She was pressed against the wall, his arms on either side of her shoulders, holding her prisoner. Her name slid from his lips like a whispered prayer. "Blair," he said, leaning close enough that she could feel his warm breath tickling her ear.
"Chuck," Blair sneered, pushing him away from her. "Lurking by the women's restroom again? Not surprising–"
She didn't finish her sentence before his strong hands grabbed her by her arms and pulled her backwards through a door. Her protestations came out as a squeak; he had surprised her. The moment the door closed behind them, he released her and turned the bolt on the door, locking them in the ladies' lounge.
Finally she found her voice. "What the hell, Bass?"
When he pivoted to face her, she saw unadulterated lust in his eyes. His intensity frightened her...and made her heart hammer in her chest. Shamefully, she recognized the familiar tightening low in her belly, felt her legs quivering beneath her dress, and heard her breath catch. His eyes glinted devilishly as if he could sense the forces building inside her…then he slammed his lips against hers.
No! Blair thought immediately. But she felt his fingers weaving through her hair, pulling at the pins holding the curls away from her face. His other hand wrapped around to the small of her back, savagely pulling her flush against his body. When she felt his desire pressing against her stomach, voracious lust spread like a flash flood through her body, and she just couldn't fight against it—not when he had his lips on her.
She opened her mouth to invite his tongue in, which he complied with eagerly. Her hands flew to his hair, tugging on it roughly. He groaned in appreciation, letting his hands continue to run over every inch of exposed skin. In a moment of wild abandon, Blair wished he would just tear her dress away so that she could feel his hands gliding across her naked body.
Chuck's forceful kiss had propelled them backwards, pushing her against a wall. He splayed a hand against it for leverage while Blair's fingers continued to grasp wildly at his neck and hair. As his lips released hers and she drew a much-needed breath, he blazed a path to her delicate neck. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure and she dug her nails into his scalp.
He moaned at the sharp pressure on the sensitive area and began suckling on the tender spot below her ear, ensuring she would remain marked for days to come. She cried out; any shame she may have felt had evaporated and was replaced by animalistic desire. He reached down to pull her thigh up, hitching it around his hip, pressing his fingers into her flesh. With practiced motions, he ground his hips against her until she tugged at his suit, pushing it off his shoulders and down his arms.
Blair couldn't think of anything other than the heat, the urge, and the exquisite friction he was creating between them. She felt herself close to breaking and nearly begging for release. She knew that he was just as aroused as she was; the evidence was rocking against her core faster and harder as each moment passed.
There was no warning–one second her dress was a barrier between them, the next it was ripped in half and lying haphazardly on the lounge floor. For a split second she wondered what she would wear to leave the establishment, but the thought was tossed aside when she saw Chuck eye her lingerie hungrily and groan. His hands were on her then, dragging her against him.
They both panted heavily. Blair couldn't speak, knowing that if she did, the only acceptable phrases could be No, we have to stop or This is a mistake.
She tilted her head to the side to give him better access to her neck. As his tongue trailed down her neck to her collarbone, his free hand snaked down her hip to drag his fingers up her leg. She arched into him, well aware that it drove him crazy, and he snapped.
He grabbed her thigh and pulled her legs wider apart. His skilled fingers moved her panties aside and pushed deep inside her. She cried out at the suddenness of the feeling–the way his fingers filled her–and reached up to throw her arm around his neck. It urged him forward and gave him permission to grind against her, to show her just how desperate his need for her was.
She felt her orgasm building within moments. A tingling sensation rushed from her head down to her toes and back up again. She felt hot despite not wearing any clothes; every nerve ending in her body seemed thoroughly focused on his movements. Chuck noticed the telling signs of her impending release and added another finger to his ministrations. Blair's hand flew to his arm that was granting her such delicious pleasure and curled her fingers around his wrist, a silent plea for him not to stop.
She reached for her release desperately, wishing the pleasure would go on forever but also desiring the shattering orgasm that was building in her. She could almost see stars; her climax was moments away…
And then there was blackness.
Startled, Blair's eyes flew open. She was breathing heavily, a thin sheen of sweat coated her body and her hair was sticking to the back of her neck. Her fingers reached up to touch her lips.
