Their next rehearsal was a beautiful torment. Hugo, like any living being with an ounce of critical ability, had been quick to recognise the shift that had occurred between the pair who'd been once at each other's throats. He had heavily praised them for their pas de deux and joyously exclaimed,

'Whatever it is you've done, do more!'

Blair had wished for nothing else but to bury her face in her hands and disappear. But Chuck, however, seemingly clueless to her mortification, had taken Hugo's approval in his stride and demanded, with no tolerance for rejection, that she join him for dinner that night.

'It'll be just as friends.' He'd promised gleefully, much to her double-crossing dismay. 'I think we might be finally cracking this, Blair.'

She shouldn't truly have been surprised that he'd exhibited the very behaviour he was known best for, she really shouldn't have. Yet still, it had twisted up her stomach to see him so close to that faceless girl, tying unrelenting knots that persisted for hours, and seemed to grow tighter when he was close. But it was futile denying that the pendulum had swung, knocking her unawares until was suspended so high in the air that she had no idea how, or when, she'd come crashing down.

So, it was when she was yanking dress number five off her body, with Serena posted up on her vanity via video call, that Blair realised she hadn't the slightest clue what one wore to dinner with a friend for whom they harboured unrequited romantic feelings.

'I'm trying the Chloé again.' Blair groaned, tossing another garment on the pile of discarded options that she simultaneously rifled through for one of her earlier selections.

'I thought we decided that the Chloé was too platonic?' Serena returned, glancing up briefly through the screen as her best friend scoffed dramatically.

'Well, it is supposed to be a platonic occasion.' She griped. 'Maybe I should-'

'We both know it isn't.' Serena grinned through her interruption. 'You do remember I was there the other night?' She reminded her coyly.

'I'd prefer to forget it altogether if it's all the same to you.' She objected.

'Come on, we have to get out of here. Now!' A flurry of hurrying limbs grappled with Serena's arms, dragging her up off the couch and towards the club's glowing exit.

An alarmed gasp was the most her blonde companion could manage in the haste of it all. Once they had reached the door, her breath came and so did the questions. 'What happened? He didn't reject you, did he?' Disbelief and sympathy were washed all over her pretty face.

'He didn't even have the chance to.' Blair's lips drew into a line. 'Come on.'

The following morning, having promised herself that she would abandon any silly fancies she'd allowed herself to indulge in momentarily, Blair ignored his inquisitive text messages. She'd even held back from demanding to know just how he'd sourced her phone number at all.

Breaking through her memories, Serena's sing-song voice came dancing. 'There's nothing wrong with having a little crush.'

A crush. Those were the curse of gaggling girls with dilating pupils and hearts ripe for breaking. Blair loathed the comparison.

'I object to your use of such juvenile language. Blair Waldorf doesn't do crushes.'

Serena snorted in a manner that Blair's own mother would have reprimanded her for. 'Oh, my apologies,' she said haughtily. What would you rather I call it? An all-consuming desire? A passion-fuelled wanting?' The lofty suggestions made her snort again.

'You do know I'm holding you personally responsible for this?' Blair retorted

Her friend didn't respond, she merely looked up through the phone, her expression probing enough all by itself.

'I never would have considered my feelings' she shuddered as she said the word, still quite unable to believe it herself. 'To be anything more than a gentle buzz from mutual contempt and argument. It's your fault I even entertained the idea that there could be something else, and look where it's got me now.' Blair huffed, tugging the pink, chiffon cocktail dress, which was decidedly too platonic, back off her frame. 'I need to stop listening to you.'

'Sure,' Serena was grinning again. 'So, is that why you're wearing the new lingerie set you picked up at Bergdorf's last week?'

'Mind your own business.' Blair muttered, resisting the urge to fold her arms across her body in a bid to disguise the scarlet silk.

'Nothing wrong with being prepared for any possible outcome, I suppose. It is a date after all.' Serena offered with a wink that made Blair scowl.

'It is categorically not a date. The only possible outcome is that we eat dinner, talk a little, and then go home.'

'Go home?' Serena echoed incredulously. 'And will that be to his place or yours?'

