Will Not Remember, Cannot Forget

Ignore it, Bass. Be strong. It’ll be done soon.

Only five more.

Don’t touch it. Don’t even look at it.

Four.

Probably just a wrong number anyway.

Three.

But what if it’s her? What if… No! No, who cares if it’s her? Screw her!

Two.

Don’t you dare answer it you pussy!

One.

Oh fuck! Hurry. Please hurry.

The shrill ringing stops.

Silence. Blissful silence. He’s done it. Again. Thank God.

He allows himself to pick up the cell, glancing at the caller ID.

-BLAIR-

Slumping back against the blankets, Chuck lets out the breath he was unconsciously holding.

Why does she keep calling him like this?

But he knows. Even before the beep indicates he has a new voicemail, he knows. Resignedly, he taps a button and raises the phone to his ear.

“Chuck?” Blair’s exasperated words over the line. “You are not answering my calls to torture me I am sure. But please for the love of God do not tell anybody about us, okay? Please. Please!”

A soft click as the message ends, followed by the automated response, “To replay this mess – ”

He immediately pushes a key, closing his eyes, concentrating this time on her voice and not on what she is saying. “Chuck? You are not answering my calls to…”

He misses her.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But he does. Oh sweet Jesus, he does.

But from her increasingly frantic calls and texts about how he absolutely cannot tell Nate about their brief romantic interlude, it does not look like she feels the same way. Each message cuts him deeper than the last, and while he realizes erasing them unheard would stop them from wounding him, he isn’t able to do that. He can’t. Not yet. Eventually, he will, but at the moment he can only fight one battle with himself, and not answering his phone trumps not listening to his voicemail.

“…anybody about us, okay? Please. Please!” Click. “To replay th – ”

Another press of a button.

“Chuck? You are not answering…”

He is holding the cell so hard that his knuckles are white. A lump forms in his throat, tension radiating across his shoulders. He blinks, eyes burning. “Goddamn it,” he mutters, snapping the phone shut and resisting the urge to throw it at the wall, smashing it to pieces so he can’t torment himself this way anymore.

Get a grip, Bass. Like the book says, she’s just not that into you. It isn’t the end of the world. She’s only a girl. A bitch of a girl at that. Nothing special. Dime a dozen. Plenty more where she came from.

But if that’s true then why, why does this hurt so damned much?

Had their time together meant that little to her? Had he just been a distraction until Nate came to his senses? It seems now like she had wanted the golden boy back all along, and Chuck had only been fooling himself into thinking she had started to care for him. She didn’t. Never had. Never would. She had used him, and he had willingly let her because he… He thought…

What? That she would love him eventually? That they were destined to be? That he’d marry her?

Pipe dreams.

It doesn’t matter now, anyway. It’s done. They’re done. She made that very clear. She’d accused him of not thinking about what ruining her cotillion would do to her, and he’ll freely admit she was correct. He had not thought about it, mostly because he had not seen his actions as ruining anything. He had only been relieving her of a date unworthy of her time and attention, and supplying her with a better one.

But she… She had known precisely what her revenge would do to him. She had to have known. There was no way she had chosen to go back to Nate by accident. It was premeditated. Chuck would bet his life that she had done what she had fully intending to hurt him in the most brutal way possible.

Heartless bitch.

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all was full of crap! It is not better. Why would anyone want to fall in love if this is the end result? He wants no part of it. Fuck love. Fuck romance. Fuck women.

Yes…

Fuck women, exactly. One in particular. With chestnut curls and chocolate eyes. Who smells of magnolias and has a fondness for headbands. Fuck her!

Or rather, fuck with her. Make her pay. Remind her who she is dealing with.

No one uses Chuck Bass.

And yet, if she apologized, he would take her back. Would do so gladly. He wants her back. Secretly wishes she will call and say she is sorry, that she chooses him over Nathaniel. If she did that, he would take her back without reservations. Hell, if she called and didn’t mention how he needs to keep mum about their previous relationship, he might forgive her anyway. He is not proud of that, is quite ashamed of it, actually. He should have more self-respect. But with her, it is like he has none, although he would rather die than let her know that.

Already he has had to lock up his phone in the safe at night to ensure that he doesn’t drunk dial her in a moment of weakness, doesn’t beg to be given another chance, doesn’t throw himself on her mercy and take full responsibility for something that was not entirely his fault. She may have stripped him of his pride, and his feelings for her might override all his common sense, but he is still a Bass, damn it, and Bass men do not abase themselves in such ways. Not for anyone, and especially not for her.

But when his cell rings again, before he can suppress the urge, his hand closes over it, snapping it open. “Hello?” he answers, hopes surging within him, his voice sounding terribly young.

