'Oh make me over
I'm all I want to be'.
"B!"
Blair was assaulted by the blonde as she crossed the green after her first class. Serena grabbed her arm, tugging her along and oblivious to the frown from one of the professors at her yell.
"First of all - where were you last night? Nate wanted to go out with his lacrosse team and we met some really great people from Columbia." She paused. "I texted, but you never replied."
"I was at home," Blair muttered. "With Carter."
Actually, she'd been in her room with the door locked and her phone switched off. Forget nightmares - she'd barely got any sleep last night at all.
"Oh." Serena frowned a little. "I thought you'd be out with..."
"I wasn't," Blair snapped back.
Serena gave her a look. But she obviously sensed not to push for now. "Well, clear your schedule." She grinned. "Guess where we're going this morning?"
Blair shot her best friend a wary glance. "Where?"
"Hamilton House!"
Blair stopped. "What?"
She'd heard of the exclusive club - who hadn't? - and had been planning on applying herself. She'd mentioned it to Serena, but her best friend hadn't seemed all that interested at the time.
"So Penelope-"
"Who?"
Serena waved her hand impatiently. "An old friend from Constance, she's at Columbia now. But more importantly, she's a member! And," she went on, beaming, "She said she can get me in. Or at least an interview."
Blair felt suddenly deflated. "That's...great."
Serena nudged her. "And anything she can do for me, she can do for you too." She was still grinning. "We can join together!" She paused as she saw that Blair didn't look as overjoyed as she'd expected. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Blair said quickly. "I just...don't know this Penelope girl." She was painfully aware of the sharp edge to her voice. Because...she'd wanted to apply to Hamilton House first. For herself. Not off Serena's back. She told herself that it didn't matter either way; if she and Serena got in together, then wasn't that the point? (But she couldn't shake the feeling that the blonde had somehow stolen it from her.)
Serena rolled her eyes. "Which is why I'm going to introduce you." She was already dragging on Blair's arm. "Come on!"
Chuck Bass was accustomed to guilt. Well, he was accustomed to that awful pit in his stomach, but he wasn't accustomed to admitting or facing up to it.
He'd told himself that was all it was as his gut churned all night. But why guilt? Why, every time he thought about those brown eyes -
She wasn't made of porcelain. And he knew why Carter acted that way, which was what made it all the worse. Because of six years ago. Because Carter had never got over his own guilt. And Carter was right – Chuck had been the one telling him to look out for his little sister. Because Chuck had wanted her to be happy; that was all he'd wanted.
Except that was a lie. All he'd ever really wanted was her. He was selfish and greedy and he wanted her back in his apartment with him so much it actually hurt. And if she was back in that penthouse, then she probably hadn't got any more sleep than he had.
She hadn't told him about the therapy, and he knew she was embarrassed because he knew her. A nicer guy might have left her time to lick her wounds. Chuck wasn't a nicer guy.
Which was why he was on his way to the Waldorf penthouse right now. And he wasn't going anywhere till he'd seen her.
It hadn't taken Penelope long to feel very threatened by Blair Waldorf. Most of her time at Constance had been spent trying desperately to follow Serena, to stay on top. Serena had undoubtedly been Constance's reigning monarch. Everyone copied her and everyone wanted to be her; the real challenge, though, was trying to keep her attention.
Penelope had expected Blair to be just another one of Serena's many friends. Nothing special. She'd joined Constance herself in eighth grade, long after Blair Waldorf had been packed off to boarding school. And she'd heard about her - of course she had.
But the pale girl in the prim skirt and Valentino blouse was not what she'd expected. For one thing, she was the complete opposite of Serena. Penelope had spent years carefully arranging her hair to look as effortlessly unbrushed as Serena's, perfecting that thrown together-at-the-last-moment look for each of her outfits. The leggings and boots, the low cut tops and barely-there skirts. The headscarves. She'd always prided herself on being the tallest of Serena's followers - the most like the blonde, the most able to pull off her look.
She'd expected Serena's supposed best friend to be an even more perfect clone. How could you be friends with Serena for that long and not get swept up in her heedless style? But Blair Waldorf was quiet where Serena was loud, sharp where Serena was soft, and cold where Serena was warm. She didn't laugh like a six year-old or touch your arm while she was speaking to you. And Penelope had found that decidedly perturbing. She'd found herself thinking her own outfit was garish compared to Blair's; she'd found herself suddenly envying the cool poise Blair seemed to possess. Unlike Serena, Blair looked like the kind of person who would enjoy destroying a freshman's life.
