Disclaimer: Oh my God, poor Chuck will be lying in a ditch for the next several months. I would never do this, therefore the show isn't mine.

Summary: More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

Pairings: Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D…)

Spoilers: Every chapter would center on a new episode, so…

Note: the chapter is un-beta-ed, so please let me know if you spot any mistakes. I hope you like this chapter – it's the last "happy" one in a while. From now on it's all angsty and bitter. Ah, season 1. You are missed. Sorry for taking too long, as usual. A few abandoned HP fics have been updated recently, after – honest to God – years, and it gave me the inspiration to leave this chapter alone and just post it, for heaven's sake.


Chapter 10

Hi Society

"Who's taking whom?"


blair! OMG! say it isnt so!

Blair paled, reading the line over and over. She had just logged into IM for a second and was already eager to leave. Lately, what with her hysterical paranoia taking up any time she had left after Chuck and his insatiable appetite, she barely had time to check out Gossip Girl, let alone any other social networks. But Is had some pictures she wanted to send Gossip Girl that had to go through Blair's approval and Blair, feeling guilty for neglecting her kingdom, had logged on to fulfill her duties. That was when Kati's stupid message popped in her face and ruined everything.

Her stomach dropped.


She knew his would happen. She was stupid to let this continue. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She tried to think straight over the drumming of her heart but it was no easy task. What should she do? Beg for mercy? Deny? Be outraged? No, that would be the worst thing to do. That would look suspicious and everyone would know.

Everyone would know.

Another message flashed.

blair! tell me everything!

She paled even further, undoubtedly breaking some record and putting the best of ghosts to shame. As if she was going to share anything with anyone about that.

No, she'd just deny incredulously and laugh it off. Yes. Chuck was a sleazebag; everyone knows she wouldn't touch him with a ten feet pole. She'll just be all "He wishes," like she always did when asked if she ever thought about conducting in a little best friend swap. And she was asked, repeatedly and often. Chuck had a habit of getting really close to people when he spoke to them, especially her, and sometimes their outfits matched, so people wondered. Honestly, this would not be the first time there were illicit rumors floating around about Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass.

It was simply the first time the rumors would be true.

Nevertheless, as long as there was no photographic evidence, she could easily write this off.


Oh right.

She put on her most virginal and angelic face, just in case Katy could somehow see her through magic, and tried to still her shaking hands as she quickly typed a reply.what r u talking about?

u and prince T! I hrd he's taking u to cotil!

"Oh my God," Blair breathed out loud, sagging with relief. That was all? The Cotillion? She was becoming alarmingly paranoid and there was no reason to. So far she and Chuck had covered their tracks like only they could, albeit Chuck was annoyingly sloppy about it at times. This was a source of endless exasperation where Blair was concerned. It was like he wanted them to get caught!


Just the other day, Blair had been walking home as regally as possible, considering the irritating wind building up and the high heels she was wearing, as per custom. Winter offered fabulous clothes but also often depraved her of the precious time a day in which she could walk home by herself, free and relaxed, away from scrutiny. No, instead she was forced to search some other means of transportation or suffer the humiliation of swaying like a drunk sailor all the way home.

With a start, she realized she couldn't remember a single winter in which she didn't ride home in Chuck's limo on harsh winter days. If she didn't outright climb into his limo without even asking, he always offered, and it never occurred to her that her place wasn't on his way.

Had he always been such a big part of her life?

So distracted was she by this unsettling realization, that she failed to notice the very limo of her thoughts trailing slowly next to her.

Inside, Chuck eyed her from behind the tainted window, on the verge of rolling it down but hesitant despite himself.

He, unlike Blair, was not as oblivious. He had always noticed Blair Waldorf, but thought nothing of it. Blair's mother was a fashion designer with endless supplies of fashionable apparel and Blair was beautiful – who could blame him, really? He noticed everyone who was worth noticing, manipulative and observant as he was, but some people were just more… noticeable than others. With those lips, and those legs, her underestimated wit, her cleverly hidden cruel streak, and he was Chuck Bass, alright? To expect anything else would be naïve.

Blair Waldorf was also among the few and precious people he actually considered friends, as opposed to acquaintances and conquests. Didn't it make sense for a man to be a perfect gentleman to his lady friends? Open doors, pull out chairs, offer his arm when descending stairs, offer rides when possible? He had his own limo, for heaven's sake. It's not like it was that far out of his way home. He did the same for Serena, too. When he remembered. Sometimes.

