It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it.
“So…?” Breckin asked, clearly waiting for her opinion on their dating future.
“My people will be in touch,” Serena lied as she backed away. She pulled her iPhone from her silver Chanel clutch, sending a text to Blair that she was on her way.
“Serena van der Woodsen, you are beautiful!”
Serena whirled around, relaxing when she saw Thad. He wore a tight white cashmere muscle tank and a pair of white linen pants. A six-foot-tall girl with straw-colored, ass-skimming hair held his hand. She wore a red cleavage-baring dress with an amoeba-shaped cutout at the middle. Serena recognized her as an up-and-coming singer who’d won some reality show competition.
“This is Carilee Roberts. Our agent introduced us,” Thaddeus said tightly, brushing his blond curls from his forehead as if he had a headache. “Carilee, this is Serena van der Woodsen.”
“Hey there, sugar. Why, don’t you look like just the sweetest thing? I could just eat you up! Of course, I don’t mean that literally. I only like boys!” Carilee said enthusiastically, yanking Serena’s shoulders toward her and kissing her aggressively on both cheeks.
“Nice to meet you.” Serena said as she backed away.
Thaddeus’s light blue eyes flicked down to Serena’s almost empty champagne glass. “We need to get you a drink. And we need to get me ten. Can you hang out with us for a bit? Serge couldn’t make it. He decided to go to a Boys’ Night Out party instead,” Thaddeus whispered. Serena could detect a hint of desperation in his voice. Thad obviously wished he was at a Boys’ Night Out party, rather than the Hollywood-heavy party Ira had insisted he host.
“Of course.” Serena smiled as she trailed after Carilee and Thaddeus to the bar. It was the least she could do. Blair would understand.
Of course she would.
What the fuck, Blair murmured as she listened to Serena’s voice-mail message click on for the tenth time tonight. She was sitting on the edge of the bathtub in Chuck Bass’s Tribeca Star suite. Serena had promised that she’d only stay at her Hollywood is Hell party for an hour, but it was now almost eleven thirty. Of course, Serena had invited Blair along, offering to “add her to the guest list.” Like Blair was so pathetic she needed her movie star best friend to get her in places. She’d demurred and opted to meet Serena here instead.
Blair sighed in frustration as she tossed her phone back in her clutch and sauntered out of the bathroom. She couldn’t believe Serena would just ditch her like this. They’d always spent New Year’s Eve together. Blair remembered so many parties in this very suite, splashing around in the raised hot tub in their skimpiest Calypso bikinis, trying to find the cutest guy in the room to make out with when the clock struck midnight.
Of course, they always wound up kissing each other.
“I heard Blair and her Yale boyfriend had this secret wedding in Mexico, but then they had to have it annulled,” Laura Salmon whispered to Rain Hoffstetter over by the makeshift bar in the kitchen annex. She wore a glittery sheath dress, and a matching Swarovski-studded headband was perched on her dark roots.
“Really? I heard Blair found out she was pregnant with Nate’s baby and now she’s trying to make it seem like the Yale guy is the father. Luckily, she’s not really showing,” Rain Hoffstetter whispered back. A diamond stud glittered in her left nostril, drawing attention to her pug nose.
Blair strode over to her former Constance classmates, aware their eyes were on her.
“Hey,” she said to the group. She grabbed a bottle of Ketel One and liberally poured it into a tumbler, then added a splash of tonic. The suite was pretty empty. In the corner, a group of flannel-clad guys were playing Xbox, entranced by the flat screen against one wall. The hot tub, constructed in an anteroom between the bedroom and the main suite, was filled with flat-chested girls Blair vaguely recognized as members of the freshman peer group she’d led last year at Constance. Blair squinted to take a closer look. Through the steam, she noticed two topless girls making out with each other. Obviously slutty L’École girls, trying to get attention. Blair wrinkled her nose. Was this seriously how she was spending her New Year’s? This party was lame even by high school standards.
“Where’s Chuck?” she asked Rain, trying not to stare at the infected boil that erupted from her nose piercing. She’d heard Chuck was in military school or monkey training school or something.
You know, either one.
