Only in Your Dreams a Gossip Girl novels

by Cecily von Ziegesar

  “Shit,” Serena muttered in a low voice.

  “Who. The. Fuck. Is. That?” Blair hissed angrily, pushing through the gawkers and into the narrow kitchenette.

  There was no need for Serena to ask who she was talking about.

  “Oh, honey,” Thaddeus declared kindly. “She’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “I cannot believe,” Blair snapped, “that Nate had the balls to show up tonight with that trash. Where did he pick her up—the mall?”

  Well, there are plenty of those on Long Island.

  “Sit,”Thaddeus ordered,patting the countertop.“Relax.”

  “Shit!” Blair took his advice and pulled herself up onto the kitchen counter. “I need a drink.”

  “Just stick with us,” Thaddeus suggested, leaping onto the counter himself and draping a protective arm over Blair’s bare shoulders.

  “I didn’t think it was true.” Chuck Bass squeezed past Serena to join the threesome in the kitchen. “But I guess seeing is believing, huh, ladies?”

  “Hey Chuck,” Serena sighed, leaning against the counter-top between Thaddeus’s widespread legs. The last thing she wanted was for Chuck Bass to get his claws into her gorgeous costar.

  “Blair, back stateside!” Chuck cried. “Good to see you.” He leaned in and dropped a quick kiss on each of her cheeks.

  “Hello, Chuck,” Blair replied, receiving his kisses dutifully. “Who’s the mystery bitch?” She might as well take advantage of the one good thing about Chuck Bass: he could always be counted on for the scoop, however inaccurate.

  “I heard about her but I’ve never actually met her,” Chuck explained proudly. He took a swig from a freshly opened bottle of Dom Perignon. “Oh! Don’t look now,” he whispered loudly, clearly enjoying the moment, “but I think we’re about to meet and greet.”

  Nate led Tawny through the thicket on the dance floor toward the cluster of familiar faces in the kitchen.

  “Hey,” Nate shouted over the din. “Serena. Blair.” They looked even more gorgeous than he remembered. Like they’d been sprinkled with fairy dust.

  “Nate!” Serena lunged forward to give her old friend a warm hug, trying to prevent the moment from being too unbearably awkward.

  Too late.

  “Hello,” Blair seethed, crossing her legs and brandishing her comically long cigarette holder like a weapon. “Can I please have a light, someone?”

  Thaddeus Smith produced his silver monogrammed Zippo and lit Blair’s cigarette for her. The song faded into Madonna’s “Papa Don’t Preach,” and some of the ultra-hyper extras jumped into the middle of the dance floor, pretending to sing with imaginary microphones.

  “A real gentleman at last.” Blair sighed dramatically. “Has anyone seen my date?” Just wait until Nate saw her French-kissing with Jason. Hah!

  “Blair,” Nate stuttered. “You look great. Welcome back.” He didn’t know what else to say. He felt like an asshole.

  Blair hopped down from her perch on the countertop, wobbling drunkenly in her pointy black Jimmy Choos as she landed on the cracked tiles of the kitchen floor with a thud. “Yes, thanks.” She nodded. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m really in the mood to dance. I just need to find my partner.” She strode back into the packed living room.

  Serena smiled apologetically at Nate. “I’m Serena, by the way.” She offered her hand to the new girl and noticed that she did have pretty almond-shaped blue eyes and adorable freckles on every inch of her skin.

  But isn’t she always thinking of something nice to say?

  “I’m Tawny,” the girl said in a thick accent that made it sound like Tauh-awe-nie.

  “Right, sorry,” Nate mumbled. “Serena, this is Tawny.”

  “And Thaddeus.” Serena squeezed the movie star’s arm. “This is Nate and Tawny.”

  Thaddeus jumped down from the countertop and shook hands warmly, first with Nate, then with Tawny. A drunk girl wearing a purple off-the-shoulder American Apparel minidress backed into him accidentally. He gently pushed the dancing girl away from the kitchen.

  “It’s great to meet you both,” he responded charmingly.

  He really is a good actor.

