Love the One You're With by Cecily von Ziegesar
Rhys practically shoved Issy off his lap and drunkenly followed Owen out of the bar and to the golf cart parked outside.
Way to make a clean getaway.
hey people!
Texting during calc. Skipping a week of school to ski in Switzerland. Eating endless desserts at Payard. Why is it that when something is forbidden—by our teachers, by our parents, by ourselves—we just want to do it that much more? And what happens when formerly forbidden things get a stamp of approval? Either you become totally debaucherous—hello, gross twenty-first birthday parties where people act like they’ve never drunk before—or the activity totally loses its appeal. (Remember when you were six, and all you wanted to do was cross the street by yourself? Now, wouldn’t you just rather be driven everywhere via town car?)
The same applies to love. If you’re faced with the choice of going out with a guy whose mom is your mom’s best friend, or a smoldering stranger who’s barely allowed in your building because of his shaggy hair and bad boy rocker look, is it any question who you’d choose? They say the heart wants what it wants, but I’d like to add a layer to that: The heart also wants what it can’t have.
your mail
q: Chère Gossip Girl,
So, I am living in New York and going to school here and I met a darling American boy and had hoped that we’d spend this weekend of thanks together in his town house, but today he just informed me he is heading on an unexpected tropical island getaway and is not bringing me. What to do?
—tragique
a: Dear T,
Sadly, it seems you may have been this guy’s belle de jour. My advice: Take a tropical vacation of your own.
—GG
sightings
H and a bevy of St. Jude’s swim team boys, getting in a town car and heading toward Teterboro airport. Out of the pool and into the ocean? J and G, racing through the swimsuit section at Barneys—last-minute shopping? Hurry, or you’ll miss the plane!… A sad-looking J.P., all by himself watching a matinee of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg at the Paris Theater in Midtown. S and an elderly, pearl-wearing lady getting matching tattoos at some gross place on St. Mark’s. Talk about cross-generational bonding!
You know you love me.
gossip girl
love is all around
Avery awoke to what sounded like rain. She’d been having a dream that she was a princess who sent messages in bottles to find her prince, but the only guys who responded were Abraham Lincoln, Owen’s gross friend Hugh from the swim team, and Jim the grandfatherly doorman. It had really disturbed her. She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. They felt puffy and she briefly worried about what she’d look like tomorrow during the wedding.
Doesn’t she mean today?
She heard another sound. It didn’t sound like rain anymore; it sounded more like someone knocking on the door. But, glancing at the clock, it was only 5 a.m. What the hell?
Avery swung her feet onto the cool stone floor and padded over to the sliding door. It was probably just Layla coming back from the guys’ villa or something. But, glancing at Layla’s bed, Avery could just make out her stepsister-to-be, sleeping fitfully. Weird.
Avery opened the door to see only a note, written on the white resort paper in jagged black pen.
Look under your bed.
Avery went back to her bed and gingerly knelt down, her beige Cosabella mid-thigh-length silk negligee skimming the floor. She hoped this wasn’t a practical joke by Owen. She knew he’d probably want to make her feel better, but she simply was not in the mood. She picked up the bed skirt, and, in the semi-darkness, could just make out a picnic basket with a bottle of champagne sticking out. She pulled it out and into the sitting room, where she turned on the lights. There was another piece of notebook paper.
If this is better than a monster, come outside.
She grinned and ran to the door, not even bothering to change into something more appropriate or put down the picnic basket. There, standing in the shadows, was Rhys. He was wearing khaki shorts and one of Owen’s Nantucket Pirates T-shirts and looked like he hadn’t slept at all. He smiled shyly as he saw Avery.
“I had Layla sneak that under your bed. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Hi,” Avery said. She didn’t know what else to say. She shivered as the surprisingly cool breeze hit her skin.
“Here.” Rhys held out a large maroon St. Jude’s swim team sweatshirt like a peace offering. “In case you’re cold. I thought we could have a picnic and watch the sunrise. You know, before the craziness today.”
As if it could be any crazier than yesterday?
“Right.” Avery nodded. She wondered if this was still a dream. But Rhys’s strong hand on her shoulder felt very real to her. They walked together in silence, toward the beach.
“You know, I want to apologize,” he said finally as they reached the sand, where the sun was just starting to come up.
“I know. I talked to Owen,” Avery said. After their talk last night, she’d come to bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking it all over. She knew she’d overreacted—with Rhys, and with Jack. And she felt badly about that. But she also knew she’d reacted so strongly for a reason. “I shouldn’t have run off like that. I got carried away. It’s just—I like you,” Avery said in a rush of words. She stared straight ahead at the white beach, which seemed almost illuminated. On the horizon, she saw the slightest sliver of light.
“I like you too,” Rhys said shyly. He stood in front of Avery so that she couldn’t look anywhere else. And then, not bothering to set down a blanket, he pulled her down onto the sand and kissed her.
And they lived sappily ever after.
does b believe in something that she’s never seen before?