It was the morning after her engagement party. And she had just had a…sinful, all-too-real sex dream about Chuck Bass. She drew her eyebrows together in disgust. He must have triggered some memory last night for her to dream about such an encounter with him. There was no other reason for it.
She felt her fiancé stir in bed next to her, moving onto his back so that his thigh pressed against hers, and she blushed at how quickly her body responded. With a flush of embarrassment she realized that her dream had left her in severe need of release.
As smoothly as she could, she slid off her bed and tip-toed quietly to her bathroom. A flushed face stared back at her in the mirror. With a frown she snatched her toothbrush and attempted to focus on anything other than the lust her dream inspired.
"That Basstard," she hissed under her breath. Would she never be free from him?
There was no way she could make it through the day without addressing her needs. She felt a pang of guilt about her unconscious fantasizing, but she was terribly aroused.
She climbed back into bed to lay down facing her fiancé. "Nicolas," she whispered, delicately tracing the curve of his neck and shoulder with her fingertips.
"Blair?" He mumbled sleepily. "What…is it time for breakfast?"
"That depends on how you define breakfast." She grinned wickedly, feeling her pulse quicken and the warmth between her thighs spread at her words. He turned his head in her direction and opened his eyes, processing her innuendo quickly. He propped himself up on one arm and she ran her hand down his bare chest.
She raised an eyebrow seductively. "Are you up for it?"
"How did I get so lucky?" Nicolas responded with a smile, throwing the covers up and moving on top of her. He quickly settled between her legs and rested his weight on his arms. When she lifted up to capture his bottom lip between her teeth, he reached between their bodies until her found her center and entered her with two fingers. His eyes widened in surprise. "Blair…you're so wet!"
She moaned loudly in response and let her mouth fall open as she focused on Nicolas' touch.
When he replaced his fingers with his tongue, her eyes rolled back and cried out. He teased her until she felt her body shaking with pleasure. She was at the edge of her orgasm, just a few more moments and she'd shatter. She closed her eyes as her body tightened and her muscles contracted. Her hips lifted off the bed and she felt the hum of her fiancé moaning into her…then a familiar smirk appeared in her mind.
Chuck.
Her eyes flew open at the vision of him. She grasped the sheets at her sides, riding out her orgasm with a cry, unable to shake Chuck's face from her mind. The picture of him remained clear even after she regained her senses.
Oh my God, she thought frantically. Stop thinking about him immediately! Your fiancé's fingers are still inside you!
Nicolas began trailing kisses over her hips and across her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and covered them with her hands, trying desperately not to imagine how it would feel if she replaced her fiancé's lips and fingers with Chuck's.
But the more intensely she concentrated, the more Chuck invaded her thoughts and unnerved her.
"Nicolas!" she exclaimed suddenly, throwing her arms down to her sides. "Please, I can't handle any more right now. I'm…too sensitive."
He placed a tender kiss on the underside of one of her breasts, ignorant of the serious tone in her voice. "Sensitive?" he murmured. "I can be gentle."
Blair's forehead crinkled in frustration as he continued kissing her skin. "No," she said firmly, fingers grasping the sheets in agitation. "No more."
Nicolas froze at her tone and looked up at her in confusion. "But you were so…excited a moment ago. Is everything alright?"
"Yes," she snapped, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "Ugh, I mean no. I just…have a lot to do today, that's all. I don't have time to roll around in bed for hours. There are some things we've been neglecting that I have to take care of today."
Nicolas blinked slowly. "You don't have time…?" he repeated incredulously. He spit a curse under his breath and quickly maneuvered himself off of the bed. He immediately began pacing across her bedroom floor with a scowl.
"We've been in New York for barely 24 hours, Blair," he pointed out, gesturing animatedly with his hands. "I'm confused–what could we have possibly been neglecting? You've got the wedding plans under control, you don't start at Elle for at least a week, and I'm in no rush to go scouring the city for up-and-coming designer brands. What could possibly be so pressing that you can't spend another hour in bed?"
The fact that Chuck Bass won't leave me alone–even in my own mind–and I need to fix that.
Nicolas stopped pacing and faced her, spreading his arms expectantly. "Well?" he demanded.
The lie came to her easily. "Serena and I are meeting to go over her maid of honor dress," she said curtly. "And I have to meet with the interior designer about the furnishings for our apartment. Is that acceptable, or should I reschedule for a more convenient time?"
