Blair was busy inspecting her hair for split ends, her manicure for snags, trying to do anything to distract herself from the now darkened screen. Chuck's words once again brought her back to herself, but before she could smirk at the well deserved appellation, she found herself instead oddly transfixed by his unwavering gaze. Her mouth parted slightly as he leaned forward, her mind instantly conjuring up that brief, heated moment in the kitchen that they had shared. She held his gaze uncertainly, unable to budge a muscle or determine whether it was anticipation or panic that rendered her momentarily frozen.
Her lips promptly pressed together in disapproval as he slid past her to the coffee table. What was wrong with her? When did she suddenly start behaving like petrified prey before Chuck? She wasn't one of his random sluts or weak-willed conquests, she was his friend, or as close to a friend as Chuck was likely to have outside of Nate.
"Ugh," she announced in disgust, trying to hide her self-conscious flush at the direction her thoughts had momentarily taken. Basshole. "Of course I can. As long as you're not proposing strip poker, I'm game."
"What are the stakes?" she asked, making a grab for the cards in his hand. She didn't trust him to shuffle properly or not to cheat.