Whatever. Serena was more one of the guys, a loyal party and drinking buddy, and she got enough inappropriate chivalry from Nate. Blair Waldorf was used to being treated like a princess by her father, and in the wake of his absence and Nate's oblivion, demanded this treatment from the rest of the world. Mainly Chuck. He obliged her because he saw no reason not to. He preferred her endearingly appeased at being worshipped than lashing out and hating herself.

Even now, hungrily watching her visibly struggling with the wind, as he plotted a secluded afternoon with her in his suite's hot tub, he still refused to believe there was more to it than platonic gentlemanly behavior.

Friends with benefits. The term wasn't coined for nothing.

Finally pleased with his barely-there reasoning, he rolled down the window and smirked as she stiffened, startled at being cornered by the very object of her musings.

"Need a ride?" he asked huskily.

To Blair, that innocent question sounded like he was screaming at the top of his lungs an invitation for her to get naked and sweaty.

The blood drained from the rest of her body to concentrate on her cheeks. "Chuck!" she whispered furiously, mostly angry at herself for how tempted she was to agree with hardly any prompt on his part. Damn that limo, it was an irresistible, portable heaven. Comfortable and isolated from the world. "What are you doing! Someone will see!"

"See me offer you a ride home?" he asked, still smirking although now more bitter than suggestive. "Scandalous."

Blair's eyes darted around dramatically, as if she were in a spy movie.

Chuck followed her gaze with amusement before rolling his eyes. She was more adorable than people gave her credit for. Behind the level-headed ice queen hid a little girl who loved playing dress up games. Why, a mere two days ago she showed up at his suite wearing a long trench coat and dark sunglasses even though it was the middle of the night and unusually warm. His uncontrollable laughter at this film-noir Halloween costume promptly died in his throat when the coat slid off her shoulders to reveal an abundance of delectable creamy skin, unspoiled by any article of clothing.

Ha. Memories.

"Blair, the coast is clear," he tried speaking in the ridiculous Hollywood language she'd understand. "Get in the car before we're spotted!"

Blair hesitated. Should she really? Should she give into temptation so easily, and in broad daylight, too? Surely she should have more self-control than this at this point.

Fed up with her everlasting holier-than-thou proper-young-lady routine, a much less favorite of his than the diabolical-sex-goddess one, Chuck opened the door and called loudly: "Get in so we can HAVE SEX!"

"Chuck!" she squealed, diving into the limo and landing on top of him. The driver started driving immediately, no doubt having been ordered to do so, in case she changed her mind and tried to flee. But she didn't plan on leaving without giving him a piece of her mind. She was absolutely livid at the nerve of him. "What are you doing? Are you trying to ruin everything?"

Only when she noticed his darkened eyes fixed on her lips, did she realize how compromising her position was, with her thighs holding his hips in place and her body sinfully pressed again his. He seemed to enjoy their current situation way more than was appropriate, considering the fact that she was berating him. Then again, this was Chuck Bass.

It was amazing, how well she fit with him. It always created the most delicious friction. His hands slipped under her skirt, stroking the smooth skin of her thighs in lazy circles. "Make me," he purred, in that smoldering voice that drove her good-crazy in the right moments and very-bad-dangerously-crazy in the wrong ones.

This was a right moment.

However, she wasn't about to let him win so easily, lest he thought she was easy to manipulate. She took hold of his wandering hands and pinned them over his head. "I guarantee you won't like it if I do," she breathed. The feeling of control was getting to her head.

He chuckled, "Come now, Blair, you ought to know me better than that by now."

Did she ever.


Blair! Where r u? talk 2 me!

Blair shivered, pulling herself away from her traitorous imagination. She hated the Chuck daydreams; they made her feel clingy and pathetic. It was bad enough she was involved with him in the first place. In fact, it was disastrous. There was no need to spend more imaginary time with him than the outrageous amount she already was.

i'm here, she typed quickly, trembling again but for different reasons this time.how did u find out?

Not that she cared, really. Kati finding out about this was just fine by her. However, if someone made it their business to look into her personal affairs too closely and was actually spying on her – that was an entirely different matter.

h heard u talking.