  “Ahem!” Chuck Bass cleared his throat dramatically. “And I’m Chuck.”

  “Tawny.” The girl adjusted the straps on her teeny peach backpack and offered him her hand before turning back to look at Thaddeus, wide-eyed and practically drooling.

  “Enchanted,” Chuck cooed, kissing her hand and bowing deeply. “Let’s get to know each other, darling. You don’t mind, do you, Natie?”

  Nate would have told him no, go right ahead, but he was distracted by the sight of Blair, holding hands with some tall banker-type, laughing with her head thrown back. She was introducing him to an older, impeccably dressed short man, and there was something familiar in the excited way she was flirting with both of them that filled Nate with longing.

  “Excuse me,” Nate stammered. “I have to go.”

  As he headed for the door, he heard Chuck say, “By the way, you’ve really got some tan.”

  Tawny, indeed.

  b is an inspiration

  “Darling! Dar-ling!” Bailey Winter screeched at Blair. “You must—I repeat, must—stay with me on the island this summer. You are perfection.”

  They were standing in the bedroom doorway, which was as far away as Blair could get from the kitchen without actually losing sight of it. She tucked her dark, almost shoulder-length hair behind her ears self-conciously. She’d always liked getting a compliment, but what did you say when someone called you perfect?

  How about “thank you”?

  “I’m starting a new collection. It’s called Summer/Winter.” Bailey made a motion with his hands that Blair suspected was supposed to convey the seasons but instead looked seizurelike. “And you, my love, are Winter.”

  Jason placed his big, soothing hand on the nape of her neck. “That’s incredible, Blair,” he said sweetly.

  It was incredible, but out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but watch Nate, with his glittering green eyes and perfectly worn baby blue Polo, backing away from Serena and Chuck and that townie whore and exiting the party. Where the fuck was he going?

  “And Serena is Summer!” Bailey cried, snapping Blair back to attention. He snapped his mirrored aviator sunglasses off his face and stared excitedly into the overhead light.

  Blair made eye contact with Serena across the dance floor. Of course, being one of two muses hadn’t exactly been part of the fantasy, but if she had to share the limelight with anyone, then it should be her best friend.

  How generous.

  “I’ll need you both to live with me, of course. For inspiration, darling! Don’t worry—there’s plenty of room for visitors in the beach house!” he singsonged, winking at Jason.

  Blair watched Nate bump fists with Jeremy Scott Tompkinson from his lacrosse team out in the hallway. She sometimes wondered how much guys really told one another in the locker room. Had he told them all about the first time they’d had sex? What about how he’d done it with Serena? Blair looked down to see that her hands were suddenly clenched in little red fists.

  “Well, I’d love to visit.” Jason pulled Blair closer. “If she wants me to.”

  Bailey put his aviators back on and pushed them down the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take you if she won’t!” He laughed and then clapped his hands together. “Oh, that must terrify you! Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Unless you ask me to!” Bailey squealed in delight.

  Blair set a prim smile on her lips. She was having a hard time concentrating on Bailey’s staccato voice. He’d called her perfect—she’d heard that.

  Of course she had.

  But what was this about living with him? Well, that could work. Although she’d just told Jason she’d be staying here, Bailey’s palatial town house on Sixty-second and Park would suit her just fine before jetting off to Yale in a couple months. Surely Audrey Hepburn had had some similar
set up as a muse? “I have a feeling my mom will be dropping by for ‘tea’ every afternoon,” she offered.

  “Will she be on Georgica, too?” Bailey asked, arching his unnaturally high, dark eyebrows even higher. “How wonderful!”

  “Georgia?” Blair creased her forehead. Did Bailey always have to be so strange?

  “No darling, Georgica. At the beach house? In East Hampton? Where we’ll all be?” he explained. “Are you feeling all right, dear?”

  Wait, the Hamptons? As in, the Hamptons where Nate and that little townie slut were going to be all summer long? Why hadn’t he mentioned that before?

  Well, he had.

  “Yes,” Blair confirmed, although she was shaking her head no. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m afraid the guest house is set back on the property and it’s a bit close to the neighbors, although they’re hardly ever there. Perhaps you know them, dear? The Archibalds? Their son seems to be around this summer. About your age. Devilishly handsome?”

