I Will Always Love You (12 page)

“Champagne?” Vanessa handed one of the bottles to Hollis. “And then can we order from Sea? I’m in the mood for Thai.” She
watched him expertly open the bottle and suddenly laughed. “You know, the first time I had champagne was for my eighteenth
birthday. The Raves played.” That was when Ruby was touring Prague with her band, SugarDaddy, and Blair Waldorf had moved
in as a temporary roommate. Things were so different now. Ruby was married and five months pregnant. But back then, they all seemed so young.

A smile crossed Vanessa’s face at the memory of Blair living in the tiny, ramshackle one-bedroom apartment. She’d tried to
class it up by having her mom’s interior decorator redo the living room in shades of lilac and celery, but eventually, Blair
had realized that she’d never be a Brooklynite. They’d had fun, though, and Vanessa would always remember that time fondly.

Hollis opened the glass-fronted cabinets and poured two glasses of champagne. “To us.”

“To us,” Vanessa repeated absently. Her mind was far away, trying to piece together the events of her eighteenth birthday
party. The night had begun as just a few friends coming over, but had morphed into an all-night rager, the one and only she’d
ever thrown. She plunked down on one of the metal stools surrounding the granite kitchen island and furrowed her brow. “The
Raves were obsessed with Serena van der Woodsen. And Dan was writing their lyrics and serving as front man. Or he was, until he threw up all over himself onstage.” Vanessa giggled at the memory. It had gone down in history as an anecdote she
or Jenny would always bring up to annoy Dan.

“Wait, the Raves were at your party to hook up with that actress from Coffee at the Palace?” Hollis asked, ignoring Vanessa’s reference to her ex.

Hollis sat down across from her at the counter and ran a hand through his jet-black hair. His gray eyes were smiling. “You,
Ms. Abrams, are full of surprises. You told me you were the girl with a shaved head and no friends in high school. Now, I
hear you were partying with Serena van der Woodsen, getting the Raves to perform at your birthday… and you say I’m the one who sold out by working with a distribution company?” He laughed.

“No.” Vanessa shook her head and polished off the rest of her champagne. The tiny bubbles tickled her throat. Saying it out
loud made everything sound so fun and carefree, but it had never really been like that. She’d been completely out of place
at school; all the prim and proper Constance Billard girls had made fun of her Doc Martens and shaved head. Now, her straight,
shiny black hair fell in a curtain to her shoulders, she occasionally wore black mascara and a smudge of lip gloss, and she
had a wardrobe of skinny jeans, form-fitting sweaters, and colorful tops to offset her black skirts, pants, and hoodies. She
would’ve had a much easier time of it at Constance if she looked then the way she did now. But even if she could go back in
time and change things, she wouldn’t. Her experience as an outsider had made her who she was. It had given her the sharp point
of view that led her to become a filmmaker.

“Most of the time, it was really hard. I mean, I was fifteen when I moved here to live with my sister. Ruby was out a lot
with the band, but she had a bird named Tofu and seriously, sometimes he was the only living thing I spoke to all day.” She
sighed. “One time we had this weird roommate, Tiphany, who moved in with a ferret named Tooter… and then there was the time
that I got kicked out by Piotr, my sister’s husband,” Vanessa babbled. Once she started talking about some of the crazier
things that happened during her high school career, it was hard to stop, especially since Hollis was staring at her with such
intensity.

“Wait.” He grabbed her hand and stared deep in her eyes. “How come I’ve never heard any of these stories?”

Vanessa shrugged. “It’s not that interesting.” She’d never really talked about her past before. Not because she thought Hollis
wouldn’t care, but because so much of her past involved Dan. It was kind of awkward.

You think?

“No, it’s great. Girl moves to Brooklyn and everything goes so wrong, it’s right. The ferret’s name was Tooter? You can’t make that shit up,” Hollis laughed. “It’d be a great movie. It’s gritty and raw and funny as hell. It makes me
want to know more. I want to see it! I want to see it all!” Hollis began pacing back and forth in the kitchen, the way he
always did when he was trying to work out the logistics of an idea.

“Are you going to make a movie about my life?” Vanessa teased, refilling both of their champagne glasses.

“No.” Hollis took the glass and cocked it toward Vanessa. “We are.”