“Finally!” Nate exclaims.

Just great. The other person he has avoided talking to.

“I’ve been trying to reach you since the cotillion,” Nathaniel continues without pause. “I have to thank you man.”

“There’s no need. Trust me,” Chuck replies. He has to end this conversation. Right away. If he doesn’t, Nate might confirm what he already fears, what he is fairly certain of since he sent one text to Blair and she did not deny it, what he doesn’t ever want to know for sure beyond that.

“But there is,” Nathaniel gloats. Chuck can practically hear his friend’s grin through the phone. “Not only did you help me win her back that night, but we sealed the deal too!”

And there it is. The information Chuck never desired to have. Long suspected, but still blindsiding him with its absolute finality. He’d held out hope, foolish though it was, thinking if he did not hear it, it couldn’t be true, and now he doesn’t even have that vain fantasy to comfort him. Nothing remains except stark reality. Little more than twenty-four hours after sleeping with him, she had slept with Nate, had ran from one set of arms to another.

That fucking whore.

“You…” Chuck swallows, forcing himself to breathe past the sudden vice around his chest. “You did? Congratulations.”

“Yeah. She thought it was hot that I punched Carter and well, you saw. She was all over me!” Nate boasts, his very words making Chuck want to vomit. “Then it just happened, and it was so… I mean, mind-blowing. You have no idea. ”

If only he knew.

“I have had sex before, Nathaniel,” Chuck grimaces, climbing off the bed to pad over to the wet bar. He is so not drunk enough for this discussion.

“Not like this,” Nate assures him. “She was a virgin, man! So tight and wet and – ”

“I get the gist,” Chuck grinds out, clutching the counter to keep from screaming. “You can spare me the play by play.”

Please, God. Nate hadn’t said a single damn word about Serena! Why does he have to over-share about Blair? Please, let this stop. Please, please…

Not taking the hint, the golden boy laughs smugly. “But I haven’t told you the best part.”

Don’t ask. Don’t say it. Don’t…

“Oh? And what’s that?” Chuck whispers, despairing of his friend’s response even as he utters the question.

“Get this! I totally got her off!”

Chuck’s jaw tenses so hard he thinks his teeth might crack. “You what?”

“She came!” Nate explains. “She told me I made her cum. Her first time, too! Isn’t that wild?”

“Yeah… wild,” Chuck repeats, the corner of his mouth twitching sardonically.

He had thought if Nate slept with Blair, it would sicken him, but how very wrong he was in that assumption. It isn’t making him sick. It’s killing him! But at least he can take grim satisfaction in something. If she’d had to inform Nate that she’d had an orgasm, she hadn’t had one. Blair in the throes of release was impossible to misinterpret. Even one as inexperienced as Nathaniel could not have mistaken it for anything other than pent up ecstasy exploding from within her.

It was breathtaking to see, incredible to feel, transcendent to share.

And her precious Prince Charming had not brought her there. Only he had, and oh how that must have galled her, if Nate had even bothered to rev her up enough to feel frustrated at being denied fulfillment.

Imagining it, his lips twist into an acidic smile. It may be petty, but he is not above taking enjoyment in knowing that in this one thing, he is Nate’s superior. He is going to make certain she never forgets it either.

Oblivious, Nathaniel keeps talking. “So where have you been? Have you not gotten my texts?”

“My phone service has been a bit… spotty since I went abroad,” Chuck lies.

“Yeah? Where’d you go? Anyplace cool?”

“Monaco. Sun, surf and supermodels. What better way to celebrate the giving season?” he says, reclining back upon his mattress, scotch in hand. He hasn’t left this darkened hotel room since he arrived a week ago.

“Lucky bastard,” Nate sighs. “Monaco sounds much better than here. It is freezing.”

Unexpectedly, jealousy flares within Chuck. “But at least you have Blair there to keep you warm,” he snaps, quite a bit harsher than he intended.

Nathaniel doesn’t notice. “Hardly,” he groans. “I’ve been in Connecticut. My mom and I left the day after the ball. Annual Vanderbilt Christmas gathering, you know.”

“Yes,” Chuck mutters, relieved that Blair and Nate are not with one another at the moment. Now if he can only find a way to keep them apart. “And how is Grandfather?” he inquires mechanically, various schemes already forming in his brain.

“How come when you say that word, it sounds like you mean the mafia?”

“Because I’ve met your grandfather,” Chuck jokes, only half kidding.
.
“Right,” Nate snorts. “That you have.”

“Still intimidating as ever?”