Ah, Hazel, whose pointy nose fit perfectly with her nosy personality. Someday she would take that girl down and enjoy every minute of it, but right now she was actually doing Blair a service.

h said he was hawt 4 u!

Blair smiled to herself, remembering the poor, socially-awkward prince as he said he would be honored if she agreed to allow him to accompany her to the cotillion. Yes, that was the mile long sentence he used, and it took him double the time you'd think to say it, with all the blushing and stuttering. Royalty left little time for courtship, apparently. Unless he was just faking humility to appear more appealing, which she didn't mind because she did the same thing often and well.

He was nice but she couldn't care less. She had felt powerful and better yet, desirable. But more importantly, having a date was a huge relief.

With Nate out of the picture, she should have been working extra hard to secure herself a suitable date, possibly one that would rub in his face how over him she was, but Chuck took way too much of her time and attention. Sometimes she wondered if he was doing that on purpose, and then immediately wondered why he would bother. Most of the time she wondered what his motives were in general when it came to her.

He was Chuck Bass and he should have been over her a long time ago. He should not have been seeking her out so persistently, and even acting, at times, like a jealous boyfriend.

All this wondering took up most of the little energy she had left after all the sex and other obligations. She simply couldn't bring herself to get invested in the ball beyond the regular duties of organizing it. She even found herself pondering if she should just ask Chuck to accompany her as friends and nothing more and save her the tedious business of finding a date or humiliating business of asking help with finding it.

But that was an absolute faux pas that she should not even be entertaining and every time she did, she felt like slapping herself silly. Asking Chuck Bass, indeed! If anyone needed to make an appearance with the perfect date, it was her. She and Serena had dreamt about this for years and it was her night to shine. The New York Times was featuring a story about her, for God's sake. And she needed the perfect gentleman by her side.

To think, a prince! Way better than a stupid Archibald. And if it worked out with her and the prince – which only took him keeping up appearances and not being a rapist and/or a psycho – she would return to her rightful place. A queen. Well, a princess, sitting beside her dashing prince. This time she wouldn't even have to get emotionally invested, since prince Theodore spent most of his time abroad in his country whose name she had forgotten as soon as she was told.

Sex wouldn't be an issue either, seeing how that bridge had been crossed, courtesy of Chuck. She had her fun, her Girls Gone Wild adventure, and now she could concentrate on the more important aspects of life.

Don't think of Chuck, she chided herself. He had no place in her perfect life. He was just the villain, the town's hedonistic vampire that kept to the shadows, luring innocent maidens into his luxurious lair. Wanting him wasn't forbidden because he wasn't from this world, because he had the power of seduction. What was forbidden was to act on it – which she wouldn't. She would never. She wasn't a cheater, unlike some. What she was doing now didn't count as anything.

For a moment, she imagined her future, with Nate or the prince. In a mansion or a castle, wearing the sharpest clothes fashion had to offer for the wealthy society wives. Knowing her husband wouldn't be home and not even being sad about it. Knowing he would be with her best friend, his secretary, his secretary of state, and not even being angry about it. Because her prescribed medicine would only allow for numb. Getting rid of unhappy wrinkles, unflattering stretch marks and wondering why she even bothered, since her husband wouldn't care.

In other words, turning into Ann Archibald.

Blair managed not to shudder, but couldn't control the painful contraction in her chest. She took deep breath, weary of gagging so soon after her last slip.

Her phone rang, startling her. Boy, she was attacked by all sorts of technology today. She pressed 'send' without looking, expecting another curious friend begging for details.

It wasn't.


That deep drawl, cold and soft at the same time.

Her mind went blessedly blank, his voice viciously demolishing any lingering images of The Life of Blair Archibald.

She swallowed and adopted a formal tone. "Yes?"

This formality affected him not one bit. Honestly, at this point, he knew her better than to be dissuaded by anything short of her calling the police. "I'm downstairs, in the limo," he said simply. "Come down."

Her stomach fluttered with excitement despite herself. What was wrong with her? She should be annoyed that he didn't call ahead and simply assumed she would throw away anything else she might have been doing and run to him. She should be annoyed at his lack of manners, poetry, romance, anything. He didn't even say please! She should be anything but giddy.