“I don’t know.” Rain shrugged. “More importantly, did you see Isabel?”
Blair shook her head blankly. Why the hell would she care about Isabel Coates?
“Look.” Laura Salmon pointed a pearly manicured finger toward the two girls in the hot tub. “Isabel’s dating a girl named Casey. Except she’s just doing that to show off,” Laura said in disapproval. Blair squinted through the fog, recognizing Isabel’s profile. Interesting. She wished she could deconstruct the whole ridiculous scenario with Serena. Where the fuck was she?
“Are you dating anyone?” Rain asked nosily as she chugged her vodka soda from a Riedel glass.
“I’m dating a comp lit major. He’s a junior and I was just with his family for the holidays. He’s in Costa Rica right now… working on a… project,” Blair fibbed, getting more and more annoyed by the second. In the movie of her life, tonight was supposed to play like the scene in My Fair Lady, when Eliza makes a grand entrance at the ball and everyone wonders who that stunning, gorgeous girl is. Instead, she was busy trying to impress the wannabes she’d never even cared about in high school.
How the mighty have fallen.
“Serena’s dating a movie star,” Laura offered, taking a seat on one of the bar stools next to Blair. “I read about it in the Post.”
Blair pretended she hadn’t heard. She did not want to get into a conversation about Serena’s fabulous, star-studded life. Was she dating a movie star? Was she with him right now? And why hadn’t any of the flannel-clad guys in the corner even noticed her? Blair unhappily drained the rest of her drink. She pulled out her iPhone and frowned at it. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? she texted, then quickly pressed send with a nude-polished fingernail.
“I’m going out to smoke,” she announced, turning on her knee-high Sigerson Morrison boot and stomping toward the terrace.
If you can’t make a grand entrance, make a grand exit.
fancy meeting you here
Nate shivered and stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his blue toggle coat. He and Chips had docked in Palm Beach in the morning, and Nate had hopped an afternoon flight back to New York, arriving at his Upper East Side town house in the early evening. He’d taken a long shower, then spent hours seated on the floor of his room, unsure what to do. Aboard the Belinda he always had tasks. But back in the city, he had nothing to do and nowhere to go. No one even knew he was here. His parents were in St. Barts for New Year’s, like always, and Regina, the Archibalds’ housekeeper, had the week off. It would be cool to have the house to himself, if he didn’t feel so lonely. Everything in his room, from the lacrosse sticks propped in the closet to the framed photos on his desk, reminded him of his old life.
Eventually, Nate had gotten dressed in a dark blue Ralph Lauren sweater and a pair of Diesel jeans and left the house. He’d wandered aimlessly downtown for about an hour, until he remembered that Chuck always threw a New Year’s Eve party at the Tribeca Star. As if his feet had a mind of their own, he found himself headed there.
Nate glanced left and right across East Houston and crossed the street toward the ultramodern Philippe Starck–designed hotel that loomed above lower Manhattan. He paused at the corner, gazing up like a tourist. His neatly ironed clothes felt scratchy after months of wearing frayed cargo shorts and T-shirts. What the fuck was he doing? Maybe it was a dumb idea. Maybe Chuck wasn’t even having a party this year. Or maybe he was, and by some crazy coincidence, Serena and Blair would be there.
But Blair didn’t even have a home in the city anymore. She w
as probably out in LA for the holidays, meeting smooth-talking California surfer dudes who’d take her on moonlit walks on the beach. Serena was probably off filming a movie somewhere, guys falling at her feet. Neither of them would give a second thought to the kid who almost didn’t get his diploma and fucked up everything with both of them.
“Nathaniel?”
Nate whirled around and found himself facing a dark-haired guy in jeans and a blue sweater, his arms laden down with two large bags of ice.
“Chuck?” Nate asked incredulously. It was definitely Chuck Bass, but he looked… different. His features hadn’t changed: same sleek dark hair, same espresso-brown eyes. But the mischievous twinkle seemed gone from Chuck’s eyes, and he wasn’t carrying the bad-tempered, snow white monkey he used to bring everywhere senior year. Gone was his trademark navy blue cashmere monogrammed scarf; his jeans looked like they’d seen better days. It was like those spot-the-difference puzzles Nate’s kindergarten tutor had given him as a kid.
