spiders. [chuck bass fanfic]

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Seven eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve — "FUCKING THIRTEEN!"

Beside her, there was a sigh.

School had just ended but she had the last period off. Hence, she had taken it as time to go out in the courtyards, practicing her juggling. It wasn't that she was particularly bad - she liked to think she had good form - there was just something fated against her getting over thirteen in a row. Someone would either bump into her (Blair Waldorf's minions had 'accidentally' pushed her out of the way about three times so far) Fev would trip or sneakers would crease and she'd panic and give up. Or, she just missed.

And it pissed her off to no end.

The ball rolling on the ground, Fev took a step back and with all her force kicked the ball as hard as could, venting out all of her frustrations. However, as common sense - and physics - dictates, if you go to kick a ball at a brick wall, it won't just stay there but force will bring it right back.

On the other side of the empty courtyard was a well-dressed boy who just wanted some peace and quiet. Chuck Bass stood there, deciding to spend his last period, a 'study-block,' outside smoking as he waited for his best friend who was, unfortunately, not willing to ditch Math and join him.

Chuck doubted she had noticed him. She never noticed anyone. Aside from that dorky kid in his English class, Chandler didn't speak to anyone. It was why Chuck had only just found out that she was CJR. Blair had informed him of the news him the other week when he overheard her planning for tonight's Kiss on the Lips party.

As he observed her now, it was with this information in mind as he tried to understand how he hadn't known about this. With those stock-standard headphones on her head, he watched she tried to juggle that neon orange soccer ball more than thirteen times. He knew it was thirteen because he'd watched her for the past half hour try and fail. He'd lost count of how many times she had juggled the ball. She would kick and kick and something would happen that would miss the number thirteen and it would get away from her. She would loudly huff, clearly getting more and more frustrated each time it didn't work.

In his opinion, Chuck thought it was all a just mental block since it wasn't for a lack of skill nor trying. He'd seen her play a few times when he'd gone to the stands for Nate, and even Chuck had to admit that she was good. And again, it just want to show how much wasted potential the girl was. Still, each time she would go get the ball back and try again. He had to give her persistence props... even if he thought the whole thing was an incredible waste of time.

Exhaling, he saw he her pick up the ball once more. It was routine and for the sake of him having a buzz and noting else to do, he counted along with it in his head.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight —

It looked promising this time.

— nine, ten, eleven, twelve —

For a brief second, Chuck thought about how she had a nice pair of legs.

"FUCKING THIRTEEN!"

He laughed this time, finally hearing her actually speak. It was perhaps the first time in the entire forty minutes they had both been out there. Blunt in hand, he pushed himself off the concrete wall he'd been leaning on.

And then, like those quick scenes in movies, several things occurred simultaneously,

Chuck called out to her, a prompt "Hey!" Just as she took a step and gave the ball a massive kick. Then hearing someone call out a 'hey!' Fev turned around and forgot about the rebound as the ball came bouncing back and hitting her on the back of the head.