And then there was the closeness that she and Serena seemed to have. Serena, of course, appeared close to everyone. But she'd always had a soft spot for nice people - and Blair definitely wasn't that. Penelope suddenly found herself wishing she hadn't spent so long going along with the blonde's bursts of sympathy for those less fortunate. Like that time she'd decided to embargo Gossip Girl. They'd all felt the need to pretend they were equally outraged, while being extra subtle about sending in tips.
Penelope had spent the entire morning alternatively eyeing and buttering up Blair Waldorf, both to please Serena and to work out just how much of a threat the girl posed. And admiring and being jealous of her at the same time, all the while quite aware that she wasn't passing whatever test Blair Waldorf had set for her. Blair didn't trust her. Penelope had been hoping she'd be able to push Blair around - and it looked like she was wrong. She didn't like that. She didn't like that at all.
So she'd switched tactics and tried ignoring her. Fawning all over Serena instead, in the wild hope of intimidating the other girl. Trying to stake some kind of footing with the queen she already knew.
Blair had not been impressed.
Her idea of a fun morning was not watching yet more people fall over themselves to get to her best friend. (And that part of her that still felt like she'd been robbed wished she'd been able to make an impression on Hamilton House out from under Serena's glorious golden shadow). Penelope kept harping on about the wild times they'd had at Constance - all the drinking and guys and crazy parties. Serena had tried to include Blair, but that was the problem. Blair didn't want people trying to include her. She couldn't think of anything more desperate. She'd planned on forcing herself not to think about Chuck at all; but there it was again. Pity.
And it wasn't even Serena's fault, and that didn't stop the nasty well of sudden, secret hatred. Blair had spent so long missing her best friend that she'd forgotten what it felt like. The love. The adoration and total acceptance edged with resentment so bitter it made her feel sick. How could you not love Serena? And how could you not, as her best friend, hate her just that little bit too?
Blair didn't want to be that pathetic girl on the towel. She didn't want to be left behind. She didn't want the person that had been on that beach that day to ever exist again.
That hadn't been Blair Waldorf. She was back, she told herself as she headed down the street. Blair Waldorf was back. She couldn't let Chuck undo that. (She couldn't think about Chuck).
"Blair!"
And then, of course, one familiar voice was all it took to bring it all crashing down.
She turned to see the highly unwanted face of Damien Dalgaard. What the hell was he doing here? She didn't want a reminder of boarding school. She hadn't wanted it in the Hamptons but she really, really didn't want it now. Not here and not in Manhattan. Not on Columbia's campus. Not when she needed to get away from the girl who'd spent all those hours running and studying and being otherwise perfect and dull in every way while Serena had been living life to the full. While Chuck had been -
Damien was grinning at her now. "Miss me?"
"What are you doing here?" she asked tightly. "I thought you were in Prague."
"My father decided to take the ambassador's post," Damien explained. He looked quite pleased with himself. "So it looks like I'm going to be in Manhattan for a while."
Blair pulled a face back at him. "And you decided to enrol at Columbia too?"
"No. I had some business to take care of." It was partially true. He had come here looking for new clients. But mainly he'd come here because he'd seen the Gossip Girl Spotted map with the location of the girl now standing before him.
"Well, promising as that sounds..." Her voice was dry as she went to move past.
He barely restrained himself from grabbing her arm. "Actually, I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to invite you to a dinner."
"I'm busy," Blair responded acidly.
"Too busy for a State Dinner?" he shot back. At boarding school she'd joined all the clubs that offered her any chance at power – from debate to model United Nations. He was sure she wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity to meet so many influential people. "I hear the chair of La Table Elitaire will be there." Damien had tried to weasel in his connection with Monsieur Dupres a couple of times before, in the hopes of catching her interest.
She arched an eyebrow at him now. (Because she still didn't want that reminder of boarding school, and she felt like his words were dragging her back into that past she needed to prove she'd moved on from. She needed to be a part of Hamilton House and Serena, not La Table Elitaire and Damien).