  Oh, she knew him, all right.

  You know what they say: love thy neighbor!

  threesome on the roof

  Dan clambered up the ladder and pushed open the trapdoor to the roof, climbing outside and into the night. The building wasn’t high enough to see the East River, but he could smell it, dank and fishy. Still, there was something magical about dusk in New York in the summertime.

  He lit a Camel and puffed on it greedily. Through the uneven tar roof he could feel the beat of the bass and hear the dull roar of the crowd. He needed to sit and think things through in solitude. Strolling to the edge of the roof, he peered into the back garden and in the pitch darkness he almost stepped on Bree, seated near the roof’s edge in a lotus position, eyes closed, her turquoise gypsy skirt fanned around her.

  “Bree, are you okay?”

  “Dan,” she replied calmly. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. “You’re smoking.”

  Shit.

  He tossed the burning butt into the night. “Sorry,” he appologized sheepishly.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” she said in a voice so neutral it was condescending.

  Dan took a seat next to her on the roof as darkness descended. The backyard was so dark he could just barely make out the sparse tops of lilac bushes and the burning embers of people’s cigarettes. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend they were on top of a mountain in the Pacific Northwest, but even his poet’s imagination wasn’t quite that strong.

  There’s no oxygen up here. Not enough for two . . .

  “I won’t mind if you want to smoke,” Bree continued. “I wish you wouldn’t, because it’s bad for your body and it’s bad for the earth, but you’re an individual. You can do what you like.”

  Dan didn’t feel like arguing. He shook out another cigarette and lit it. There. He felt better already.

  “I’m sorry you had to come up here after me,” Bree apologized.

  Dan decided not to mention that he hadn’t been looking for Bree, just a minute of peace and nicotine.

  “Anyway, I thought you’d be downstairs talking to Vanessa. It certainly seems like you two have a lot of things to say to one another.”

  Dan didn’t know how to respond. The truth was, he didn’t really believe he and Vanessa were going to be living together for the rest of the summer as . . . friends.

  Friends with benefits, maybe?

  “I’m not mad or anything,” Bree assured him, and she sounded like she meant it. “We’ve had a nice time together these past few weeks, haven’t we?”

  “Totally,” Dan agreed, nodding. He knew what was coming.

  “I’ve really enjoyed the experience of getting to know you, getting to understand you a little, as a person. That’s always a magical journey, don’t you think?”

  Oh boy.

  “Right, right,” Dan replied. Her philosophy-of-life mumbo jumbo was getting kind of old. He’d be glad when he didn’t have to listen to it anymore.

  “And it’s okay to be sad when the journey ends,” she said. “But our paths are diverging. Your life path has taken you to a big Hollywood party. That’s just not something that I understand. My path is leading me elsewhere.”

  He’d gambled his education and his entire future on a romance with Vanessa, and he was comfortable with that. But he’d gambled his entire future with Vanessa on Bree? What had he been thinking?

  Bree stood and stretched, holding her hands high above her head and exhaling deeply. Only her bright white camisole and white-blond hair were visible in the dark, so she looked like she was floating, legless.

  “Oh, Dan.” She sniffled a little. “It is hard to say good-bye, isn’t it? I try to remember what my yogi teaches about letting go of things, but it’s hard. I mean, I’m still just a student.”

  Suddenly it didn’t seem hard to say good-bye at all.

  Dan hugged her weakly because it seemed like the right thing to do, then watched her disappear through the trap door. He was kind of glad that they were breaking up, and he was definitely psyched she was going to leave. He’d learned a lot from her, about nature, about exercise, about spirituality, but he’d reached his breaking point: he just wanted a cigarette, a minute of peace, and then he’d head downstairs and go home with Vanessa—in a just-friends sort of way.

  “Bummer,” uttered a male voice in the darkness.

  Why was it so hard to get a minute alone?

  “Who’s that?” All Dan could see was a cherry tip and the telltale scent of a joint.

