"…And when her edges soften,Her body is my coffin…"

-Ludo, Love Me Dead

***

July

Two Years Before

If there were two things in the world that Blair Waldorf loathed above everything else, they were tacky clothes and Chuck Bass.

The first was a given. Her mom was a fashion designer, her idol was Audrey Hepburn. These two facts alone would make anyone believe she had impeccable taste, which, of course, she did.

The second was also a given, considering Chuck Bass was a pretentious, womanizing asshole who told a girl he loved her right before he jetted off to Sweden for a month on a supposed 'business trip', and he had only called said girl two times for a grand total of six minutes even though said girl could not stop thinking about him, no matter how hard she tried.

Which was, coincidentally, the exact situation Blair Waldorf was in. And thinking about Chuck Bass did not make planning her mother's charity fashion show any easier. Actually, since it basically involved the two things she hated most, it made Blair pretty pissed off.

"What is this?" Blair asked her assistant, Gretchen, as she plucked a horrid, puke-green chemise dress from one of the many racks in her penthouse apartment. All the major designers (Chanel, Prada, Dior, Versace, Chanel, Chanel, Chanel) had donated items in honor of Eleanor's charity, the Breast Cancer foundation, and she was supposed to be picking what to put in the show. Her mom had entrusted her with the job, which had delighted her (which she didn't say or show, of course), but now that the big day arrived, all she could think about was Chuck Bass. About how the motherchucker himself was in Sweden right now, too busy banging some Swedish milkmaid or getting high to even think about talking to his girlfriend. He didn't even know she was planning this thing because the last time she had talked to him was two weeks ago, when his cell phone had "cut out" through a tunnel after only two minutes. What the hell was that about?

"Um," Gretchen said, biting her nails nervously like she had been for the past hour. "It's a…dress, Miss Waldorf?"

"It looks like someone threw up on it and then ran over it with a garbage truck," Blair said.

Blair got a little bit of sick satisfaction out of the terrified look on Gretchen's face.

"It-It's Dior," Gretchen said, her eyes wide.

"It's also hideous, Gretchen," Blair said, taking a sip of her no-fat, caramel latte. Even it tasted bittersweet. "Get rid of it."

"Y-yes, Miss Waldorf," Gretchen stuttered, taking the dress from Blair and simultaneously scribbling furiously on her overflowing clipboard. If Blair weren't so worked up over Chuck, she probably would have been impressed by Gretchen's organizational skills. But she was, and, she wasn't.

Blair was a smart girl. So why had she thought that just because Chuck had told her he loved her, it meant he was going to change? It was pretty obvious that that wasn't going to happen. If he really loved her, he wouldn't have freaking left her here all alone while he traipsed off to the Land of the Leggy Blonde Women. If he really wanted her as much as he said he did, he would have attempted to call her more than twice in the past month and he definitely wouldn't have hung up after only two minutes.

If he was serious, he would be here. And since he was in Sweden, it was pretty clear that he wasn't serious.

She should have known better.

At that moment, Blair need comfort. She needed safety. She needed to feel beautiful, and wanted, and smart, and sexy.

Only one place to find all that.

As Blair headed over to the Chanel rack, she could hear Gretchen yapping on her cell phone with someone.

Blair pulled the first thing that caught her eye off the rack: a mid-thigh length black shift dress with three-quarters sleeves and a square neckline.

"Hello, beautiful," Blair sighed, hugging the soft dress to her chest and closing her eyes. She might not be able to count on Chuck to be there for her, but she could always, always, alwayscount on Chanel.

"Um, Miss Waldorf?" she heard Gretchen say from behind her.

"Yes?" Blair replied, still holding onto her Chanel for dear life, only slightly annoyed at Gretchen's interruption.

"Chuck Bass wants to speak to you."

Blair was temporarily frozen at the sound of Chuck's name. She hadn't heard it come out of anyone's mouth except her own, and, of course, Serena's, for the past month. Most of the time, she was pouring her heart out to Serena, and most of the time they didn't use his exact name. Actually, those conversations usually went something like this:

Blair: "How could that mother chucking basstard just up and leave me after all that's happened between us? Is he trying to torture me?"

Serena, patting Blair's back: "He's Chuck. Is that even a question?"

Blair, swatting her away: "What do you know? You helped him."

Serena: "What? Me? What are you even talking about, B?"

Blair: "Oh, you know, by cleverly convincing me that he loves me."

Serena: "B, he does love you. He told you he loves you. Don't you remember, heartfelt, speech, cute little gifts, all the adorable, sappy kisses?"