"Look," Damien sighed. "The offer is there. Just think about it." He glanced at her. He didn't want to ask, but he couldn't help it. "So, how's being back?" He couldn't keep the edge of bitterness out of his voice either. He'd seen all the Gossip Girl blasts. She might have looked like she was with the blondes in all those photos, but it had been Chuck Bass by her side in each and every one of them, and Chuck Bass's hand on the small of her back and Chuck Bass's arm round her waist.
"It's great," Blair snapped.
Damien couldn't stop himself. "I read about some of your exploits. I almost didn't recognise you." He tried to keep his tone light, but there was still that faint curl to his lip. "All those parties? Doesn't sound like the Blair Waldorf I knew." He almost succeeded in making it sound like a joke.
Blair's eyes had suddenly gone very hard. "That's because you don't know me." It was like ice.
"You sure you're not just trying to keep up with your old friends?" The friends was a sneer. There was only one person Damien was talking about, and he got the feeling he was a lot more than a friend. The smarmy bastard.
"I don't need to keep up with anyone," Blair replied curtly. "People keep up with me. Or have you forgotten that?" (If she said it enough times, she would be able to make it true and she could stop feeling so sick). "Bye, Damien." She gave him another cold look before she turned on her heel.
She was Blair Waldorf. She was.
Carter's brow raised in sheer disbelief when the dining room doors opened to reveal Chuck. He dropped his newspaper to appraise the other boy. "What the hell are you doing here? Get out."
"I need to see her."
"The fuck you do." Carter's eyes narrowed. "She's not here. And you can stay away from her."
"Last time I checked," Chuck answered coolly, "I'm pretty sure she didn't need a guard dog." Her first class should be over by now – where was she?
"She also doesn't need you taking advantage of her," Carter ground. "Haven't you done enough?"
Chuck's gaze flashed. "I'm not taking advantage of her." As if she'd ever let anyone take advantage of her. His voice was low. "She's more than capable of making her own decisions."
"What?" the other guy sneered back. "Like letting you take her out of therapy?"
"I didn't take her out of anything," Chuck growled. "I didn't know about the therapy."
Carter just scoffed.
"And shouldn't you be asking why she stopped going?" Chuck demanded. "Did you even ask her?" Because that, surely, was the more important question.
Carter's mouth twisted. "Are you saying I don't know my own sister, Bass?" There was a note of danger there.
"I'm saying Blair knows what she needs."
"Yeah?" Carter hissed. "Well she sure as hell doesn't need you."
Blair paused as she came out of the elevator. Because she'd heard his voice. He was here. She actually froze for a moment, and was seriously considering turning around and walking straight back out. She still didn't think she could face seeing him.
"I'll have the rest of her stuff picked up today," she heard Carter snap. She felt that cold twist again, because they were talking about her. If anyone was going to talk about her then it would be because of her success or impeccable style or – not this.
"You seriously think she wants to live here?" Chuck sounded angry, and some part of Blair clung to the hope, suddenly, that he just wanted her to live with him. So things could go back to how they had been. Just him and her and his penthouse. And Nate and Serena and cocktail nights. No more mentions of the past.
"Well, she's not living with you." Carter sounded flat.
There was a pause; and when Chuck next spoke, she could practically hear him grinding his teeth to keep calm. "There's obviously a reason that she moved out of here in the first place."
And just like that, the coldness was back. She remembered that scornful glint in Evelyn's eye as she'd found her white faced and tear stained in the kitchen. Had she told Chuck? Or had Chuck just worked it out? Had she started clinging to him in her sleep?
Carter was silent.
"Look," Chuck muttered. "If it bothers you that much, then I can stay in the Palace."
Blair's stomach dropped. So there it was. It wasn't even that he wanted to live with her. And she couldn't take it any more. She thrust the dining room doors open, rigid with fury. "No need, Chuck. I'm staying here." She eyed both of them, but those brown eyes burned straight into his.
He felt his own gaze darken. "That's really what you want?" He knew it wasn't. She just glared at him.
"Yes." She was making a point, he realised. She turned away from him then and severed their connection. "I think you should go."
He wanted to tell her that he wasn't going anywhere without her, but Carter looked about three seconds from calling security. And he'd seen that look on her face and he knew she wouldn't listen to him.
"Fine."
But he was still watching her as he left, because this wasn't over. She ignored him.
She waited till she'd heard the elevator doors close before rounding on her brother. "Carter," she said icily. "You are aware that I'm capable of making my own decisions?"
He shoved aside the fact that she'd just echoed Bass's very words, glowering at her instead. "Then do you mind telling me why you lied about therapy?"