Baby adjusted the straps of her bridesmaid dress and frowned at her reflection in the mirror on the bedroom doorway. The dress, which Avery had picked out, had a scoop back that was sexy without being slutty, and was a deep purple color that looked surprisingly good on everyone. Baby liked the short length, which showed off her newly tan legs. Still, she had a low-grade headache from last night and was dreading seeing Layla. After her talk with Jack, she knew she had to tell her the truth. While it wasn’t exactly going to be fun, she had to let Layla know that her boyfriend was going around telling people they were about to break up and making out with said people and basically breaking their hearts. Not that she was bitter or anything.
Of course not.
“Do you need me to zip you?” Layla asked as she walked in, wearing the same dress as Baby. She’d just had her hair done in the other room, which had been taken over by the resort’s salon and transformed from villa sitting room to something resembling John Barrett’s at Bergdorf’s. Her curly blond hair was loose, with four or five tiny braids holding an orchid in place and giving just the right touch of hippie-elegance to her look. Her tribal tattoo was visible, and she looked comfortable and confident.
“I’m good,” Baby said as she twisted to pull the zipper into place. “Actually, I need to talk to you.” Baby settled on the bed, not worrying if her dress would get wrinkled, even though Avery would kill her if it did. She felt like she was in an updated version of Cinderella, except somehow, she’d landed the wicked stepsister role.
Which is at least better than the wicked witch role.
Layla sat down next to her and nodded. “Totally. I’ve had a lot on my mind too, seeing my dad and your mom together. It’s just made me think, you know?” Her green eyes suddenly got a faraway expression, before they snapped back to Baby. “I’m sorry, I’m totally interrupting. You go first!”
“No, you go,” Baby managed to croak. She knew she was delaying the inevitable, but she needed a second to collect herself.
“Okay, well, don’t tell anyone, because I’m not going to do it until after the wedding.” Layla chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’m breaking up with Riley.”
“What?” Baby was speechless.
“Don’t say it like th
“But you guys seemed very… together last night,” Baby said before she could stop herself. She blushed. Not wanting to reveal that she’d been in Riley’s room, she backpedaled. “I mean, you didn’t come home last night, so I figured—”
“Breakup sex,” Layla said matter-of-factly. The topic didn’t make her blush in the slightest. She looked down, playing with the hem of her floaty purple dress, before drawing her eyes back up to Baby. “But as nice as it was to fall asleep in his arms, when I woke up there early this morning, knowing I had to go get ready for my dad’s wedding, it was like, what am I doing? I know Riley’s not right for me in the long run. I know we can’t keep this relationship up. So why drag it out, you know?”
Baby slowly nodded, not sure what to say. So Riley had been telling the truth. And now, it seemed, the relationship had taken its natural course. Of course she still knew that she’d done something wrong. Of course she wished things hadn’t happened the way they had. But she also felt like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders… and she also felt a glimmer of hope. Riley would be single soon. Maybe, after an appropriate period of time…
“Baby, you have your hair appointment now!” Avery marched in, breaking the quiet mood. She was holding a clipboard and looked beautiful, with her hair pulled back behind her ears, one orchid attached with a jeweled butterfly-shaped brooch to hold it in place. It would be so easy to keep everything that happened with Riley to herself. After all, Layla would never know. But then she’d always have this secret. Forever.
“Thanks,” Baby said to her sister. “I need a few minutes.”
Avery frowned but backed off upon seeing Baby’s determined expression. “If you’re sure… but five minutes.” She trailed off and turned on her heel into the bedroom.
“What’s up?” Layla asked, confusion in her eyes.
“Look, I know you might hate me after I tell you this… but you need to know. Riley and I kissed on Friday. It was before you and I talked and I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want you to be mad,” Baby said in a rush of words. She looked down at her neatly lilac-polished fingernails. They looked like someone else’s hands. Just as her confession felt like someone else’s. “I’m sorry,” she added desperately. She felt tears beginning to well up.
“That day you and Riley went riding,” Layla said slowly.
Bab nodded miserably. “We kissed. It just… happened,” Baby added, hating the way the phrase echoed in her ears. It didn’t just happen, not really. It had happened because Riley was cute and interesting and he’d be the type of guy Baby would have loved to have gotten together with in another time or place.
Layla sighed slowly. “It’s okay.”
Baby glanced up at Layla. Her mouth was set in a firm, hard line.
“I mean, I wish you had told me earlier, but it’s not really a surprise. I had seen you and Riley flirting that first day. Maybe I needed to see him flirt with another girl to make it clear that we’ve moved on from each other,” Layla mused.
“I’m really sorry,” Baby said again. “I knew it was wrong, and I wanted to tell you, but I was just afraid you’d never talk to me again. I’m just…” She trailed off, and then looked Layla in her green eyes. “I’m just really glad you’re going to be my sister.”
Layla’s face broke into a genuine smile. “I guess I’m certainly getting a crash course in sibling relations this trip.”
Just then, Avery burst back into the room. “Baby, come on,” she demanded, almost tapping her foot,
“It’s okay,” Layla said, standing up. “Hug?”
Baby nodded, then threw her arms around her stepsister-to-be’s skinny frame. “Thank you,” she murmured into her hair. “Thank you for being my big sister.”
