Don't You Forget About Me by Cecily von Ziegesar
After her father and Giles left, Blair scanned the room for Nate. Instead, she found Serena standing by the bar, her elegant silver Valentino silk cocktail dress shining in the light, thin silver bands cinching her tiny waist. Blair walked toward her, her cobalt blue Viktor & Rolf gown with its intricately beaded bodice trailing silkily behind her like an inky pool of water. She smiled giddily to herself. Serena might look stunning, but next year she’d be stuck in the dirty old city while
Blair and Nate were miles away in their cozy New Haven love nest, feeding each other cornichons and oysters and all sorts of other cute, couple-y foods. Her father might not have given her a town house yet, but her birthday was coming up in November. . . .
Well, her mom did buy her an island.
“Hey.” Blair kissed the air near Serena’s cheeks.
Mwah! Mwah!
“Isn’t this wild? Check out the naked guys in body paint over there!” Serena set her empty champagne flute down on the faux-marble bar behind her and grabbed a full one. She hated how nervous she felt around Blair. How much did Blair know about her and Nate? How much would Serena be brave enough to tell her? “It’s beyond. Your mom really outdid herself.” Maybe it was best just to act cheerfully, casual, like she wasn’t about to steal her best friend’s boyfriend right out from under her nose.
Blair pushed closer to the bar, practically knocking over Rain Hoffstetter. Rain’s chestnut brown hair was usually sweaty from soccer and pulled back in a lopsided ponytail, but tonight she was wearing it in loose waves around her face, and a black-and-silver Calvin Klein gown made her athletic body look slightly less manly.
But only slightly.
Next to Rain stood Nicki Button, famous for her two nose jobs—which Blair didn’t think had done her all that much good. Rain and Nicki fought more than Serena and Blair did, mostly over clothes, not boys, but since both were headed to Vassar, maybe they’d made their peace.
Until five minutes from now, when they both realize they’re wearing the same Prada slingbacks in silver and white. Totally last spring.
“Excuse me, ladies.” Both girls practically jumped backwards as Blair reached past them and grabbed a flute of champagne. She turned back to Serena and clinked her glass against her friend’s. “To us,” she toasted heartily. She could afford to be a little magnanimous. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted—as usual.
The two girls downed the contents of their glasses in one gulp. Then Blair put a delicate hand on her hip. “Have you seen Nate?” she asked, raising one perfectly arched dark eyebrow. “I need to talk to him.” Serena grabbed another glass of champagne. She wished there were some simple solution to this, but there wasn’t. Blair looked so happy tonight, she didn’t want to ruin the party for her. She and Nate would just have to wait to tell her that they were together when Blair was happily settled in at Yale, and then maybe she wouldn’t even mind that much. Finally she took the flute of champagne away from her lips. “I haven’t seen him yet,” she admitted.
Blair had noticed Serena stiffen at the sound of Nate’s name, and for a second she almost felt sorry for her—what with that desperate love letter and all. She was dying to tell Serena about getting Nate into Yale, but it just seemed wrong to tell her before telling Nate himself. After all, Serena probably still harbored some desperate dream that she and Nate would live happily ever in the city together while Blair was up in New Haven. Like that would ever happen.
“Well, I’m off to find him,” Blair chirped gaily.
As soon as she sauntered away, Rain and Nicki quickly filled the spot next to Serena. Rain held a cocktail napkin in her hand, and Nicki held a pen as they awkwardly tripped over themselves to get Serena’s attention. So that was it—they wanted Serena’s autograph. To Blair’s surprise, she didn’t even feel jealous. People were always drooling over Serena, and they always would be. What did she care? She had everything she’d ever wanted.
And by “everything,” she meant a living, breathing person, right?
Blair was about to check the neighboring European sculpture room when she spotted Nate out of the corner of her eye. He was leaning against a tall Romanesque column near the dance floor, looking glum. Jeremy Scott Tomp-kinson, Nate’s skinny, sideburned friend from school and Anthony Avuldsen, looking incredibly blond and athletic, were periodically punching him in the arm, clearly trying to pry him away from the column and get him to dance or drink or at least smile. Nate just waved his hand at them, so they shuffled off to the dance floor alone, dancing like idiots three feet apart from each other. Well, if the sight of his stoner friends jerking their arms and legs spastically on the dance floor couldn’t cheer up Nate, Blair knew something that would. She pushed through the dancing crowd, practically trampling over Laura Salmon, dressed in a salmon-colored silk Dior dress that sagged in the chest and was way too old for her.
