Love the One You're With

by Cecily von Ziegesar

  “Riley, is that how you and all your player friends talk at school?” Layla turned to Baby. “His new band is called the Players. I think they let their name get to their heads,” Layla rolled her large green eyes. From her tone, it was hard to tell whether she was joking or not.

  “So I think we’ll have fun riding. I’m awful, but Riley’s amazing. When we came last year, he was practically hired by the stables. He grew up in Texas and has been riding horses since forever.” Layla smiled proudly, two dimples appearing on her cheeks.

  Baby nodded, glancing over at Riley as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in some private rhythm. She’d noticed calluses on his hands and had assumed they were from playing the guitar. But maybe there was more to him than the musician-type she’d seen so far.

  Finally, they pulled up to a slate-gray stable next to the beach. Unlike the rest of the property, which was filled with palapa-leaf thatched roofs, infinity swimming pools, and slate floors, the stables looked ramshackle and pleasantly weather-beaten, as if they’d been there long before the villas.

  “Welcome back!” A woman in her twenties ran out from the stables, her long black hair trailing behind her. “I’m Erika,” she introduced herself to Baby, after giving both Layla and Riley hugs.

  “So, what’s your riding experience?” she asked Baby.

  “I took lessons when I was younger, but I haven’t ridden in years.” Baby had always loved horses and had begged her mom for lessons when she was thirteen. But she’d been so disappointed by how many rules there were, how much supervision, and how slowly you had to go at first—she’d wanted to just ride free. Eventually she’d given it up.

  “Okay, we’ll call you a beginner, just to play it safe. I’ll get you some appropriate horses. Riley, will you help me?” She turned around and walked back to the stable.

  A few minutes later Riley emerged from the stables with two horses, followed by Erika. “Okay. Layla, you’ve got Dusty, the developmentally challenged, super-slow pony, and I’ve got my girl, Nikita.” He turned to Baby.

  “Erika set you up with Birdie. She’s sort of a wild card,” he warned. Erika handed Baby the worn leather reins, at the end of which was a dappled mare, who snorted loudly. “Need a boost?”

  Baby nodded as Riley bent down and formed an impromptu step stool with his hands. He smelled like leather and sunscreen, and Baby’s stomach did an involuntary flip. Instead she focused on mounting Birdie. She was shorter than most people, but she hadn’t remembered horses being so big. Gently, Baby stepped her Puma sneaker on Riley’s palms and swung her leg over the horse.

  “Hey,” Baby whispered into Birdie’s straw-colored mane. The horse whinnied loudly. Behind her, Layla was laughing as she struggled onto her own horse. It was so cool how Layla could laugh at herself like that, without seeming at all self-conscious or insecure. Instead, Layla just seemed to take life’s adventures as they came, without worrying too much what people thought of her or what she looked like. Just like Baby.

  “Okay, let’s go!” Riley whooped.

  “C’mon girl,” Baby whispered, squeezing the sides of the horse gently with her inner thighs. It was weird how quickly it came back to her what to do. The horse took off, carefully plodding around the stables and down the beach.

  “Um, does this thing come with keys?” Layla called. Her horse was standing still, as if unsure what to do with itself.

  “Here!” Erika came up to the horse and slapped it. Suddenly, it took off down the beach.

  “Woah, thanks, E!” Riley called, laughing as he took off down the beach after Layla and Dusty.

  Baby slowly trailed behind as her horse navigated its way down the beach. Once on the sand, it made its way toward the shoreline, hugging the water. Baby started to relax as she got the hang of riding.

  “Hey!” Riley had circled back and now he cantered up next to her. “She’s being gentle with you,” he noted as both horses fell into step and, as if on cue, turned toward the greenish-blue surf. It looked nothing like the Nantucket ocean, where even on the nicest days the water was an ominous navy blue. Here, the water was a bright, gorgeous turquoise, sparkling and full of promise.

  “Tell the horse not to go into the water!” Layla shouted as Riley and Baby’s horses easily moved past her, a note of panic in her voice.

  “You tell him. With your thighs!” Riley yelled back, cracking a smile.

