The Curious Case of Misty Bass

by EZ11

Living a life full of secrets, Bart Bass' mysterious past is one he'd like to forget. But when Chuck stumbles upon his biggest secret of all, the Basses will never be the same again. If having two Basses is company, then three is definitely a crowd. R&R!

61. Save the Last Chance

A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you all are having a great summer so far. I'm back with the third last chapter of this story. I still can't believe it. Without further ado, enjoy!

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Chapter 60: Save the Last Chance

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Decisions. Some make them. Some break them. And then there those other people, paralyzed at the idea of making one. College Decision Day is a few days away, and our favourite college seniors all face their first critical adult decision: college. Choose wisely, kittens. You decision will only dictate the best years of your life.

Evelyn spread out her college letters in a neat line at the foot of her bed. Each page was perfectly creased in thirds and began with a salutation. A line of gratitude followed, thanking her for applying to their school. But that's where the similarities in each letter ended because Evelyn received a mix of acceptances and rejections. The results now stared up at her, daring her to challenge them.

Evelyn took a step away from the letters and cradled her neck with her hands. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and let out a guttural sigh. Why couldn't she have just gotten in Harvard? It would have made this process so easy. Now, her college decision felt heavy with consequences.

Aunt Kim knocked on her door softly.

"Can I come in?"

Evelyn released her hands from her neck. "Of course."

Aunt Kim looked around the room, conspicuously avoiding the letters on Evelyn's comforter.

"How did apartment hunting go?" Evelyn asked.

Now that Aunt Kim received a conditional offer on her home in Southington, she had started looking for apartments in the city. She said she wanted a fresh start and had always wanted to live in Manhattan.

Aunt Kim shrugged. "Alright. Nothing says welcome back to New York than mouse droppings in a kitchen cupboard."

"Gross."

"If something is too good to be true, it probably is, including the last apartment I just toured," Aunt Kim said. "Are we any closer to coming to a decision?"

Evelyn sighed. "No."

Aunt Kim picked up her acceptance letter to Stanford. "I mean, this is an enviable problem to have Evelyn. Stanford, Northwestern, and Columbia are all excellent choices."

Evelyn gazed at the letters once more. Harvard had mailed her a paper copy of her rejection letter a couple days after she received the e-mail. She tore it up in front of Eric, who watched sympathetically.

She knew she had great choices available to her. Excellent choices. But they weren't her top choice. None of her choices involved Harvard and Ozzy. And that was the problem.

"Are you still upset about Harvard?"

"Me?" Evelyn said. "No way. Are you disappointed I didn't get in?"

Aunt Kim draped her arm around her shoulder, like a wing cocooning her. "Of course not. I just noticed that you were disappointed that you didn't get in."

Evelyn shrugged out from her aunt's wing. "I was for a bit, but I'm over it."

"You know it's okay to be upset Evelyn."

"I'm not upset."

"Okay," Aunt Kim said. "Eric seems to have made his decision. He chose Sarah Lawrence."

"He told me. I'm happy for him," Evelyn said.

"And what about Ozzy? Has he made his decision?"

Evelyn's stomach clenched. She hadn't told Ozzy about Harvard yet. She told him about every other school except Harvard. Ozzy was waiting on her acceptance; nothing else held him back from making his decision.

"Not yet, but he's narrowed down his options."

Evelyn didn't like keeping this information from Ozzy, but she didn't know how to tell him. She spent the past few days running through every way she could think of telling him. No matter how she told him, it always came to the same conclusion. Her news would ruin everything; their vision for the next four years, gone.

Aunt Kim gazed at her intently. "I hope he makes his decisions based on what's best for him."

"So do I," Evelyn said, her voice wavering on the last syllable.

Aunt Kim put her arms on her shoulder. "And don't you forget to do the same."

---

Bart's ankle monitor kept catching on the hairs of his right ankle. It would catch and pull, like a fishing rod, reeling the hairs away from his skin. Bart reached for his ankle and unhooked the monitor from his grey hairs, gingerly. He had practiced so many times now that his unhooking system became an unconscious routine. It would happen when he woke up, when he was eating any meal, or walking without warning. The only respite seemed to be the shower.

After paying his bail, Bart's sentence was lessened to house arrest instead of starting his prison sentence immediately. Thanks to Frank's help, he now had until the end of June before his sentence began. It was a small reprieve that he didn't feel he deserved but took. It gave him time to get his affairs in order, but it also provided a bleak countdown. His time was now finite, and he felt a new pressure to maximize it or else he'd be regretful.

Bart picked up The Financial Times again. He had finished the paper in the morning, but an article about Bass Industries lingered in his mind. The paper reported that the stock was down, and investors were fleeing from the company as the question of who would take over loomed large and consequential. It was an unraveling mess that angered Bart as he read the article. Despite everything that happened with the trial, he will always consider Bass Industries as his first love. He built and nurtured that company like a child; no one would understand it better. But that part of him, that part of his life was over. For good. Bart folded up the paper and tossed it in the garbage.

Bart considered calling Andrew to do some research on the successor search for Bass Industries when the elevator dinged. Chuck appeared, carrying a white bakery box.

"Chuck. What brings you here?"

"I figured you'd want to enjoy your favourites while you can still have them," Chuck said.

Inside the box were half a dozen of eclairs. His favourite.

"That's very thoughtful of you," Bart said. "Care to have one with me?"

Ina set a place for Chuck in the living room and plated an éclair for each of them.

"The date's set," Bart said. "June thirtieth."

Chuck nodded. "Frank was able to get your sentence moved back after Evelyn's graduation?"

"Yes, thankfully. Frank said it was plenty of time to make arrangements."

Chuck's jaw clenched. "Eight years, huh?"

"For the full sentence, yes. Five if I'm granted parole."

It was a long time. The thought lingered in the silence between them. Chuck could very well be married to Blair by that point, have started a family of his own. Evelyn will have finished college by then. Possibly medical school as well. He would be missing a lot of milestones. It was a thought that had Bart starring at the ceiling in the early hours of the morning.

"It's possible though. For you to get parole. You just need good behaviour," Chuck said.

"That, and if they feel I wouldn't jeopardize public welfare," Bart said.

"You didn't kill anyone, so that should make it easier."

Bart took a bite of his éclair and revelled in the creamy, pillowy goodness. He would miss these for the next few years.

"Enough about me. Anything new with you?"

Chuck finished his éclair and wiped his fingers on the gold confetti styled dessert napkin.

"Actually yes. I went to see Philip at Bass Industries to thank him for his help with Jack. He mentioned that he would be happy to mentor me for the next few summers, and potentially setup a succession plan."

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"And what did you say?"

"I said I'd think about it."

Bart kept a level face. His beloved company was reduced to nothing but a toy that Chuck tossed from one hand to the other, undecided if he'd like to play with it. Bart's toes curled in his slippers.

"And what do you have to think about?" Bart asked, his lips pinched.

"If I want to run Bass Industries. It's a big responsibility, and I don't take it lightly. If I say I'm in, I'm fully in."

Bart picked up another éclair and took a bite.

Chuck eyed him curiously. "Have you ever wanted me to take over Bass Industries?"

Bart chewed and chewed; the pleasure of the éclair now mangled into rubber in his mouth. Did he want Chuck to take over? It wasn't something he often thought about because he never planned to leave Bass Industries. He'd probably want him to take over eventually, but he understood and figured Chuck wouldn't wait around long enough for that.

"I want you to do what makes you happy," Bart said. "You know how I feel about Bass Industries. It's something I've lived and breathed. If you're not that passionate about it, it might not be best to take over."

Chuck nodded, considering this. "That helps my decision."

"How so?"

"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to take over. Carry on the business in our name. If you did, I would have to reconsider Philip's offer," Chuck leaned back in the couch, his gaze focused on the fireplace.

Bart set down the eclair and wiped the chocolate off his fingers. "I don't understand. You're not considering his offer?"

"I have considered it, but I think I have a better counteroffer for him."

"A counteroffer?"

Bart could hardly conceive of a better offer. An empire completely built up and ready to take to a higher level. What could be better?

Chuck turned his gaze to his father and said, "I want to build my own empire."

Bart felt his chest tighten. His lips formed a thin line, unwilling to open, no words available to come out. Chuck had always given him many surprises over the years, but this one surpassed all the rest.

"Your own empire? Of what exactly?"

"I don't know yet."

"You're going to need a little more detail if that's your counter."

"I agree. Which is why I'm going to go find some inspiration this week."

Bart didn't even want to ask what that meant or looked like. Instead, he said, "I thought you wanted to continue the legacy of Bass Industries."

"I did, but things have changed since the trial. The realities of what Bass Industries has become with Jack became clear, and I realized that it's always been yours and will always be yours. I want to make something that's mine."

Bart's lips loosened, the tightness in his chest relaxing. "I understand."

"Are you disappointed?" Chuck said.

Bart considered his answer before replying. He was always hard on Chuck, but it was from a place of care. He wanted the best for him, the best opportunities, the best circumstances; all of which he never had. With or without Bass Industries, Chuck now had accessibility to that and had the capacity to use it instead of waste it away.