Vanessa shook her head. Her life wasn’t a movie! It was just… her life. Tragic and absurd, she thought randomly. Dan had probably said that. But maybe that was the point. Her life-—her high school life, anyway-—had
been tragic and absurd, but she’d gotten past it and was now happy and in love. She thought of her high school self. Shaven-headed,
self-righteous Vanessa would have scoffed at a film about a naïve Vermont girl who learns to tell people to go fuck themselves.
No. Actually she would have loved it.

“Let’s do it.” Vanessa drained her champagne glass, slipped off her stool, and hugged Hollis hard.

“We can start tonight,” Hollis murmured into her now-shoulder-length black hair.

Vanessa grinned and kissed him softly on the lips. “I have another idea for tonight,” she said boldly, looking him straight
in the eye.

This particular film will go unrated.

everyone loves a reunion

“Serena van der Woodsen’s here,” Laura Salmon whispered to Rain Hoffstetter. Isabel Coates nodded. They were perched on one
of the low-slung black leather couches in the Bass suite at the Tribeca Star. The expansive space was decked with plain white
Christmas lights, and large plate glass windows led to the terrace overlooking the shining lights of the city below. Laura
had gained ten pounds for each semester at Wellesley and was now squeezed into a stretchy black Narciso Rodriguez dress. She
looked exactly like her mother.

“I heard she got married to Breckin O’Dell. It’s still super secret, though,” Rain whispered back, taking a long swig of her
vodka tonic. Her hair was pulled into a messy chignon, revealing a slightly off-center infinity symbol tattooed on the back
of her neck. It looked like she’d drawn it on herself with an eyeliner pencil.

“I heard she’s pregnant. She’s due in June. Her agent wanted her to have an abortion,” Isabel Coates chimed in, straightening
the hem of her black satin Marc by Marc Jacobs dress.

“Guys!” Serena called, pleased to recognize some of her old classmates huddled on the black low-slung couch in the corner.
She’d been close to staying in tonight, tempted by the idea of ordering an extra-large pepperoni pizza and watching movies
in her one-bedroom apartment on Perry Street. But she’d surprised herself by coming to Chuck’s party at the last minute.

It was already after eleven, and the suite was filled with guys in khakis and wrinkled button-downs and girls in tight dresses
or bikinis. Everyone looked like they were trying to look fifteen years old.

You never can go back.

“How are you?” Serena exclaimed eagerly as she plopped on the couch next to Isabel. “How’s Casey?” she asked, remembering
the name of Isabel’s lesbian lover from last year.

“Oh.” Isabel turned bright red. “I have no idea. I’m actually dating this guy named Chad,” she announced as she pretended
not to stare jealously at Serena’s legs. Serena was wearing a denim miniskirt she’d fashioned out of a pair of ancient Sevens
and an extra-large Marc by Marc Jacobs sweater. On anyone else, the outfit would have looked sloppy. On Serena, it looked
stunning.

Of course.

“How are you?” Laura cooed, as if she hadn’t been gossiping about her just moments before. She grabbed Serena’s long blond hair and combed
her manicured fingernails through it enviously. “Are these extensions?”

“No. Love your hair though. It’s such a pretty shade of red,” Serena lied. Laura’s normally brown hair had been dyed an unnatural
Hawaiian Punch color. “I haven’t been to a salon in forever.”

“Are you working on a movie?” Rain asked, wrinkling her ski-jump nose, which now had a small scar from where her nose piercing
had been.

“No. I’m not sure I really want to do movies anymore.” Serena shrugged. She hadn’t acted since Coffee at the Palace, and had decided to take a break for the foreseeable future. The only problem was, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do
now. Part of her was thinking about going back to school—she had only deferred from Yale and could still go if she wanted
to—but the idea of sitting in a classroom seemed so confining. She’d taken a couple of acting classes at a downtown studio
that Thad had raved about, but they’d mostly consisted of pantomiming dreams from the night before. No, thank you.

Especially not when most of her dreams involve a certain someone.

“Is it because of the reviews?” Laura took a swig of her cranberry vodka.

