AN: shout out to girl-at-home13- love ya. Any suggestions, criticisms or praise please review. Was in a bit of a rush to complete so forgive me if there are any errors.
Disclaimer: I'm disclaiming!
OUTFITS ON MY PINTEREST: Manhattanapple
SONG FOR CHAPTER: Sweet Nothings - Florence Welch and Calvin Harris.
With the rest of the week having flown by as all the girls that could've made my week a long one were preoccupied with the upcoming party, I was free to just keep my head down and concetrate on upping my grades. With gaggles of Constance students buzzing with excitement for the first social event of the school year, it seemed as if I was the only one who wasn't gushing over every passing comment that was to do with Kiss on the Lips.
By the time Saturday evening had rolled up, I was still immersed in a book we had been assigned to read for English whilst every other girl was busy getting hair and make-up done. When Blair had texted her departure, I finally decided to get ready.
My look was casual: a simple, neat up-do and enough make up to look like I wasn't wearing any make up and I was practically done. I had minutes to spare until the limo racked up outside my building. Slipping on a pair of black heels, I make my departure towards the stretch.
Chuck and I haven't so much as crossed paths since Monday thanks to my handy work in actively avoiding him, however not without his lack of trying. On Wednesday I couldn't even sit at my usual lunch spot in the courtyard because he and his stupid entourage of desperate girls had spread themselves on my table- I know it's petty, but I have no patience when it comes to a Bass.
Now, as I slide into the black leather seats of a limo belonging to the same guy whom I wouldn't want to be in any confined space with, I start to question why on earth I didn't just take a cab.
"Evie!" shouts Nate, who I have yet to properly speak to since I got back- I've been guiltily avoiding him too.
"Hey Nate, it's great to see you." I say as I try not to burn to death under the heat of Chucks scrutinizing eyes.
The limo begins to glide off and as soon as we hit a red light and our first bit of traffic, Blair orders the driver to play some music and Chuck breaks out a bottle of champagne.
I decline the glass that he offers me which sends a few looks my way: they're probably all thinking the same thing, 'When does Evie Elma ever refuse a drink'. Despite the next few attempts at making me have a drink with them all, I stay at the side-line's watching, amused, and they clink glasses and laugh and spill champagne on each other. It's all well and good, until Chuck sparks up a joint.
The pungent smell of weed hits me as soon as he takes it out of his pocket and it makes me want to vomit. It's not that I'm allergic or anything but I just don't trust the stuff since someone spiced it with something else that had an entirely different effect than what weed should've done. So much so that I woke up in the morning, not knowing where I was, with short term memory loss. Ever since then, I have never touched the stuff. I scoot to the opposite side of the limo, staying close to the open window. When Kati offers me a drag, putting the filter right in front, I can feel myself pale: I shake my head.
Blair notices my discomfort when I begin to rub my belly in hopes of soothing the nausea. Grabbing Chuck's scarf from the floor, she wraps it around my neck. I look at her, confused.
"Why are you giving me this?" I ask with an arched eyebrow. She sighs as if the answer is the most obvious thing in the world.
"Hold it in front of your nose, silly."
After hesitating (thinking that if I put that scarf anywhere near my mouth I might develop herpes) I press it against my nose. The musky smell of aftershave and the clean odour of deodorant create a sickly sweet scent that I gladly breathe in as it replaces the scent of the smoke. Chuck notices his favourite accessory around my neck and smirks (he probably thinks this is some sort of foreplay- fiddling with his scarf). Sending a glare back, I bury my face into the soft fabric. I will never admit this to any breathing person, but the smell of Chuck's scarf was actually incredibly pleasant. If only I could like him as much as I liked his scent.
I keep it on until we arrive at the venue, and when I politely offer it back (standing at least half a meter away as though distance would keep him from exploiting everything I had worked so hard to keep a secret) Chuck wraps it back around my neck, smirking at the bemused and unimpressed look on my face.
"Why?" I ask simply as we sand on the curb, waiting for the rest of our group to get out.
"I like knowing that you're wearing something of mine." HAHA! No.
"Very funny Chuck." Kati and Is begin to usher me into the party, and thankfully away from a certain Spawn-of-Satan. "I'm only wearing it because it goes with my outfit." I state simply, hating that I was just covering up for the fact that I just really loved smelling the scarf.
Walking into the dance floor, I had to admit that the place looked great. Everything had a purple and gold tinge to it and the ceiling has these beautiful chandeliers cascading down towards the dancers who, in themselves, contributed to eh beauty of the party.
I spot Jenny's blonde head chattering away near the bar, and begin to expertly manoeuvre myself through the throngs of dancers to her. Her own dress is exactly like the one she tried on in the store but black.