“Good to see you, buddy!” Chuck placed one of the bags of ice on the ground and enthusiastically pumped Nate’s hand. Chuck’s fingers felt callused, as if he’d spent the past couple of months doing manual labor.
“Should I send your packages up, sir?” The black overcoat-–clad doorman immediately bent down to pick up the bag.
“Nah, that’s cool,” Chuck waved him away. “I’ll bring it up myself.”
Nate blinked. Chuck Bass never did anything for himself.
“Glad you made it. Let’s head inside,” Chuck suggested, gesturing toward the door. Nate nodded dumbly as they whooshed through the revolving door and into the vaulted-ceilinged, marble-floored lobby. Instead of turning left toward the elevator bank, Chuck perched on one of the low-slung black leather couches in the dimly lit lobby. “Sorry. It was fucking freezing out there. I’m used to California.” Chuck smiled. “But I’m not quite ready to head back upstairs. Want to chill here for a sec?”
Nate gingerly sat on an ottoman. “California? What were you doing out there?”
“Deep Springs, my man.” Chuck nodded, his eyes glazed over as if in happy reminiscence.
“Deep what?” Nate parroted. Was that some sort of Playboy resort?
Or a gay spa?
“Deep Springs,” Chuck repeated. “The all-male college. It’s a two-year program on a working alfalfa farm in California. We all run the farm and the school in between humanities classes,” he explained patiently, settling back into the couch. Nate glanced down and noticed he was no longer wearing the gold pinky ring he’d worn since sophomore year, after he’d starred in a European cologne campaign.
“Oh.” Nate was still confused.
“Look, I didn’t get into any schools and I didn’t know what to do. My dad’s cousin is married to a board member there so they allowed me to do a late interview. It was either that or go to military school, and I just couldn’t leave Sweetie.” Chuck named his snow monkey. “I was fucking terrified when I got there. They made me give away my Armani sheets to use as tablecloths in the boardinghouse. I had to get rid of all my clothes and find new clothes in the bone pile, which is all the clothing left from guys who have moved on. I mean, I was wearing other people’s shit.” Chuck shuddered, as if reliving the experience. “But it turned out to be what I needed. I was a mess in high school. I mean, you saw me. I was a dick, and I’m sorry about that,” Chuck said, opening his hands as if to ask for forgiveness.
“Thanks.” Nate shrugged. He thought of a playdate at Chuck’s when they were four. While Chuck’s nanny was watching a soap opera, Chuck had bit Nate’s arm, laughing the whole time. He’d always been a dick.
Just part of his charm.
“I’m a changed man, Nathaniel,” Chuck continued, crossing one ankle over his knee. He wore a pair of worn-out-looking cowboy boots. “That’s why I needed to take a breather before I headed back upstairs.”
“I understand.” Nate nodded. He did understand. He needed a breather and he hadn’t even gone up there yet. “So what else happened at Deep Springs?”
“So, I get there, I’m wearing some guy’s flannel shirt and jeans, we’re on this alfalfa farm in the middle of the desert, and I swear to God, I was ready to call my father, our lawyers, everyone, but there was no service. I was in the middle of the fucking desert. Our first night, Sweetie got bit by a rattlesnake. Poor girl.”
“Did she die?” Nate asked.
“Yeah, but not because of snakes. She sort of starved herself to death. She just couldn’t adapt.” Chuck shrugged sadly.
“How did you do it?” Nate asked, awed. “I mean, how did you make it through?” Chuck was nothing like the Mercedes-S-class-driving, pink-shirt-wearing douche Nate remembered.
“I mean, the first month sucked, but then they changed my job from farm team to dairy boy and everything just changed. I’d be up at dawn with these cows, and I realized that there’s more to life than just acquiring things and people. You know, hooking up with someone’s easy. Castrating a bull is fucking hard, man.”
“I guess so,” Nate grunted. In a way, he and Chuck had been through similar experiences. They’d both separated themselves from society, they’d both thought about their lives while doing manual labor. But why did Chuck seem so grounded and happy and normal while Nate felt more fucked-up than ever?