Layla smiled back. “Anytime. And hopefully, after today, a lot of the time.”
Finally, Avery had succeeded in herding the family down to the beach. The wedding party was accompanied by Hamish, a kilt-wearing Brooklyn performance artist friend of Edie and Remington’s who’d just arrived on Shelter Cay that morning and who was serving as their officiant.
Because nothing says official like a kilt.
Remington and Edie’s procession took them from the villa steps to the beach as Riley and Layla sang a surprisingly sweet version of the Peter, Paul, and Mary song “(Wedding Song) There Is Love.” Folk music was never going to be Avery’s thing, but she had to give them props for trying. She still couldn’t believe she’d managed to get everyone dressed and all in the same place at once, but here they all were.
“Everyone here, then?” Hamish asked, his back facing the ocean.
In front of him stood Remington, looking handsome in a seersucker suit. Edie stood beside her husband-to-be, wearing the Ralph Lauren dress. Avery had been right—it was perfect on her, making her look young, vibrant, and naturally beautiful, a younger version of Meryl Streep from the movie Mamma Mia!
Minus the singing. For now.
“All right then,” Hamish announced, yelling over the sound of the waves.
“Actually, let’s all stand in a circle!” Edie bellowed. “Better energy. What I’m thinking is sort of a May Day pagan ritual scene,” she explained, as if she were an avant-garde theater director. Avery grinned, suddenly finding her mom’s over-the-top ideas endearing. The confused group slowly sorted itself into a circle. Rhys was standing next to Avery, and she squeezed his hand. He squeezed hers right back.
On the other side of the circle stood Baby and Layla, fingers linked in a show of sisterly solidarity. Jack and Owen stood next to each other, and Owen was smiling at Remington and his mom. Riley, not part of the wedding party, was standing with the crowd of fifty-plus people—word had spread at the resort that an impromptu wedding was taking place, and suddenly everyone was invited—gathered on the beach.
“Love is all around,” Hamish announced grandly. “Edie and Remington are two people who don’t need permission for anything. So who am I to tell them what to do? You’re married, you can kiss whomever you want!” he announced.
Short and sweet.
Edie grinned. “Remington, I love you!” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. Avery threw her arms around Rhys’s neck. Baby and Layla hugged each other tightly.
“All right, time to have fun!” Edie announced brightly. “Remington, let’s race!” She tossed her bouquet of orchids behind her and skipped up the limestone beach steps, Remington following her, a ridiculously cheesy grin on his face.
As the wedding party made its way to the villa complex, where the reception was being held, Baby felt a light touch on her arm. She turned to see Riley, looking adorable in a pair of khakis and a white linen button-up, the top button undone and his dark hair tousled from the beach breeze.
“Hey,” he said, his dark eyes scanning hers. “Congratulations,” he added, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. Baby wasn’t sure if you were supposed to congratulate the daughter of the bride, but her cheek tingled where his lips had brushed it.
“Thanks,” she said, being careful to walk a foot away from Riley, even though their bodies seemed to pull toward each other with a force of their own. “I guess they really did it,” Baby said, smiling at her mom’s retreating back, Remington’s arm drawn around her small waist.
“I guess they did,” Riley said with a boyish grin. “And speaking of people making things happen…” He trailed off, and Baby had a feeling she knew what was coming. “I’d really like to see you again. Ithaca’s not exactly close to the city or anything, but I come in some weekends. Maybe we could get coffee sometime?” He gazed at Baby. His tone was hopeful, and yet she could
Baby looked straight ahead as she mulled it over. Two days ago—two hours ago, even—she’d dreamed of this exact scenario: Riley and Layla breaking up, of their own accord. Baby having the chance to see Riley again, guilt-free. But as she glanced over at Layla, who was saying something to Avery, her head thrown back in laughter, a new sensation came over her. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t lust. It was just… caring. She cared about Layla, and about her new family. She was starting to think that Layla might be the more important relationship to foster here.
Baby turned back to Riley. “Thanks,” she said, and he grinned, probably already planning their next rendezvous. “But no thanks,” she finished. She gave him a final, lingering kiss on the cheek, and made her way over to her sisters.
everything comes out in the wash
Avery grinned in satisfaction as she surveyed the villa complex. Yvette and her team had worked around the clock last night to surround the pool with white lights and gauzy white tents. Food was piled everywhere, and guests mingled with tropical drinks in their hands. Avery recognized a couple of the swim team guys as well as a couple of her mom’s weird artist friends, who were currently sitting by the side of the pool, engaged in a spontaneous drum circle.
“This is terrific,” Rhys said as he walked over to Avery from the bar, carrying two icy glasses of rum punch. “You’re terrific.”
Avery smiled as they made their way over to a small cluster of guys from the swim team. Genevieve and Jiffy hadn’t come. They’d missed the last trip that Remington’s Gulfstream had made this morning—apparently due to Genevieve’s need for a last-minute bikini—and had texted saying congratulations and that they’d see her at school this week. Avery knew she should be disappointed that she wouldn’t have the chance to show off Rhys to everybody. But she found that she really didn’t care.