"Because I don't need it," she snapped. "Sitting around talking about my feelings? Everyone gets bad dreams. They don't mean anything."
His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to argue – but the elevator went again at that moment.
"Carter!"
There was a thump as a huge bag was tossed lazily aside, and then Tish's languorous smile as she strode in with a swish of red hair. She was looking predictably gorgeous in a cashmere sweater dress, green to match her slanted eyes. She moved in to kiss both his cheeks.
"Blimey. This place hasn't changed." Max smirked as he glanced around; and his gaze rested hungrily on Blair for a moment. He grinned, flashing those brilliant white teeth. "Beautiful as ever."
Carter was a little too busy realising that keeping his hands off Tish was going to be impossible as ever.
Tish, meanwhile, had turned to kiss Blair. She remembered now – she did like this one. And she remembered something else. "We just saw Chuck leaving," she announced breezily. "With a face like thunder." She actually looked interested. "What on earth have we missed?"
The black leather of Chuck's sofa was nowhere near as inviting without Blair's bare skin against it. The scotch bottle at his side was the poorest of substitutes. It had only been two days since she was last here, and already his penthouse felt empty.
He'd never let her go that easily. He'd sensed an edge to her – something that went beyond embarrassment or anger. Beyond her staying in her damn apartment just to spite him. He was going to get her to speak to him, and he was going to get her back.
He glanced down as heard his phone buzz. And his grip tightened on his glass instantly. Evelyn. No doubt calling to find out how it was going with Blair. He paused for only a moment before he rejected the call. He was surprised at that kick of bitter satisfaction. He drained the last of his drink and got to his feet. Because he was going to get Blair back. Or at the very least, back into this apartment.
It was late morning at the Waldorf penthouse, breakfast piled up on the dining room table that Max was attacking with great gusto. Tish lounged against her chair in one of Blair's sheer nightgowns – far too short for her – and didn't even bother to pretend to eat. She'd moaned to Blair only the other night that all this American food was making her obese. (But she was quite happy to pick at sweets throughout the day, if they took her fancy.)
"It really was far too long," she sighed. She and Max had spent the previous day at her uncle's funeral. "I mean, obviously very tragic. But did they really need five eulogies? And poor Toby was shaking so much he could hardly finish his. They shouldn't have made him read anything."
"He won't be poor after all he inherits all of daddy dearest's company," Max pointed out through a mouthful of pancakes. He'd met Toby a few times – enough to know that, like his cousin, he definitely did not have a mind for business. Which was exactly why Tish's father had sent Max over with her. Someone about to come into that much money needed...guidance. "So," he grinned. "What's the plan for tonight? Are we getting the lads in?"
Tish pulled a face. "Do we have to have a poker night? It's such a boring game."
Carter knew that Tish was actually a pretty good player – when she bothered to remember the rules. He'd taught her himself. With certain favours as bribes, of course, or she'd never have stayed interested for that long.
Max laughed. "I'm sure you girls can think of something to do." His eyes rested on Blair, as they'd done several times over the past week. He did wonder if she was a virgin. Had Chuck managed to tap that? He rather liked the view anyway – even if she was wearing more than Tish.
Blair pretended not to see his gaze. "I have plans with Serena." Her best friend had promised her a girly night out, and she couldn't wait. She needed it.
At that, Tish's face fell. "Not that awful blonde? Please," she groaned. "Stay here with me. You know how boring the boys get." And, as an idea occurred to her, "Chuck will be here."
"No," Carter snapped. "He won't."
"What?" Max protested. "It's not a game without Bass!"
"I'm sure he has better things to do." Carter refused to look at Blair.
Tish threw him a faintly disapproving look. She was not impressed – and she suspected Blair wasn't either. No one liked a cock-blocker.
"S!" Penelope managed to catch Serena as she came out of library. Although, judging from the disarray of her clothes, she and Nate had been doing anything but studying. Penelope had already tipped off Gossip Girl. If only Serena, Nate and sex were something novel. "Are you ready for tonight?" she smiled.
The blonde looked at her blankly. "Tonight?"
"Hamilton House drinks! Don't tell me you forgot?"
"Um...of course not!" Serena tried to cover up the highly unconvincing lie with a radiant smile. "It's just," she worried her lip, "Blair and I already made plans..."