“So, what’s going on with you?” Chuck asked companionably, steepling his fingers against his chin. “You and Blair still together? Or what about Serena? Dude, some guys at Deep Springs watch Breakfast at Fred’s over and over again in the rumpus room. During the next calving season, we’re going to name the firstborn Holly.” Chuck shook his head fondly, his eye resting on the bags of ice melting at his feet. “Shit, I’ve gotta get back upstairs. Are you coming?” Chuck’s brown eyes bored into him.
“I’m coming.” Nate stood up and grabbed one of the bags of ice. As they made their way into the elevator, Chuck went on about all the Deep Springs buddies he’d invited to New York, but Nate was only half listening. Chuck really had changed. And if college could change someone like Chuck Bass, Nate couldn’t begin to imagine what it could do for him.
It was freezing on the terrace and Blair had already smoked two Merits, but she didn’t want to head back inside. She didn’t want to pretend to care what Laura and Rain were doing with their lives. She didn’t want to watch Isabel slobber all over her girlfriend. She didn’t want to watch the cowboy guys try to beat each other in Grand Theft Auto as if they’d never played a video game before in their lives. No wonder Chuck hadn’t even bothered to show up at his own party. Nothing was happening, no one interesting was here, and she was going to fucking kill Serena as soon as she saw her. But first, she was going to have to beg the concierge to get her a suite in the hotel—it was New Year’s Eve and they were probably all booked. She couldn’t wait to take off her dress, order room service, and drink vodka sodas from the minibar while watching AMC.
Sounds like a rockin’ New Year’s Eve.
Blair yanked open the sliding door into the suite just as someone else was stepping out onto the terrace. She caught her breath. Broad shoulders. Tanned skin. Light brown hair streaked blond from the sun. Hollowed-out cheekbones and a scruffy beard. Glittering green eyes that were staring right at her. Adorable smile.
“Hi,” Blair finally managed. She twisted her ruby red ring around and around her little finger. The last time she’d even heard from Nate was when he’d sent her a text message telling her he’d decided to sail the world instead of coming to Yale with her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kick him, or… kiss him.
“Blair,” Nate croaked. He couldn’t believe it. Blair was standing before him like an angel. A sexy, dark-haired, slightly pissed-off angel.
“What are you doing here?” Blair spat. She wanted to tell him how devastating it had been to go to Yale by herself, after she’d spent the whole summer imagining their life together. She wanted to tell him how she dreamed about him every night the first month of college
, or how her roommate, Alana, offered Blair a teddy bear from her prized collection because she seemed so lonely.
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Nate breathed. Blair’s small face looked more angular, her skin paler. She wore a ladylike black dress that hugged every curve of her body. Her chest seemed bigger, but her waist somehow smaller. Nate wanted to wrap his arms around it.
“Well, I am.” Blair felt rooted to the ground.
Nate wanted to hug Blair and bury his nose in her hair, to smell the delicious shampoo she always used. He wanted to press his lips against hers. He wanted to run his fingers along the curve of her back. Chips’s words rang through his head. You’ll know when you know.
He knew.
“I’m back,” he said finally.
“I can see that,” Blair hedged. She didn’t want to make this easy for him. He’d broken her heart, and she’d sworn she’d never forgive him.
“Blair, I know I messed up. I was scared and didn’t know what to do. You know I love you. I always have.”
“That’s what you texted. To me and Serena.” Blair put her hands on her hips. The fact that he’d sent the exact same I love you, goodbye message to her and Serena had always been the most difficult thing.
“I know. I was so confused. I’ve known you both forever. Serena’s a friend, but I love you, Blair. I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I hope we can at least be friends.” Nate’s eyes were pleading.
Blair studied Nate’s face and softened a bit. His green eyes were dull and his face was ashen. He looked like a guy who’d just realized he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. “So much has happened,” she began, but then trailed off. Where to even begin?
Blair glanced around. Rain and Laura and a whole bunch of slutty L’École freshmen were peering toward the terrace, watching them. She didn’t know what she wanted to say to Nate, but she knew she didn’t want an audience.
“We could talk about it somewhere else,” he suggested, as if reading her mind.
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