  “I’d rather tell you,” Layla shouted back. “This horse is not a good listener!” Her voice carried on the wind.

  “Should we wait for her?” Baby asked.

  “She’s fine,” Riley said to Baby as their horses walked along the shore. Already the sun was setting. Baby sucked in her breath. This was her idea of paradise.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, loving that she could feel the orangey glow of the sun through her closed eyelids. The waves were gently lapping toward the horses’ ankles, occasionally sending tiny sprays of salt water onto Baby’s legs. Nothing felt more natural to her than being by the ocean, and she was glad that Riley seemed to understand that. They rode on for a little in silence, toward the sunset. Even though they weren’t talking, Baby felt strangely comfortable.

  Finally, Riley broke the silence. “So, tell me, Baby…”

  Baby sighed, knowing he was about to ask her where she got her name. Everyone did, sooner or later. She didn’t blame them, but it was kind of annoying to always have to explain how her mom had never bothered with an ultrasound and had thought she was having twins until the triplets were born. Owen and Avery were named after their grandparents, while the third birth certificate had simply read Baby. The name stuck.

  Baby opened her mouth to explain, but Riley cut her off. “Two truths and a lie. Go.”

  “Me?” Baby asked, surprised.

  “No, your horse.” Riley rolled his hazel eyes as he easily led his horse into a gallop. “Come on!”

  Baby grinned as she dug her heels into Birdie’s sides, gently but hard enough that the horse broke into a gallop. They chased Riley and his horse, Nikita, down the beach, kicking up sand as they went. Baby loved the feel of the salty air whipping through her hair and against her skin.

  She quickly caught up with Riley, and he looked surprised as she drew up beside him. Baby shot him a don’t underestimate me look, and Riley raised an eyebrow, impressed. He slowed his horse to a walk, and Baby did the same.

  “I’m sixteen, I used to have an imaginary friend named Estella, and I have a boyfriend,” Baby said, the two truths and a lie coming out before she’d even really thought them through. She didn’t know why she’d used the lame boyfriend lie.

  Perhaps to let a certain someone know she’s single?

  “Hmmm,” Riley considered. The ocean breeze ruffled his thick dark hair. “You’re lying about your age. You’re really twenty-five and just play the naïve high schooler to get attention.”

  Baby shook her head and grinned.

  “Well, everyone has an imaginary friend when they’re little, so I guess you have to be single.” His eyes looked hopeful as he took Baby in. “Right?” He blushed a little and turned forward, speeding up slightly.

  “Maybe yes, maybe no.” Baby cringed as soon as she said it. That was not what she should have said. She sounded so flirty. But there was just something about Riley that made it impossible for her to think straight.

  Riley guided his horse away from the beach and into a densely canopied trail. “We’re heading to the other side of the island,” he explained as Baby and her horse caught up to him on the path. “That wasn’t a very good two truths and a lie, you know.”

  “You put me on the spot!” Baby protested as they rode down the narrow trail. The branches of trees hung low over the path, and it was darker here, without the sun. It was hard to believe they’d been by the ocean just a minute ago. “Since you’re apparently the expert, let’s hear it.”

  “Okay. I sing seventies songs before I go onstage for luck, I love porcupines, and I sometimes
let pretty girls beat me in a horse race,” Riley said.

  He was up a little bit ahead of her, and Baby couldn’t see his face.

  “I bet you do sing seventies songs,” Baby teased, stalling for time. Had Riley just called her pretty? Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, and not because Birdie had picked up the pace.

  Suddenly, they came to a clearing. “Oh!” Baby exclaimed. They’d reached a small promontory that overlooked the ocean. They really had come to the opposite side of the island, facing a completely different direction than they had before. It was the same ocean, and yet it was even more gorgeous than before. As Baby took in the view, everything felt a million miles away— Manhattan, Constance Billard, even Avery and Owen and her mom and Remington…

  And Riley’s girlfriend?

  “I do sing a lot of seventies stuff. It just felt more real back then, you know? All about the music,” Riley began as he drew up beside her on the promontory, bringing his horse to a stop. “So that’s one.” He held up a hand and counted off his answers. “Two, I do love porcupines. They’re so weird and so awesome!” He grinned.