Ignoring her insinuation, Blair busied herself pulling another dress from its hanger. 'What do you think of this?' She asked, holding it up to her phone screen.

'Subtly sexy.' Serena affirmed. 'Let me see it on.'

It was raven silk- a crew-necked mini with flared skirts and an open back. She gave her friend a quick twirl.

Blair sighed at her image in the mirror. Perfect. 'It's not too?'

'It's perfect.'

'You're sure?' She knew it was.

'It's Hepburn.'

Giddy with the compliment, Blair took a seat at her vanity to begin styling her hair. 'Up or down, do you think?'

'Up, hiding the back of that dress would be criminal.' Serena advised. 'Where are you going anyway?'

'Gramercy.' She replied airily, fixing loose tendrils around her face.

'You made the reservation?' Serena. 'Maybe it really isn't a date after all.'

'No. He did.'

Though she avoided looking into the camera, Blair saw Serena cock her head to one side, her brows furrowed.

'But you chose the restaurant, though?'

The air of nonchalance was proving difficult for Blair to maintain. Her lips threatened to curl into a smug grin. 'I didn't say a thing.'

'Wow.' Serena breathed. 'So he just guessed your favourite?' She pondered. 'In a sick, twisted way, perhaps you are actually perfect for each other.'

Chuckling, Blair ran cherry-red gloss across her bottom lip. 'I don't know if I'd go that far, but there's something about him. I just have to find out what it is.'

Serena hummed softly, pushing her to go on.

'It's just, ever since he told me about his father, there's been this soft spot I can't quite harden.' She admitted, with a small voice and a head that was quickly drifting away into the clouds.

'Pulling on the heartstrings; maybe that's how he does it.' Serena mused, her indifference drawing Blair back to earth with a thud.

'Does what?' She snapped.

'Gets so many women.' Serena explained

Blair scowled. 'S.' She protested.

'I'm sorry.' Serena laughed. 'But we are talking about the Chuck Bass.'

'Well thank you for filling me with confidence.' Blair cursed Serena below her breath.

'Oh, come on. You know you have nothing to be worried about.'

'Oh?'

'Well, you're the Blair Waldorf, after all. What better opponent to take him on than you?'

Blair narrowed her eyes, her lips were parted to reply when the door buzzer rang. Her stomach plummeted. 'That'll be him.'

'Have fun!' Serena cooed. 'Remember to use protection.'

'Shut up!' She hissed.

'I mean it, B. You can't do a plié if you're prenatal.'

'Leaving.' Blair informed her hurriedly, scrambling to end the call amid Serena's bursts of laughter. Should he have found his way upstairs somehow and overheard their conversation, there weren't enough lies in all the world to deny what he'd have heard.

By the grace of some deity, he was simply waiting in the foyer when she reached the top of the stairs. 'How did you get in here?' Blair questioned, slowly beginning her descent of the steps. She relished the sight of his eyes, as they widened before travelling the length of her body.

'Your maid.' He explained, his lips slanting into a smirk. 'She's something of a delight, I'd like to procure her for my own staff if she's ever available.'

'Dorota would never leave me.' Blair informed him casually.

'Maybe I'll have to take you both.' Chuck considered.

She laughed softly and, reaching the bottom of the stairs, took in his clothes; white shirt, grey jacket and silky, black pocket square. 'We match.' She mused, noting the square of dark fabric that complimented her dress.

'So we do.' Chuck agreed. 'Two very stylish friends.' He offered her his arm.

Blair kept her smile fixed as she took the crook of his elbow and stepped into the elevator, her butterflies ushering away the sting of his polite phrasing.

'You're kidding?' Blair, tickled at the sight of a sleek black limousine parked up in front of her apartment building, felt her lips twitch. 'This is what you travel in?'

'What's wrong with it?' Chuck, who'd been reaching for the door handle, stopped short, assessing her amusement with a suspicious glance.

'It's not very inconspicuous, is it?' She said, though her eyes could not help but follow the glossy sheen of the vehicle's dark exterior.

'Blair,' he smirked. 'Exactly what is it about me that reads as interested in being inconspicuous to you?'