For the first time, he didn't see the hedonistic, lazy, wild child he so often worried about in high school. Now, he saw potential. So much potential. He always knew of Chuck's potential, but he was doubtful that he'd have the will to do anything with it. Now, he knew.

"No. Far from it. I hope you know that I want the best for you and Evelyn, and if that's not with Bass Industries so be it. There's plenty of other things out there."

"You haven't been so confident with me in the past."

Bart shrugged. "Then prove me wrong. From my experience, it's highly motivating."

As Chuck packed up to leave, Bart wrestled with the idea that he was missing an opportunity to make more of this moment as a parent. He tried to wrestle apart the jumbled words inside him, hopeful that they'd carry some merit and weight despite everything that has happened.

"Charles," Bart said. "I hope you know that I'm proud of who you are becoming. For whatever that's worth these days."

Chuck paused, taken aback. He looked at his father, unsure if the words were sincere.

"I mean it," Bart said.

A satisfied grin enveloping Chuck's features. Although the loss of Bass Industries pained Bart like an open wound, he was beginning to see a life outside of it. It put Bass Industries in perspective. Sure, Bass Industries grew into a billion-dollar company, an unimaginable sum for most. But this moment here, Bart realized for the first time, was worth more than Bass Industries. So much more.

---

Ozzy stepped up to the edge of the diving platform and peered over the edge. The tile floor appeared blurry at this distance, and the waves shimmered under the fluorescent lights. The pool was quiet, serene, and Ozzy closed his eyes to take it all in. The smell of chlorine clung to the humid air. The only relief was the water.

"How about a cannonball this time?" Dash called from below.

Dash had already challenged him to a swimming contest. After beating him easily, Dash demanded a best of three. Dash now sat on the edge of the pool, his chest leaning forward, huffing.

After almost a year away from the water, he returned to the pool for the first time a week ago. He went for a swim by himself then, and he was starting to regret inviting Dash this time. The tranquility and ease of being in the water was much more rejuvenating without Dash's commentary.

Ozzy opened his eyes and fell forward. He arched his body in a bow shape, before straightening his body into an arrow. He dove headfirst, his clasped hands piercing the water like a tip of an arrowhead.

Ozzy sliced through the water, nearing the tile floor before returning to the surface. After catching his breath, he leaned back and began floating in the water. He stared at the coiffed ceiling, water sloshing in his ears and effectively blocking out Dash's comments. The water no longer threatened to submerge him. It held him up.

"Best of four?" Dash asked when Ozzy swam over.

"I think you need to practice more before challenging me again," Ozzy said, lifting himself out of the pool and headed toward the change room.

It was good to be back in the water. Great, even. Ozzy didn't realize how much he missed it. With summer approaching, he found himself looking forward to spending his days at the beach in the Hamptons.

"Have you formally accepted your spot at Harvard?" Dash said as they left the change room.

"Not yet," Ozzy said.

"You should do it soon," Dash said. "College Decision Day is a few days away."

"I will," Ozzy said, wanting to drop the subject.

Although he found himself wanting to accept his offer to attend Harvard, Evelyn stood in the way. She still hadn't said if she'd gotten into Harvard, and it made Ozzy uneasy.

"Good," Dash said. "Because no one declines Harvard. Unless it's for another Ivy your parent has already chosen for you. You don't have to worry about that though. Your mom is over the moon you got into Harvard."

Ozzy didn't have to ask Dash if he accepted his offer at Dartmouth. He accepted within days. To celebrate, he bought a green Dartmouth pullover and pint glass. Dash was already in the stages of selecting his residence.

"How did your dad like his 'Dartmouth Dad' sweater you got for him?"

Dash smirked. "He loathed it. I'm sure he asked your mom to hide it, so he doesn't have to wear it again."

"No way. She said the green suited him," Ozzy said. "She won't let him off the hook that easily."

"I'll be sure to thank her," Dash said. He opened the door to the waiting limo and said, "After you my soon-to-be Harvard brother."

"That's a little soon to say don't you think?"

"No way. You already got in. It's a done deal now."

As the driver took them home, Ozzy envisioned himself in Cambridge. He was born in Boston, a river away from campus. The thought of returning to a place so close to his origin intrigued him. He'd never returned to the places he lived in the past. He wondered what it would be like to return. He had no memories of Boston, he was too young for that, but he found himself wanting to have memories there.

His thoughts drifted to the one person who would make this vision complete. He remained optimistic that Evelyn would still get into Harvard. He had to be. But as the days ticked down to college decision day, the more uneasy he became about his vision being realized.

Ozzy leaned his head back against the headrest, his body lead-like from being out of the water. He now understood why he loved being in the water. In the water, he was in constant movement. In the water, his body felt light, problems small. In the water, the only threat of sinking was remaining still. What once threatened to drown him now fuelled him. And he was ready to keep kicking.

---

Blair left her second last final of the term the following afternoon, buzzing. Normally, Blair would feel elation after a final exam, a swell of confidence in her performance. Despite everything that happened with Jack and his arrest, Blair got back on pace with closing out the semester to her standard.

As she walked out of that final, Blair pulled out her phone and checked Gossip Girl out of habit. Then she checked her email, also a habit. And then she noticed something different in her inbox. She noticed an email from a new sender. She read the email once, twice, five times for good measure. This wasn't just an email. It was the email.

Blair couldn't rush home fast enough.

Serena, Liz, and Joy sat in her living room, sipping coffee Dorota had prepared them. They all looked cut and pasted into the room; each from a different page in Blair's life but looked out of place and ill-fitting when put together.

"I'm glad you're all here. You will not believe what I am about to tell you," Blair said.

"B, you said it was an emergency," Serena said. "Is everything okay?"

"It is. Or, it will be," Blair said, "I've called you all here because I have a fashion emergency."

"Fashion emergency?" Serena said. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I thought the same thing," Liz said.

"You said you needed my legal counsel," Joy said.

"Which I will," Blair said. "I just got an email from Vogue France. I've been invited to interview for their summer internship program!"

Serena squealed while Joy clapped her hands with excitement.

"Vogue France? Vogue FRANCE?" Liz sputtered with wide eyes.

"B, that's amazing!" Serena said while enveloping her in a hug.

"I know, I know. It's incredible, but here's the catch. The interview is tomorrow morning. This is a once in a lifetime shot, and I can't blow it," Blair said.

"Blair, you will crush this," Joy said. "I can't think of anyone else who could compare to you."

"While I do agree, I need to be prepared. Which is why I called you all over. I have sixteen hours to prepare for this interview, and I want to be prepared. I know it's exam time, but I need all the help I can get. Is there any way you can help?"

"Of course," Serena said. "I'm already done my exams."

"I still have a couple days before my last paper is due," Joy said. "I can help."

Blair's attention turned to Liz, who still looked perplexed on the couch.

"I've applied to every fashion magazine internship for the past three years, and I've never gotten an interview. How did you do it?"

Blair didn't want to get into the details of how much knowing Jean helped or quell Serena's excitement that Jean returned to her orbit.

"I was at the right place, at the right time. For once."

Liz readjusted her new Tom Ford satchel across her midsection. "Look, Blair. I'm happy for you, I really am, but I don't think I could help you."

"Nonsense. You know what's trending before it even appears on runway, and you can spot which trend will take off and which will be a dud. Who better to prepare me for this world than the person who welcomed me into it?"

"But I've never worked for one of these magazines. I'm just as much of an outsider looking in as you are."

"For now, you are. Look, if I get this, I can then start working my way into with Vogue. If I get this, I will make sure you get an opportunity too."

"You can't promise me that," Liz said.

Blair looked at Serena and Joy for proof proving overwise.

"Oh yes she can," Serena said. "Blair can bend anything with her will should she be given the opportunity."

"It's true," Joy said. "She helped me get my internship for the summer already."

Liz bit her lip as she contemplated the offer.

After a long pause, Liz said, "Okay. I'm in."

Blair put her hands on her hips. "Alright ladies. Better drink more coffee because we have a long night ahead of us. Operation get Blair into Vogue has officially begun."

While the Devil may have worn Prada since 1988, this Upper East Side Princess has been wearing Waldorf Designs for almost as long. Better watch out Wintour, this Waldorf is on a mission.

---

Burlesque dancers whirled and writhed on stage at Victrola. The music thumped through the speakers before cutting out abruptly. The dance director jumped up from her chair, gave directions to the dancers and cued the music to start from the beginning.

Chat sprawled on the VIP couch and sipped his glass of scotch. He adjusted his notepad on his lap, its pages blank. He needed inspiration. He needed something to strike him, to help make this decision clearer. Alcohol was not proving to be a helpful aid.

The music cut out again. The dance director jumped up on stage and pointed to different markers, moving her arms around to convey her vision. Vision. His father had it all those years ago. Chuck had it with Victrola. Did vision strike people only once, or could it strike him again? He wasn't sure.

"Another drink Mr. Bass?" The waitress asked.

"A double."