"But I've already spoken to Blair, and she said she couldn't wait." Penelope was a far better liar than Serena would ever be.
The blonde paused. "She did?"
Penelope raised an eyebrow. "She didn't tell you?"
"She probably didn't get the chance," Serena admitted. She had, after all, been a little occupied in the library for the past couple of hours. "But...that's great! So I'll see you then."
"Seven o'clock," the other girl smirked. "Meet on the steps." She was still smirking as she watched an oblivious Serena leave. The blonde had been inactive for too long. Sometimes you had to take the initiative yourself.
Blair was supposed to have been meeting Serena at eight. At quarter past eight, she was still sitting in the bar at Butter by herself. But then, she hadn't really expected her best friend to be on time. She was about to send her a text to tell her to get a move on, when she received one of her own. From Gossip Girl.
There was a picture of the Hamilton House steps, a group of girls sharing cocktails, and one blonde raising her glass with a bright grin. A bright grin that made Blair feel physically sick.
Spotted : S making an impression. And some new friends. Looks like it really is that easy to leave B behind...
Blair was gripping her phone so tightly now she barely noticed when it started ringing. Serena. She pressed reject and dropped the cell onto the bar. Had Serena just forgotten? She felt like everyone in the room was looking at her now. Her hands were shaking.
Her phone buzzed again; Serena kept ringing. Finally Blair snatched it up. "What?"
"B!" Serena sounded tipsy on top of everything else. There was girls' laughter in the background. So she was having a great time, Blair thought savagely."Where are you?" Serena demanded. "Penelope said you might be late, but it's been an hour! We're headed to Milk and Honey now. Come!"
Blair tried not to flinch at the we – and then her eyes narrowed. Penelope? Penelope. Of all the transparent, pathetic schemes. "I'll be there in five," she bit. And when she got there, she was going to destroy the bitch.
Chuck tried not to snarl in frustration as he scanned the bar one more time. But there was no sign of her. The Gossip Girl blast that had shown her sitting alone in Butter – in a particularly delicious sequinned dress, hair pulled partially back – had only been fifteen minutes ago. The time it had taken him to get here from his penthouse. Where had she gone? He was about to leave when something caught his eye. Or rather, someone. Someone with slicked back dirty blond hair, and someone he recognised.
Damien. Damien Dalgaard. He was just coming through the door – and he seemed to be looking for someone too. He was also just as sleazy as Chuck remembered. Chuck's lip curled. He wondered, briefly, if Blair had actually made plans with him. Surely not. Anyway, Chuck Bass was the only person allowed to stalk her. He slipped out of the bar before the creep could see him.
"B!" Serena was clearly several martinis down as she leapt up from the table. "Finally! Where have you been?"
They were all sitting cosily in the bar, Penelope at the head of the table. She didn't look very pleased to see Blair. Blair just gave her an icy look. "Why don't you ask Penelope?"
Serena looked between them, a little confused. "Anyway – you're here now! We're just about to play Never Have I Ever."
Seriously? That awful game again? Blair had no inclination of playing with Penelope either. "I think I'll pass."
Penelope smirked. "I think that's a good idea."
Blair looked at her, and a hard gleam entered her eyes. Penelope tried not to swallow. "You know what?" Blair said coolly. "I'll play."
Serena was delighted, of course. "I'll get you a drink!"
Tish was bored. As expected. Max always concentrated far too hard on poker. He seemed as laid-back and easy-going as she was about everything else; but when it came to money, that grin got dangerous. When it came to money, Tish stopped existing. Tish just got in the way. But her idea of a fun evening was not watching a group of men focus on cards instead of her.
She sighed as she helped herself to more champagne from the Waldorf kitchen. Looked like she'd be getting drunk by herself, then.
"What are you doing here all alone?"
She felt herself smile, idly, as Carter's hands crept around her waist. "Darling," she moaned. "Max is just in the other room. He'll get so annoyed..."
"The only thing Max'll be aware for the next two hours is what card he gets dealt with," Carter smirked into her neck as he kissed her. God, he'd missed this. Tish's wonderfully lithe body curled around his seemed to drain all the tension out of him. Everything was so easy with her. And she was so good in bed.
"Carter," she sighed as her arms twined around him. "This really must be the last time." She kissed him, tongue lazily exploring his mouth. He did love the way she kissed him. "You're so bad..."