She glanced at the computer screen, where Katy was getting fussier by the second. It would probably be better to pump her with a bit more information, just enough to pass the rumor around so that everyone would know by tomorrow. It would also be better to refuse Chuck and send him on his way. Just so he doesn't presume she was at his disposition at all times.

Then again, she didn't want to say no. Knowing him and his affinity for spontaneous and lurid encounters, she constantly wore the sexiest lingerie money could buy, just to be prepared. It would be a terrible shame to waste it.

She grinned wickedly to herself.

"No, thank you," she answered, her tone even cooler. And then, a moment later, added: "You come up."

There was a pause (in which she assumed he processed her words and proceeded to preen with smugness) before he hummed, "Even better. Eleanor gone?"

She knew he was more eager than he let on by the way his sentences shortened to the bare essentials. Words became a waste of time when he was anxious. She really did know him all too well. "Gone for the weekend," she informed him, her voice morphing, turning seductive, suggestive.

"A whole weekend?" Chuck asked, pleased beyond words. "Lovely. She's ever so accommodating."

"Isn't she just?" Blair chuckled. Although, if he thought she was going to spend the entire weekend locked in her room with him, of all people, he had another thing coming. There were a million preparations for the cotillion. Dance rehearsals, ball committee meetings and a tea party her mother was supposed to arrange but was now dumped on her. Besides, she had to meet with the tailor, the hair dresser, look for the perfect shoes…

She already had the perfect necklace for the event. Everything else needed to be just as perfect.

However, as the man responsible for said gorgeous necklace, Chuck did deserve her undivided attention for at least some time. Some long, languid, earth-shattering, mind-blowing time.

He didn't answer, but a quick look out the window revealed him hurrying into her building in the most elegant way he could muster while being undoubtedly turned-on.

She hung up and turned to the computer.

i said yes. got 2 go. ttyl.


She closed her laptop and set to fix her make-up. She had company.


"Chuck, stop it!" she squealed, many hours later, trying to squirm away as Chuck suddenly developed a playful streak and began nipping at her stomach, her collarbone, her neck and anywhere else that wasn't currently covered by underwear or blankets. It tickled and felt way too intimate for comfort, but damn him if he didn't somehow make it hot anyway.

Still, she had obligations.

"I have to meet with the tailor and we have dance rehearsals, come on!" she nearly pleaded, doubled over in laughter.

Chuck planted himself more firmly against her to prevent her from both escaping and causing him accidental (or absolutely intentional) bodily harm. It felt utterly perverted, just tasting her for the hell of it because she was adorable and delicious. Really, the thought of his actions alone could have brought bile to his throat and made his father cringe, but if he just didn't stop to think about it, it was simply fun. So he didn't.

Still, he had obligations.

"Me too," he murmured absently into her skin, making her shiver.

"You would," Blair laughed. All Upper East Side boys met with tailors before big events, but only Chuck did it so diligently and put so much thought into it. Which was why he always stood out, she supposed. However, something suddenly occurred to her and she stiffened, deathly serious. "What are you wearing?" she asked. "And if you say purple, I'll kick you out."

"Of course not," he reassured her. "Cotillions are for the ladies to shine," he smirked, letting his eyes roam over all the skin he had access to. "Some more than others," he added and reveled in the delighted grin she tried to suppress at the compliment. She was truly stunning but it was truly not the point. He had to keep his wits about him. "I'm going with classy black and white. You?"

Blair's smile widened in approval at his color scheme. "Traditional white. My dress is custom made," she preened.

"Good," he murmured, planting a quick kiss on her neck, again for no better reason than just 'cause. "Then we'll match. I know that's the only way to secure a dance with you."

Her back stiffened in indignation. "Are you still holding that against me? You were wearing orange and I was wearing green. What was I supposed to do?"

He sighed, "It was doomed from the very beginning."

He was mocking her, but she knew he understood. Just because he cared slightly less about these things than she did, didn't mean he didn't care at all. He was so different from other boys – other people. And yet, they were so alike sometimes, Chuck and Blair. The thought was oddly warming and she found herself pulling his face up for a kiss. Just a kiss, with no intentions behind it. Soft and lazy and he didn't seem to mind as he settled more comfortably against her, his fingers burying in her hair.

This was troubling, indeed. Something was wrong with them.

Serena's voice echoed in her head. B, are you sure you know what you're doing? This is Chuck. And you. You and Chuck!