He had a fair point, so she conceded with a shrug and, seemingly satisfied, he opened the door for her. She wouldn't inflate his ego any further by telling him, but there was a sumptuous feeling about being confined in the long, dim space. When the door closed, shutting out all else from their private sphere, he slid up close to her. In the darkness, and the hazy smell of leather and Chuck, Blair wished the drive could have been two hours rather than twenty minutes. But his hand, resting easily on the small of her back while they waited at the door of the restaurant for their table, was compensation enough.

'Okay, Miss Waldorf. Here's to being good friends.' He lifted his glass to hers and she met it, the glasses chirping when they touched.

'Quite.' Blair agreed, her fingers crossed in her lap beneath the table.

'I suggest a quick-fire trivia round, to warm us up.' Chuck proposed once their orders had been taken. 'I'll go first, then we'll take it in turns.'

'I'm open to it, but we each get three passes.' Blair insisted, sipping from the rim of her flute. 'And I'm going first.'

'Fine, ladies first. But just one pass.' He countered.

'Two.'

'Boring.' He complained. 'But I agree.'

'What's your favourite novel?' Blair asked.

Chuck pondered for a second. 'I prefer poetry.'

'Whose?'

'Uh-uh. My turn.' He grinned, his eyes gleaming. 'Which dancer at the studio do you think is the worst?'

'Hey, that's-'

'Do you want to use a pass?'

The glint of mischief in his gaze told her she should not be so soon tempted to waste her passes. 'Fine.' Blair huffed. 'This stays between us?'

Chuck nodded once.

'Nadia.'

'Interesting.' His smirk widened into a smile.

'You?'

'Lena.' He returned without a moment's thought.

Her victory was sweet, but short-lived.

'Have you ever had a thing for anyone at the studio?'

Sighing, Blair watched the bubbles fizz and pop on the surface of her champagne for a moment. 'Yes.' She breathed.

He leaned in close, 'Who?'

'It's my turn, or did you already forget the rules of your own game?'

Smiling, Chuck arched back in his chair and gestured for her to go on.

'Who is the most famous person you've slept with?'

He chuckled, but his face grew serious. 'I'm afraid there are NDAs in place to protect that information.'

Disappointed by his secrecy, Blair frowned. 'That counts as a pass.'

'Fine.' He agreed. 'Who's the worst person you've slept with?'

'Easy.' She smirked, delighted at the success of her diversion. 'My high school ex. But we were young, I'm sure he's picked up a few tricks since our time together.'

'That's Nate, right?'

Blair nodded, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. 'Best date you've ever been on?'

'I don't really do that.' Chuck said.

'Do what?'

'Date.' He emphasised.

'Ever?'

'Not really, no.' He looked to be deep in thought about something before he next spoke. 'So, what about you- what's the best date you've ever been on?'

Leaning back in her chair, Blair cracked her knuckles as she considered the question. In truth, hadn't dated much since she was with Nate, and those outings could hardly have been worthy of earning the title of best date ever. 'I- I guess I don't really do that either.' She admitted quietly. 'I used to, now and then, but everything has been about work for the last few years.'

Chuck shifted, then brought his elbows up to the table, his chin resting on his linked hands. 'Are you lonely?'

From adolescence to adulthood, there was rare a time since her father left that Blair's home had felt lively and lived in. With Serena mostly preferring to go here, there and everywhere when they spent time together, she couldn't quite recall an entire evening she'd spent there in the last five years that wasn't cold and quiet in some portion.

Her lips thinned into a line. 'I guess so, a little.' Blair confessed. 'Are you?'

'Sure.' He chuckled darkly. 'Of course- sickeningly sometimes.'

Her answering smile was sad and sympathetic. 'I understand.'

'I know.' He said, exhaling. 'That's why I like you so much. There aren't that many people who see me.'

Her lips parted to respond, but she was interrupted by the arrival of their appetisers. Her heavy heart seemed to share its fullness with her stomach, and Blair could do little more than push the morsels of food around with her fork.

'You're not hungry?' Chuck asked, eyeing her full plate.

'What did you mean when you said I see you?' She returned, ignoring his own question.

He laid down his cutlery, took a measured sip from his drink and turned to look directly at Blair. 'We're the same in a lot of ways, you and I.'