Salmon in salmon. How appropriate.
Blair bounded up to Nate, throwing her arms around him. “Guess what?” she demanded, her blue eyes sparkling. “I have really big news.” Nate smiled at her wordlessly, but his eyes were a million miles away. She plowed ahead anyway, grabbing his black bow tie and forcing him to pay attention. “So I told my dad about your little problem, and he talked to Yale, and I got you in!” She threw her arms tightly around him again and whispered in his ear. “Now we can be together at Yale—just like we planned!” Her whole body shook with excitement, but Nate just stood there, stock-still. He’d hardly even hugged her back. She pulled back and looked into his stunning green eyes, searching them questioningly.
“Wow.” Nate shook his head slowly. “I don’t know what to say.” He blinked, trying to process what she’d just said. Go to Yale, for real? Not just take the train to New Haven twice a day and pretend he went there? “Blair . . . you’re amazing.” Now that was more like it. “I know.” Blair was about to give Nate a kiss he’d never forget when she spotted her mother approaching from across the room, wearing an ivory-colored floor-length Versace gown encrusted with millions of tiny gold sequins, and Gucci stilettos that looked like they were made of twenty-four-carat gold ropes. Ever since Eleanor had lost all her baby weight, she’d been wearing tacky look-at-me outfits, but Blair was too happy to be annoyed with her crazy mother tonight.
Davita Fjorde strode alongside Eleanor, wearing a black Miu Miu minidress and hot pink satin Miu Miu peep-toe platforms, barking orders into her headset. “No, no, no!” she hissed. “Just wash him off and get him out there as a regular waiter. Nonflammable paint only! I don’t need a human torch streaking through my party!” She smiled tightly at Eleanor and then murmured into her headset, “Okay, photo one, you’re up once we find Blair.” Blair knew that her mom and Davita were preparing to drag her off somewhere so she could pose for some god-awful pictures her mother would no doubt blow up so large you’d be able to see every one of Blair’s pores.
Knowing they’d be separated momentarily, she leaned in to whisper in Nate’s ear. “Our train leaves at 10 A.M. tomorrow morning from Grand Central,” she told him softly, loving the smell of Acqua Di Parma on his skin—a fresh, lemony scent she knew he only used on special occasions. “I know we could drive, but this will be so much more romantic!” She drew back and smiled sweetly up at him again.
Nate had never seen Blair look so beautiful—or so happy. Her skin was golden brown, her face rosy against her bright blue dress. The diamond studs in her tiny earlobes shone in the light. Across the room, Serena was standing at the bar, wearing a long, gauzy silver dress, her golden hair falling in gleaming tendrils down her bare back. Her face was in profile, and her features were so unbelievably gorgeous his breath caught in his chest. He forced himself to shift his attention back to Blair—his beautiful girlfriend, still wrapped in his arms. The sight of her glowing, hopeful face tore at his heart. Yale. He was going to Yale. He should have been ecstatic, but he didn’t know what to say or even what to feel. He pulled her close and breathed in the familiar honey-almond scent of her hair. His ches
Better start rowing, boy.
what goes around comes around. . . .
Serena’s chest felt hollow as she watched Nate bury his face in Blair’s perfumed neck. They looked so ecstatic and in love that she had to turn away. What was going on? She’d thought they were barely even speaking anymore. Serena grabbed a flute of champagne and downed it, reaching for another. The golden bubbles tickled her nose and she sneezed twice. If she had to watch them practically do it right in front of her, she’d better drink herself silly.
Of course all she had to do was wait, but the waiting was killing her. Blair was would be off to Yale in the morning and Nate would be staying right here in New York. Finally, she’d have him all to herself, and years from now, when Blair came home from Yale with her perfect collegiate investment banker fiancé and Nate and Serena were in love—true, spend-the-rest-of-your-life-together love—they’d laugh at the idea that Blair and Nate had ever even been together. It would be some warm but distant memory, like Buck Naked or the alligator costume. Blair would be her maid of honor, and just before walking down the aisle she’d whisper in Serena’s ear that she was sorry she’d stood in their way all those years. Of course Serena and Nate were meant to be together.
