We're Not Falling In Love, We're Just Falling Apart

It was easy to see that three years time had not aged Constance Billard in the least. In fact the historic old building had had nearly as much reconstructive surgery as Blair Waldorf's mother after she finalized her divorce (Oh, Eleanor, a new nose won't cancel out a gay husband). There had been two wings added to the eastern quadrant of the main floor, one dedicated to a sort of greenhouse area reserved for those students interested in horticulture and the other reserved exclusively for fashion design. Not to mention the brand spanking new Wellington-Westford library nestled cozily on the third story of the massive campus. A little embarrassing? Perhaps. But if it means I can continue to breeze through high school as if it were just another day spent shopping at Bendels then I'm all for it. Money may not be able to buy you love but it can sure as hell buy you an A in calculus.

After texting my way through three hours of hellish AP classes, it was finally time for my free period. Luckily this came right before lunch, meaning I would have two hours all to myself, two hours not spent under the harsh scrutiny of my fellow classmates. It turns out that Gossip Girl's little blast about Nate and I last night had the entire school buzzing.

Stowing my books safely in my locker, I gave myself a quick once over, applied some YSL lipstick in Provocative, and decided to brave the weather for a quick smoke and perhaps a Starbucks run. Coffee and cigarettes could get me through most anything. Even the first day from hell. Though, knowing Constance and it's demons masquerading as débutantes, things could get a whole lot worse before the day was over.

A pair of sophomores dressed in matching Wolford tights and green Tory Burch flats brushed past me in the corridor, giggling over their iPhones and casting furtive glances at me over their shoulder.

“Isn't that her sister?” I heard the redhead ask in a stage whisper clearly meant to reach my ears.

The other girl, a brunette, laughed harder and glanced back at me with a snide smile.

“That's her," she whispered back. "And apparently Little E isn't the only slut in the family. Did you see her all over Nate Archibald last night? As if she'd ever have a chance with-”

“Excuse me?” I asked incredulously, turning to stare at them and cutting her off. “Who the fuck do you think you are to be talking about my sister that way?”

The red-haired turned a little pink and looked down at her feet.

“It's...it's not just us,” she stammered. “It's all over school. Gossip Girl posted it about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Posted what?” I demanded.

“This,” answered her friend, with a smirk, holding up her phone so I could see the screen. “Everyone knows Chuck belongs to Blair. Your sister just signed her death warrant.”

I looked down at the screen, for a moment not comprehending the image staring back at me.

“Oh shit,” I breathed.

There was my innocent little Evelyn shoved up against a wall, Chuck Bass' tongue down her throat, her legs up around his waist...

“Oh shit,” I repeated.

“That whore better watch her back,” the brunette said nastily. “Blair fights to kill and any girl here with half a brain knows always to take her side. Welcome to Constance, bitch.”

She turned to walk away and I only hesitated a split second before crossing the three feet between us and yanking the strap of her Louis Vuitton bag off of her Calvin Klein clad shoulder.

“Bitch!” she cried as I dumped the entire contents of her purse on the marble floor, scattering lipgloss, tampons, and gum everywhere.

I rummaged through the mess quickly, shoving her aside as she scrambled to pick it all back up.

“Bingo,” I said triumphantly, a moment later, straightening up and holding out a clear plastic baggie half full of familiar white powder. “I bet headmistress Kweller would just love to see this.”

Her face, initially red with rage, drained of color.

“You...you wouldn't,” she said, her eyes wide. “We have a no tolerance policy here and if she finds out I'll...I'll be expelled. My parents have already threatened to send me to a convent if anything else happens this year. You just can't, please. I'm begging you.”

I looked at the girl with cool indifference and shoved the coke into my own purse before picking up her school ID and reading the name gracing the front.

“Well, Muffy,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her in a look I knew terrified most people, men, women, and children alike. “If you want to keep your place at this school then you had better fucking never, ever call my sister a slut again, got it?”

She gulped and nodded.

“I...I swear.”

“That goes for you too, princess,” I added, turning my head to the redhead. “Understand?”

“I understand,” she answered breathlessly.

“Perfect,” I said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. “Then off you go. And try to remember something, will you?”

They both looked at me expectantly.

“Blair Waldorf isn't the only crazy bitch in this school.”

With that I turned on my six inch heels and walked off, leaving them in nothing but stunned silence.

Spotted: Now that P is back at Constance does B have a rival for the throne? Choose your sides now, ladies. We've heard P doesn't take any prisoners.

As I walked downstairs I pulled my phone out and tried dialing Evelyn's number.

“This is Eve, leave me a message after the beep. Beep...”

“Evey this is Pep, what the hell was with that post on Gossip Girl about? If your dad sees that shit he's going to lose it. Call me ASAP.”

“So you didn't like our little tete a tete this afternoon? Does big sister not approve?” a smarmy voice from behind me asked, nearly causing me to miss the last step of the staircase.

“How about you stay the hell away from my stepsister?” I growled, turning on Chuck Bass with a look of pure loathing. “She's not some prize to be won, Chuck. She's not like the other girls at this school. She won't fuck you because your father owns half of Manhattan. She's better than that. She's better than you.”

Chuck just smirked at me.

“Oh my lovely, Pepper,” he said, after staring at my breasts for a full thirty seconds before resuming eye contact. “Don't you understand that she has something no one else in this school has? Don't you understand her appeal?”

I didn't respond and he laughed.

“I'll give you a hint,” he said with a grin, running his index finger down my arm. “It's something you lost a long, long time ago to our dear Nathaniel. You do remember that, don't you? At the party on Kati's yacht. I heard it lasted all of four minutes.”

“You fucking bastard,” I said, my cheeks burning with anger. “You stay the hell away from her!”

“Or what?” he asked with a casual yawn, crossing his arms lazily and leaning against the brick wall.

“Or I'll fucking destroy you,” I said, my voice shaking with anger.

It was one thing to mess with me, but don't you dare fucking mess with my little sister.

“I highly doubt that,” he said, utterly unconcerned as he picked a non-existent piece of lint off of his navy blue blazer.

“And why is that?”

He finally met my eyes and there was no touch of humor left in them.

“Because if you mention one word of warning to her I'll tell Nate everything.”

It was my turn to go white as a sheet. He couldn't know could he? No one knew. There was no way. Just no way.

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“Don't try to play the wide-eyed innocent with me, Wellington,” he snapped. “One word to Evelyn and I swear to God and Armani that I'll tell him. I'll tell him all about the real reason you left New York in such a hurry that summer.”

“You're bluffing,” I said, my breath catching a little in my chest. “You don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Oh don't I?” he asked, his smirk returning.

He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through several pages of text.

“I took the liberty of checking you out when you so mysteriously disappeared three years ago. Nate was so devastated that he offered me no amusement so I thought I'd hunt you down, get him the closure he deserved. And look at what I happened to stumble across.”

He handed me his phone and my eyes grew wide in horror.

He hadn't been bluffing.

“One word,” he whispered in my ear, his breath sending chills down my spine. “One single word and this gets posted on Gossip Girl by nightfall. Are we clear?”

I nodded wordlessly, still staring down at the blurry black and white ultrasound on the screen.

Still staring at my baby.

At Nate's baby.

Holy. Fuck.

Holy shit. Even I didn't see that one coming. Will P manage to keep this little secret safe from N or will C spill the beans? Will C really do anything to bed Little E? And will Lonely Boy get his heart broken yet again? Better yet, what will B and S have to say when the shit hits the fan? If I were you I'd stock up and batten down the hatches. All hell is about to break loose. You Know You Love Me. XoXo Gossip Girl.