The three seniors stared at her. What was little Jenny Humphrey doing unscrewing the heads off of busts, anyway?
“Not that I want any,” Jenny told them innocently. “Elise found it by accident.”
All of a sudden Aaron's bald head bobbed past the window, and the girls squealed, hiding their naked bodies underneath their towels. It looked like he might have swum partway to get there. His clothes were wet and there was salt crusted on his cheeks.
Vanessa decided to hide from him for a while, just for fun. “Quick, get in the steam room! Now!”
Jenny threw open the door and they dodged inside. The steam room was about the size of Serena's walk-in closet, lined entirely in white tile, with two levels of steps upon which to sit. Through the steam they could just make out Elise, huddled on a white-tiled step in the corner, her body wrapped in a huge white towel and a long silver cigarette holder with a joint hanging from it dangling out of her mouth.
“Elise is getting stoned,” Jenny informed them. She hoisted herself up on the lower step and handed Elise a bottle of Poland Spring. “All she wants to talk about is how she's still in love with my brother.”
“Am not.” Elise unscrewed the top of the bottle and guzzled the water. “Actually, I am.”
“Well, he is cute,” Serena put in, meaning it. She climbed up to the top step and sat down, crossing her ridiculously long, perfect legs. If Dan weren't so serious about everything, she would totally go out with him again. At least for a day.
“He is,” Vanessa agreed, taking a seat on the step below Serena. She still felt kind of possessive of Dan despite the fact that they were broken up. If anyone could judge Dan's cute-ness factor, she could.
“I guess,” Blair agreed, sprawling languidly on the bottom step. She could barely remember what Dan looked like.
Jenny climbed up and sat next to Serena, hugging her knees. “Really?” she demanded, mystified.
Suddenly the door opened and Dan himself stuck his head inside. It took a while for his eyes to focus in the steamy, murky dampness. Surprise, surprise—the room was full of girls.
“Come in, come in,” Vanessa croaked in her best horror movie voice. “We've been waiting for you.”
Dan grinned sheepishly and bit his lower lip. He was wearing red swim trunks and nothing else and his hair was wet. Goosebumps stood out all over his pale arms. “Is my sister here?”
“Yes, loser, and Elise is here too,” Jenny replied through the steam. “She's still in love with you.”
“We're all in love with you,” Serena proclaimed.
Dan sat down on the white-tiled step next to a prone girl in a white diamond-studded turban.
“I'm not in love with you,” the girl told him. “I don't even know you.”
Well, that's a relief.
The door opened again and Aaron poked his head inside. “'Nessa?” he called sweetly, his rosy cheeks all sprinkled with sand.
“Over here,” Vanessa answered through a cloud of steam. “Come and join our sweatfest. Just don't look at all the other naked girls.”
Aaron tiptoed across the tile in his maroon Harvard T-shirt and sand-spattered army green pants and sat down on Vanessa's lap. Jenny reached out and turned the dial to raise the temperature of the steam.
As if it needed to be raised.
“Wow. This is fun,” Serena observed. She wiped the sweat from her upper lip and slid to her feet. “I have to pee. Does anyone want anything?”
“Yeah, but there's nothing you can do about it,” Blair replied smugly.
She'd been trying to convince herself that this girls-only bonding thing was totally fine with her, but now that there were all these guys around, her true feelings had risen to the surface. She wanted her boyfriend to appear out of the steam and surprise her. He'd slip a diamond ring on her finger, cover her shoulders with a creamy cashmere cape, and whisk her off in his pearl gray convertible Jag to a private, moonlit beach where he would beg her forgiveness with every kiss. At dawn, his sailboat would float up out of the mist to whisk them away to faraway lands, and they'd spend the rest of their lives having adventures and making love. She wanted the true Hollywood ending.
Hence the turban.
Serena pushed the steam room door open. Cold air bathed her face.
“Shit, Blair,” she heard Aaron say behind her. “I can't believe I forgot. I have something for you.”