'The loneliness?' She assumed. 'It's part of our work.'

'No, not just that.' He countered. 'I know you maintain a certain prejudice about the provenance of my family's wealth, but-'

'Using the word prejudice implies that there's some subjectivity to the matter.' She quickly protested, haughty as ever while sharply spearing a tomato with her fork.

Chuck snickered. 'Whatever you want to call it.' He agreed. 'We grew up in the same circles and went to the same kind of schools, we have the same disinterested parents, but it's more than just that too. I can see something of myself in you, which I think you've seen in me too.'

Blair nodded, only half aware she was doing so. 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' She murmured before realising the words had come out. Her hands shook and she waited, mortified, for his callous denouncement to come.

'You like the Brontës, then?' He concluded, seemingly unphased by the gravity of her words.

'Do you? It's rare to meet a man who's much bothered about Victorian literature.' Blair stumbled over the words, her breath still uneven.

'Well, I'm more of a Browning man than a Brontë, but I'll give you that there's something to Wuthering Heights.' He watched her eye him in disbelief for a moment. 'What?' Chuck grinned. 'Staggered by my unexplored depths?' He teased. 'Don't worry, you're not the first to think I'm one-dimensional, and you surely won't be the last.'

'I don't…' Blair frowned. 'I did think that.' She corrected herself. 'But I don't anymore.'

'Because we're friends now.' He concluded happily, laying his cutlery across his empty plate.

'Yes,' She suppressed her lamenting sigh. 'Because we're friends now.'

The course that followed was eaten mostly over lighter conversation. He asked her about her childhood dreams, and she asked about his too. He'd laughed when she affirmed that hers had been, and still was, to become a princess by any means necessary; she'd laughed in return when he expressed that at one time he'd fancied himself a charity volunteer in another bid to irritate his business-minded father.

'I'm having fun.' Blair spoke happily, her face warm and flushed from two-thirds of a bottle of champagne.

'See, I told you last week that we should go to dinner.' He reminded her with a knowing smirk.

'Last week, I would rather have broken in ten pairs of pointe shoes than go to dinner with you.' Blair rolled her eyes.

'And look, now you don't want it to end.' He deduced.

Quite in disbelief herself, Blair shook her head.

'So, do you want to go somewhere else?' He queried, signing for the check that he'd insisted on settling himself.

She bit her lip. She wanted to, of course, but whether or not it was a good idea was another matter entirely. Ultimately her desire to know more of him won out, as she wondered if she'd ever have him like this again once the show began; alone, focused on her and tipsy enough to be candid.

'I do.' She declared, watching a smile spread across his lips. 'Do you know somewhere?'

The somewhere he knew turned out to be a noisy affair in Chelsea, with flashing lights, closely moving bodies and free-flowing liquor. He first secured their drinks, then a secluded booth, where they observed the scene in front of them for a while, leaning slightly against one another in comfortable quiet. It came to an end when he cleared his throat and shifted underneath her.

'You know,' he commented idly. 'You never did wind up telling me who it was you had a thing for at the studio.'

'I didn't.' She agreed. 'Shame the game is over now.'

'I bet I can guess.' He goaded her, nudging her shoulder with his own.

'Do you indeed?'

'Sure, it's a matter of elimination. It can't be Alex, I've seen the hateful way you look at him.' He chuckled.

'He's just so…' Blair paused, thinking on the right words to describe him. They didn't find her, so instead, she settled for a shudder.

'Leo?'

'Leo? Please, don't insult me.' Blair edged away from him to wholly demonstrate the full measure of her disgust.

'So then who?' Chuck prodded her. 'Wait-' His mouth stretched into a devilish grin. 'You're not hot for teacher, are you?'

'Hugo? Are you kidding me? That man is like my father. I'm horrified you'd even suggest it.' Her lip curled. 'Just give it up, you're not going to guess.'

In a way, she couldn't help but marvel at his obliviousness. To think that a man as conceited as Chuck was not capable of guessing that he might be the object of her desires was an entirely baffling result.

'So just tell me.' He pressed.

'No.' Blair sang sweetly.

He offered her a disappointed frown. 'Friends tell each other things.'

'Yes, but only best friends talk about who they're interested in.' She corrected.