He was already leading her upstairs, champagne bottle between them. His own room was dangerously close to the stairs, and had some of Max's stuff in it; so he led her further back, into a room he knew no one would enter. He realised that he needed this.
"Never have I ever...had sex in a moving vehicle."
Blair tried very hard not to choke on her martini. Not even Serena drank to that one – which Blair actually found surprising. Maybe she and Nate were so busy having sex in other places that the limo was where they took their breaks. Blair couldn't drink, of course – and that had never happened in this game. She'd also had to stop herself from drinking for sex in a public place, sex on a rooftop (one time); in fact, most things sex related.
But she wasn't prepared for the next one.
A particularly soppy freshman raised her glass, sniffing. "Never have I ever been in love!"
Blair went very still. Serena smiled and drank. Blair tried to keep her cheeks cool. Because she'd been about to drink too. And she realised Serena was looking at her like she knew. Blair wasn't sure if she could handle that. She prayed for someone else to come up with something else inane, fast.
"Never have I ever...had sex. At all." Penelope spoke with some satisfaction. She'd been watching Blair throughout the game, and she'd noticed that the girl had barely drunk to anything. And while some part of her had envied that sudden quiet primness, the other part had been desperate to drag her down. They'd all spent most of high school inventing ever wilder stories to keep up with Serena. Even after she'd got together with Nate, they'd needed to make sure their sexual prowess matched hers. And it looked like Blair's didn't. Surely, surely that was something Penelope could use against her?
Because everyone at the table was drinking now.
Serena had sensed Blair stiffen at her side and tried to give her a reassuring smile – to show her that it didn't matter, and no one cared – but all Blair could see shining through the blonde's eyes was sympathy, and Penelope was still smirking on her other side.
So Blair drank.
Milk and Honey. Finally. Jesus, Gossip Girl was off the game tonight. Why was the bitch never all-seeing when you needed her to be? Chuck climbed into his limo and told Arthur to step on it.
"Blair." Serena had pulled her best friend aside, quietly. Penelope was looking thoroughly put-out that she hadn't managed to scare Blair off, and was drinking more to try and make herself feel better. "Look, about tonight-"
"What about it?" Blair snapped.
"You don't have to lie." Serena was so gentle and Blair couldn't stand it. "Just be yourself, and the girls will love you."
Blair literally couldn't stand it. She was trying to be herself. She was Blair Waldorf. She didn't need Serena to tell her that. "Well, as much as I appreciate your condescending attempt at a pep-talk," - was it the martinis, making her words slip out so nastily? - "Who says I was lying?"
Serena stared at her for a moment. "Come on," she tried to laugh. "You haven't-"
"I have." Blair's eyes were cold.
The blonde's gaze widened. "With...Chuck?" She still didn't look like she could quite believe it.
"I don't know why you're so surprised. We're meant to be together, aren't we? Isn't this just what you wanted?"
"Blair," Serena choked. "I...I wanted Chuck to admit his feelings for you. I wanted you to have a healthy relationship. Not-"
"Not what?" Blair hissed.
"Have you been sleeping with him all this time?" Serena look genuinely horrified.
"What if I have?" Blair demanded back.
Her best friend swallowed. "You can't just rush into sex-"
"Oh, like you didn't?"
A shadow crossed those blue eyes, but Serena didn't flinch. "Yes, I did. And that's how I know that it was a mistake. But you're not me. And I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did."
"Right, because obviously I could never be anything like you." Blair was almost yelling, and she didn't even know why. Because Serena was telling her she'd made a mistake?
"You don't do things like this," Serena plead. "B, you're worrying me." She stared at her best friend. "Did you sleep with him to prove some kind of point? Because you don't need to. We love you-"
"Did it ever occur to you," Blair asked furiously, "That maybe I just slept with him because I wanted to?"
"Fine," Serena said, soft. "But this is Chuck. Deny it all you want - I know how you feel about him. You can't just start sleeping with him and pretend it doesn't matter and that's all you want. You're going to end up getting hurt."
Blair realised she was almost shaking. "It's sex, Serena," she spat.
"You don't need to try to keep up with him. You're Blair Waldorf. That's enough."
Blair didn't know why those words finally made her snap. Keeping up and Blair Waldorf; she wasn't supposed to be trying to do anything. Nobody was meant to see you try. (And being Blair Waldorf wasn't enough because Serena was wrong and she still didn't feel like she was that girl).