It's nothing, she had answered, looking away. It's just a thing.

Which is it? Nothing or a thing?

You know what I mean, Serena. It's fine.

Suddenly scared, Blair broke the kiss and raked her brain for a way to remind herself of their situation. "Who are you taking, anyway?" she asked, because she figured listening to him talk of candidates and his heartless screening process might do the trick. She needed to be reminded that this was nothing, even if she loathed being one of many.

"Why?" Chuck smirked, inching closer to her tantalizingly. "Are you offering?"

Her smirk matched his. "Perhaps. Are you interested?"

She had no idea what possessed her to say that. It was counter-productive at best and dangerous at worst. If any part of her, hidden deep beneath the surface, wanted him to ask her, to take her to the ball and maybe to other places, to buy her flowers and hold her hand – she stomped on it and hid it well, even from herself. It was to be murdered and joined in burial with Chuck's forgotten butterflies.

Chuck's expression darkened for a second but thankfully cleared before she was forced to think about it. He rolled his eyes and drew away. "Yeah, right," he said, and the bitterness sipped into his voice despite clear attempts to sound detached. "You prefer form over content."

"Royalty form," she clarified sharply, for some reason feeling defensive. "Can you blame me?"

"Of course not," he cooed, patronizing her in a way he knew she'd hate. "Would you like to decide on a signal, for when the prince bores you to tears and you need some… entertainment?"

His eyebrows were slightly raised knowingly and it irked. Okay, so maybe she didn't hang onto every word that came out of the prince's mouth. And okay, the last few weeks with Chuck may have been a little bit of a blessing, allowing her to relax and have some fun for once in her mega-organized life. And okay, maybe she had trouble remembering a time when she felt so good about herself or even about the world around her, for that matter. And okay, maybe she was just plain happy. But that did not mean Chuck Bass suddenly became her personal gift from God. Not by a long-shot.

The boy needed a reality check.

"For your information, the Prince is a perfectly delightful and interesting person," she snapped.

Her indignation told him everything he needed to know. She was protesting too much, which meant she probably disliked Pompous Prince Theodore almost as much as he did. This pleased him. He had hated the way the Prince spoke to him, like Chuck was a trashy new-money reality-show winner who just purchased his first house without wheels. He may be New Money - relatively - but he already had more class and finesse than the prince could ever hope to acquire.

"I spent this summer at our house in France. Have you been to France yet?"

Yes, he's been to mother-effing France, Prince of A-Country-No-One-Could-Locate-On-A-Map. Chuck would have ruined the Prince's royal nose right then and there, if he wasn't sure that would prove the Prince's assumption that Chuck grew up in a barn.

Chuck had hated even more the way the Prince stole glances at Blair while he exchanged obligatory pleasantries with him. Blair had been standing with Katy and Iz, back straight like a princess, holding a flute of champagne at just the right height but never drinking from it. Not fidgeting, rolling her eyes or even laughing too wildly. In fact, her expression was always that of distant contentment. Her dress was made of silk, its dark material whispering softly against her skin. Chuck could barely take his eyes off her for more than five minutes at a time. She looked gorgeous and he knew he wasn't the only one who noticed, but the Prince looked at her as if she were something that he simply had to get.

Chuck had to hold himself very still, lest he started actually barring teeth.

She's mine, he had chanted in his head as he tried not to growl. She's mine, she's mine, she's mine. Don't you dare. Don't even look at her. Stay away from her.

His mood darkened even further when he saw them finally speaking. Pompous Prince Theodore was suddenly a blushing doe, stammering all over his words and smiling shyly. Blair was the perfect picture of grace, of course, and didn't even spare Chuck a glance as she pretended to consider the Prince's proposal for more than five seconds.

As if she wasn't squealing with joy in her head, Chuck thought surly.

His only comfort was the knowledge that she was so different when she was with him, meaning actually herself, that her interactions with the rest of the male sex had to be fake. She was far from the innocent, always well-mannered and good-tempered virginal-maiden front she presented to the world, but only he got to see it, only he evoked the fire in her. That helped some. Nevertheless, whenever she spoke to other guys, or sometimes even other girls, he found himself annoyed. His behavior was becoming dangerous.

