"I really messed up, didn't I?"
She is sitting across the table from him, looking at him from under furrowed brows. The sound of people moving around and talking in the bar is creating a cocoon of noise just loud enough to allow a private conversation to be held in the booth where they are seated. A big part of him is incredibly uncomfortable with the entire conversation. Being completely honest and baring your soul is never something you do with a shrug of your shoulder. No, you do it with your heart beating furiously in your chest and the feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff on trembling legs. When you do it in front of the only person who never doubted you to have a soul in the first place, the feeling is even greater. He thinks her question over for a second or two before answering, sliding his finger along the rim of the tumbler. Trying to decide on whether or not to keep the mask intact, or take yet another step closer to the edge of the cliff.
"Yes." He decides on the truth, and as he does, diverts his eyes from his glass and looks straight at her. The crushed look on her face is gut-wrenching, and he has to tell himself more than once that she actually did mess up to keep from taking it back. But still. "You weren't the only one."
"But you…" She begins; seemingly hesitant to say whatever it is she wants to say out loud, "…you didn't…cheat on me."
"No, I didn't."
There is harshness in his voice at that, because that particular notion is ludicrous to him. So far from anything he would ever have considered.
"I can't believe I thought you did…" She whispers, shaking her head in disbelief. Her fingers dance around the foot of her glass, the deep red of her nail polish a colourful contrast to the dark wood of the table and her delicate martini glass.
"Would you have, if I hadn't said what I did that time in the café?"
He finally asks the question he has needed to ask her, and that way earns up to his 18 year-old self's biggest regret. She looks a little caught off guard by his question, and has a sip of her martini before answering.
"No, I probably wouldn't have." She admits, and it is his turn to feel bad. "…I wish I could say I didn't…with that guy."
The guilt quickly leaves his system when she reminds him of what happened next. The door to that particular memory usually closed. The heavy door bolted shut with growling guard dogs keeping intruders at bay.
"I really am sorry," She breathes, "I'm so, so sorry, Chuck."
"Yeah," He sighs, forgoing rancour. She has always been the one to veto any kind of reaction that would have been expected from him, maybe this time even justified. "Me too."
From: Al
So, how was your date with Blair?
From: Fish
Is there a bartender I need to fire?
From: Al
You admit it was a date then?
From: Fish
I admit to no such thing.
Who told you anyway?
From: Al
Wild guess, that's all.
Are you guys back together yet?
From: Al
Fish?
From: Al
The silent treatment, really?
From: Al
Killjoy!
"I went by your office to ask you to lunch, but your secretary said you were out." Serena's voice informs him over the phone.
"I do eat lunch outside the walls of my office occasionally. Now, if you don't mind…"
"She said some brunette came to see you, and then the two of you left together."
He can literally hear the smile in Serena's voice. Blair mouths the blonde's name in a silent question and he nods in confirmation.
"Did she now?" He drawls, remembering that he actually does have to respond in one way or the other.
"Oh, my, God!" Serena shrieks, and Blair rolls her eyes as she catches the blonde's exclamation even from across the table.
"You're having lunch with Blair!"
"Damn, sis." He growls, wincing from the sheer volume of her cry. "You really should come with a mute button."
"You're totally having lunch together, that is awes…"
He resolutely snaps his phone shut, interrupting his ranting sister halfway through her sentence, but his mind completes her words for him.
This is awesome.
"How did you get into photography?"
They are halfway through dinner on Saturday, and his question has her caught off guard.
"I signed up for a class at Yale after we…"
"Right." He nods as she trails off.
Tension shows its ugly face once again, but only briefly. The intensity of those awkward moments has eased off a great deal in the last couple of days, but the reason has yet to vanish completely.
He is looking at her, clearly expecting her to elaborate on her answer and she decides to comply.
"I just…like it, I guess." She explains, not entirely sure how to put it into words. "It's fun, and you can do a lot of different things once you know the basics…play around, capture moments. Photographs are just…"
"Constant."
His choice of words surprises her because he is spot on. Leave it up to Chuck to have her nailed down and understand exactly how she is thinking. The realization sends a wave of relief and excitement through her system. Suddenly she remembers exactly how easy things used to be when they were together: comfortable and exciting and perfect.
"I've seen the one you gave Serena," He tells her, mentioning the photograph Serena told Al about during dinner a few nights ago. "That is an amazing photograph, Blair."