Blair: "Yeah, well obviously that was a lie. Just like every other thing that comes out of that lying liar pants' mouth."

Serena, laughing: "Did you just say 'lying liar pants'? I think you need to lay off the caffeine, B."

And it was true. She had been drinking a lot of coffee lately, but how else was she expected to calm her anxious nerves? And, you know, her other more animalistic urges. Smoking was unladylike (even though Audrey did) and she couldn't exactly go out and have some wild, passionate night with a random lax player with nice biceps because, unlike some people she knew, she was in what she thought was a committed relationship and she planned to keep it that way.

Blair sighed again, pulling the dress closer to her like a security blanket.

"Please tell Mr. Bass," Blair said, "that Miss Waldorf is not interested in speaking to him on account of the fact that he is an inconsiderate asshole who deserves to fall off the face of the earth."

"Gretchen," an all-too familiar voice said from behind her, "would you please inform Miss Waldorf that Mr. Bass has returned from Sweden and would very much like to see his beautiful girlfriend?"

At Chuck's voice, Blair turned around only to come face to face with the man she loved and hated every second of her life. Blair glanced at Gretchen, who looked extremely confused, and was suddenly even angrier than she had been before.

"Gretchen," Blair said, staring directly at Chuck, who was smirking like he knew something she didn't. "You're dismissed. Same time tomorrow."

"Yes, Miss Waldorf," Gretchen said with obvious relief in her voice before she hightailed it out of the Waldorf penthouse, trusty clipboard in hand.

Blair could not help but notice that Chuck looked extremely sexy in the navy blue suit he was wearing. And the way he was leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest, and that freaking grin on his face, and the way he was staring at her like he had an enormous sweet tooth and she was a lemon meringue pie…

You're supposed to be mad at him, Blair told herself, turning away to squelch the warm feeling that was rising slowly from her toes.

"I'm busy, Bass," Blair said, pretending to sort through the Chanel rack she was still standing in front of. When Chanel couldn't even keep her mind off of Chuck, she knew she was in big trouble.

"You have minions, now?" Chuck teased, ignoring her. As always.

"As I said before," Blair snapped, pushing aside a set of hangers with a little extra force, "I'm busy. I don't have time for your games, Chuck."

"Is that so?"

The way he said it, Blair could tell that he was amused by her fury, which just pissed her off even more. This was the man that she loved, who had finally told her he loved her a little over a month ago after two years of lying and scheming and hurting and stupid little games. This was the man that she hadn't seen and barely talked to in a month, the man she had dreaded seeing for a month, the man she had gone crazy without seeing him for a month.

"Yes, really, basshole," she said, continuing to flick through the rack, glad Chuck couldn't see her face because it would reveal way too much hurt. "Because while you were off in Sweden or Switzerland or wherever the hell you were with your little Swedish milkmaids, you obviously didn't have enough time to pick up the phone every once in a while and call, I don't know, your girlfriend."

"Blair," Chuck said.

She wasn't done. "You probably can't count that high. Maybe the numbers on the punch pad confused you. I don't know what the hell is wrong with you Bass, but if you think for a second that-"

"Blair-"

"-you can just waltz right in here with your little bouquet of peonies and your charming smile and your navy suit and I will just fall all over you-"

"Blair-"

"-then you are seriously mistaken, because I am Blair Cornelia Waldorf, and I do not take anyone's crap, not even-"

"Blair!"

"What?!" she yelled, whipping around to face him. By now, Blair's hands were shaking she was so angry. Her eyes were stinging and she knew she was about to cry, but she wouldn't let herself do that. Especially not in front of him.

"Dinner tonight," he said. Not a question. "The Palace. The car will pick you up at eight o'clock."

And before she could open her mouth to retort with some classic, witty remark, his lips were on hers and he was kissing her more deeply than she had ever remembered him kissing her before. And then after two intense seconds, he pulled away and was in the elevator, and then he was gone.

Blair could barely breathe even after Chuck left. She hated him for making her feel this way, like he was the only man she could ever love, like she couldn't ever be mad at him, like she didn't have a choice.

But she had seen the way he looked at her. Even though her anger had made her completely and totally unappeasable, it hadn't made her blind. She felt the way he always made her feel when he looked at her, from that very first night they'd spent together in the back of his limo when she was sixteen years old. It was two years later now, and she still melted like ice cream on a hot day whenever his eyes flashed at the sight of her.

She loved him for making her feel this way.