  Baby sucked in her breath as she waited for him to get to the only answer that mattered to her. She knew he was teasing her, drawing it out. But she couldn’t deny that she was enjoying it.

  “This view is better experienced on solid ground,” Riley announced, easing down off his horse.

  “Here,” he said, giving her a hand and helping her down off hers. Baby threw her leg over, so that she was perched precariously on the edge of the saddle, facing Riley. She slid down, intending to ease slowly onto the ground. But Birdie had other ideas. The horse jerked forward, throwing Baby off and into Riley’s arms.

  They stood there for a moment, his dark eyes locked on hers. “And three?” Baby asked, leadingly.

  There was a slight curl to his smile, like he knew a secret that he was about to share. “Three…” he began, tilting his head ever so slightly toward her. Baby leaned in a little bit closer. She closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to touch hers….

  “Hey guys, remember me?”

  Baby’s eyes wrenched open. She looked up to see Layla approaching, a little ways down the path.

  “Oh my God, you guys were so far ahead, I wasn’t even sure where you’d gone, but then I remembered how Riley loves this little path,” Layla said as she drew nearer. Baby slowly exhaled as she realized that Layla hadn’t seen a thing. Riley took a step away from Baby, toward his own horse. “Dusty was, like, about to die,” Layla said, panting and out of breath. Her pony looked like it was going to keel over at any moment.

  “Sorry—it was just such a nice night for a ride. I got a little carried away,” Riley said, pretending to be very interested in one of his stirrups.

  “No worries, I know I was going at a glacial pace.” Layla shook her head. “Anyway, I’m over this,” she said, gesturing to her fatigued pony. “Baby, wanna head back to the villa and get dinner? Riley can commune with his horse or whatever.”

  Baby glanced over at Riley. She didn’t want to leave him. But she knew she should.

  “Sure, you girls go ahead,” he said. He was staring straight out toward the ocean, his face inscrutable. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Let’s see which of our horses can go slower, because I bet mine will win!” Layla joked to Baby, already heading back down the trail. Baby joined her reluctantly, leaving Riley alone.

  Never the ideal situation for a Player.

  hey people!

  Perhaps because it helps us organize our universe, we all have the urge to classify guys into species. Especially on vacation, you notice that there are so many variations and breeds. Each type has its own advantages and drawbacks, and navigating the differences can be tricky. So consider this your very own Gossip Girl Field Guide to Guys.

  First—appropriately—there are the alpha males, aka the Captains of the Team. They’re incredibly gorgeous and studly, and the second they take their shirts off, concentrating on anything else is not an option. But all that testosterone means they’re not so in touch with their emotions. Interact with caution: One risks going insane with jealousy while with them because they’re such girl magnets.

  Then there are the romantics, the guys we call “sweetheart,” aka the Good-Smelling Guys Who Wear Button-Downs. We can hang out with them all day, like girlfriends, but they’re never going to slam us against the wall and tell us, urgently, that they want to see us naked. They’re stand-up guys, and they’re solid and dependable. But when with them, listen to your own inner yawn alert, because boredom can be a killer.

  And then there is the tortured artist, aka the Guy in the Band—our hearts melt when he sings to us, but sometimes the beads and scruff and sandals and tattoos can be a little too premeditated and annoying. There’s also the potential wild streak: We love a sense of danger and excitement, but someone’s bound to get hurt. Proceed with care.

  Of course, some guys defy type. And above all, like a good shoe, fit is more important than style. You can pick and choose all you want, but you have to find the guy that’s just plain right.

  sightings

  J’s minions G and J with a group of Scottish twentysomethings at Marquee and Bungalow 8. When the city empties out, you’ve got to be creative in finding party buddies!… J by herself in the dressing room of La Petite Coquette in the Village, surrounded by heaps of discarded lingerie, eventually just pulling out the black AmEx and buying it all. And that’s all the news from my sources on our favorite island. Any news from the other islanders? E-mail me! My iPhone works even in this far-flung destination (that I’m still not revealing).

  your e-mail

  q: Dear Gossip Girl,

  I think Thanksgiving is just a barbaric, absurd holiday where you have to eat crappy food surrounded by people who don’t even like each other. It’s like, each year, my parents make me come with them to visit my Grandma Ethel in Greenwich when all she does is hate on me. Is there any way to, like, heal the intergenerational gap?