Chuck wrote down Victrola on the page. He had waited and waited for the perfect innovation to present itself then, and it came when he least expected it. It had franchise potential, not yet realized by Bass Industries. If only he could think of something else that was his, not Bass Industries adjacent, he could envision his own legacy.

Legacy. An inspired idea that was now tarnished with Bart's guilty verdict. No matter what he did, his reputation would always be tied to his father's culpability. For those brief hours before the sentencing, he had hopes of building his own legacy, but he wasn't sure if chasing that dream would leave him spent, with no chance of crossing the finish line.

"Is this seat taken?"

It was Pauletta Cho, Victrola's manager.

"Pauletta? Long time, no see." Chuck gestured for her to take a seat.

"I could say the same about you. I'm sorry about what happened with your father."

"You don't have to be polite."

"I'm serious. I have great respect for your father."

"You'd be one of the few," Chuck said.

"In my experience, now's the time you'll know who your friends are. Besides, who are we to judge what happened all those years ago? None of us were there."

The waitress returned with Chuck's drink. "You haven't been on Twitter yet, have you."

"I haven't, and you shouldn't be either. How are you holding up?"

Chuck took a swig of his drink. "With a glass of the best scotch in my hand. Which, by the way, we need to talk about. The scotch that's being served is not going to cut it."

Paulette adjusted her tennis bracelet. "We've been having troubles with our distributor. I expect to have your favourite scotch back on the shelf by next month."

The dance teacher ended practice on stage. The dancers packed up their bags and began to leave.

"I really am sorry about what happened to your father," Pauletta said.

"Why?"

"Because I think people are complicated and make mistakes. I also owe the career I have now to him giving me an opportunity."

Chuck remembered when he mistook Pauletta as his father's mistress. An honest mistake that was.

"Why did you change careers? You used to work for The Observer."

"I saw the writing on the wall. Newsprint is on the decline, and I knew I needed to switch to something else to survive."

"Why Victrola? Bass Industries?"

"The more I talked to your father, the more I got to see first-hand what else was out there. I also come from a family that was always entertaining people at our home, so running a place that did that became a great fit."

"Have you ever regretted your decision?"

Pauletta shook her head immediately. "Never. Victrola opened up my world in a completely different way than The Observer did. I didn't want to write about people anymore, I wanted to be someone who was written about."

"A noble aspiration," Chuck said, vaguely remembering that he'd said something similar before.

"What about you? What are you going to do now that your father is no longer running Bass Industries?"

"That is the elusive question," Chuck said. "I wanted to build my own legacy, create something of my own. I'm not sure I will be able to do that with my father's buildings always casting a shadow over me in this city."

"I think you can."

"How?"

"Why focus above ground? You already have a success in your portfolio with Victrola, a nightclub. Perhaps your gifts are better suited for businesses that come alive at night?"

Suddenly, Chuck was struck with a bolt of inspiration. Why didn't he think of this before? It was obvious. He had already been building his own legacy. Sure, he partied and lived the life of an exhibitionist in every sense of the word in high school, but with Victrola, he had already started putting his mark on this city. His mark could only be seen most clearly at night, when his father's budlings disappeared in the inky sky.

He could buy out Victrola, franchise it; expand his ventures to grow into hospitality even. Casinos maybe. He could even tap into other forms of hospitality and tourism; something his father never touched. He had enough capital to begin an investment, a five-year plan even.

"Pauletta, I can now see how you swayed my father into giving you an offer to begin a career change."

Pauletta smiled. "Sometimes in order to see something in front of you, you just need someone to readjust the lens a bit."

"Thank you. You give great advice."

He then packed up notepad, ideas flowing through his head like a river, and left his unfinished drink behind. He swaggered to his car with a renewed purpose, a vision forming in his mind.

He was going to build his own empire, and he now knew what that empire looked like.

---

Evelyn clicked through the photo gallery of yet another tabloid article in the library that afternoon. She huddled behind one of the most secluded study carrels and clicked her track pad like a ticking clock, image after image of her father's sentencing. Like most online discoveries, it started with an accidental click fueled by curiosity, and now she felt herself sucked into the vortex of tabloid news. Gossip Girl was one thing, but The New York Post was another animal.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a couple of pictures, causing her to pause. She inspected every part of her photographed self for the first time, from her rumpled Constance uniform to her face puckered as if she'd tasted soured milk. In one picture, she looked directly at the camera, stunned that it would be pointed at her. By that point, Scott, her body detail, had stepped in as a human photo shield, blocking any photographer from capturing her.

"There you are," Ozzy said, "When you said you were in the library, you could have been more specific."

Evelyn closed her browser. She tilted her head back to kiss him, the faint smell of chlorine wafting over her.

"I'll be sure to set a flare next time," Evelyn said.

With each passing day she didn't tell Ozzy about Harvard, the harder it became to face him. He'd been in such a good place, and he was nothing but hopeful for the future. He had become a bright beacon to her, and he only got brighter and brighter by the day. The brightness was so strong it had become blinding.

"My mom has officially upped her Harvard campaigning to a new level," Ozzy said.

"How is that possible?"

"Well, if you can fixate like she can, you can be remarkably detail-oriented," Ozzy said. "She keeps e-mailing me these testimony-stories from graduates explaining how Harvard changed their lives."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "As if they're actually going to tell you the whole story."

"Of course not. But she has sent me a new story every day for the past week."

"You have to admire her dedication to the cause," Evelyn said, her right knee beginning to bounce.

"Yeah, it's something alright. Speaking of Harvard… any news on that front?"

Evelyn kept her eyes locked on her computer screen that faded to black. His voice dripped with hope, thick and sweet like honey, and she couldn't take it anymore. Evelyn's toes began to tingle, her legs twitching. She thought of where the nearest exit was; behind her, a good thirty feet. The distance required to escape this situation was too far this time.

"Evelyn?"

She felt Ozzy's warm, reassuring hand on hers. She couldn't run away this time. She wouldn't run away this time.

Evelyn licked her dry lips. "Actually, I do have some news. I…I didn't get into Harvard."

She expected Ozzy to look crestfallen, but he nodded as if he'd known all along. His warm grip grew stronger.

"It's okay," he said.

"No, it's not," Evelyn said, her eyes beginning to sting. "It ruins everything."

"What are you talking about? No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does! You said it would be you and me next year and that it would all work out. How is that possible if we can't go to the same school?"

Ozzy was quiet for a moment. Contemplative. "There is another way."

Evelyn had heard about enough long-distance relationships crash and burn due to couples going to different colleges. She didn't want to be a part of that statistic.

Ozzy looked at her with an intent focus. "We both got into Northwestern. Why don't we accept our offers and go there instead?"

Evelyn let out a shallow breath. "Ozzy, you can't be serious."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because that's crazy. You can't-you can't say no to Harvard."

He shrugged. "Says who? I won't be the first or the last."

Evelyn's gaze became unfocused, her thoughts scrambling to make sense of it all.

"Your mom is going to be so upset."

"She will have to accept defeat eventually. Evelyn," He turned her chin to face him. "Since Harvard isn't the place that took both of us, why not choose the school that did? It's not like Northwestern is a bad school either."

"I don't know," Evelyn said.

"Do you trust me?"

Evelyn looked into the warm brown eyes that have given more comfort and reliability over the past year than anything else.

"Of course."

"Then we can make this work. Together."

Evelyn laced her fingers with his. "Okay."

"Okay?"

She nodded and bit back a nervous smile. "Yes. Let's do it."

---

Blair's apartment transformed into a Vogue-inspired workshop. Blair stood in front of a white board where she divided a task list between the four of them. Joy researched current events and business news while creating interview questions. Serena reached out to previous Vogue interns and current employees for more information on their experience and the interview process. Liz compiled look books of current fashion trends for the fall season while also re-reading the last four issues of Vogue to see what features they are running.

Blair checked off an item she assigned to herself: review job posting. Blair pulled up the job posting, highlighted the key skills they were looking for. Her next task was to go through these skills point by point and come up with anecdotes and narratives that prove she has every skill on their list in English and French.

Serena hung up the phone and made a note on her legal pad.

"Any progress?" Blair asked.

"I just talked to Ella. She interned a couple years ago, and she has agreed to have a phone call with you to talk about her experience in the role."

"Fantastic. When?"

Serena winced. "Two in the morning."

"Time difference?"

She shrugged. "She's taking this call before she goes to work. It's very kind of her to do that."

"I'll take the call then. Joy, any updates?"

"Plenty. There's a lot of talk about developing their digital subscriber model as readers may prefer it over print. This is the discussion that will dictate the direction of the company."

"A conversation worth having for sure," Blair said, checking off one of Joy's boxes on the whiteboard. "Liz?"

"The fall fashion look book is almost complete," Liz said. "Headbands are the accessory for the fall."

Blair smirked. "That I can definitely work with."

They worked later into the afternoon, checking off deliverables on the whiteboard, only for Blair to wipe them away and replace them with new tasks.

"Time for a research break," Joy announced from the kitchen.