But what was absolutely a world of worse and had nearly driven him to break things, was the look on Nate's face. A few weeks ago Nate hardly noticed Blair's existence if she wasn't directly pestering him, and many times not even then. A few weeks ago you had shove six Viagras down his throat in order for him to even consider being with her in the same room. Wasn't Nate pathetically in love with Serena? Why was he suddenly sending the Prince dirty looks and watching Blair wistfully? What was this?

Chuck blood was replaced with boiling, scorching acid. His jaw hurt from clenching it so hard. Every muscle in his body became rigid, primed for attack. The prince was a fleeting disturbance, but Nate was a full-blown complication Chuck wasn't sure he could handle. Nate was his best friend but Blair was his obsession. She was the first person who made him feel painfully alive with want, the first person to give him butterflies. Chuck simply would not let her go. The problem was that Blair wouldn't think twice before tossing him out on the curve if she'd known of Nate's rekindled interest.

Nate and Blair's gazes met for a second, in which Nate sent her his best disgustingly boyish shy smile. Blair, clearly surprised, sent him a small grin and focused back on the prince, her cheeks slightly tinged in red.

Chuck wanted to throw up and die.

Oh, eff his life.

Don't even think about it, he had thought miserably, trying to telepathically stir Nate away. She's mine. Don't take her away. Don't you dare.

God, what was wrong with him?


"Chuck?" Blair's voice shook him awake. He was horrified to discover he had succumbed to jealous musings like the most pathetic of Humphreys. His fingers dug into her thighs as if she were trying to flee to another man at the very moment.

She was still glaring at him as she waited for the expectant dig at her and the Prince's expense. Chuck forced the bitterness away, afraid she'll notice. She usually read him like an open book, but when it came to his feelings for her, of which he confessed only on her birthday and never again after that, she turned her head away. If she knew how pitifully possessive he truly was, she would back off in disgust and severe any ties between them. Frankly, he couldn't blame her. He was awfully tempted to do the same.

What did he need all these complications for?

Shaking his head, he chose to focus on the more carnal part of his body, the part he was used to and could control. Sex now, agonize later. His lips slowly formed a smirk, one he knew would grate her nerves but also turn her on, even though she'd try to fight it. "You can play with your necklace for a bit," he said, fingers brushing her collarbone, where the necklace would lie delicately. He wondered if she knew what it meant for him that she'd wear it on that particular night, but imagined she didn't. "We'll find a quiet spot."

"I wouldn't count on it," she said primly, brushing his fingers away with a huff. "The risk is not worth the reward."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. It would be more believable if they hadn't spent the best part of the last few hours reaching new heights of pleasure, or if her voice wasn't slightly rasped from crying out his name. Still, he followed along and breathed smugly, "I take offence in that."

Blair smirked, her fingers brushing over his chest in a way that didn't seem conscious. "You should never take offence in things that you know not to be true," she said quietly, seemingly without realizing what she was saying.

His blood boiled again at her rare and random compliment, but this time with desire. It didn't even matter if she was lying to appease him, because he had no problem imagining she wasn't. Trying to appear like his normally insatiable self and nothing more, he kissed her like nuclear war was on its way. She responded because he liked to imagine she couldn't resist him (hint: it was true) but broke apart way too soon.

"Dance rehearsal," she reminded unsteadily.

"You helped come up with the routine," he reminded her, kissing her earlobe softly. "And I only need to be shown once," he smirked, somehow making even that innocent declaration an innuendo to his infamous sexual prowess (which were even better than advertised, she was reluctantly forced to admit). "I'd say we're good."

He meant that in more than one way.

Blair chuckled and it was almost romantic, joking around in bed on a lazy afternoon.

Nevertheless, all good things must come to an end. "I'm going with Serena. You're going with Nate."

He wanted to say 'screw Nate', but feared it might actually give her ideas. They couldn't have that, could they? No! However rhetorical the question was, his mind still screeched 'No!' at the very thought.

So he didn't say anything.

But even he could recognize that something dangerous was brewing inside him.

He was thisclose to doing something stupid, like asking her to be his girlfriend or – as was more customary for him – blowing on the carefully built house of cards that was the non-relationship between Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass.

It was just a matter of time.


Phew, these are getting longer. As always, I love-love-love hearing what you guys think. Please let me know? I remember the days of the old purple review button that is no more…