Why did every freaking feeling she had for him have to be entirely conflicted? She loved him, she hated him. She was completely and totally turned on by him, she wanted to strangle him. He pissed her off, he made her happier than anyone else could. Why did it all have to happen at the same time? Was that even normal?

Her first thought: Of course it isn't. He's Chuck Bass and I'm Blair Waldorf. We may be a lot of things, but we are definitely not normal.

Her second thought: Shit. Now I have to go to dinner with him.

***

The car showed up at eight o'clock on the dot, just like Chuck had promised, and Blair Waldorf was dressed to kill.

She was wearing, of course, a Chanel black strapless cocktail dress that was so short it was probably illegal in many countries, and one of her favorite pairs of black Prada stilettos. She wanted to know why Chuck hadn't called her and what he'd been doing in Sweden for so long. She wanted to know everything, and after she knew, she was going to try as hard as she could to be furious with him and make him work for it.

And when he saw her, she knew he would work for it.

When she got to The Palace, Chuck's hotel, the driver held the door open for her and she stepped inside. She rounded the corner to the restaurant, where she spotted Chuck sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, probably scotch, and so she started towards him. She knew that a lot of guys were checking her out. Of course they were. She was Blair Waldorf.

She was almost to Chuck when a leggy, blonde woman skinnier than the heel on Blair's stilettos slid into the seat next to him. She kept walking, slower, watching the two of them interact. Apparently the bitch was funny because Chuck started to laugh.

"Really, Bass?" Blair said, standing right in front of them, her throat beginning to tighten. "This is what you brought me here for? So I could watch you fawn all over your little Barbie doll?"

Chuck started at the sound of Blair's voice, but he didn't look guilty. Not even a little bit. He even had the nerve to steal a quick glance at the woman, who didn't look guilty either.

"You're right," the woman said in a weird accent, smiling even though Blair had just insulted her. What the hell was going on here? "She's perfect."

"Blair," Chuck said, his eyes telling her to be nice. "This is Johanna. I met her in Sweden at a meeting with some marketing executives there and I hired her on the spot to be my PR guru. She's brilliant, the best out there to maintain the Bass Inc. image"

"And married," Johanna added with another smile, and Blair almost felt guilty. Almost. "It's nice to finally meet you. You are all I have heard about for almost a month now."

"The pleasure's all mine," Blair said, extending her hand, which Johanna shook. "I'm Blair Waldorf, Chuck's-"

"Girlfriend," Chuck interrupted. "She's my girlfriend. Isn't she beautiful?"

If there was another thing Blair hated, it was being put on the spot. Especially by Chuck. She glared at him, but Johanna just laughed it off.

"Surprisingly enough, she's definitely lived up to your praise, Mr. Bass," Johanna said, a twinkle in her eye. "You better hold onto her. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an important meeting with a certain husband who I haven't seen for far too long. At the office at nine tomorrow, Mr. Bass?"

"Please call me Chuck, Johanna," he said, "and nine is perfect."

"As you wish, Chuck. See you around, Blair," Johanna said with a little wave before leaving Blair alone with Chuck.

As soon as Johanna's blonde mane disappeared around the corner, Chuck pulled Blair into the seat next to him, holding both her hands in one of his.

"Blair," he said, looking straight into her eyes, even though she refused to meet his. "What is all this about?"

"All what, Chuck?" Blair asked, her voice smooth and bitter, like dark chocolate. "What do you want me to say to you?"

"I want you to tell me why you wouldn't even look at me today when I tried to surprise you," he said. "I want you to tell me why you were so quick to jump to conclusions today when I invited you here. I want you to tell me why you won't even look at me now when I'm-"

"When you're what? What are you trying to do, Bass? Please, elaborate."

"Blair," Chuck said, tilting her face up to meet his. Blair didn't try to fight it. When she looked at him, she saw all the unhappiness and vulnerability she had witnessed after his father died, when she'd first told him she loved him. When he had shot her down. When he had made her cry, when he had made the unshakeable Blair Waldorf cry for days and days before finally coming back to her. "Blair. What is going on?"

The tears were coming again now. She could feel the pressure. She had to breathe slowly, inhale, exhale, over and over again to keep herself from losing it.

"I thought that when you told me you loved me," Blair began, keeping a steady rhythm because it soothed her, "that we could just… be together. Like a normal couple. No games, no ridiculous bets, no scheming or plotting or manipulating or lies. Just normal couple fights. Like, over who calls who more often or who is more understanding and other stuff like that. The little things."

"We can be like that, Blair," Chuck said, looking so sincere that Blair could hardly stand it. She blinked hard, but a few tears still found their way down her cheek.

