Pictures in magazines, movie screens
Mirrors and cameras, so many beauty queens
It's so good to be
Fabulous and glamourous,
We love ourselves and no one else
Vanity.

Chapter 1 - Curiosity

He had been watching her for a while now. The girl wore dark jeans and a backless tank top, and he could see her leather jacket slung over the back of her stool. He recognised her from somewhere, though could not place her. She was mystery, and intrigue, and God, he wanted to taste it.

She sat alone at an unnamed, insignificant bar, one that was not crowded with intoxicated teenage girls, staring numbly at her untouched cherry martini. The girl had class, he could tell. She was visibly thin, with a slender neck and a collar bone that was more jutting than it probably should have been. She was delicate, vulnerable, almost; the depths of her haunting dark eyes transfixed on her martini glass. She could not have been more than nineteen, that much was obvious, but she seemed to sit within a cloud of maturity.

Her shoulders were slumped, as if the weight of the world was resting upon them, and her dark hair fell around her face, exposing the nape of her neck and revealing a small, black mark at the top of her spine.

She sat with her arms resting on the bartop, twisting a ring around the middle finger on her right hand, her tanned skin glimmering slightly in the dim light. The girl took a deep sigh, the sudden intake of breath highlighting the ribs of her back. She plucked the cherry from her martini and gently pulled the fruit from it's stem, chewing it slowly before placing the stone onto the napkin.

She glanced up at the time and took a deep swig from her glass, draining it of it's contents. The girl grimaced as the liquid made it's way down her throat, then nodded to the bartender to bring her another. The bartender looked concerned, but made no effort air his feelings. She smiled a small, grateful smile towards him, and he nodded courteously in reply, then took another sip of her renewed drink.

Carter stood up and made his way towards her. He stood slightly to her right, and, when she made no effort to look at him, he cleared his throat.

"Can I help you?" Her reply was instant, and she looked up at him almost immediately, her piercing brown eyes narrowing in discontempt. Carter shrugged in response and smirked.

"You look lonely."

Blair scoffed and raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm not. Thanks."

"I'm Carter Baizen." The boy offered his hand, and Blair stared at it, like it might bite her. He persisted, though, until Blair sighed and shook it warily, before looking back at her martini. Good manners didn't cost a penny.

"How wonderful for you," she replied haughtily, in a voice that clearly displayed her disdain at the boy in his slacks, a suit jacket and navy button down shirt. Guys like him were ten to the thousand, and she was definitely not impressed. She held back a groan as he sat down beside her. She rolled her eyes as his gaze slipped below her face and down to her cleavage.

"I don't recognise you, are you new to Manhattan?" The boy was very persistent, she had to give him that.

Blair rolled her eyes, but forced a smile. Turning to the brown haired boy, she said, "Something like that. Hi, I'm Blair."

In spite of herself, Blair offered her hand again, and Carter shook it wholeheartedly. He smiled at her, and her returning smile was genuine. Blair studied him; he had a cruel, thin mouth and sharp green eyes; his hair appeared to be brown, but if one looked more closely, it had undertones of honey; his suit jacket did not fit properly, and his hands were smaller than she would have expected.

She watched as he licked his lips as he shamelessly looked her up and down, taking in her shapely legs beneath her skinny jeans and the curve of her spine through her backless strappy top. As he gestured to the bar tender to bring her another drink, Blair scoffed once more in complete disbelief, and pulled a note from her clutch.

He turned back to her with a smile, but it quickly faded when he saw her drain the liquid from her glass, hand over a fifty dollar bill, gracefully slip on her leather jacket, and push back her stool. "If you'll excuse me, there's somewhere that I have to be. It was nice meeting you, Craig."

"It's Carter, actually," he called after her.

Chuck Bass lay in his lavish king-size bed and awoke with a groan, clutching his pounding head. He untangled himself from the two girls who lay there with him, not bothering to worry that he didn't remember the night before. He shook them roughly, and then stumbled into the bathroom to shower. The girls opened their eyes, blinked at their surroundings, before glancing at each other and smirking. They struggled out of bed, into last night's dresses and left Chuck's suite without a word. They knew him well enough by now to know that a hung-over Chuck Bass was not somebody you wanted to be around in the morning.