'Ah, so Serena gets to hear all your deepest, darkest secrets then? She's a bit loose-lipped if I recall, so maybe all hope isn't lost. Should we see if she's available now?'

'She's not.' Blair affirmed hurriedly. 'I mean, not this short notice- she's Serena van der Woodsen, she always has somewhere to go.'

'Pity.' He grinned. 'But three's a crowd, anyway.'

'You certainly seemed to feel that way last time we were all together.' Blair grumbled, remembering the way she'd watched him attach himself to the closest available girl, as she'd foolishly begun her approach with a belly full of champagne and a mind clouded by lust.

'I didn't want to be held accountable for getting in between you girls and that delightful mob of dim-witted clowns.' He reminded her. 'Besides, it's not my fault you decided to leave just as the fun was getting started.'

Blair turned to regard his face; her mouth had fallen open, a tangle of dismay and affront warring in her gut.

'What?' He laughed freely at her expression.

'That is an unfathomably rude thing to say to a friend.'

'I didn't mean to offend you, we had a nice time.' Chuck tended her wound gently.

'Well, I just hope you enjoyed it, because that's the last time I ever come out at your behest.' She pouted, her arms folding over her chest.

Chuckling indulgently, he pulled at her tightly crossed arms until they fell away from her body. 'Don't be a brat, just make up for it and dance with me.'

'I dance with you every day.' Blair protested, still scowling into the distance.

'That's for work, I want you to dance with me for fun.' He rose from the booth and held his palm out to her. 'Come on.'

'Fine.' She agreed snootily, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her towards the dancefloor. 'But only because I won't stand to see you slandering my name again.'

It was clammy and deafening in the thick of the moving mass of bodies. The music thumped louder and louder, as they found themselves crushed against one another amid the swaying crowd. It was everything she hated most, the invasion of her personal space, the wordless music, the mingling breath of a hundred strangers, but his hands around her waist, the easy smirk on his lips, were an anchor holding her to the spot in which they stood.

Dancing together was more fun than she'd expected; Blair particularly enjoyed feeling his hands move up and down her waist. That was, at least, until he leaned in close to whisper something over the noise. Just like it had before, his warmed breath tickling the skin against the shell of her ear, and their immediate proximity, forced a breathy sigh to come from Blair's chest. He drew away sharply, eyeing her skeptically as she stood frozen and wide-eyed.

'Blair,' Chuck spoke carefully. She could hardly hear him over the beating music. 'Is it me?' He asked, his eyes narrow.

Blair's heart raced, her mouth grew dry, and, throwing care to the wind, she nodded.

Without so much as another word, he took hold of her hand and, parting the crowds like the Red Sea, guided her out of the anonymous throng and towards the bathrooms near the back of the bar. Pushing the door open, he led her inside and locked the door. She wordlessly watched him check that each stall was empty, before turning back to regard her. His face, mirroring her own, was a twisted mess of want, disbelief and apprehension. Silently, he nodded at her, and she nodded back.

In a few, panther-like strides, he'd crossed the length of the room, grasped Blair firmly, lifted and deposited her on the countertop. His hands rushed to push her skirts around her waist.

'This is a terrible idea.' Chuck mumbled through the rough kisses he'd begun pressing relentlessly against her collarbone.

'Terrible.' She agreed, angling her neck to give him easier access, as she needily tugged at his shirt until it came loose from the waistband of his trousers.

He gripped her hips, looping his fingers underneath the sides of her underwear. 'We should stop.' He growled firmly against her ear.

'We should.' She agreed, fingernails raking down his back underneath his shirt.

'I don't want to stop.' He admitted, his voice hoarse.

'Neither do I.' Blair sighed.

AN: Thank you for your patience with me, the site has been super buggy recently and I've not been able to do much with my stories! That said, I hope this makes up for it :) This story is obviously a lot more face paced and light-hearted than others I've put out, so I think we might be looking at two or three more chapters until we're done!

Thanks for all your reviews, you make me feel so inspired, I love you all endlessly.

Quick shout out to guest reviewer Stephanie, I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know your thoughts and I'm honoured to be the one writing the ballet fic you've been so long searching for!