“Worse,” Nathaniel confesses. “He keeps asking about my future in a way that makes me think he has the whole thing planned out. I’ll be grateful when I get on the train back to Manhattan tonight.”

“Going to skip out on the family festivities? Cowardly, Archibald. Very cowardly,” Chuck teases.

With an amused exhalation, Nathaniel ignores the jibe. “Yeah, well I said I would rescue Blair from the boredom of her mother’s party,” he admits.

Not if Chuck has anything to do with it. “And who’s going to save you?” he asks, seizing his opportunity.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on,” he jeers. “The Waldorf family Christmas? It sounds dreadful.”

“Yeah, but...”

“But nothing,” Chuck stresses. “You should join me instead.”

“In Monaco?”

“Hell yes in Monaco! What better way to say happy holidays than with beaches, bikinis, and your best friend?”

Nate demurs. “I wish I could, man. I really do, but Blair made me – ”

“Since when do you let Blair order you around?” Chuck scowls.

“She isn’t ordering,” Nathaniel denies. “I want to spend – ”

“You want?” Chuck mocks. “Are you hearing yourself? You are so whipped, my friend.”

“It isn’t like that,” Nate argues.

“Yes, it is. You got laid once and suddenly you’re Blair’s little bitch boy.”

“I am not!” Nate cries, more than a touch annoyed.

Chuck calls his bluff. “Prove it,” he dares rapidly.

“Fine!” Nate retorts.

“Great. I’ll have the Bass jet prepped and waiting for you,” Chuck counters smoothly, and before Nathaniel can fully comprehend what he has just agreed to, Chuck hangs up.

Sometimes manipulation is just too easy.

The next afternoon, when Nate arrives, Chuck greets him in the hotel lobby looking fresh and rejuvenated, the complete opposite of how he feels. “Welcome to Monaco!”

Nathaniel nods, impressed. “Wow! This is nice. It’s perfect”

Yes, more perfect than he will ever suspect.

“Let’s hit the pool,” Chuck suggests.

“Sure,” Nate agrees. “But I really should call Blair first. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t coming last night.”

“You change,” Chuck insists. “I’ll talk to Blair.”

“I’m not sure that’s – ”

“Nathaniel, you know her,” Chuck points out before his friend can protest further. “She’s going to be pissed, and the second you get her on that phone she is going to guilt trip you until you decide to go back to Manhattan. So let me handle her because I didn’t fly you out here just so you could turn around and leave, and I don’t care if Blair gets angry at me. Okay?”

“You don’t mind?” Nate asks.

Chuck fights to keep from shouting in victory. “Not at all,” he says, pulling out his phone.

Nathaniel claps him on the back and heads up to their room to drop off his luggage, as Chuck pretends to dial until he disappears from view. Once he is gone, Chuck drops the pretense.

Beyond simple.

A short time later, Nate returns wearing his bathing suit. “That was fast!” he comments, seeing Chuck finishing a martini and not in conversation with Blair. “How did you manage that? She’d still be chewing me out.”

“We have a special bond,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “And I might have mentioned that you’re getting her something fabulous while you are here.”

Nate shakes his head. “Thanks man. I owe you one.”

“Don’t even worry about it. The pleasure is all mine,” Chuck replies. Stepping closer to Nathaniel, he holds up his phone. “Smile,” he instructs, taking a photo of them together.

“What’s the picture for?”

“To commemorate the start of our vacation,” Chuck tells him. “Now, go! Swim. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Without further encouragement, Nate grins and goes bounding towards the water like a puppy. Chuck watches him depart, waiting until his friend is thoroughly distracted by a bevy of beautiful women, before typing a message into his cell.

– Don’t worry, B. Who would I Tell? –

Attaching the snapshot, he sends the text and strolls over to get another drink from the poolside bar. A couple minutes pass, and he thinks that perhaps he hadn’t been overt enough with his implied threat. But then his mobile rings and he answers it with a triumphant flick of his wrist. “Hello princess,” he leers, voice laden with innuendo.

“Chuck, I don’t know what kind of game – ”

“Here’s how this is going to work, Waldorf,” he sneers suddenly, cutting her off mid-threat. “I’m flying back in seven days. I’ll be at my suite by 9 pm. I expect to see you when I get there. The front desk will let you in. Contact Nathaniel between now and then, and I will make certain you regret it. Understand?”

She is silent for a long moment. “I… I hate you!” she hisses finally.

He compresses his lips, flinching slightly at the pain those words cause. Soon, he reminds himself. Soon they won’t hurt him ever again. “Have a merry Christmas, Blair.”

“Go to hell, you – ”

He hangs up, ending her tirade with a self-satisfied smirk.

Some call it blackmail. He calls it bonding.