Nicolas regarded her silently. His bright green eyes were blazing, his lips pressed together tightly in anger and frustration.
"No," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's fine. I'll just leave you to prepare for your…busy day."
Then he turned on his heel and left her room, shutting the door with a loud bang behind him. Blair took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heartbeat. Nicolas was upset, but he'd calm down after a few hours. She'd make sure she apologized to him for her rudeness later, once she could think clearly again.
In other words, once Chuck had been pushed from her mind.
She slid off the bed and went straight downstairs. A large platter of fresh fruit was waiting for her on the long dining room table. As she sat and ate, she let herself be drawn into the memories of her childhood home–chic sleepovers, takedowns, and her drunken best friend skipping on the marble floors. Being with someone who hadn't grown up with her made everything in her familiar surroundings new again. With a contented sigh, she bit into a strawberry and delighted in its sweet juices.
Her cell phone buzzed, bringing her out of her reverie. She frowned when she saw a text message from him, informing her that he was still expecting her presence at lunch. Instantly her mood blackened.
She still hadn't decided whether to go to lunch with Chuck or not. Instinct told her that it would only cause problems, but if she didn't go, how would he retaliate? She shuddered to think of the consequences of standing him up. Yes, going to lunch seemed like a far better option than not going.
Suddenly, a thought struck her. She knew how she could get the upper hand over Chuck and ensure that he would drop his foolish pursuit of her. With a conspiratorial glint in her eye, she hurried upstairs to dress for a lunch that she suddenly couldn't wait to attend.
An hour later, Blair looked out the window of her town car with trepidation. She remembered the establishment well, but it seemed…darker somehow. Sinister. Chuck Bass had once again chosen his location well, despite having no knowledge of the reason it looked so ominous to her: the restaurant housed the ladies' lounge from her dream.
The privacy of the town car allowed her a moment to close her eyes in ecstasy at the memory, but she had to push it from her mind before she went inside. Daydreaming about her imaginary tryst with Chuck was maddening. She had to show Chuck that she was serious: he wasn't allowed to participate in her life anymore. Luckily, she had prepared herself for battle this time. Today, he would know how it felt to be humiliated.
Chuck kept the partition down on the way to his destination, making it impossible for Arthur, his lifelong chauffeur, to stay in the dark about his employer's private affairs. With a sigh, he restrained himself from rolling up the partition. He didn't want to know what scheme was brewing now; a simple destination or itinerary would satisfy.
Plus, the things he heard drop from young Mr. Bass' lips made him blush.
"Nathaniel," he heard Chuck drawl. "How are things with your mother and Serena going?"
Arthur smiled to himself as he turned onto Madison Avenue and tuned out the relatively tame conversation behind him. Since he met the sandy haired boy, he had always been impressed with the manner in which he handled Mr. Bass. Certainly, the troubled son of the late Bart Bass was difficult, but Mr. Archibald was patient, kind and without an agenda. He was relieved the phone call was a social one; blatant come-ons or thinly veiled innuendo would have turned his stomach. But when the name Blair was spoken with more enthusiasm than he'd heard in awhile, he realized that something was afoot. Arthur pulled the limo up in front of the restaurant and hurried to open the door and await Mr. Bass' directions.
"Make sure you're close by," Chuck instructed him as he exited his limo. "I'm not sure when we'll be done."
"Yes, Mr. Bass," Arthur replied. He wondered at the young man's light step and airy tone. If the meeting was with the woman he suspected, it would behoove the young man to adopt a much more cautious attitude. He didn't know the reason for the breakup between Mr. Bass and Miss Waldorf, but knew enough about his employer to guess at who was in the wrong. He had a bad feeling that lunch would not go as well as Mr. Bass hoped.
"Miss Waldorf is already seated."
The hostess obviously recognized him; her eyes raked across his form shamelessly. Chuck ignored her and walked straight to the dining area, where Blair was facing away from him. Her chestnut curls and brightly colored dress stood out among the other patrons, making her easy to spot. He took a moment to marvel at her beauty; she was even lovelier today than she was yesterday. He'd have to remember to tell her that…after she finished tearing him apart about his behavior the night before, of course.
