, and I wasn't sure if I was more eager for it to happen or more scared of what would come afterwards. A liquid heat pooled in my belly, and I tilted my head toward him to urge him on. "Blair." My name came out as a low rasp, as if it was both a desperate plea and a final warning on his lips. We were so close to crossing an invisible barrier that we'd both kept firmly in place until now. For a moment, we weren't pretending anymore, and I wasn't sure what that meant for either one of us.

"Well, aren't you two just the cutest?" A shrill voice cut through the tension between us, causing Chuck to pull back quickly. He dropped his hands to his knees with an aggravated groan, and the moment was over, just like that. I gritted my teeth and turned toward the owner of the familiar voice, and my jaw dropped in disgust as a variety of choice curse words filled my mind.

What the hell was Georgina Sparks doing here?