"You know what else I don't need? You, telling me what to do." Her face was very white as she turned away from her best friend. She couldn't take this any more. Her legs were still shaking as she stalked out of the bar.
Penelope snapped out of her sulking long enough to snap a picture of the obviously fighting best friends and send it to Gossip Girl. She felt quite pleased with herself now. She'd also managed to catch the gist of their argument, and...well, she was so excited she literally didn't know what to do with the information. Chuck and Blair, sleeping together? This was why they needed a queen. So she had someone to report these kind of gossip bombs to. And Serena, she realised, no longer counted.
"What the hell is going on?"
Chuck couldn't believe he'd managed to miss Blair again. He'd seen the blast all right – their fight, splashed all over Gossip Girl. Thankfully Serena was still here.
Or perhaps not so thankfully, as the blonde rounded on him. "How could you do that to her?"
Jesus, what was he supposed to have done this time? "I've been a bit too busy trying to get Waldorf to speak to me to sleep with anyone else," he growled. "So let me save you some time and tell me that whatever you think you heard-"
Serena whacked him. "I know exactly who you've been sleeping with, Chuck!" Those blue eyes narrowed on him. "Blair told me about the two of you."
His own eyes slanted back. "And why is this suddenly all my fault? I hate to break it to you, but that amount of amazing sex usually requires two willing participants." He was getting a bit sick of having to remind people that Blair was, in fact, capable of going after what she wanted.
Serena glared. "And you don't think she deserves more than being your dirty little secret?"
"Well," Chuck managed to smirk, "She's definitely dirty." Did she deserve to be his anything? Did he deserve her at all? He was far more her dirty little secret than the other way around, and with good reason.
The blonde was not amused. "Really, Chuck?" She sounded disgusted as she went to turn away.
"Serena." Chuck had suddenly moved after her. "Where is she?" His voice was tight and he wasn't smirking any more.
"I don't know," Serena sighed. "She's mad and she obviously doesn't want my advice. She probably went home."
Chuck seriously hoped she had.
Blair got back to find the penthouse in disarray. The poker game was semi-forgotten, glasses and half-dressed girls sprawled around the Waldorf living room. Max glanced up from his own shitty hand (his luck was running out) long enough for his face to brighten as he saw her. What a perfect excuse.
"Finally," he chirped. "A girl with some class."
Blair rolled her eyes at him and stepped out of his hold. She wasn't in the mood. She wanted – she didn't know what she wanted. She wanted these people out of here. She wanted to curl up in bed, but the thought of her room still filled her with dread. Because fear in the night had no concept of pride. She wanted to be Blair Waldorf; but most of all she wanted to just be her without having to repeat it over and over. She wanted to go back to being the girl Chuck had seemed awed by.
She ignored Max's protests as she headed upstairs. She'd have to face her room sooner or later. It wasn't till she was in the room, though, that she heard the noises. And for a moment she was genuinely frozen with fear. They weren't coming from downstairs.
The noises were coming from a room further back. Upstairs. There was only one room behind hers. A room that no one ever went into any more. She moved out, slowly, and padded along the landing. She paused outside the door. Who the hell would be in her parents' room?
That was when she distinguished the sounds as moans.
"Carter...yes..."
She felt bile rise in her throat as she fled. She didn't need any help throwing up in her bathroom this time. Carter. Carter was having sex in their dead parents' room. So it was fine for Carter to do whatever the hell he wanted. Just not her. And part of her was crushed for even caring so much. Clearly Carter had moved on – the room hadn't been Eleanor and Harold's for seven years, so why did she care so much? Why did Carter get to stay here and be just like he always had, while she'd been at boarding school alone and getting left further and further behind and further and further away from the person she was supposed to be?
If he'd never interrupted her and Chuck that day then Blair would still be on the right path. If he'd never brought up that stupid first summer – if he'd never sent her to damn boarding school in the first place, then she'd have gone to Constance and known Penelope and learnt to deal with Serena and proven to all of them that Blair Waldorf did not run away. Then she might have got used to living in this penthouse. Then Chuck would have existed as more than emails and phone calls and a longing for a smirk and an ache -
Fine.
She didn't want any of it to matter any more. She controlled her future. No one else. Not any more. She would not be weak and she would not be pitied and she would not need anyone.
Max looked delighted when she came back downstairs. Now he could actually toss his hand down. One of the guys went to protest that he owed them money; he was happily ignored.