"Waldorf," he said lightly. She bristled when he leaned down to press a kiss on her cheek. He was satisfied that he managed to get so close to her lips without a well-deserved slap.
She rolled her eyes at his boldness. "Bass."
"I'm glad you came." He smirked confidently. "But after our…conversation last night, I'm not surprised. A secret rendezvous at a black tie event always did bring out the vixen in you."
She had been expecting a similar greeting–anything else would have surprised her–and as such, she had resolved not to fall into their normal pattern of snide comments and insults. That behavior would only serve to encourage him.
"Yes, I'm here." Her voice remained firm. "But I don't think you'll like what I have to say."
"Good afternoon," a voice interrupted. Their server had approached the table quietly, though neither would have noticed if the windows had spontaneously shattered. The connection between them had always been that way: intense, all-consuming, blinding.
"My name is Christof. May I take your drink order?"
"Scotch, neat."
"Gin martini."
Blair didn't let the interruption shake her train of thought; her nerve would have failed her if she had been made to start over. "After your performance last night, it's apparent that you still haven't grown up. Your behavior rivaled the night you tried to ruin my Cotillion. All this time and you're still just as destructive as you were when I left!"
Chuck leaned forward in his seat. "Blair," he said softly. "I never intended to destroy you or your party. Why can't you understand? I just had to…Christ, I thought you were married."
"And so your first instinct was to crash a party you weren't invited to? Steal the spotlight and make very thinly veiled insinuations about our past together? And then make a pass at me? All of your actions were classic Chuck Bass behavior, condensed into…less than 12 hours, was it? But wait!" she exclaimed, smiling derisively, "You didn't show up obliterated. Are you losing your touch?"
His voice had a hard edge to it. "All I wanted was to see you last night."
"But you weren't invited," Blair cried with a blaze in her eyes. "And you humiliated me!"
Chuck's eyes darkened. She didn't have any idea how ferocious his thoughts had been. If she did, she'd be thanking him for his rather tame speech instead of attacking him. But her accusation that he humiliated her? If only she could have seen herself through his eyes as she glided into the ballroom with a painfully obvious post-sex glow, she would realize who had been humiliated.
His jaw tightened automatically as he recalled the flush on her cheeks and the swell of her breasts. How could that French nobody have managed to satisfy Blair so completely? He couldn't possibly know every one of the secret places on her body where she loved to be stroked…the hidden meaning behind of each of her singular moans…the way her body tightened right before she found her release.
He suddenly found a shift in his chair necessary to ease his discomfort. Even her irritation managed to get him hard.
"No one but you understood the meaning behind anything I said," he replied, his voice becoming smooth and dangerous. "I knew the only way to get your attention was to make you angry, but I'd forgotten how much I always enjoyed that look in your eyes…the way they burn when you're insulted. And how…horny it makes you."
Blair shivered in her seat, vividly recalling her dream. His free hand snaked down her hip to drag his fingers up her leg, and she arched into him…
"I wanted to experience that again. Nothing gets your blood going quite like a takedown. Or even better, an argument."
"Chuck," Blair breathed. "Stop." Shit, that was supposed to be venomous, not pleading!
"No," he insisted with a small smile.
"Chuck, I–"
"I'm trying to make things up to you," he whispered.
I know I can't take it back, but I'm going to try to make it up to you.
Strobe-like flashes tainted her vision. Black mascara streaks, Chuck on the ground, Dan Humphrey shaking with rage. Her mind reeled at the onslaught of memories of Chuck committing the ultimate betrayal.
I thought you didn't love me anymore. I didn't care if I lived or died! Jenny Humphrey was–
Don't say her name! Or anything else to me ever again. This whole night didn't happen.
With a simple sentence, he had turned back time to one of the most painful moments of her life.
Everything tightened around her and her resolve began to crack. No, she wouldn't cry. Tears were better shed in the privacy of her room or en route in the town car. Chuck Bass had no business knowing that he still had the capability to wound her.
She gathered herself quickly enough to slip on her society face, a mask that she had been forced to create as the Queen of the Upper East Side. After all, a good defense was the best offense.
She straightened in her chair, the desire that he had awoken in her completely eradicated. "There is no need to atone for any of your actions, Chuck. I moved on a long time ago and the pain you caused me no longer affects me. In fact, that's why I came here today."