Joy had disappeared into the kitchen earlier that afternoon, insisting that one of her tasks should include providing snacks. Joy's tradition of procrastibaking had continued throughout this semester. She'd already baked chocolate cupcakes, lemon tarts, a pecan pie, and chocolate mousse during the exam break alone. Today, she decided to bake an old favourite for everyone: oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

Serena and Liz clamoured for the cookies. The smell of freshly baked cookies even tempted Blair who followed them into the kitchen.

"Oh my god, these are so good," Serena said.

"You do this as a way of stress relief?" Liz said.

Joy nodded. "It's a needed break from the screen."

"You could make a business out of this and run it on campus," Liz said. "Bake them and deliver them to studying students? A gold mine right there."

"I never thought of that," Joy said.

"You'd need kitchen space to make all your desserts. I know a place on campus where you can do it."

"Thanks. Maybe I'll try for the fall term."

"She'd be too busy studying for the LSAT for that," Blair said.

"Blair, I told you, I'll see how this summer internship goes before fully committing to law track."

"Where will you be interning?" Serena asked.

"At Cyrus Rose's law firm."

"You'll be working for Cyrus?" Serena said reaching for another cookie. "B, thought you said his firm typically fills internships with current law students who have already completed undergrad."

"Cyrus found Joy to be more than enough and made an opportunity for her."

"Wow, that's fantastic. Congratulations," Serena said.

At first, Blair was surprised that Cyrus would take on Joy at his firm, but when she thought a little more about it, it made perfect sense. They were two peas in a slightly off-kilter pod.

"Do you have any plans for the summer Serena?" Joy asked.

"Yes, actually. I'll be working as a production assistant for a David O. Russell film."

"I love his films," Liz said.

"Me too. I'm really excited about it."

Blair, having eyed the cookies as everyone was talking, broke off a piece of one. Then another. And another. She finally caved and finished it.

"As much as I'd also like to be sharing my summer plans, we have more work to do to make them happen," Blair said.

"Oh, come on, B. We have the whole night ahead of us," Serena said.

"We'll need to take breaks to keep up our productivity," Liz said.

"You know what this needs?" Joy said. "Ice cream to make them ice cream sandwiches."

Serena's eyes popped. "That would be amazing."

"I'm telling you Joy; you have a viable business on your hands here!" Liz insisted.

"Enough! We're not here to brainstorm a bakery business plan. We're here to get Blair Waldorf her internship at Vogue France."

"And we will B, but we just need to refill our…creative inspiration," Serena said.

"It just happens to be in the form of ice cream," Liz said. Joy nodded in solidarity.

"Fine. When you're all done playing little miss Betty Crockers, you can come join me in the living room to get to real work. In twenty minutes." Blair pointed at her watch and tapped it three times.

Blair had never missed having minions more than in that moment. She could control them, direct them, and mold them to do what she needed. But those days were well over. She had a very competent team, a skilled team even, helping her tonight, but to ensure their success, she needed to lay off. Let them do their work in their own way.

She'd give them twenty minutes. And then, she'd take it up a notch.

They say good help is hard to find, but what they really mean is good help is hard to control. Better learn this lesson soon, B, or your career at Vogue will be over faster than Jessica Simpson's acting career.

---

"What do you think?"

Evelyn looked outside the large bay windows that overlooked a quiet side street. A tall sycamore rustled, obscuring the cars and pedestrian traffic below. The hardwood floors squeaked under her feet, and the apartment smelled like Lysol wipes.

Evelyn squeaked across the living room, past the tiled decorated fireplace. She noticed her reflection in the mirrored mantle and looked away from it quickly. She passed the newly renovated galley kitchen, with clean white edges and silver appliances. She stopped in the corridor that led to the bedrooms. She lifted her arms up and pressed her palms against opposing walls.

"It's snug."

The apartment was located on the Upper West Side in a brownstone building. It was a renovated pre-war apartment, its charms restored. Aunt Kim practically shuddered with excitement when she described it to Evelyn in the car ride over.

"The hallway may be a bit narrow, but it's a good size otherwise."

Evelyn turned toward the grand living room. The sunlight shone through the bay window, casting a golden glow inside. Evelyn envisioned her aunt's furniture in the apartment. The plush leather couch in front of the fireplace. Her fleece blankets. The vases of dried lavender.

"It reminds me of our home in Connecticut."

Aunt Kim craned her neck to admire the detailed crown molding that framed the living room. "You think?"

"The wall colours are a bit more neutral, but it feels like our home in Connecticut. It makes you want to stay and burrow. It feels like a respite."

"Oh, really? I didn't notice," Aunt Kim said while checking to see if each kitchen drawer opened smoothly.

"I thought that was a good thing. Isn't it?"

"Hmm perhaps. It doesn't matter because this place is out of my budget anyway."

"By a lot?"

"By enough. Rent has become ridiculous in this city, but we'll just keep looking for something like this place."

Evelyn walked into the kitchen, her fingers grazing the scratches on the butcher block counter. It was difficult for Evelyn to believe that her aunt was selling her childhood home and moving to the city. It was the first home Evelyn had ever known. It was her only home whose door was always open for her return. Since she was eight years old, her aunt had said that she and Uncle Travis were going to retire in that home. It marked another promise unfulfilled. The most solid of surfaces in Evelyn's life had also turned into sand.

"Speaking of looking for new things, college decision day is a few days away," Aunt Kim said.

Evelyn opened and shut the tap. "I'm aware."

"I don't want to pressure you Evelyn, but you have to make a decision soon."

"I've already made my decision."

Aunt Kim balked. "And?"

Evelyn took a deep breath. "I've decided on Northwestern."

Aunt Kim cocked her head. "Okay. That-that's good. I'm just…surprised. You haven't talked about Northwestern much."

"Well, we're going to be talking about it a lot more now."

Aunt Kim gave her a hug. "That's great, Evie. I'm very proud of you."

Evelyn's gaze fell to the polished hardwood floors.

"Did you tell Ozzy about your decision?"

"We talked about it. And he's going to accept his offer at Northwestern too."

Aunt Kim's touch turned to ice. "I thought he was going to Harvard?"

"He decided it wasn't the right fit for him," Evelyn said.

Aunt Kim stepped away from Evelyn. "Did he?"

"We decided Northwestern was better for the both of us."

Aunt Kim folded her arms across her chest. "Wait, we?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Why are you giving me the third degree? I made a decision like you wanted."

"Because I'm concerned with the reasoning behind your decision."

"It's my decision, not yours," Evelyn said.

"Yes, but I have a right to tell you if I'm concerned as one of your guardians."

Evelyn started for the front door.

"Evelyn, wait." Aunt Kim called, her voice stern. "Did Ozzy sway this decision of yours?"

"What? No! He's not like that."

"I'm not saying he is. I'm just trying to understand. You haven't been able to decide about this for months now, and now you're saying you've made this decision together. Did you choose Northwestern because of him?"

Evelyn's hands became clammy. Her legs started to jitter, ready to run. "It may have been a consideration."

Aunt Kim's face crumpled with disappointment. She shook her head and rooted her fists against her hips. "I can't believe what I'm hearing."

Evelyn's eyes' narrowed. "Well believe it. You wanted me to decide? Well, I did. I can't help if you don't like it."

"Evelyn, I just don't think you are thinking this through."

"Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Evie, that's not what this is about."

"Then what is your problem?"

"I don't want you to make a decision you will regret. You have so many amazing options for your next chapter. If you make this decision to save your relationship, you will regret it. Trust me. You can't choose a guy over your future. You'll lose both every time."

"Well at least I have a guy in my future."

The words spilled out of Evelyn's mouth before she could stop them. She knew she went too far as soon as the words left her mouth. Her aunt looks at her with a wounded expression, her eyes reddening.

Evelyn had never seen her aunt cry before. Not when she occasionally stubbed her toe from the kitchen table. Not when they watched It's a Wonderful Life annually during the holidays. Not even when they attended her great uncle's funeral.

Evelyn's body grew stiff. Her legs became rooted, her arms heavy. Evelyn felt her chest grow tight, her breath catching in her throat.

Aunt Kim swallowed her tears, her cheeks dry. "Are you done?"

"Are you?" Evelyn croaked.

Aunt Kim opened the door to the apartment. She paused, then turned. "Remember when I told you to not let them change you right before you moved to the city? You've changed you. And not for the better."

Evelyn stood like a statue as the door slammed shut. She didn't have the energy to run after her aunt or away from her. Evelyn stumbled back into the nearest bookshelf, winded. The knick knacks on the shelves wobbled, her aunt's words piercing her.

She pushed herself away from the bookshelf and into the wall behind the front door. She leaned against it, her legs buckling. She crumpled to the floor and stayed there.

---

Bass Industries buzzed louder than a beehive when Chuck passed the office cubicles that afternoon. The stock market was about to close for the day, and a flurry of employees were calling or furiously texting. Some were trading numbers as fast as their fingers could type. Others replied to end of day emails.

Philip's secretary told Chuck to wait outside. Chuck did his part to not take offence, but he refused to take a seat as she recommended on principle.