After a long, hot shower, Chuck dressed himself in his red and white striped pyjamas, and settled down on the couch for a day of "CSI: New York" catch up. He dozed off after the second episode, however, and was awoken by his best friend's on-off girlfriend banging on the door of his suite.

"Chuck? Chuck! I know you're in there! How many times do I have to tell you? You are not allowed to sleep with my f-ing friends!"

Chuck rubbed his eyes blearily and staggered towards the door, opening it wide enough so she could squeeze through the gap. "Serena."

She flounced into the room, turned off the TiVo and opened the curtains that hid the floor length windows of his suite. "Chuck, why didn't you hang out with Penelope last night? Like I told you too?"

He raised an eyebrow in response, and in spite of himself, Chuck laughed. "When will you realise, sis; I'm not one of your pathetic little lapdogs that you can back into corners. I'm Chuck Bass. "

Serena narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "I am not your sister. Just because your dad and my mom are engaged does not mean we will ever be related. Thank God. Speaking of, what's up with you in your suite and not in the 'family' apartment upstairs?"

Chuck scowled. "Bart. Unless I have a 'serious' girlfriend, I am not 'allowed' to bring 'conquests' into the family home." He scratched his chin and grimaced when it felt tender. He hadn't been punched again, had he?

Serena spoke again, distracting him from his thoughts. "Anyway, Bart said you have to make yourself presentable for dinner. Chop, chop!"

Getting ready for school the following day, Chuck couldn't seem to fight an unfamiliar feeling of excitement from his stomach. Everything seemed different, somehow; everything seemed to be upside down. Perhaps it was because it was the first day of senior year. Sipping contentedly on his orange juice, he smirked from the doorway of Serena's room as she made every effort to make sure her outfit looked like careless perfection. Serena looked up at him and grimaced as she pulled on her jacket.

From the moment her Dolce adorned feet had gracefully stepped out of the limo, she had unintentionally commanded the attention of every student, parent and staff member present at the front entrance of Constance Billiard and St Judes. Placing both her feet onto the pavement, Blair plucked her sunglasses from her eyes and pushed them back to rest on her effortlessly perfect hair, like a headband, the two Chanel C's glittering in the early September sun.

She walked briskly, with an air of importance, though smiled politely as people made a pathway for her through the yard. She wore lace, peep-toe boots, a navy high-waisted skirt and a white shirt, with just large piece of navy ribbon tied in a bow for her Constance "tie". She carried her Chanel tote in the crook of her delicate elbow; the swing of her hips was rhythmical and the clack of her heels on the concrete seemed to scream "I'm over here!".

Eyes followed her every move. Whispers of, "I'm sure I know her," and "Oh my effing God, that's...", and Blair had to concentrate from keeping the smirk off of her face.

She hadn't graced the Upper East Side with her presence in two and a half years. She was not the new kid on the block. She was not some pathetic helpless nobody who'd crawled from the depths of Social Oblivion.

She was Blair Waldorf. And she was back.

She slammed her locker closed and cursed under her breath when she heard an excited squeal behind her.

"Oh my God! Blair? Is that you?"

Blair took a second to compose her plastic, society smile. She knew who it was, how could she not? She'd always come second best to that voice, that hair, that persona of perfection surrounding "golden girl" Serena.

"S! Oh my God! Hi!"

Blair held out her arms as Serena rushed forward. Blair had never been a hugging type of person, but with Serena, she had always made an exception. Serena pulled out of the hug and placed her hands on Blair's upper arms, distancing their two bodies. After looking Blair up and down, Serena grinned.

"Well, it has to be said. You look amazing!"

Blair smiled sheepishly. "Well, like, I've totally been, like, hanging out at, like, the beach with, like, everyone, like everyday! Beverly Hills High was, like, totally close to the beach. Like." The two girls looked at eachother sombrely for a moment, before bursting into laughter. "So, like, do I sound like a totaaaal 'Valley Girl'? Like?" Serena guffawed for a moment before giggling again. She wiped tears from her eyes, and then grinned at Blair.

"Do you really talk like that?"

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Are you f-ing kidding me?"