Her name sounds so right rolling off his tongue. What he thinks or says has always mattered more than anyone else's words or opinions.
"Really?"
"Yes," He smirks, casually leaning back in his chair. "Really."
"I've always liked the original better," She says, and effectively snaps him out of his thoughts. She is referring to Ocean's Eleven, the Rat Pack original they have just spent the last two hours watching in an empty movie theatre. She had rented out the entire place, and made sure they showed a movie of her choice. And she had chosen his favourite movie, but not forgetting to inform him that next time they would be watching Audrey. He hadn't been paying much attention to what she had been saying though, stuck on the fact that she had said 'next time'.
"Like those wannabes have anything to put up against Sinatra and the others," He scoffs, and she smiles.
They are walking the short distance from the movie theatre to his building. They have taken up the habit of walking together since the dinner a week ago. Tonight she had merely slipped her hand in his as they exited the movie theatre. He on his part just motioned the limo to follow them.
"I should get you home," he offers as they arrive outside of his building, even though his entire being is telling him to do whatever it takes to make sure she doesn't go home, but follows him upstairs.
"You have that conference call early tomorrow," She objects, turning so that she is facing him. "But I will accept the offer of borrowing your sacred limo." She winks, and he smirks.
The two of them in a limo together might not be the best thing right now. Neither of them have ever been the kind of person to be patient, unless scheming is involved, but they have reached some kind of silent, mutual agreement that this, whatever this is, is a slow work in progress. A process that would most likely speed up substantially inside the limo where something that had been a long time coming took off at last, all those years ago.
"Alright." He agrees, and he can tell that she knows how he has been reasoning.
He lets go of her hand reluctantly, ignoring the twitchy feeling in his fingers that tells him to hold on and not let go.
"Hold on," She whispers, "Your tie…"
She steps closer, and his breath catches in his throat as a waft of her perfume hits his nostrils. There is mischief in her eyes as she slowly reaches out, and tugs at his tie to adjust the silk. She is so close now that he can feel her hot breath against his skin, and he has to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and pulling her close, giving in to the feelings flooding his system. Her lips brush against the skin of his neck, right above the pulse point, and then along his jaw line. His heart is in his throat, and she is still holding on to his tie with both hands. When her lips leave his skin, a voice at the back of his head is whining from the loss of contact, still he doesn't dare move in fear he might ruin the magic of the moment. Then suddenly her mouth is a fraction of an inch away from his. Their eyes meet, and he is captivated by what he finds there. She slowly brushes her lips against his, and he is freefalling.
"All straightened out." She smirks, and steps back, letting go of his tie as she does. "Good luck tomorrow." She finishes, but he is speechless and can't seem to form any kind of response.
Her smirk widens, and she briefly rests her hand on his cheek before she turns around and sashays towards the limo. The last thing he hears before the limo door slams shut is a sultry 'Goodnight, Chuck. Sweet dreams.'
He can well imagine what his dreams will entail, and if he is right they will be anything but 'sweet'.
From: Blair
I had a good time last night.
From: Chuck
I bet you did.
From: Blair
Always the modest gentleman.
From: Chuck
That is what you lo-
Oh hell no, where did that one come from? His heart is in his throat until he realizes that he has managed to stop typing before finishing and accidentally pushing the 'send' button. He glares at the part of a four letter word that is not even close to spelled out, and then carefully deletes the reply before starting over.
From: Chuck
Modesty is overrated.
From: Blair
You're preaching to the choir.
"Blair? Who are you texting?"
"Huh?" She slowly diverts her gaze from the screen of her phone, where Chuck's latest message just popped up.
From: Chuck
Dinner tomorrow, my place.
.
"Blair?" Serena laughs, "You are texting him aren't you? You are texting Chuck!"
She raises a haughty eyebrow in her best friend's direction, and the blonde lets out a squeal of joy.
"I do have other acquaintances in this town, you know."
"You should see the look on your own face! "You're smiling, B!" Serena goes on, ignoring the attempted brush-off.
"It has been known to happen before."
"Smirks and sneers don't count." Serena laughs, "That was a smile, a real one. Because of Chuck. Ah! This is so great!"
"Breathe, S. You're going to have an aneurysm if you don't calm down."
.
From: Blair
I'll be there.
tbc