AN: Shit, look I know. Trust me I know I've be a little shit but I promise the updates will come sooner and the writing will be better. I just am desperate to finish this episode because the next chapter, in my view, is gonna be sick if I can right it correctly.

Thank you to all the new followers and to the ones that are still bothering to check if I've updated and the reviewers constantly making me look at my email and think "God-Dammit I need to update."

If there our errors please forgive me, I'm tired and bored of this chapter.

SONG FOR CHAPTER: Stitches - Shawn Mendes

OUTFITS AND ALL THAT JAZZ ON MY PINTEREST: Manhattanapples

Btw, as I am determined to update and write more often, If any of you desperate to kick me up the backside and get me working feel free to DM me your Snapchats where you can remind me all you like and get updates on how the story is going. It's just an idea.

Anyway... I don't own Gossip Girl.


Unfortunately for Jenny, due to my alcohol consumption during the time in-between Blair and her agreeing to the dare and the time when they were ready to leave, I was unable to help with the prison break. Instead they shoved my liable arse into a taxi and sent me on my way to the bar.

When I got there, the place was packed with hot, sweaty bodies of the rich and wealthy. Music was beating against the dance floor, which seemed to be the whole floor space- booths were interestingly placed amongst the gyrating bodies of the drunk and horny.

I spot the posse in the centre of the floor (unsurprisingly) and wade my way through the sea in order to get to them. A martini with my name on it is waiting patiently for me. I flop down, throwing my silver clutch on the table, and slide into the booth in an unladylike manner. I grin at the laughing eyes of the other girls as they watch my comedic display of downing the martini, wiping my mouth of the few droplets that escaped my lips: I'd never been a very responsible drinker, especially when I have no one to impress. And that includes a certain scarf-wearing son-of-a-bitch.

When the conversation dulls, I begin to people watch, acutely aware that some are also watching me. Feeling unsettled at their eyes, I pull the tight dress further down, hiding my thighs that I fear bulge out where I sit. When it doesn't help my comfort levels, I stand, intending to hide amongst the dancers. Noticing my intentions to start our little party, the girls cheer me on, throwing their drinks in the air in salute, a few get up with me but most stay to text and gossip.

I slink my way between clubbers, narrowly avoiding drinks and sloppy hands. A couple of guys try to intervene but I shove them off, not in the mood for anything down my throat but alcohol: As the night has slowly progressed, I've become less and less in the mood to party and more in the mood to be pathetic and pity myself- something is missing from my equation on fun and I'm too afraid to dwell on what that is.

Ordering a gin and tonic, I slightly push my breasts out allowing the bartender to serve me free of charge (a little trick I learnt in Madrid with a certain Van der Woodsen).

"I haven't seen you in here before!" He shouts over the music, his breath hot and uncomfortable on the skin below my ear. "Where have you been you all my life?" Giving him a tight smile, I toss half the drink back.

"Anywhere else." I answer moodily.

I spy a red coat with a brunette head poking out. Blair. I fall in next to her smiling at Eric in greeting, who grins back in excitement. Poor kid, I thought to myself, I know that being confined to one room, alone, is shit.

"Evie," Kati squeals, "You would never believe what Jenny just did!" I take another sip of my drink, eyes assessing the little blonde as she laughs at something Blair said. If I'm not mistaken, there's that twinkle in her eye. The one that shows the intimidating and worrying mixture of joy and devilish charm.

"It doesn't matter now, Evie," J gleams with the golden glow of feeling acceptance, "It's your turn. Truth or dare?"

I groan, running an exasperated hand through my hair. Giving up, I shrug my shoulders, "Truth."

"Where have you been for the last ten months?" Jenny asks, inciting the other girls, including Blair (who pretends as though she already knows the answer when she's really just as desperate for the gossip as the rest of the piranhas) to hush and lean in closer, thirsty for the exclusive knowledge.

"I change my mind." I say quickly, palms sweating, jaw tightening. "Dare."

Blair pouts playfully, bouncing on her heels in mock frustration.

"You're no fun, E. Come on… what happened to the carefree, open girl that we all knew?"

I force a laugh for her sake, but my eyes are hooded in frustration, "She wants a dare."

"Alright then, fine." Queen B pauses to ponder, a smirk playing on her lips as she looks over my shoulder towards the bar. She nods to a suited back as it hunches over a glass of port, all I can gather is that the back it good, real good, and the guy is rich- the fabric of his shirt proves it. "I dare you to kiss that guy."