Her jaw clenched in determination. He had brought up the past without intending to and she should be able to make it through this without any problem. So why did it feel like she was ripping an organ from her body?
She stood up stiffly, knowing that she would need to flee once she was done speaking.
Her voice was cold and hard. "You have no place in my life anymore. You're not a friend or even a casual acquaintance from this moment on." She picked up a bag next to her chair and reached into it, pulling something out and setting it on the table with a thunk. "This is goodbye."
Chuck stared dumbfounded at her. "Blair, what are you–"
Before he could finish his sentence, she turned and walked quickly to the restaurant's exit. With every intention of following her, he put his hand on the table as he stood and touched the hard corner of an object. He glanced down instinctually, momentarily distracted from his pursuit.
A small red box sat on the table next to his untouched scotch. Gingerly he picked it up and opened it, exposing the Cartier earrings Dorota had been wearing at Blair's engagement party…the same earrings he had sent to Blair the day before. His lips parted in shock as he registered a second box that lay under it. The rich black coloring had blended in somewhat with the table and he had overlooked it completely. Instantly he wished he hadn't noticed its presence.
Instinct told him to ignore what he knew was inside and run after Blair, but he couldn't. He had to see it with his own eyes, for it was the physical proof of his first experience with feelings. Feelings that he hadn't even begun to process, that went against his nature; feelings that upset both his and Blair's expectations for their futures.
Something this beautiful deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty.
With a flick of his wrist, the lid of the box fell open. There it was: Blair's seventeenth birthday present. The emotion that Chuck couldn't express at that time, enshrined in diamonds in platinum settings, mocking him. The Erickson Beamon necklace.
He had always thought that the cliché "seeing red" was nonsense. But when his fingers touched the delicate necklace nestled in the soft lining of the box, he had to struggle to remain calm.
"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. His chest heaved with every strangled breath he took.
She had clearly believed that by giving back the necklace and earrings, he would see how serious she was about ridding herself of him. Again, she underestimated his feelings for her.
Now that she was back…now that he had seen her face in person and not just in papers or magazines, he understood how empty his life had been since she'd left. His day-to-day hadn't changed much: he was still rather fond of having one more scotch than was considered seemly and he consistently went to extreme lengths to broker business deals, but he was now painfully aware of how utterly empty the last five years had been without the reason for his existence.
The pain of losing her…that was something he wasn't prepared to experience again. He didn't want to return to the monotony of the last five years, not after she had reminded him how bright life was with her in it.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and for a wild second he hoped it was Blair. Matthew. He was still having Blair followed–perhaps he'd discovered more information.
"What is it?" He spit into the receiver. "Yes, I know Blair just–she's walking down Madison? Right now? Alright. Thank you."
He dropped a couple of bills on the table for the drinks that neither of them had touched and gathered the jewelry boxes. On his way to the door he summoned Arthur, who had been idling nearby.
"Arthur," he snarled as he threw himself into his limo. "Back onto Madison, slowly enough that I can spot Blair."
His search didn't take long. Again, her perfect curls stood out among the throng of people on the street. Arthur pulled to the curb and Chuck was out before it came to a stop, hastily buttoning his suit.
"Blair!" Chuck thundered as he pushed through a group of people in his way. To his chagrin, he realized that he was nearly jogging. This is what the object of his affections had done to him…he would be sweating through a $3,000 suit in seconds if she continued her quick pace. "Blair, stop!"
She threw a startled glance over her shoulder. "How did you–are you having me followed again? Leave me alone, Chuck!" She knit her eyebrows together in fury and continued her brisk pace, her eyes searching the street for an open cab that she could dart into.
"Just give me a chance." He was almost close enough to reach her; already he could smell her perfume wafting behind her. "I need to tell you the truth about why I asked you to lunch."
She spun around quickly, nearly knocking him over with the force of her anger.
"Truth?" Her voice was shrill. A few pedestrians looked startled but continued walking. "What makes you think I want to listen? What could you possibly have to say to me that would change the way I feel about you?"
"And how do you feel about me?" he asked carefully.
"I hate you."
She had said those words to him many times before of course, but never with such malice. Usually it masked some emotion she had forbidden herself to feel. But this time…either Blair Waldorf had become a master thespian in the last few years or she truly despised him.