Ten minutes later, the door to Philip's office opened, and four men with varying degrees of receding hairlines carried briefcases with them.

"Charles," Philip said, extending his hand. "Good to see you again. I'm very sorry to hear the news about the verdict."

"Likewise. How are things here?" Chuck said, making a circular gesture to equate the room, and more broadly the company.

"It's been better. Our stock price has plummeted, which means we have many nervous investors to contend with. I'm confident it will pass."

Chuck admired Philip's confidence however overly optimistic it was in that moment. To run Bass Industries, you had to believe in its ability to succeed no matter the setback. It's something his father did when he lived and breathed Bass Industries, and Chuck sensed the same in Philip.

"So," Philip said. "I assume you're here because you've made a decision about my offer."

"It was a difficult decision given everything that's been happening," Chuck said.

"I don't doubt it," Philip said. "But that stuff is all noise. For a decision like this, the answer is somewhere within you."

"Which self-help book did you get that from?"

Philip chuckled. "My wife just discovered TedTalk a couple weeks ago."

Although he joked about Philip's advice, Chuck did recognize its value. If he closed his eyes right now and pictured what he wanted, the answer was clear.

"At this point in time, I would like to explore my own career path. Instead of carrying on Bass Industries, I want to start my own empire."

Philp smiled at him knowingly. "What informed your decision?"

"My father has been trying to prepare me for a life running Bass Industries for as long as I can remember. He convinced me that wearing a suit to kindergarten was normal and started teaching me about investments when I was twelve."

"He took a proactive approach."

Chuck smirked. It was one way to put it. "I always thought my father was preparing me to take over Bass Industries, and how I would inevitably disappoint him because I wasn't him. Bass Industries has always been my father's. He's always made that very clear. It will always be my father's, and I don't want to live under his shadow. I'd rather start something of my own. Build my own legacy."

Philip's eyes softened. He stood from his chair and rounded the desk. He sat on the edge and crossed his arms across his chest. "My father was horrified when I told him the same thing you just told me," Philip said.

"Really?"

"Oh yes. My family was in the energy sector for generations, and I could care less about it. I wanted to chart my own path," Philip said gesturing to the office. "And I did."

"I had no idea," Chuck said. "What made you choose Bass Industries?"

"I saw your father's vision. And I took a chance to explore it. What's your vision, Charles?"

Chuck cleared his throat and adjusted his suit. "I want to sell experiences. I want to build a business that provides an opportunity for people to let loose, lose inhibitions, either be their true selves or forget themselves. They would have an unforgettable experience that will leave them coming back for more. It'll drive people to tell their friends, lovers, enemies so they all want it to. There's nothing more intangible yet lucrative than having an experience others long for."

"And what kinds of experiences are you offering?"

"That's the thing, I've already started it with Victrola. I'd build up themed bars and clubs as a start, all of them connected under the same brand across the city, with a potential to expand across the country, and beyond, each offering a different experience. People travel to experience new things; and this could be a destination."

Philip gripped the edge of his desk. "And who is your target audience?"

"I haven't created any customer personas yet, but I imagine it would cater to anyone looking for an escape, an adventure, a story to tell even. It would cater to anyone who is looking to bring their darkness into the light."

Philip nodded. "May I tell you what I think?"

Chuck sat on the edge on his seat.

"I think it needs work. Research, development, and most importantly investors. It's an intriguing idea, but is there demand for it? And is that demand sustainable?"

"I know it needs work, but you asked me for my vision, and that is it. May I tell you what I think now, Philip?"

Philp grinned. "Go ahead."

"I will put together a business proposal for your review by the end of this summer. By then, I'd like to buy out Victrola from Bass Industries and begin seeking out investors. I'd like to give you an opportunity to invest before I take it to others. This is really an opportunity for you."

"And what about school?"

"My studies will take a pause until further notice."

Philip shook his head with a knowing smile on his face. "You're more like your father than you think."

Philip stood from his desk and put his hands in his pockets. "Let me make a counteroffer to you, Chuck. I will give you an opportunity to pitch your business plan once you finish your undergraduate degree."

"Why?"

"Because I know how long these ideas take to develop, and yours will take more than one summer. I suggest you work through your idea, research it, develop it before you start pitching."

"But that'll be in two years."

"If your idea is as good as you think it is, it will still stand in two years. Do you think Bass Industries happened over a summer? Your father worked on this throughout his undergrad and for many years building it up after. These things take time and patience. Let me add to my counteroffer: You can also use me as a counsel as you develop it until you're ready to pitch it."

Chuck stared at Philip, looking for an ulterior motive, a reason he was being generous with his counteroffer. If he'd learned anything from the past few months battling Jack, it's that no good deed was offered in good faith. There was always a chess move behind it.

"Why would you want to help me develop it?"

"There's no need to be skeptical, Charles. Your father and I go way back. He won't be available to help you in the way you'll need these next few years, and I'd be happy to be a mentor, sounding board, what not. I'm not here trying to steal your idea. I already have enough on my plate."

"You'll have to forgive my skepticism. My uncle was much more diabolical."

"We all create our own legacies," Philp continued. "And I'd be happy to help you find yours. We can draw it up in writing if a handshake doesn't feel like enough. What do you say?"

Chuck offered his hand and Philip shook it, grinning. All the pressure he'd felt over the past few months now lifted off his shoulders. It was a relief that Chuck didn't know he needed.

"Let's recap on what you need to do now," Philip said. "You said you have two more years of school left?"

"Two and a half. I took this past semester off, so I would need to make up the time."

"Good. Catch up on what you've missed this summer, and then finish school first."

"But school isn't necessary," Chuck said.

"Oh, it is," Philip said. "Most of your contemporaries are at school right now, building bonds and making connections that will come into place here. You know as well as I do Charles that it's all who you know. Make the connections with your peers and your professors. They will connect you with different opportunities."

Chuck couldn't argue with Philip's point even if it meant he had to slog through another couple years of school. "Okay fine. Then what?"

"Next summer, I'll connect you with who you need to talk to get this idea off the ground."

"And after school?"

"You start pitching to investors and start building your business."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Of course, it's not that easy, but once you have a plan of action, you'll know what to do."

"That sounds a lot of like love."

Philip chuckled. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that love is the biggest driver of business?"

---

Ozzy could smell the burnt sugar as soon as he opened the front door. Its scent was pungent, like an overly roasted coffee that wasn't taken off the burner. Their home always smelled like lemons left from their maid's cleaning supplies and a touch of pine from all the wood finishes. The bitter smell overtook everything, leaving Ozzy to wonder how long it would take for the smell to dissipate.

Dash cranked open one of the front windows in the drawing room.

"What's that smell from?" Ozzy asked.

"Your mom tried to bake again."

"Again?"

Her fixation from Ted Talks for the past two weeks had now shifted to two things: Harvard and baking. Ozzy suspected the two were related. Every day she asked if he'd made a decision about college, and he figured her kitchen experiments were a result of her wanting to actually bake something to celebrate the announcement. Ever since his father brought up the stories of her terrible cooking, she seemed to accept them as a challenge instead of what they really were. An unspoken truth.

Ozzy's mom sat at their kitchen table with her head in hands. Pots, bowls, and measuring cups were strewn across the kitchen. Flour was sprinkled over the counters. A sticky residue formed a ring on the cooktop. The range hood was on full blast, it's efforts laborious but carried few results.

"What happened?" Ozzy asked.

His mom set down her empty espresso cup. "I tried to make a burnt sugar caramel cake."

"It smells like you got the burnt sugar right."

"A little too right. I now know the difference."

She got up and called their maid to come down to clean the kitchen.

"So... have you made any decisions? Perhaps about college?"

Everyday his mom got creative with how she asked him the same question. Today was the first time she dropped the veneer and asked directly.

"I've made a decision."

His mom looked up, her face softening with hope.

"And?"

"I've decided on Northwestern."

Her expectant smile dropped.

He knew she wasn't going to take it well. He figured the Band-Aid approach would be best for the situation, but there wasn't really an easy way around crushing his mom's hopes.

"I just. Hold on. I'm trying to understand. Why there?"

"I don't know. I liked the campus and-"

"Hold on. You choose a school and when asked why you immediately say, 'I don't know?'"

"Well, you cut me off before I could explain."

"Ozzy, you got into Harvard. This shouldn't have been a difficult decision. Did you not read any of the articles I sent you?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her that he only glanced at the headlines.

"I know you wanted me to choose Harvard, and I'm sorry I didn't make the decision you wanted. But I've decided. I'm going to Northwestern."

"I can't believe this," she said, massaging her temples. "Do you know how many people would have killed to get into Harvard? Thousands! You can't throw this opportunity away."

"By letting it go, someone else who wants it can go."

"I don't understand. I thought you wanted this. When you visited the campus, I thought...I thought something sparked in you. Why aren't you letting yourself have this?"

His mom didn't understand. It wasn't his to have. It never was. Harvard would have never been possible without Evelyn. Or any school. If she didn't come into his life when she did, he wouldn't have been on this path at all. She was the stabilizing force he'd always craved and needed.