Serena stiffened and suddenly wished she’d made herself a drink before she sat down with her old friends. The reviews for
Coffee at the Palace had been less than stellar, though the New York Times had called Serena a breath of fresh air. But it was conversations like this that made Serena hate acting. She loved being
in front of the camera, but she hated all the drama that went on when the cameras weren’t rolling. She never set foot in anywhere
trendy, because she hated getting followed by paparazzi and having her picture taken with camera phones. It was so silly to
get that kind of attention when she wasn’t doing anything.

“I’ve been reading a lot of Thomas Mann lately,” Serena said, changing the subject. “I just finished The Magic Mountain. With everyone else in school, I don’t want to fall behind,” she added. She was greeted by silence.

“Well, what classes do you guys take?” Serena prodded. It had never been hard for her to make conversation, but now, among
the girls she’d known since kindergarten, she had no idea what to say. She awkwardly crossed one leg over the other.

“I don’t even know,” Isabel giggled. “I spend all my time with my boyfriend. I do his Influential Movies of the ’80s homework
sometimes. His football schedule is really demanding,” she explained, brushing her long dark hair off her shoulder self-importantly.

“Oh.” Serena didn’t know what else to say. Since when did Isabel do someone else’s homework? Serena used to always beg to
borrow Isabel’s calc problem sets.

“I take golf,” Rain yelled over the awful Madonna/Britney remix that boomed through the room, courtesy of the giggling L’École
sophomores huddled around the Bose sound dock near the bar. “I’m pretty good.”

Serena nodded. Were they serious? Was that what college was about? At Constance, they’d all taken Latin and physics and AP
French. Sure, they’d complained about it, but deep down, they all knew it was important to do well in high school so they’d
get into a good college and succeed in life. But the classes they were taking now sounded like a joke.

“Okay,” Serena trailed off uncertainly. She was used to being the life of the party, but now she felt like that awkward guest
who people only talked to out of a sense of obligation. “Does anyone else need a drink?” she asked, not bothering to wait
for an answer.

Serena hugged her arms against her chest as she walked over to the bar. Didn’t they say that people grew apart after high
school? Maybe it was natural to not have anything in common once you no longer shared terrible teachers and lunchtime gossip.
She’d fallen out of touch with her actress friends—Alysia was engaged to some B-list actor, Alison was pregnant, and Amanda
was in rehab. Besides, she kind of hated going to Hollywood parties. The people there only cared about themselves and their
careers. Right now, she’d give anything just to talk to someone who actually knew her. But the only people who did were her brother Erik, Blair, and Nate. Erik was spending the holidays in Australia with
his girlfriend; Blair hated her; and who even knew if she’d ever see Nate again? The last she’d heard, Nate was at that same
crazy farm school as Chuck. She’d tried to write him e-mails, but always deleted them before she hit send. She wanted to tell
him she understood why he freaked out last year, but could never find the words. She wanted to let him know that she was sorry,
that she never meant to hurt him, and that it was fine if he never wanted to be together. But she needed to be friends with
him—somehow. She couldn’t imagine her life without Nate in it.

“Serena!” Kati Farkas cried from the other end of the bar. “Did you break up with Breckin O’Dell?”

Serena tried to smile. It was going to be a long evening.

The best ones always are.

Serena took the bottle of Ketel on the bar counter, splashed it liberally in a Riedel glass, then topped it with a thin layer
of cranberry juice. Maybe a drink would help her feel better. She took an unhappy sip and scanned the room.

Which was when she saw him—all five feet, ten inches of tall, honey gold hair, glittering green-eyed goodness. He wore a dark
blue overcoat and looked out of place in the overheated suite.

Serena held on to the granite bar for support. Around her L’École girls were passing around a joint and laughing. She felt
like she was going to faint. She had to talk to him, but what if he didn’t want to talk to her? Or worse, what if he was just
polite? What if he talked to her like she’d been his high school lab partner?

She drained the rest of her drink and spontaneously threw her arms around his back. “Happy New Year, Natie!” she yelled into
his shoulder blades as if it were the old days, and she’d just seen him a couple hours ago, rather than a whole year. His
body felt stronger than she’d remembered, and she could feel his taut muscles through his shirt.

“Serena,” Nate said dumbly, turning so his face was inches from hers. He could smell her familiar patchouli-infused essential
oil scent, and at first he wondered if this was some very weird reaction to the pot he’d smoked earlier. Somebody at the party
had had a bag of incredible Thai stick and had generously shared it with him.