Right. Because it’s just like Blair to do that.
Kati Farkas and Isabel Coates stumbled by, teetering on their obscenely high Manolos and clutching each other’s arms to keep from falling down, their eyes glassy and bright.
“Hey Serena!” Kati giggled, her zebra-striped Norma Kamali dress sliding down her nonexistent chest. “You don’t have a date either? You should come with us—we’re going to snag some Greek gods!” Isabel erupted in a fit of giggles. “How about that one?” She pointed across the room at a painted figure wearing a barely there loincloth made entirely out of silvery olive branches. Kati started to hiccup uncontrollably, which made both girls laugh even harder. The painted god grinned at Isabel, his white-plaster curls falling over his painted and powdered angular features.
“Hold this,” Isabel slurred, handing her drink to Kati. She staggered over to the god and climbed up on the small dais supporting him. Without so much as a hello, she grabbed the male statue and kissed him, white paint smearing her black crepe D&G Grecian gown.
Way to leave town with a bang.
Serena turned away and checked her reflection in the long mirror hanging behind the bar. After much deliberation—though not nearly as much as Blair—she’d chosen a low-cut silvery Valentino cocktail dress with silver trim around the waist. Her legs looked endless beneath the midlength skirt, finished off with a pair of gold Christian Louboutin sandals with their trademark red soles. Normally she preferred one of her brother’s old BROWN T-shirts and her ratty Sevens, but tonight she felt a bit like Cinderella, hoping to win the prince’s heart. She glanced back at where Nate and Blair had been standing. Nate was now alone, leaning against the wall and staring pensively out into the crowd, with Blair nowhere in sight.
Serena pushed through the throng of revelers, waving at Blair’s little brother Tyler and his girlfriend, Jasmine, who were ballroom dancing rather adorably, despite the fact that Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” was playing. Tyler just tipped his head at her, clearly engrossed in his waltz. Serena kept walking until she was standing right where she belonged—directly in front of Nate. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him. In his black Hugo Boss tux, crisp white shirt, and shiny dark Prada loafers, he really did look princely.
“Hey.” His face broke into a wide grin when he saw her. “Hey, yourself.” She stepped a little closer and reached for his hand. He closed his fingers around hers, and Serena breathed a sigh of relief at the warm touch of his skin. “You okay?” “Yeah.” Nate shrugged his shoulders. “I guess.” He dropped her hand, his eyes shifting nervously away and then back again.
“It’ll be easier tomorrow, after Blair leaves.” She took his hand again and squeezed it tightly in her own. It was torture to have to stand next to him like this and not really be able to touch him. All she wanted was to pull him close and kiss him, until Blair, the party, and the whole world fell away, leaving just the two of them.
“Yeah.” Nate’s eyes were shiny with emotion. “You look really beautiful tonight.” His voice trembled. Was he struggling to keep his hands off her, just like she was?
She tossed her long blond hair over one shoulder. “My hair does look a little better when I brush it,” she joked. Behind them Tyler spun Jasmine around and around. Jasmine looked like she was about to puke all over her cute purple plaid satin Marc Jacobs halter dress.
Nate bit his lip nervously. “Blair wants me to meet her at Grand Central tomorrow at ten.” He wanted to tell her the rest—that Blair wanted to meet him there because she’d gotten him back into Yale, that he wasn’t sure whether to go or not go. But Serena looked so beautiful and trusting, he didn’t have the heart.
Or the balls.
“Well, we should both go—I want to see her off too.” Serena squeezed his arm. One more day and they’d be together forever.
Nate wrapped his arms around her and held her close, breathing in the familiar scent of patchouli and lilies—a scent he knew as well as his own. He’d loved her ever since he could remember, but he’d loved Blair too. And he wanted to be with both girls, always and forever.
So why don’t they all move to Utah?