And what might that be?
If you're Too Stoned to Find the One you Love, Love the One you're With
The steam room door closed behind her and Serena padded across the pool house in search of the bathroom. For a pool house, it was really quite big. It contained a Ping-Pong table, two king-sized ivory leather sleeper sofas, and a fish tank with a live barracuda in it. Not to mention the steam room and the bathroom that had to be around here somewhere.
Someone had clearly been into Mr. Coates's pot stash, because Apollo's head was rolling around underneath the Ping-Pong table like an oversized Ping-Pong ball. Next to the fish tank was a white door with a picture of a little blue boy and a little pink girl holding hands decoupaged onto it. Serena pushed it open.
Inside, the bathroom was decorated in gold leaf and had one of those weird low sinks you always see in European hotels but that no one ever uses.
Because they're for washing your butt, which is beyond gross?
The shower curtain was made of clear plastic decorated with gold stars. Behind it, sitting inside the tub with Mr. Coates's pot stash cradled in his lap, his clothes damp with sea-water, and his eyes all red and sleepy, was Nate Archibald—the famously missing Nate. Serena pulled the shower curtain aside and climbed inside the tub, clutching her towel around her.
“Natie? What are you doing here? Why weren't you on the boat?”
Nate grinned foolishly. Serena was naked except for a white towel wrapped around her torso. It was impossible not to smile at her; she looked like a Greek goddess. Her forehead was damp, and her blond hair was matted with sweat, but she was still gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous.
She pulled her hair up on top of her head and fanned her face. “God, I'm hot.”
Of course, Nate was thinking the same thing.
“I'm not supposed to be here,” Nate confided idiotically. “The sign said, NO BOYS ALLOWED.”
Serena picked up a clear glass bottle of Clarins bath gel from the edge of the tub and examined it. Aqua was the first ingredient. Didn't that mean water? she wondered. Why didn't they just say so? She put the bottle down again. “That's okay. Blair's stepbrother is here. And Dan Humphrey. I didn't think the no-boys policy would work.”
Nate's eyes hadn't left her face. Tiny beads of water studded her blond-tipped eyelashes. God, she was pretty. He'd come here looking for Blair, but Serena was right there in front of him, wearing only a towel.
“I've decided to go to Yale next year,” Serena blurted out, brushing the damp tendrils of blond hair away from her face. “I haven't told Blair yet because I don't want her to be mad in case she doesn't get in. But that's where I've decided to go.”
Nate nodded. It was funny how Serena's face and even her voice were sort of delicate but her body wasn't delicate at all. It was long and sinewy and strong, like a marathon runner's.
“I'm going there too,” he told her giddily, his voice cracking. “I already sent them my deposit.”
Serena grinned. “We're both going to Yale!”
Nate leaned toward her and clasped the tops of her bare, damp arms in his hands. He pressed his nose into her long, fair hair. She smelled sweet and warm, like summer. “Mmm,” he murmured, and kissed her soft, warm neck, tasting the signature patchouli-scented essential oil mixture she always wore.
Hello? Wrong-girl alert!
Serena grinned as his lips traveled up her neck to her lips. “What are you doing?” she murmured without pushing him away. It had been a while since she'd been kissed, and it felt nice. Of course it was kind of wrong, but it wasn't like she and Nate hadn't kissed before,
and somehow knowing that they were going to be together next year made it seem okay.
She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the kiss. Her towel fell away, and somehow Nate's damp gray T-shirt seemed to fall away too.
It was the end of the year, graduation was fast approaching—there was nothing wrong with a little celebratory hookup between two best friends.
Yeah, but what about their other best friend?
Nobody Does It Better
Blair was dripping with sweat and badly in need of a vodka tonic. She hitched up her towel. “What is it?” she asked Aaron impatiently.
Aaron stood up and patted his army shorts pockets. “I've got it,” he explained. “At least I hope it's still there.” He fumbled around for a moment and then produced what looked like a damp white envelope.