"And you didn't ask me to lunch, you demanded it, in that 'I'm Chuck Bass' way of yours–the same self-serving and completely deluded thinking that leads you to believe you can just materialize in front of me whenever you want…as if I somehow owe you my friendship. I meant what I said yesterday: no one could ever love you. Not even me, not after what you did."
She looked at him with cold eyes for a beat, daring him to try to explain himself.
"Why can't you just leave me alone, and be happy for me?"
He took a step towards her, his apologies lost once he heard her last statement. "I am happy for you," he insisted. "I'm happy that you have a career that you love. I'm happy that you're finally back. But I can never be happy that you're marrying someone other than me."
As the words fell from his lips, Blair felt her heart sinking. She was in love with Nicolas, an incredibly perfect man, and he loved her the same way. There were no games, no deceit, no secrets between them. He would never intentionally hurt her or test the strength of their bond. Their love was her anchor.
Chuck may have been the love of her life years ago, but now he was a threat to her relationship with Nicolas. Removing him from her life was a necessity. When she gave back the Erickson Beamon necklace- the only remaining token of his love for her- she had expected him to be so angry that he'd never speak to her again. She didn't expect him to chase after her.
How would she rid herself of him now?
Did she really want to?
"Please," she begged. Don't make me do this. A traitorous tear leaked, then another.
"For five years I've wondered if our spark would fade," Chuck murmured, delicately wiping the tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "It hasn't. You can't deny the pull between us. It wasn't by chance that I saw you for the first time in five years yesterday…on a busy street in Manhattan…the very morning you arrived from Paris. That wasn't happenstance, it was fate. We're inevitable, Blair."
She closed her eyes slowly. How could a person feel so many conflicting emotions and still breathe? She wanted to slap him, scream at him for abandoning her, turn and run to Nicolas…
And yet, she acknowledged with surprise, she desperately wanted to kiss him.
"I love you," Chuck whispered, his eyes shining with the proof of his words.
Her mouth opened slightly in shock at his declaration. Quickly, she caught herself and shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry, Chuck. It doesn't change anything."
Chuck looked at her with pleading eyes. "How can it not?"
"This is the same conversation we had years ago. You won't let me move on if you haven't. You won't let me be with someone else, even if it means my happiness–"
Then his lips were on hers, and for a moment she lost herself in the familiar sensation.
She remembered her dream. How she had given into him so easily, felt his lips and hands exploring familiar parts of her body, and nearly died from the explosive pleasure he willingly gave to her. Her lips began moving recklessly against his.
Just as his lips parted to deepen the kiss, she froze and quickly pulled away. What was she doing? Anyone could have seen them.
Fortunately, the kiss was so short that it could have been construed as a friendly farewell to a passerby on the street. And more auspiciously, only he and Blair were aware of the electrifying sensations clinging to their moistened lips as they pulled away from each other.
There, he thought as he gazed expectantly into her wide eyes. There's the spark. She felt it as well.
"You're never going to let me go, are you?" Her voice was steeped with understanding.
His fingers curled underneath her chin, tilting her head up gently. The way her skin felt would never cease to thrill him, no matter how many times he touched her.
"No, Blair." His voice was husky; his eyes were darkened by desire. "Never again."
First off: a humongous thank you to my beta terrabeth, who really went above and beyond for me. Without her guidance, this chapter would have been...clunky. So thank you, my dear :)
(Btw, if you haven't read her story called "Into The Woods" or its sequel "Criminal", you should probably get on that.)
There aren't many things that make me happier than seeing a review in my inbox, so thank you! to QueenBee10, AquarianAir, Rf (why, thanks!), Maribells, Krazy4Spike, flipped, TriGemini, tiff xoxo, good2 (thanks!), Curious Blonde, Temp02, ggoddess (my dear, your review…brightened my day. I do hope you are pleased with the way the story evolves!), LeftWriter224, cc744 (thank you, I'm glad to hear that!), my beta, jamieerin, and my not-so-anon Yoda…you're all just as wonderful as can be! As for my readers, I adore you all. If it was in my power to give each and every one of you a smarmy, well-dressed and darkly handsome man–even if just for a night–I would in a heartbeat.
Lastly, my apologies for taking so ridiculously long to update. I'll do my best not to let it happen again!