"We can't though," Blair said, shaking her head slightly. "We can't."

Chuck pulled her closer to him, but she pulled back.

"Chuck, I can't keep doing this if you're going to keep leaving me. You left me in Tuscany. You left me the night of my mom's wedding. You left me after you told me you loved me. You always leave right when I think that we're finally going to stop hurting each other and start just being together, and then every time you come back, it's like we're right back to where we started. But I can't keep going around in circles, Chuck. I can't keep stopping and starting and stopping and starting all over again."

After Blair finished talking, Chuck turned away and was very quiet for what seemed like forever. Blair kept looking at him, trying to gauge his reaction, trying to figure out what was running through his mind. Blair knew what she was thinking. She knew that she wanted nothing more than to be with Chuck Bass, but she also knew that if he kept leading her on like this, kept making her feel like their relationship could fall of the edge of a cliff at any moment, she was going to go insane.

Finally Chuck turned back and looked at her, and she found she could hardly handle it.

"I know that our past is rough, Blair," he said, tightening his grip on her hands. They fit so well together. "But I want you to know that, if you're willing to trust the fact that I meant it when I said 'I love you', Blair Cornelia Waldorf, I will always only love you. I can only hope that is enough for you believe in me. Because I sure as hell don't want to lose you."

Now it was Chuck's turn to watch Blair, who was staring at him with her eyes round and glistening. Blair didn't wait as long as Chuck did to wrap her arms around his neck and envelope him in a kiss that healed so many things between them.

"Do you forgive me now?" Chuck murmured, forehead pressed to hers.

Blair answered with another hungry kiss, which Chuck greedily ate up.

"So now that we can go back to being the can't-keep-their-hands-off-each-other couple," Chuck said, leaving a twenty dollar bill on the table and sliding off his bar stool, "I can answer another one of your questions."

He offered his hand to Blair, and she took it, following him off his chair.

Blair raised an eyebrow. "What other question?"

"Why I didn't call you in Sweden."

Then he started walking towards where Blair knew the bathrooms were located without another word.

And she followed him. Because who wouldn't follow Chuck Bass into an empty bathroom?

"Chuck," Blair said as she walked into the girl's bathroom, where Chuck was waiting. "You do realize you're a boy, right?"

Chuck just laughed at her and walked back to the door, and Blair took the opportunity to check her reflection in the long silver mirror. Hair, still in place in a sleek chignon. Dress, still freaking sexy. Makeup, still flawless.

She heard a soft clicking noise right before she felt (and saw, thanks to the mirror) the wonderful presence of one Chuck Bass standing right behind her, his body pressed to hers. She almost lost it right there.

"So," Chuck began, kissing a spot on her neck, just below her ear. The part of her that he knew drove her over the edge. "You want to know why I didn't call you in Sweden?"

"Chuck-" Blair started, her voice hazy, her eyes closed.

"Shh," Chuck said, turning her around to face him and then lifting her up and sitting her on the sink. "My turn to talk now."

And then he took off her dress, leaving her in nothing but her black bra and panties. He was pretty skilled at removing her dresses by now. Blair was vaguely aware that she was sitting on a sink in a hotel bar bathroom, but Chuck was kissing her neck, then her shoulders, and she really couldn't have cared less about where she was. She concentrated fully on how she felt.

"See, I have this theory," Chuck said, trailing kisses lower and lower and lower as he talked. "Say someone really loves…chocolate."

A soft kiss, on the little V directly below her neck.

"And they eat chocolate every day, except they get so used to it that it never really fully…satisfies."

Oh my God, Blair thought as Chuck's mouth traveled from her clavicle to the valley between her breasts, leaving electric chills on all the spots he marked his own.

"So this person, say her name is Blair," he said, his lips marking the curve of her waist. "She decides to give up chocolate for one whole month, hoping that in the end, the payoff will be much greater than the want she has to endure for one long, torturous month."

Oh my God.

"The month is arduous and unending, and so many times she wants to give in, but she doesn't. And when the month is over…"

His lips are on her stomach, just below her belly button.

"…she eats an entire bar of chocolate. And it is the most delicious thing she has ever tasted."

"Chuck," Blair managed to say, her voice hoarse. "If you don't take me up to your room right now, I will kill you."

Chuck smiled into her stomach before helping her back into her dress.

"Happy to oblige, as always," he said with a grin, and the two of them ran as fast as their legs would carry them to his suite, where Blair discovered over and over how true Chuck's theory really was.