Blair squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again. She was pretty sure she knew what the enveloped contained. “And you've had that for exactly how long?” she demanded furiously before snatching it out of his hand.
Aaron shrugged innocently. “It just came this morning.”
Even through the steam Blair could see the familiar royal blue of Yale's insignia printed in the upper-left-hand corner of the envelope. The dampness made the envelope disintegrate as she attempted to pry it open with shaking, impatient hands. “Fuck it,” she breathed and ripped it open with her teeth.
A single, flimsy, bitten-into piece of paper was folded up inside. Her life had been hanging in the balance for months now. It was hard to believe it all depended on this.
The others waited with respectful silence.
Dear Blair Waldorf,
After much consideration we are happy to offer you a place at Yale University this coming fall. …
Blair clutched the piece of paper to her chest and tore out of the steam room. “Serena!” she shrieked, dashing across the pool house and heading straight for the bathroom. She yanked open the door, expecting to see her friend perched innocently on the toilet.
Inside, a tangle of familiar, gorgeous, naked limbs greeted her from the bathtub. Nate and Serena blinked stupidly up at her, their golden heads only inches apart.
“We were celebrating,” Serena stammered. She climbed out of the tub, her towel clutched ineffectually around her naked body, and pointed at the soggy piece of paper in Blair's hand. “What's that?” she asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject.
Blair felt like washing out Serena's perfectly angelic mouth in the Coateses' stupid bidet. “Yale accepted me. Finally.” She narrowed her eyes. “As if you cared.”
Nate staggered to his feet, spilling the giant bag of pot all over the bathtub and ripping the shower curtain off the rail as he tried to find his balance. Infuriating as it was, he was still as handsome as ever. His golden brown hair was wavy from the wind and salt air, and his cheeks were flushed from sun and pot and kissing Serena. And his bare chest—it made Blair feel ill to look at it.
“Hey, you know, that's what we were just talking about,” he fumbled, his tongue heavy with a mixture of pot, confusion, and guilt. “Me and Serena, and now you too. We're all going to Yale—all three of us!”
Whoopee!
“Thanks for telling me,” Blair snapped. She'd imagined sharing a celebratory bottle of champagne with Serena on the Coateses' private beach. Then she'd give in and call Nate's cell and he'd kidnap her from the party and make wild love to her on some other beach.
So much for her imagination.
Nate was still standing in the bathtub, his bare feet sprinkled with pot. She reached out and turned the shower nozzle on full blast, raining freezing cold water all over his head. Then she yanked off Serena's towel and tucked it under her arm, slamming the door in their lying, cheating faces as she left the bathroom.
Lexique or whatever the fuck her name was drifted into the pool house in her annoying Missoni tunic, her braids bouncing against her braless breasts, just as Blair was headed out the door. “He's in der, yes? My lover, my Nate?”
Blair bared her teeth with evil satisfaction. “Oh, yes. He's waiting for you in the bathroom,” she told the stupid French bitch, slamming the pool house door behind her and making a beeline for the poolside bar.
There seemed to be more guys under the tent than girls. Damian, Lloyd, and Marc from the Raves were mingling with the Constance Billard seniors, handing out cigars and copies of their new single, “Twisted Little Sister,” starring none other than Jenny Humphrey on vocals. The girls had taken off their T-shirts and were all wearing bright, pastel-colored bikini tops, looking like the extras in one of those old Elvis beach movies.
Chuck Bass was trying to talk Rain Hoffstetter, Laura Salmon, Kati Farkas, and Isabel Coates into joining him at military school. “It doesn't really matter where you go to school. What matters is how much fun you have,” Blair heard him say. “Just think how fabulous it would be if we were all together!”
Blair went over to the bar, grabbed a half-full bottle of Absolut, and carried it over to the pool.
“Hey, no glass around the pool!” Isabel shouted through her bullhorn.