"Really?" I ask, confused at why she'd pick someone at random and not one of the many observers watching our little party.

And infamous smirk plays on her lips, "Really."

Sighing, I get up, brushing my dress down and fixing my hair.

It's just a peck, right? Just a peck to shut them up about this stupid game.

I start heading towards the back only to be stopped by Blair's laughing voice, "With tongue."

Shivering in disgust at the perversion waiting to be committed and empathy for the guy who I'm about to force myself on, I put one foot in front of the other and before I know it, I'm behind him, seconds away from planting my glossy, gin-tasting lips on his.

Close up, I can see that he's a brunette. That's good. I like brunettes.

Just pretend its Bradley Cooper.

Closing my eyes, I twist the bar stool around and smash my face onto his, surprised that I managed to blindly get to his lips and not his eyeball or something.

At first I can feel him struggle in shock but soon when my plump lips pucker against his and I run my tongue across his lower lip, he lets me in. Luckily, his lips are soft and incredibly kissable. In fact, I can't remember any kiss (without emotions attached to it) that felt this good. Despite the disgust I hold for myself, I lean in further, bravely running my hands from his hard, padded shoulders, up his soft neck and into his long, silken hair. He groans when I tug the dark locks, his tongue dancing against mine, mirroring the dancers behind us.

When I'm satisfied that I've completed the terms of the dare I let him go, almost reluctantly, keeping my eyes focused on my feet in embarrassment.

"Sorry," I murmur, surprised that the stranger can hear me over the music, "it was a dare for my friends party and-"

"Its fine, Evie." My body tenses at the voice. My head whips up, eyes glaring accusations into the devilish eyes of Mr Chuck Fucking Bass. "But if you really are sorry… we can take this back to my place?"

No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening.

Ignoring his hand, still resting on my waist, I spin to find Blair, who's in hysterics. Watching her eyes gleam in triumph my mind whirls to understand and then it all clicks into place.

She knew it was him.

I bet they planned this.

He made this happen.

Turning on him, my lips straighten into a distressed line, hands pushing him away. Chuck doesn't budge. Instead he tightens his hold on my body, standing up in order to pull me against him.

To anyone looking, we'd look… intimate.

"Why are you here?" I whisper, too afraid to trust my own voice- especially when his thumb begins to stroke the thin fabric covering my hip bone.

"You've been ignoring me, Angel." Bass leans in to speak, his hot breath tickling my neck sending shivers down my spine.

Honestly, yes. I have been ignoring the heir of Bass industries. Ever since last Saturday night- and the morning after –I've been avoiding Chuck. It's just that in the few moments when I looked at him, lying in the same bed as me, I didn't see some spoilt brat who was vying for… everything. Instead, I laid eyes on someone who had tucked me in and not touch me, who stood up for me against Carter. Someone who helps his friends even when they haven't been friendly.

And it scared the shit out of me.

Only I couldn't tell him the truth otherwise things would change into unknown waters and I'm not ready for that. And I don't know if I'll ever be.

"I haven't been ignoring you. I've just been busy. Now why are you here?"

His free arm joins the other and he enshrouds me in his suited warmth. The fucked up thing is I know I should wriggle my way out but alternately I find myself leaning in just a fraction of an inch.

Brown hair tickles my collar bone as he leans further in, "Isn't it obvious."

Before I can come up with a witty reply warm lips make contact with the dip between my neck and shoulder. I gasp, half in shock and half in sensation.

I feel my name being whispered against my skin, and it occurs to me that the alcohol isn't the only thing making me drunk. The way he nips and licks at my skin as he follows the trail of dirty seduction up to my lips makes me crazy: I want to shout and scream and runaway but at the same time I want to give in to the nagging voice at the back of my head, reminding me of Chuck last week and Chuck before that and the Chuck now. And now I can feel heat bloom under my panties.

Fuck you, I want to scream, fuck you for being the back that I had to kiss. But instead I let my hungry lips meet his, allow my hands to wonder from my side to his face as his palms trace fire against my sides, grant my eyes to flutter shut and oblige to opening my throat and letting the soft moan to escape me.

I willingly kiss Chuck Bass.

And I like it.

Spotted: Evie getting hot and heavy with everyone's favourite Upper East Side rich boy. Only I must warn you, E- A Bass never lets an opportunity slip away from him under the dim lights of a club. I think it's time you face up to the facts or take the consequences.

What will it be? Truth… or dare?

XOXO Gossip Girl.