  “Sorry, dude.” Nate Archibald stepped closer to Dan. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I guess you didn’t realize I was up here.”

  “Oh, hey.” Dan recognized the preppy stoner guy who’d broken Jenny’s heart last fall. Jenny seemed to have gotten over it pretty fast, though, so there were no hard feelings.

  “You’re taking it pretty well,” Nate commented.

  “Honestly, man,” Dan replied philosophically, “it just wasn’t meant to be. I thought she was someone I was interested in. I mean, I thought I was ready for a change. But you know what? I was wrong. I think I just fell into the trap of being excited by the idea of someone new, even though we were totally wrong for each other.”

  “Really?” Nate coughed. The thing Dan had just described sounded sort of familiar.

  “The thing is,” Dan continued, waxing philosophical, “there’s a girl downstairs, and she’s the one, man. She’s the one.”

  Which one?

  “I think I know exactly what you mean,” Nate added, his voice an octave higher than normal. “And that chick was right, too—there are, like, paths, right, and sometimes they just . . . diverge. Right?”

  Whoa.

  “I don’t know about paths,” Dan replied, even though the whole paths-diverging thing was actually borrowed from Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Less Traveled,” which he’d actually quoted in his graduation speech. “I’m kind of sick of all this New Age bullshit, to tell you the truth.”

  “Yeah?” asked Nate. It sounded kind of cool to him.

  Of course it did.

  n exits stage left

  Nate pushed past a couple of girls in fullon shimmy mode and scanned the room. It was so crowded he could barely find a familiar face.

  Or maybe he was just too baked.

  He hadn’t expected to have any kind of epiphany at this dumb Hollywood party. This was supposed to be the summer when he got serious, when he turned his back on parties and pot and chasing girls who were more trouble than they were worth. This was supposed to be the summer he worked hard and used his hands and did some honest, challenging labor and got to know himself and prepared for his career at Yale. Captain Archibald and even Coach Michaels were determined that Nate head off to Yale a different man, a new man, able to handle responsibility. And now, suddenly, Nate felt like he already was that new guy.

  That was fast.

  Something Dan had said really stuck with him: his life was right here, waiting for him, inside this shitty,
overcrowded apartment. The girl he was meant to be with was right here, and the only honorable thing to do was to break the news to the girl he wasn’t meant to be with.

  But he couldn’t find Tawny’s familiar golden mane any-where: the place was that packed. Nate pushed his way across the dance floor, ignoring the beckoning wave of some short, overly tanned weirdo who was wearing sunglasses even though they were inside. There was no time for small talk: he was a man on a mission.

  Nate slipped into the tiny sliver of a kitchen and hopped up onto the countertop. From that vantage, he surveyed the apartment, looking for Tawny. The apartment was completely packed. There were faces he recognized—Isabel and Kati huddled in a corner, whispering to each other as usual; that pale, grim-looking bald girl was talking to some little kids—but for the most part, the room was crowded with strangers

  Then there she was: her distinct blond hair was unmistak-able. It was full and wavy and fell over her tan freckled shoulders, one of which was bare where her peach-colored top had slipped off. Nate had to admit it was pretty sexy. He saw that she was grinding with Chuck Bass, who’d unzipped his mint-green shirt and was gyrating bare-chested to a dance remix of that Ciara song. Ew.

  Nate felt a tug on the leg of his Trovata khakis and looked down to see Serena smiling up at him.

  “Whatcha looking for?” she asked, hoisting herself up onto the countertop beside him.

  “Hey,” Nate said, helping her up. He was grateful for the company of an old friend.

  Serena scanned the room and looked in the direction in which Nate was staring intently, watching the almost-obscene display of Chuck and Tawny dancing.

  “You know,” Serena whispered into Nate’s ear. Her breath was sweet and tickled him pleasantly. It was a nice, familiar sensation. “You don’t have anything to worry about. Chuck Bass is just a horny, harmless jerk-off, and we love him for it.”

  “I’m not worried,” Nate told her. “It’s not like that.”

  “It’s not?” asked Serena. She knew Nate, and she definitely knew better than to believe him when it came to girls. He basically always got it wrong.