Blair ignored her and climbed up the ladder to the high-dive. She let her towel drop, and padded out to the end of the diving board.
A naked diva in a diamond-studded turban, swigging her favorite beverage.
Ignoring the shocked murmurs of her classmates and the delighted jeers of the guys beneath the tent, Blair took a moment to rewind. She and Nate were obviously over—again, and so were she and Serena—again. She was living in Brooklyn of all places, with Vanessa, a shaven-headed girl she'd never spoken to until about a week ago. And she was finally, finally into Yale.
Most of her life had been an endless loop of repetition, filled with the same people, parties, and predictability. Even her dreams had been predictable, and she liked it like that. Now she wasn't sure what to expect.
She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a giant swig before setting it carefully down on the diving board. Then she raised her arms up straight as arrows, stood on tiptoe, and dove in. Holding her breath, she glided beneath the blue-green water, delighting in the silence. Behind her, the diamond-studded turban bobbed to the surface.
When she really thought about it, this whole year had been a series of highs and lows, with more lows than highs. But so what if her life wasn't turning out the way she'd imagined it in the movie in her head, and her entire supporting cast had turned out to be assholes? She was about to move the film to a completely new location and could hire an entirely new cast. And nobody knew how to steal the show better than Blair did.
Her dark head broke the surface with a dramatic, noisy splash. The others stared, tittering from underneath the tent, but Blair paid them no mind. Floating on her back, she chanted a goofy little rhyme to cheer herself up.
“Two, four, six, eight, only nineteen days till I graduate!”
Gossipgirl.net
Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.
hey people!
Senior Spa Weekend = senior sick weekend
Turns out nearly everyone who used the Coateses' steam room or the pool or borrowed a towel from someone who used the steam room or the pool woke up with a disgusting, itchy, oozy, rash all over their face. The Origins spa people were sent home immediately and a serious dermo was called in for damage control. Curiously, our bathing beauty B had nary a mark on her face. The dermo explained that she was probably immune but could be a carrier. Curiouser still, the rash looked exactly like the rash on a certain baby that B had exposed herself to, despite her family's efforts to keep the baby quarantined. Well, at least everyone had a good excuse for missing school on Friday! And with ninety-nine percent of the senior class in quarantine, Constance Billard had no choice but to give the seniors the entire week off.
B took the opportunity to fly to Paris to see her dad and bumped into her mother in Chanel on the Left Bank. Apparently her mom was
trying to buy the whole company as a gift to B for finally getting into Yale. As the company was not for sale, B settled for four skirts, six pairs of sling-backs, and three evening clutches—how sensible of her! V would have gone with her, but she was in quarantine, poor thing. Not that she didn't have fun playing doctor with her new bf. And what about S and N? He was seen on his way to her Fifth Avenue penthouse on the pretense of borrowing her rash-soothing skin cream, but methinks he might have enjoyed a little game of doctor too.
What everyone can look forward to as soon as their skin clears up
Insane rooftop graduation parties.
Shopping for white graduation dresses that pass the no-cleavage rule but don't make us look like fat bridesmaids.
Shopping for escorts to graduation parties who won't get too drunk and throw up all over our gorgeous new dresses.
Shopping for the perfect pair of white heels to wear with our graduation dresses. Not too high, though—we have to march into graduation in size order, and no one wants to be last.
Making a wish list of graduation gifts. Can you spell C-A-R, anyone?
Getting everything on our wish lists. Vroom, vroom, vroom!
Graduation!!!!
Some unfinished business
Are S and N a couple? If not, what exactly are they?
Will B ever speak to them again? Will she get revenge?
Will B and V continue to cohabitate now that A is always hanging around?
Will D continue to be a normal kid—sort of? Will he meet a normal girl?
Will J get into boarding school? Will she stay out of trouble until she gets there?
Will we all actually graduate?!
Guess who will have all the answers?
You know you love me,
gossip girl
Cecily von Ziegesar, Nobody Does It Better
(Series: Gossip Girl # 7)
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