"I want something else."

"Like what?"

"Forget it."

"No, we're not going to forget it. The least you can do is tell me why."

Ozzy got up to leave.

"Ozzy, please."

"Fine, but you're not going to like it."

"But I promise will accept it."

Ozzy looked non-plussed.

"I will," his mom insisted.

"Evelyn and I decided to attend Northwestern. It was the only school we both got accepted."

His mom's face was unreadable. "I see. I'll admit, I'm disappointed to hear that, but I suppose I have to accept it."

"You said you would."

"And I will. It's just...I hoped you would take school a little more seriously than I did."

"I am taking it seriously. I got into plenty of schools. Northwestern is a top twenty school."

"It is. But you're choosing a relationship over a golden opportunity. I hope you're aware of what you're giving up for her."

"I am."

"And would she give up Harvard for you?"

"She didn't get in."

"Let's say she got in and you didn't. Would she give it up for you like you would for her?"

"Yeah, she would," his voice lifted at the end, unsure.

"And she told you so?"

"Well, not in those words."

Their maid, Alicia, appeared with her bucket of cleaning supplies. She took in the scene, trying to assess where to start.

"You may want to start with the stove," his mom said. "That's where it all started."

Ozzy thought back to when he first met Evelyn, where it all started. They were sophomores then, who didn't worry about the future. They lived in the sleepy town of Southington then, where everyone knew everyone. They found commonalities. Learned from each other's differences. They shared good and bad memories. Hope and heartbreak. Whether they were in Connecticut or New York, they found their way back to each other.

When he thought back on it all, Ozzy could clearly see his life taking a new path when he met Evelyn. It was a stable path, a path that led him to discover things about the world and himself that expanded his imagination. It was a path that he was vulnerable to stray from, but Evelyn always ensured he didn't. If she wasn't with him, he wasn't sure if he could keep following the path alone. But he didn't have to follow it alone now. Whether his mom liked it or not, Ozzy felt this was essential.

His mother set her espresso cup in the sink. "All I'm saying is that you should be sure that Evelyn would make the same sacrifice for you."

Careful, O. Not every path leads like a yellow brick road.

---

Evelyn wasn't sure how she found her way to Blair's apartment, but it felt like her best option. She couldn't think of anyone else she was on speaking terms with who could talk to about college, the trial, or what happened with Aunt Kim.

A thumping beat pulsed through Blair's apartment door. She considered turning back, thinking she may be interrupting a party, but decided to knock. She already came this far.

She could hear Blair barking orders as she neared the door. Her annoyed expression was replaced with surprise.

"Evelyn. What brings you here? Wait, did something happen to Chuck?"

"No, he's fine. I came here to talk to you."

Blair looked at her watch. "I can take five."

It was like she walked into a hive. Serena, Joy, and Liz were swaddled with papers, sticky notes, and pens on the couches. They buzzed around the living room with varying levels of stress etched on their faces.

"S, have you gotten through to last year's intern?" Blair asked.

"Not yet."

"Well, try harder. Stalk whomever you must to track her down."

Serena sighed and pinned her pen in her hair.

"What's happening here?" Evelyn asked.

"I have an interview with Vogue France tomorrow morning, and I have some helpers assisting me. Liz, how's the fall catalogue compilation coming along?"

"It's coming along, like I said ten minutes ago."

"Well, it better be ready to go over in thirty. Evelyn," she motioned for her to follow to her room.

"That's quite the operation you have going on out there," Evelyn said as Blair shut the door.

"It's the best I could do on such short notice," Blair said. "What do you need?"

Evelyn smoothed the pleats of her skirt with her hands. "How did you know you wanted to attend Columbia?"

Blair swivelled her desk chair and took a seat. "Well, it was quite easy. I always wanted to go to Yale. Then, Miss Carrcrash happened, and I lost Yale, so I picked my next best option. It was Columbia."

"And what about my brother? Did he factor into your decision?"

Blair leaned back in her chair. "We weren't together at that point, so no he didn't factor in."

Evelyn sighed and crossed her arms across her chest. This was a mistake. Blair couldn't relate to her plight like she thought she might. She couldn't relate at all.

"Why are you asking?" Blair said.

"Because I'm stuck. I have to decide which school I'm going to attend in a couple of days, and there is no clear answer like there was for you."

"What do you mean there's no clear answer?"

"I didn't get into Harvard. Ozzy did. We talked about it, and we decided to pick the school we both got into. Northwestern. Now, Aunt Kim is mad at me because she thinks I'm choosing my relationship over my education."

Evelyn rubbed her hands over her face. "I don't know what to do."

"Let's take a step back. Which schools did you get into?"

"Northwestern, Columbia, and Stanford."

"And which of those schools do you envision yourself attending?"

"That's the problem, Blair. I don't know. I can't envision myself anywhere. I haven't had the capacity to think of the future at all."

"Because of the trial?"

Evelyn nodded.

"And your aunt thinks you're choosing Northwestern because of Ozzy?"

"That's the thing, Blair. She's not wrong. But she doesn't understand. Over the past few months, years even, he's been my rock. When one of us is down, the other pulls us both up. I can't imagine going somewhere, and him not being there."

Blair had a knowing look on her face. "I understand."

"And then, Ozzy tells me he won't accept his offer to Harvard this afternoon, so we can go to the same school."

"He's willing to give up Harvard for you," Blair said.

Evelyn sat on the edge of Blair's bed, her shoulders sagging.

"I never thought I'd be one of those girls who couldn't live without her boyfriend," Evelyn said. "But here I am, deciding on my future with him being my compass. It's so pathetic."

"No, it isn't," Blair said. "It's because you care. This isn't someone on a whim, you've had a relationship with Ozzy for years. It's understandable why you wouldn't want to let go of that so immediately especially with the pressure you've been under the past year."

"My aunt doesn't see it that way," Evelyn said. "She thinks I'm throwing my future away."

"I don't think you'd be throwing away anything by going to any of those schools."

"It seems like it," Evelyn said.

"Look, I think your aunt just wants what's best for you and wants to protect you from getting hurt. The question you need to ask yourself is, if Ozzy weren't in the picture, would you choose Northwestern?"

"I don't know."

"Well think about it. Think about which of those schools excites you the most. Because in my experience, if you love someone, you will always find your way back to each other. No school can get in the way of that."

Evelyn paused, the thought causing a shift within. She hadn't thought of it that way before. She was in a constant state of paralysis because she thought she was going to lose her relationship with Ozzy based on the school she chose; but if she looked back at their history, they had gone separate ways in the past and found their way back to each other.

"You think?" Evelyn's voice lifted with wonder.

Blair had a knowing smile on her face. "I know."

Evelyn looked at her hands in her lap. "I love him. And I think he loves me."

"You think? He's planning to give up Harvard for you."

Evelyn felt a warmth release the pressure she'd been feeling in her chest.

"Just like how my brother chose Columbia because of you?"

"He didn't just choose Columbia for me you know. He chose Columbia, so he could stay in the city and be close to you too."

"Really?"

Blair nodded. "You're loved more than you know, Evelyn."

---

Bart leafed through his account transfer paperwork. His accountant had sent him the paperwork to be signed so all his accounts would be transferred to Lily while he served time. He neared the last pages where yellow and red sticky notes with the labels 'Sign Here' pointed to the dotted line when Kim slammed his office door. Her eyes were bulged; nostrils flared.

"How could you let this happen?"

Bart leaned back in his leather office chair, causing his chair to roll back. "Let what happen?"

"Oh, you don't know? That's even better." Kim crossed her arms across her chest. "Your daughter has decided to throw her life away to follow her boyfriend."

Bart's eyebrows furrowed. "She did what?"

"Your daughter has decided that she's going to Northwestern so she can stay close to Oscar."

Bart's index fingers traced the seam of his arm rest. "Isn't Northwestern a good school?"

"That's not the point Bart. The point is that your daughter has completely lost her sense of self and is content to follow her boyfriend wherever he wants to go."

Bart's lips formed a thin white line. "I see."

"I still can't believe it. You told me to trust her instincts. What kind of instinct is this?"

"Perhaps it's a protective one."

"Well, whatever it is, it's not good. I did not raise Evelyn to be dependent on someone like this. I'm not sure where she learned that from, but we can't let her follow through with it."

Bart didn't disagree with Kim. He wanted his daughter to be independent too. But he knew if he made this decision for her, she would resent him even more than she did already.

"Perhaps when she cools down, we could discuss her options with her. Give her some helpful advice."

"I've done that Bart, but she won't listen. I can't stand here and watch her make this decision."

Bart nodded. "Because you made the same decision when you were her age if I remember correctly."

Kim's shoulders slumped. "Yes. And I regretted it. I don't want her to make the same mistake."

"I don't either. But if we want Evelyn to be independent, we can't make this decision for her, right?"

Kim's sharpened voice soften. "Right. I just wish I could get through to her, to help her see reason."

"I think we still can, but that would only work if you apologized to her. She needs support not judgement right now."

Kim kicked the leg of his desk. Bart smirked. "I know apologizing isn't your forte."