"Can I get you a drink, beautiful?"
She walked straight past him and opened their parents' liquor cabinet herself. Carter had clearly been helping himself over the years so it was as much her alcohol as it was his. If he got to act like their parents had never happened, then so did she. She got to forget.
"Shots?" Max grinned. He was already lining up the glasses.
The vodka burned her empty stomach and its bitter kick filled her with satisfaction. She slanted her eyes at him. Max would do, she decided coldly.
Chuck found the penthouse in the same state of disarray. Obviously, he hadn't been invited to the game this year. But if Carter was otherwise occupied then he was going to get Blair to talk to him -
And that was when he saw her.
Still in that sequinned dress, curled on Max's lap. That was enough to make his jaw tighten unbearably. But then she turned and looked at him, and the gleam in her eyes was one of satisfaction. Icy. And she kissed Max.
"Waldorf." Chuck came to a stop in front of them, resisting the urge to wrap his hands around Max's neck as he forced back the furious lump in his throat. He looked at her instead, and he wanted her so much he was having difficulty breathing. "What are you doing?"
She gazed up evenly. "Having the time of my life. Thanks." Max was kissing her neck now.
Chuck's lip curled and it came out a hiss as he fought not to lose it. "With him?"
Max had his own lips buried in her collar bone as he raised an inoocent eyebrow. "What's wrong with me?" She couldn't be a virgin, he realised; not from the way Chuck was looking at her. Excellent.
They both ignored him.
"This is hardly your scene," he told her, flat. He was searching her face and she could feel the burn of those dark eyes. "And you and I both know you can do better."
Her heated gaze flickered over him, and her mouth was set. "Can I?"
She arched her back as Max went to kiss her again; arched her back in the same way she did when Chuck kissed her, and her eyes were narrowed. Her face was too pale.
"This isn't you," he hissed.
She went cold. She suddenly pushed Max off – Max made a noise of complaint – and glared blankly at Chuck. "How would you know, exactly?" She didn't wait for an answer because she didn't want to hear it. She pushed past both of them and disappeared.
She got as far as the kitchen before Chuck had caught hold of her arm, pulling her round to face him. It was just the two of them in the room now. "What's going on?" he demanded. He'd seen that edge in her the other day; and now it was like she'd snapped.
"Nothing," she seethed.
"Don't tell me nothing," he spat back. "What are you doing, Waldorf?"
The name cut her just like everything else. Waldorf. Was she really the Waldorf he'd known before all of it went to hell? She was trying to be that girl and it wasn't working because he was still asking her what she was doing and telling her this wasn't her. And those dark eyes gleamed burnt gold and his face was so close and she felt like he was cutting off her air supply.
"Excactly what I want." She stared up at him and struggled to swallow. Her face had suddenly closed off and he could see it. "I'm bored, Chuck." Her voice was a very soft sneer. "And the truth is...I don't want you any more." Her eyes met his. "This whole thing was a mistake."
His shoulders stiffened. "I don't believe you." His voice was very low and his face blank; but his eyes were black now. "You're lying." He went to reach for her - and she shoved him away. Jerked out of his hold.
"I don't want you." Her gaze burned dark with hatred. She didn't want to want him because it hurt too much. She didn't want to want Serena or her old life or any of it any more. She'd rather he hated her. She'd rather he hated her, because anything was better than pity. She'd rather he hated her than realise she'd been pretending all this time. Pretending to be someone she coudn't be - someone she didn't know how to be any more. "Just get out."
He was white and his jaw was still clenched. She'd fooled him, she realised, the hardest and the longest. He'd believed her own propaganda even longer than she had. Because he'd never turned up that summer? He'd stayed away and obviously managed to convince himself, just like she had, that the girl who'd had to be dragged out of the sea and packed off to boarding school was in the past. And she didn't think she'd be able to handle it once he realised the truth. Because the truth was that she didn't even know who Blair Waldorf was any more.
She would not be that weak, not in front of him. Not ever.
She watched as he turned and walked out. And then, slowly, she slid down against the counter and closed her eyes. The poker party was still going on in the other room; no doubt Carter and Tish were still at it upstairs. She suddenly felt unbearably, suffocatingly lonely as her eyes blurred with tears. She choked savagely. Worse than lonely. She felt disgusted - and disgusted at no one but herself.