One: The Garden That You Planted -------------------
I'm writing this because... I have winter holidays and nothing to do. Plus, Chuck and Blair are just so damn fun.
By the way, this takes off about a week after the ball, but Chuck never left town.
-------------------AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sadly, I do not own Gossip Girl or any of it's characters.
"Your phone is ringing," complained the woman sitting on his bed, her arms wrapped around her chest to block his view of the only reason he had been interested in her. Now she was just another ditzy blonde tangled in the sheets and expecting an invitation to do something more with him than just the sex they had enjoyed just moments earlier.
He rolled his eyes, picking his jacket up from the floor where had it been tossed. Searching the pockets, he found his cell phone and pressed the 'Ignore' button once he saw that the caller I.D read 'Blair'. He set the phone on the table next to his bed, then began to look through his pockets again to check if he had any joints.
"You're not talking," the blonde whined, her eyes following Chuck's every movement. Jesus Christ, she looked like a raccoon from all that make-up she had on. It was obvious what a whore she was by her make-up, the way she styled her hair, and her clothes. Oh, not to mention the fact that it only took her ten minutes after they met to slide her hand down in to Chuck's pants. Not that he minded- it was a good distraction from the constant ringing coming from his cell phone.
"Yes, I know," he replied simply, dropping his jacket to the ground when he sadly discovered that he had no joints. The hot but far less than passionate sex with whatshername had taken him away from the world for a while, but it wasn't good enough to keep him off of this twisted planet forever. He needed something else to get him high. "It would be best that you left, Julie," he told her. He didn't know what her name was, though he was fairly certain that it wasn't Julie. All he wanted was to make a point that he couldn't care less about her. As if that wasn't obvious already.
The blonde dropped her arms off of her chest to flash Chuck in an attempt to take back what he had just said, but this technique didn't work. Instead, he gave her a disapproving look mixed with a small smirk before he turned and headed in to the bathroom.
Why wouldn't he answer her calls? What had she done to him? Embarass him at the ball? No, that was the other way around. And now she was interested in hooking up again, but he wouldn't talk to her. Stupid men, they never made any sense.
As much as she hadn't wanted to do it, she now knew that she'd have to drop by the hotel. That was the only way for her to corner him. If she was standing in front of him, he couldn't ignore her, right? Or maybe she'd have to hold a lighter up to his precious scarf before he took her seriously. What a shame that would be... It fit so perfectly on him. Hell, it even looked good on herself once when they were messing around after sex.
"Is Mr. Bass in?" she asked the woman at the front desk, anxiously tapping her fingernails against the side of her leg.
"Bart Bass is not in at the moment," the woman informed Blair.
"No, not that Bass. Charles. Chuck," she corrected the employee with a frustrated sigh.
With an irritated roll of the eyes, the woman nodded. "Yes, Mr. Charles Bass is in."
Blair smiled, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Could you phone him and tell him that someone is waiting for him at the bar?" she asked.
"And who exactly will be waiting for him?"
"Nathaniel Archibald," Blair spoke without thinking it over. It had just been sort of obvious to her that Chuck wouldn't decline a drink with his best friend.
"As you wish, Nathaniel," the employee muttered, giving Blair a critical once-over before reaching for the phone and dialing Chuck's number.