Smiling, knowing that she had listened to what I'd said, I throw an arm around her shoulders, "Nice dress, Jenny! I thought you said they didn't have it black?"
"Oh, hi Evie!" Her cute little smile was plastered onto her face, I could tell she was having a great time. "I actually made this…"
"No way!" I exclaim, becoming excited over a dress didn't normally happen but this was a definite exception. "Jenny it's beautiful, you're so talented."
"Thanks."
Conversation with Jenny flows easily once she realises that you're not going to kill her if she disagrees with you. We were laughing and chatting and I was coming to really like this girl. With someone who wasn't a part of that crowd (or the crowd that I am in by birth right), the party was not that bad.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Spoke too soon. Chuck swaggers in between me and Jenny, and I groan aloud as I notice the 'nice boy' act that he puts on so well, "Hi, I'm Chuck." Even the way he says his name is gentlemanly. He reaches out to shake Jenny's hand, who keeps shooting happy looks at me as if to say 'Chuck Bass is talking to me.'
"I know. Um, I mean…" she laughs nervously and I want to scream at her for playing into his palm. "Hi, I'm- I'm Jenny."
"It's, uh, it's nice to meet you." I strain my neck to look over his shoulder and see that he's still holding and playing with her hand- it makes me want to retch.
"You too."
"Thank you." My blood boils at the thought of Chuck planning to hurt Jenny, which wasn't hard to see from the devious smile on his stupid face.
"Chuck, can I speak to you for a moment?" Smiling, I grab his arm and spin him to face me instead of Jenny, "Please?"
Without waiting for a reply, I drag him over to an empty corner. His facial expression shows how much he is enjoying the angry one on mine.
"What is it, Angel? You look absolutely exquisite tonight but you're kind of being a cock-block."
I smack his arm, glare at him, than smack it a couple more times. I want him to be in pain but the Bass-tard just laughs.
"Don't you dare do what you're doing with Jenny, she doesn't want to do anything that you were going to do so stop doing what you're doing!" Chuck infuriates me further my laughing harder.
"Why? So you can do it with me instead." I scoff nonchalantly.
"No! Ew, never."
We stare at each other for, what seems like, a long time, both sizing up the other.
"I'll tell you what, I'm in a good mood so I'll make you deal." Even the thought of making any kind of deal with Chuck Bass makes me feel slimy but Jenny is my new friend and I want to keep it that way.
"…Go on." Chuck chuckles, stepping closer so that the only thing keeping us from touching is his scarf that's still around my neck.
"I'll leave your precious Jenny alone…" he leans in to whisper in my ear. If I thought his scarf smelt nice, then his neck was like heaven. What? Bad Evie, naughty, bad, stupid thoughts! Pull yourself together. "If you give me one, little kiss." Not a millisecond went by after his proposition until I shoved him away, wanting to laugh and retch at the same time.
"You're crazy! I'm not kissing you for anything."
"How about I sweeten the pot: I won't ruin Jenny's new reputation and I'll keep you're secret between us friends." Keep my secret? I've been having nightmares about him blabbing his mouth and telling whatever he knows to Gossip Girl. If he kept his word, and that's one thing that you can count on with a Bass man, then the weight on my shoulders would be lifted. And it was really starting to wear me down.
"I can't believe I'm actually considering this."
"No girl can resist Chuck Bass."
"You're a pig."
"And isn't your favourite food bacon?"
I step closer, quieting my voice as though I was about to do something criminal- which I suppose I am. "You promise you won't even look at Jenny?"
"Is that jealously I hear? For you Angel, anything… you have my word." Satisfied, I close the distance before I could back out. However, I'm not so easily won. My pursed, lip-glossed lips smack onto his cheek and for effect, I make a 'mwah' sound on the release. As I back off to look at his expression, I grin when I find that he's positively seething.
"What was that?" He demands. "This is the Kiss on the Lips party, not the Kiss Like We're in Third Grade party."
"It's not my fault you didn't specify where you wanted me to kiss you but I still committed the atrocious act of putting my mouth anywhere near yours, so that means that it's your turn to keep your end of the deal." Knowing I'd won makes me feel a million bucks.
"You don't want to play this game with me, Evie Elma." I sigh dramatically, taking off his scarf and wrapping it back around his neck, as if I was the fussy mother and he was the kid that wanted to play in the snow.
"I like my odds," Feeling on top of the world, I lean into his ear. And to infuriate him further, I whisper huskily, "Chuck Bass."
It looks like a new game is brewing on the Upper East Side and I for one want front row tickets. Be careful, E, this isn't tennis so your backhand might not be enough, and we all know that there is nothing more dangerous than a Chuck Bass on a mission.
Let's hope that this game isn't a fight to the death.
Xoxo Gossip Girl.