"It's not yours either."

"It's something we have in common. But I must admit, I do feel responsible too. This decision would have been easier for her without the trial happening."

"Then you should apologize to her too," Kim said.

"You're right," Bart said, leaning back in his chair. "I have a lot to apologize for. Might be too late for it to mean anything."

"It's never too late for someone to say what you need to hear," Kim said.

Bart was a person who allowed his actions to speak on behalf of words because words were nothing but empty platitudes from a young age. Words formed unkept promises and unfounded reassurances. He grew up in an environment where an apology was seen as a surrender, not an acknowledgment of wrongdoing.

But that was in the past. Like the events of the trial were. The trial itself now. And he wanted to keep them there, let them rest. It was the only way forward. He hoped Evelyn would come to the same understanding. If not today, one day.

---

When Chuck arrived at Blair's apartment, he didn't expect to be greeted with Serena's frazzled face. She swung the door open, her blonde waves rustling like palm trees.

"Thank God you're here," Serena said pulling him inside.

"What's wrong?" Chuck said, his relaxed state that settled in after his meeting with Philip threatening to leave.

"She has an interview with Vogue France tomorrow morning, and she's driving us all insane trying to control everything, including us. You need to help calm her down."

"Serena!" Blair called. "Who is it?"

Serena rubbed her weary face. "It's Chuck."

"Another Bass?" Blair grumbled, so deep in her planning that she couldn't fathom anything outside of it.

Blair was sitting on the couch, papers and magazines blanketing her. She held a highlighter in her hand, and a stack of papers in the other. A whiteboard faced her with a chart filled with checkmarks.

"Don't look so surprised to see me Waldorf. I told you I was coming over tonight," Chuck said looking around at the worn out faces surrounding Blair. "I didn't know you had other plans."

Blair bowed her head and rubbed her temples. "Of course. I'm so sorry. This all came up very suddenly this afternoon."

"Do you have a moment to tell me about it? I see you're on a time crunch."

Joy nodded fervently from the love seat behind Blair.

Blair frowned while looking down at her papers. "Yes, but we'll have to be quick."

Once inside Blair's room, Chuck made sure he heard a click to her closed door for the sake of the girls on the other side. They probably feared that Blair would be able to hear if they weren't working at her preferred capacity if the door remained open.

"Vogue France?" Chuck asked.

Blair bit back a smile, tempering her excitement. "I got an email this afternoon. It's a summer internship."

Chuck smiled, caressing her arms. "Blair, that's fantastic."

"It is," Blair said practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. She paused, her feet lowering to the ground. "Wait, you had your meeting with Philip today, didn't you? How did that go?"

Chuck raised his hand. "It went well, and I will fill you in on the details after your interview tomorrow. Tell me how this happened. I thought you were applying for law internships?"

"I was," Blair said. "But then I went to this Vogue summit event with Liz and when I was there, I ran into Jean, who I was seeing last summer—"

"Seeing? Don't you mean saw?"

"Of course! He lives there, I live here. Chuck, nothing like that happened when I saw him. The point is, his mom is an editor at Vogue France, and he encouraged me to apply. I did, and now, here we are!"

"He encouraged you?" Chuck said skeptically. "Out of the kindness of his own heart?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "Believe it or not, there are people out there that don't think like us, Chuck."

"What a pity," Chuck said, looking away from her, his jaw clenching.

"Chuck, there's no reason to be jealous."

"Who said I was jealous?"

Blair caressed his face. "You're so sexy when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous."

"That's too bad," Blair said. "Because that would really turn me on right now."

Chuck felt a strain in his pants. He turned Blair around and ran his hands down her sides and over her thighs.

"Do I need to remind you what this Jean guy can't give you?" Chuck whispered in her ear. He started kissing her behind the shell of her ear.

Blair's eyes fluttered to a close. "I think you do."

Serena said he needed to help calm Blair down, and Chuck doubted she had this in mind. The thought amused him.

Chuck backed Blair onto her bed and lifted her dress above her hips. He leaned over her and kissed her, leaving a trail down her collarbone, across her chest, down her stomach, and between her thighs.

"Chuck," Blair gasped, her hand tangling in his hair. "I can't—I have to…"

Clothes were unbuttoned and thrown around the room. Blair flipped their positions, so she hovered over him, her curls draping around their faces like a curtain. They caressed, nipped, and scratched, desperate to cling onto each other.

After they finished, Blair's chest rose and fell to catch her breath. "I have to get back to work."

"What else could you need to work on for this interview?"

"I need to be prepared for any scenario. Chuck, you don't understand. This is my one chance. I can't blow this."

"Blair, the only way you will blow this is if you overdo it, and if you don't stop now, you'll overdo it."

"But I have a call at two in the morning with the person who had this job last summer."

"Which is great. But you need to stop and take a rest. Maybe take a relaxing bath with that essential oils you like? Once you're done that call, you need to get a good night's sleep. Have you eaten dinner yet?"

Blair avoided his gaze and didn't reply.

"Blair. I know you want this. We all know it. And the way for you to get it is to not think about how much you want it, but to focus on the steps to get there. One question at a time. If you stay focused, I know you'll get it."

"And if I don't?"

"There's Vogue here at home and tons of other fashion magazines. We'll find someone who can open the door for you. This isn't all or nothing."

Blair turned toward him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I really want this, Chuck."

"And you'll get it. Just trust your instincts Waldorf. They'd be fools not to hire you."

Blair kissed his stubbly cheek and sat up.

"Where are you going?"

"I think it's time to release my friends from their torture duties."

She put on her lavender silk robe and tied it in a firm knot.

"I'm sure they will appreciate that."

Blair rested her hand on the handle and paused. "Chuck? Will you stay over tonight?"

"Of course, Waldorf, but on one condition."

Blair smirked, expecting a sexual favour.

"Where's my silk robe?"

---

Evelyn found her father in the kitchen when she returned to the Bass Penthouse that evening. It was an unusual sight. Her father wasn't a cook, and Evelyn didn't think he knew which cupboard the plates were located, or which drawer contained the cutlery.

"Have you seen Aunt Kim?"

Her father shifted all his weight onto his left foot and scratched at the ankle monitor with his right.

"She had another apartment showing. She should be back soon."

Evelyn nodded and turned to leave for her bedroom.

"I think I know something that might make you feel better while you wait."

Her father opened the freezer door and picked out a pint of ice cream. It was a pint she ordered from Morgenstern's Ice Cream; the flavour called Rockiest Road.

"A scoop wouldn't hurt," Evelyn said.

After two tries, her father located the ice cream bowls. Then, after opening the third drawer, Evelyn directed where he could find the ice cream scooper, the drawer closest to the oven. He scooped one ball of ice cream for himself, and two for Evelyn.

Their spoons clanged against the bowls as they both dug in. Her father asked how her day was, the usual pleasantries. Although their relationship began to thaw, the ice between them had yet to thaw into water.

Her father looked as if he wanted to say something, but kept his bottom lip curled inward.

"Evelyn, I um, I've been reflecting a lot about the trial, and I realize I owe you an apology."

Evelyn set her spoon down. "Oh, um, for what?"

"Well, for a lot of things. I realize the timing of the trial was far from idea for you. I can only imagine how stressful it was for you have that going on while you've been trying to make important life decisions. I'm sorry for how this trial has affected you. It wasn't your fault. It was mine, and you've had to deal with some of the consequences."

Evelyn's gaze fell to her bowl. She didn't know what to say. The trial had taken its toll on her. Clouded her judgement on what was right for her. The legacy of its outcome was a looming shadow over her.

"Wow. I don't know what to say," Evelyn said. "I-I just didn't expect this."

"You don't have to say anything," her father said. "I just hope that you now feel that you can make a decision about school without worrying about the trial."

"It's not just the trial that I've had to worry about. It's the after trial that I've been worrying about. How it's changed things for good."

Bart nodded with understanding. "I know things are different now. But I don't want you to think that any of those differences can hold you back."

"But they already are."

"Evelyn. They can only hold you back if you let them."

It seemed obvious in retrospect, but the point finally clicked with Evelyn. She'd already felt the ways her father's guilty verdict was affecting her. She couldn't control that. But what she could control was how she responded to it. She could let those external noises hold her back or shrug them off so she could continue as best as she could.

The elevator pinged, announcing Aunt Kim's return. Evelyn leaned back in her chair, her ice cream now a puddle, working through this realization. Bart greeted Aunt Kim and offered her a scoop.

"No thank you. I can't eat dessert after dinner. Never sits well in my stomach," Aunt Kim said.

"Very well." Her father placed his empty bowl in the sink and excused himself.

Aunt Kim lingered waiting to see if Evelyn would initiate any type of conversation.

"Have you had some time to cool down?" Aunt Kim finally said.

"A bit," Evelyn said. "You?"

"A bit."

Evelyn stirred her ice cream. "I'm sorry for what I said to you earlier. I was out of line."

"I'm sorry too. For coming down on you so hard with judgement. You see, my worries not only were coming from a place of care for you, but fear."

"Fear?"