  —SAD

  a: Dear SAD,

  Vodka gimlets are usually helpful for smoothing the generation gap. If that doesn’t work, try taking out her old photo albums, and turn the tables by asking her questions about her shady past.

  —GG

  giving thanks

  No matter who you are or where you’re celebrating, Thanksgiving is one day to just appreciate the little things and let it all hang out. Wear that comfy magenta Juicy tracksuit that everyone is guaranteed to make fun of but that you love. Enjoy the Muppet movie marathon with your little brother. Eat the pumpkin-gorgonzola-and-bacon risotto your cook made and forget your commitment to vegetarianism, not to mention your diet. Just have fun today, and be thankful that no matter how much you embarrass yourself, no one will know—because I’m taking the day off.

  You know you love me,

  gossip girl

  o hits it up in the hot tub

  Rhys quietly closed the door to the bathroom on Thursday morning, hoping he wouldn’t wake up the other guys. It was early, but he’d barely slept all night. The villa hadn’t exactly been quiet last night. Owen half-talked in his sleep, sounding a bit like he was picking up girls. Even worse, Riley hummed in his sleep. At one point, Rhys had thrown a pillow at him, causing Riley to break out into “More Than a Feelin’.”

  The question is, who does he have more than a feeling for?

  Rhys had already taken a shower, shaved, and changed into a pair of khaki shorts and a white linen shirt. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he also didn’t want to look like crap.

  “Dude, where are you going?” Owen groaned, rolling over on the bed in the corner.

  “Couldn’t sleep. Getting food,” Rhys whispered.

  “Can I come?” Owen asked, already standing on the cool slate slabs of the floor. He was wearing a pair of boxers with little sailboats printed on them.

  “Sure.” Rhys shrugged. In truth, he sort of wanted
to slink by the girls’ villa in case Avery was awake too. They’d sat on the beach yesterday until the sun had set. Avery had talked most of the time, telling Rhys about how she’d always wanted to live in New York City and that now that she did, it was so different from what she’d imagined. She’d talked about how her grandmother had been named to Vogue’s best-dressed list every year in the sixties, how she’d always had a fabulous winter ball in her town house, how she’d given her jewels from her ex-husbands to her staff since she thought it was bad luck to keep them. Or something like that. Rhys hadn’t taken notes or anything, but he’d loved how Avery’s blue eyes lit up, how she talked with her hands, how she wasn’t afraid to show her enthusiasm.

  Finally, they’d gone to meet everyone for dinner at the restaurant in the main hotel, where they’d sat on opposite ends of the table, occasionally catching each other’s eye through the flickering candles. Everyone had gone back to the villas and had swum in the pool, but he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her alone again, because Owen was there.

  “Wanna grab some food by the pool? I bet there’s already a lot of girls there. They always get there early to put out their towels and stuff,” Owen said knowledgeably as he picked up his gray Nantucket Beach Squad T-shirt from yesterday and pulled it over his head. Rhys wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t understand how anyone could wear the same clothes two days in a row.

  “Sure, pool’s fine.” Rhys shrugged as he slid open the sliding door. Together, the two guys walked out into the bright sunlight.

  “I’m actually glad that we left before Riley got up,” Owen confessed as he began walking down the shell-encrusted path that led to the resort proper. “Something about him just seems weird. Do you think he was being flirty last night?” Owen asked.

  “Well, you are irresistible,” Rhys cracked as he pushed his Ray-Bans down over his eyes. Ahead of them was the sprawling, two-story hotel, which looked like it was almost sitting on the blue water. He was so glad he was here instead of WestSea Manor, his uncle’s drafty country cottage that sat by itself on the middle of a hill in Dorset.