They laughed again, as Serena linked her arm through Blair's and pulled her into the courtyard. "Come on, B, you have to meet everyone!"

Blair shot her a funny look. "Are you forgetting that I grew up here too?"

Serena rolled her eyes in response and stopped in front of her friends. Blair smiled at them, her eyes taking in Penelope, Hazel, Kati, Is and two smaller girls sitting at the back of the group.

"Blair, this is-"

"Penelope, Hazel, Kati and Is," Blair interrupted her, "Yeah, S, I remember," then, to the four girls, "It's nice to see you again." The two at the back of the group shifted slightly and looked uncomfortable, and the blonde one stood to leave. Serena frowned at her, and she immediately sat back down.

"Blair, this is Jenny," she gestured to the blonde girl, "And this is Elise. They're sophomores."

Blair nodded at them politely, and then smiled at a boy over Serena's shoulder. "Nate, how are you?"

Nate laughed and took Blair's left hand, making her twirl for him. "I'm good. And I can see that you are too! You don't even look like Blair anymore." He grinned at her, as he put his other arm around Serena and kissed the top of her head. Blair's smile softened at the sight of them.

"Well, aren't you two a sight for sore eyes? I always knew you'd end up together." Serena and Nate both laughed, before smiling at eachother adoringly. "God, I said you were cute, get a room!" The group of girls sitting around the marble table laughed along with Blair, who smirked at them.

"So, wheres..." Blair was cut off by the bell, soon followed by a unanimous groan that swept through the courtyard like a Mexican wave. "Never mind. I'll see you at lunch, S?"

Serena bit her lip. "Well, Nate and I were gonna go grab a bite down the street, but you're welcome to-"

"No, no. It's fine," Blair smiled at her reassuringly. "I'll just lunch with the girls."

Two hours into her first day at Constance Billiard, Blair had been sent out of one of her classes.

Was it her fault that she'd already done the course? Was it her fault that she'd been in an advanced placement class last semester? Was it her fault that she'd aced it?

So what if she'd happened to have gotten bored whilst her Chemistry teacher was prattling on about ionic combustion? So what if she'd accidentally on purpose set a text book on fire with a Bunsen burner? It wasn't like she couldn't buy the school another one. She snorted in memory of Ms Hall's reaction. The 'fire' had been so little, Blair had been able to blow it out. But, no, Ms Hall had "removed" her from the classroom. So she'd picked up her Chanel, rolled her eyes at her professor, and settled herself on one of the benches in the courtyard.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't who used to be Blair Waldorf."

Blair felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up as a shiver ran up her spine. Somehow she managed to hide her anticipation enough to plaster a smirk on her face as she turned to face the owner of the voice.

"Chuck Bass. My, my, my."

They held eachothers eyes for a moment, before his eyes slid down her face, resting for a moment on her cherry red lips, before continuing on down her body, his eyes widening slightly once they reached her exposed legs. She stood up and cocked a hip, placing a polished finger on her chin. "How long has it been? Two, maybe three years?"

Chuck swallowed thickly before answering. "Two and a half." Blair's eyes swung to his and softened. "You left just after Christmas."

"It's been too long."

"That it has, Blair. Though I must say; West Coast most certainly looks good on you."

Blair smiled and nodded. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be," she agreed, her dark eyes twinkling in the morning sunlight.

"You've changed," he stated sombrely.

She smirked in return. "That I have."

"Is it really you?" His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper, and for a moment, Blair could see the vulnerable little boy that he used to be. His eyes shone with emotion, communicating those feelings that he was not yet ready to say.

"It's really me, Chuck," she replied, her own voice low and calm.

Chuck smiled; it wasn't his usual, "I'm Chuck Bass" smirk, it was a genuine smile. "It wasn't the same..." I've missed you. "Not having somebody to scheme with." I'm glad you're back. "I've been surrounded by amateurs." Nobody could ever replace you.

"I know what you mean," Blair smiled sadly, shaking her head slightly as she ran a shaking hand through her hair. "It feels like I haven't even been away." My feelings haven't gone away.

"I feel the same." I feel the same.

(I own nothing except my plotline. Everything belongs to Cecily, Josh and Stephanie.)