"When I was your age, I chose to attend NYU."

"I remember you telling me that when we toured the campus."

"What I didn't tell you was why I chose that school. I chose NYU because my high school boyfriend wanted to go there. His name was Sean, and I didn't think I could live without him, so I followed him. I thought it was this perfect plan where all the pieces I had laid out would fall into place. It didn't. We broke up by Thanksgiving."

"I'm so sorry, Aunt Kim."

"I suppose I overreacted because I was fearful that you were making the same decision I made," Aunt Kim said. "Fear knocked my faith in you out the window, and I'm sorry for that. I do have faith in you Evelyn. I really do. I believe in you so much that I think your potential is more valuable than the sum of a relationship."

Aunt Kim put her hand over hers. "No matter what you decide, I want you to know that I will always support and believe in you."

Evelyn squeezed her aunt's hand and pulled her into a hug. Evelyn rested her left ear on her shoulder, like she used to when her aunt held her against her hip as a child. The notes of jasmine and carnation from her perfume bloomed while the pepper and cinnamon spices cut through the floral. It was a mix of florals and spices that only her aunt would wear. It was comforting, like putting on a warm sweater.

When Evelyn pulled away, she thanked her aunt and said, "There's something I need to do."

Evelyn cleared away her textbooks, pencil shavings, and loose papers from her desk and opened her notebook to a clear page. She listed her school options at the top, underlining each school name. Then, she began to write. She reflected on each tour she visited, reviewed each science program and the pros and cons for each, thought about student-life, campus culture even. She turned her attention within, listening for a faint answer to a question that plagued her for months. She tuned out all the noise in her head, like turning off one light in a room at a time and craned to listen to her inner voice. She closed her eyes at times, straining to hear it. And eventually, she heard.

---

Ozzy clicked through a slideshow of different residence styles on Northwestern's website when Evelyn appeared at his bedroom door. She opened the door quietly, her head poking out from behind it.

Ozzy sat up in his chair. "Hey. Wait, did we have plans?"

Evelyn closed the door behind her. "No. I just needed to talk to you."

Ozzy ran his hand through his hair. "What's up?"

Evelyn saw the glowing screen behind his shoulder, her gaze falling to her hands. She seemed troubled, uneasy. It made his stomach turn.

Evelyn settled her hands at her sides and looked at him. "Do you want to go to Harvard?"

"Um, I thought I made myself clear this afternoon?"

Evelyn tucked her hands in her jean pockets. "Let me say it another way. If I weren't here, would you want to go to Harvard?"

"But you are here," Ozzy said.

Evelyn's left fingers curled into the palm of her hand, creating a bulge in her pocket. "Yes, but if I wasn't, would you choose Harvard?"

Ozzy rubbed his hands down his thighs. "Why are you asking me a hypothetical question that's not applicable to our situation?"

"Because it is applicable, Ozzy," Evelyn said. She took a couple steps closer to him. "I can't be the reason you give up Harvard."

Ozzy crossed his arms. "But you're not. We both agreed Northwestern would be better for us."

"We did," Evelyn said. She licked her dry bottom lip. "But I've realized that Northwestern may be better for our relationship, but it's not better for either of us," Evelyn said.

Ozzy suddenly felt overheated. The muscles in his neck tensed, and the muscle beside his right shoulder blade seize.

"What are you saying? Do you want to break up?"

Evelyn removed her hands from her pockets and waved them emphatically. "No! That's not what I'm saying at all."

"Then what is it? Because it sounds like you want out," Ozzy said.

"Believe me that is the last thing I want," Evelyn said. She touched his elbow, where his sleeve was bunched up, and traced her fingers lightly across his forearm, finding the crevice of his palm.

"I'm not giving up on us," Evelyn said.

Ozzy retreated to the chest at the foot of his bed. He leaned forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. The question his mother asked earlier now gnawed at him.

"If our roles were reversed," Ozzy countered. "Would you give up Harvard?"

"I thought about that," Evelyn said, crossing her arms against her stomach. "And I realized that I would want to, but you wouldn't let me."

Ozzy bowed his head and let out a long breath. He then rubbed his face with his hands.

"And now you don't want me to give up Harvard," Ozzy said.

Evelyn nodded. "I can't be the reason you don't go to Harvard. I want what's best for you just like how you would want what's best for me. I can't hold you back from this."

Ozzy rubbed his hands together and shook his head. "But Harvard wouldn't have been possible without you. Ever since you came into my life three years ago, nothing's been the same. I wasn't on a good path. Was going nowhere fast. But now, everything's moving fast, and doors are opening, and I just can't even believe it. Evelyn, I wouldn't have been able to do this on my own. None of this would have been possible without you, and I just don't think I can keep it up without you."

Evelyn's eyes softened. She took a seat next to Ozzy and caressed his cheek. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit. While I may have been an influence, it was you that changed things. You did that Ozzy, not me."

Ozzy pondered this. He stretched and pulled at it like a ball of plasticine.

"I just…" Ozzy began, clasping his hands together, "have this fear that I'm going to sink again."

He shuddered at the thought of darkness he'd felt in the past. The heaviness in his body, the escape through drugs. The further he walked away from it, the more a lingering worry clung on to him, reminding him to be vigilant or the darkness could return.

Evelyn caressed his back, bringing him back to the present. "Ozzy, you are the best swimmer I know. You're the last person who should be worrying about that. Even if you feel yourself sinking, you now know how to find your way back to the surface."

Evelyn leaned her chin on his shoulder. "Besides, you've been telling me to trust you. And I do. Completely. Don't you think you should trust yourself?"

Ozzy slouched. "It's not that easy when your instincts have been self-destructive."

"Have been. Past tense. That's not something you do anymore. That's a choice that you continue to make," Evelyn said. "You can choose which instinct will win out now. That's the difference."

Ozzy put his arm around her and held her close. He wanted to hold on to her for forever, but he was beginning to sense that his grip on her was finite.

"What do we do now?" Ozzy asked.

Evelyn sighed. "We discuss what's best for both of us. It helps when we've both have thought about what that is. I haven't…done that like I should've months ago. But now I have, and I finally decided which school is best for me."

"Okay," Ozzy said. "Which school?"

She took a deep breath and locked eyes when she said it. "Stanford."

"Stanford? In California?"

Her grip on him tightened, her eyes widening. "Before you panic, let me explain. They have one of the best science programs in the country and a medical school. I've always wanted to live in a warmer climate. I really liked the campus. And I realized that after everything that happened with the trial, I need a fresh start. Where no one knows me, or what happened to my dad. And when I pictured where that might be, it was Stanford that could give me that."

Ozzy kept his expression neutral as he processed this. "Is this what you want?"

"You've always wanted the best for me, even if it wasn't to your benefit. And I want what's best for you, even if it's not mine either. And choosing Northwestern wouldn't be the best for either of us. I don't want us to choose a future because we're scared. I want us to have no regrets or resentments or put ourselves in a situation that would suffocate our relationship. As much as I can't bear the thought of moving away from you, I know that we need to let go of our grip on each other, so we can allow each other to grow. Does that make any sense?"

It did. More than he'd like to admit.

"Yeah," Ozzy said, an ache forming in his chest. "I just don't want to lose you."

Evelyn's eyes watered. "And I don't want to lose you either. If we do go to different schools, I worried that would be the end. But I realized it wasn't. Because if you love someone, you will always find your way back to each other. And I love you, Ozzy."

Ozzy felt an unfamiliar swell in his chest. He'd never really heard that phrase before, and the warmth spread through his body like a wave that began to crest but never crashed.

"I know this is a lot, but I really believe we can make this work. Because I believe in you. I believe in me. And I believe in us," Evelyn said.

Ozzy nodded. His mind swirled with new thoughts and feelings he couldn't quite comprehend, let alone articulate.

"Evelyn?"

"Yes?"

"Sorry. I'm just catching up here. I just…I um…I-I don't think I will ever love someone else the way I love you."

Evelyn smiled as tears fell down her cheeks. "We're going to be okay, Ozzy. Better than okay."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I love you, and I always will."

He kissed her and held her close, prolonging the eventual moment he would have to let go.

Decisions. Sometimes we make the right ones. Sometimes we make the wrong ones. The hardest decisions are the ones where you have the most to lose, and even if you make the right choice, there's no guarantee that it will pay off. Welcome to adulthood, kiddies. This is life from here on out.

You Know You Love Me,

XOXO Gossip Girl

---

A/N: And there you have it! Lots of major decisions were made in this chapter. From Blair getting an interview at Vogue France, Chuck deciding if he'd like to continue the Bass legacy or chart his own, to Evelyn and Ozzy choosing which colleges they'll attend, our favs had lots to work through.

I can't believe the end is now in sight with two chapters to go! The penultimate chapter is titled: Waiting for Forever and will cover prom.

Also, to answer Loyal Follower's question if I've considered writing a story based on the new HBOMax Gossip Girl revival, I haven't. The OG version will always be my area of expertise!

As always, I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter, and do let me know what you thought in a review!

Until next time,

XOXO EZ11