“I love you,” Serena said, her voice catching in her throat. Nate held her, squeezing her tight. “I love you too.” And true love never lies.
v is a femme fatale
Vanessa leaned against a podium, sipping champagne as she tried to subtly rearrange her light blue silk Betsey Johnson party dress. She tugged at the ridiculously short hem and wished for the hundredth time that night that she’d chosen something more comfortable—and in her usual shade of pure black—instead of something so girly. She’d changed into a pair of ridiculously uncomfortable heels after the wedding, worried the bouncers would take one look at her combat boots and kick her out of Blair’s fancy party. Maybe she’d find a table and coax Dan into giving her a foot massage. If he ever got here.
She glanced around the wildly extravagant Roman-themed party, searching for his mop of unruly brown hair. After their intense eye-lock while he read his poem aloud at the wedding, Vanessa was dying to talk to him. But she’d lost him during Ruby’s crazy reception and could only hope that Jenny would drag him up to the party sometime soon. Vanessa had made sure both their names were added to the list; it was only a matter of waiting. In the meantime, she was going to enjoy herself.
She tried to look sultry, throwing her shoulders back and arching her back the way Blair had taught her. But then she felt a little splash on her leg—of course, she’d spilled her drink. She bent down and tried to wipe the droplets off her bare calf with her cocktail napkin, her dress riding dangerously high. She straightened. It hadn’t occurred to that she couldn’t do the same things in a dress that she did in jeans. She quickly scanned the room to make sure no one had seen her privates.
But damn if some dude wasn’t headed straight toward her. No, not some dude, Aaron. Of course he was here, he was Blair’s stepbrother—why hadn’t she thought of that? But when did he get so . . . hot? His hair was knotted in dread-locks that tumbled messily over his forehead, and his brown eyes sparkled against his tanned skin. He wore a dark green, three-button suit, and a green silk tie hung loosely around his neck. She stood up straight and tried to look composed, but as she did the pedestal she’d been leaning against shook. She looked up to see the female nude statue above her move suddenly, before it struck a new pose.
Vanessa hadn’t seen Aaron since they’d broken up at the beginning of the summer. After they’d been together fo
“Hey, stranger!” Aaron grabbed her hand, pulling her into a hug. He finally released her, stepping back to look her up and down with obvious approval. “You look gorgeous. I was hoping to see you tonight.” His red lips curved into a big smile.
Vanessa raised her eyebrows. “It’s good to see you too. Want to trade shoes?” Aaron laughed. “I’d look pretty hot in those,” he agreed, pointing at her light blue Robert Clergerie heels.
“So, how was your road trip?” she asked, remembering that a couple of months ago she was supposed to be on that trip. She’d stayed behind to be with Dan, and now he was gay.
Good call on that one.
“It was great.” Aaron kept his eyes on Vanessa’s décol-letage as the busty statue above them rearranged her position, leaning forward annoyingly as if she were part of their conversation. “But Mookie and I missed you.” Vanessa felt herself blush. “So, um, when are you leaving for Harvard?” “Tomorrow. I can’t believe I’m leaving town. Sometimes I think it’d be great to be in the city, go to Columbia or NYU—like you.” He pushed a stray dreadlock behind his ear.
“I don’t know,” Vanessa mused. “Lately it’s felt weird, knowing everyone is going to leave to try out new places and I’ll still be here, all on my own.” She took a sip of her vodka tonic—she couldn’t believe she was pouring her heart out to Aaron, of all people, whom she hadn’t seen in months. Still, it felt nice to finally voice what had been weighing on her for so long. Between Ruby’s marriage and Dan’s coming out, nobody had thought to ask how she was doing in a while.
“If I know one thing about you, Vanessa Abrams, it’s that you’ll be fine on your own.” Aaron grinned. “Though I can’t imagine you’ll be on your own for very long. Kind of makes me wish I was staying all over again.” As soon as he said the word stay, the spell of Aaron’s warm brown eyes was broken.Yes, he was gorgeous, and yes, he obviously still liked her, but all Vanessa could hear was Dan’s poem. Fall down with me. And stay. She kept replaying the way he’d looked deep into her eyes as he’d uttered those lines—as if he’d written them just for her. But if that were true, then where the hell was he?