The Butterfly effect

No turkey, one pie

When thanksgiving arrived for good, Blair tried to put aside all thoughts of Chuck and focus on the happiness of having her father home again. She told herself she was in a good mood, so she was.

Until everything fell apart, of course.

Serena had asked her if she was sleeping with Chuck for revenge on Nate. Serena knew her best friend was in deep with Chuck, but she still didn't know the real motive. She doubted even Blair did. Was some part of this some sick payback for how Nate made her feel? Or was it really genuine?

-Well, it wasn't because I liked his natural musk. - Blair answered, irritated. She was trying not to think of Chuck and what he was doing right now. Would there be girls in the trip? Tall, skinny -skinnier than her -, beautiful models that would love to spend the night with lover boy Chuck Bass. Would he pass on them? Wasn't it his nature to do these things? Would he do this to her?

Why exactly did it bother her?

His natural musk wasn't that bad, though. Really, was it bad at all? She would kind of enjoy to be feeling it right now, breathing in his scent, suckling on his neck while he made that little noise she always felt so satisfied hearing. If only...

Planet earth calls.

Right! Thanksgiving. Which happened to suck, because her dad didn't come and she was having quite a mental breakdown because of her mother.

She stared at the pie, fork in hand. She had gone a really good time without purging- a personal record. If she did this, if she ate the pie, like she was tempted to do to drown her sorrows, she knew that record would be gone in a minute. She just couldn't do it.

She took the first bite with the fork.

Just as she was approaching it to her mouth, she stopped herself. She needed to talk to someone. She felt alone and helpless, and she missed her best friend. She reached for the phone.

It rang 5 times, just as she was about to give up. Why did she even expect him to be available to her anyway? He was Chuck Bass, and he ought to be sleeping with another woman now, smell of cheap cigarettes and taste of sticky lipgloss in his mouth. That's simply how things were.

-Hello, Waldorf.

When Bart told him they would be away for Thanksgiving, Chuck was immediately displeased. It was not a surprise, since they had been doing this  ever since he could remember. It was the closest to what he could call a holiday tradition with his father, and of course it was all about business. It was never not about business in the Bass family, didn't you hear?

And not that they would even spend time together, by the way. Bart always locked himself in a meeting with other not-so-powerful-but-quite-enough millionaires whose favorite hobbie ever was ditching their kids for papers about companies. Not that Chuck even cared, why would he? He was raised like this. So Bart wouldn't want to eat turkey and shit with him? He would find other much more interesting things to do. Probably involving a scandalous soirée with a not-so-successful-but-quite-enough model, with legs that lasted for days after at least a bottle of his favorite scotch. Although in one occasion it involved coke and a low key actress for a change. She participated on a show about FBI detectives or something? Oh who cares, but the irony of it all was deliciously satisfying since she was also the dealer. Wait for Bart to find that out, huh?

But this time, he was so inclined to pass the offer. What was the point anyway? He could surely pick a model/aspiring actress/hot dealer in the old big apple like he always did. Not that he would now, since Blair was already doing an excellent job at expending his energy (which he had quite a lot, obviously). Behind that perfect socialite mask, Blair was just like him. Well, not like him exactly. He was already in deep darkness when she only just blew the candle. She would never taste drugs, drinking to her was resumed to a glass of the finest champagne in town or a Martini on special nights only, but oh did she compensate all that in stamina. As a personal rule he never slept with anyone more than once, dispatching them like used garbage on a pile of fast food can: they're cheap, come fast and probably decrease your health slowly. Chuck didn't care that much. But Blair was a whole different thing. Since the first time he tasted her, he was already dying to try it again, and again, and again, and would it ever be enough?