I Will Always Love You (19 page)

The puppy was adorable, and Vanessa fought a smile. She didn’t want to be won over so easily. “Why did you even set up the
meeting?”

“I got excited. I love your story,” Hollis said earnestly. “But what they want to do isn’t your movie. Once I saw how off-track
they were getting, I pushed them away from your idea on purpose. I didn’t want you to wind up making a movie that would compromise
your vision.”

“Really?” Vanessa grinned shyly. Now that she thought about it, Hollis hadn’t really spoken up at the meeting until after
the story had gotten so off-track—and after Stacy had made it clear she wasn’t going to have it any other way.

“Of course. So they want me to direct the film. It’s on location—in Iceland. And I’ll have to go to Australia too, to cast
the Maoris. The twin kids evolved into a whole family, like Cheaper by the Dozen but with Maoris, in Iceland. But I told them I needed to think about it. I’ll drop it in a second if you want me to.” Hollis
gazed down at Vanessa.

Vanessa glanced around the apartment—the brand-new ecochic furniture, the clean, bare walls they hadn’t decorated, the expansive
living room they planned to throw so many dinner parties in. If Hollis went to Iceland, it would be a long time before they
really lived in this apartment together. But dropping a Streetscape project was equivalent to career suicide.

Just then, Norma whined plaintively. “Well, I’m going to take Norma’s protest as a no,” Hollis shrugged, scooping up the puppy.

“No.” Vanessa shook her head definitively. They had plenty of time to build a life together. After all, she was only a sophomore.
“You need to do it. I want you to do it—we both do.” Vanessa reached for the puppy and buried her nose in its soft and fluffy fur. “How long will you
be gone?” she asked.

“A few months. But you can come to Reykjavík whenever you want. I mean, you need to. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

“You’re not gone yet,” Vanessa murmured. It was a lot to process. She was sad, but not upset. Yes, Hollis was leaving, but
somehow, their relationship seemed stronger than ever—strong enough to stand the distance. And maybe a few months apart would
be good for her, too. She could concentrate on her own work.

“Thanks for bringing me a friend,” she added, still cuddling with the puppy.

“I’ll miss you guys,” Hollis said huskily. He kissed Vanessa’s forehead, then the puppy’s. “Take care of each other. You two
are my family now.”

Vanessa smiled. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? And a few months isn’t too long,” she insisted.

Right. And Iceland isn’t very far away at all.

on some nights, frenemies beat strangers

“Vodka tonic,” Blair said brusquely to the Tribeca Star bartender, a pretty platinum blonde who looked like she’d never had
her heart broken before. Unlike Blair, who’d had her heart broken—five? Seven? Nine times?—by the exact same guy.

“Another one?” The bartender arched one penciled-in eyebrow.

“Yes,” Blair said icily. It was her right to get as drunk as she wanted after the night she’d had. She pulled out her cell
and dialed Pete’s number again. Of course it went to voice mail. Tears pricked her eyes. It was really over.

Blair felt a tap on her shoulder. She whirled around, ready to tell whoever thought it was a good idea to talk to her to fuck
off.

“You okay?”

Blair looked up and into the eyes of… Chuck Bass? What the hell? Where was his pinky ring? Or pet monkey? Blair had heard
that Chuck had transformed, but seeing it in person was so shocking she almost forgot her tragedy of a life. His dark brown
hair was cut close to his head, and his dark eyes looked serious and friendly at the same time. He wore a blue cashmere sweater,
khaki pants, and loafers. He looked surprisingly good.

“Hi,” Blair said finally.

“Good to see you,” Chuck said enthusiastically. He slid onto the metal bar stool next to her. “Jameson on the rocks,” he ordered.
“And we’ll also have a grilled cheese. And the hummus plate,” he added.

“I’m not hungry,” Blair said shortly, hoping Chuck would get the hint and leave. After all, she hadn’t come down to the bar
to socialize—she’d come down because her drunk ex-boyfriend was in her bedroom and she had nowhere else to go.

“Well, in case you change your mind. You want to talk?” Chuck asked.

Blair considered. She and Chuck had never really gotten along, but they’d known each other forever, and someone was better
than no one. “Have you seen Nate this break?”

“I have. He’s been a little… bent out of shape. Have you?”

Blair nodded. “He thought it would be a brilliant idea to come here. To find me. And then crawl into bed with me. Which was fucking perfect, because five minutes later, my boyfriend came into the hotel room and got the wrong idea. So
let’s just say I’ve had a shitty night,” Blair said tightly. She grabbed a cocktail napkin and began shredding it. Tiny pieces
of paper rained down on the oak bar like snowflakes.

“That’s rough,” Chuck exhaled. He stared into his drink contemplatively.

“I just don’t know why he always does that. He always fucks up my life. He always has,” Blair said in a small voice. The tears
started again. Chuck took another cocktail napkin from behind the bar and offered it to her.

“You’re probably the only person he can trust,” Chuck said gently as the bartender placed the grilled cheese and hummus plate
in front of them. Blair eyed it hungrily. She’d never been one of those girls who lost an appetite in a crisis. “Here.” Chuck
grabbed half of the sandwich and held it toward her. For a second, Blair thought he was going to try to feed it to her, but
he didn’t. She took the sandwich from him and Chuck pushed away her half-finished drink.

“What you need is a bubble bath, some candles, and some chocolate,” Chuck said. Blair rolled her eyes. Of course. This was what the whole conversation was leading up to. Chuck just wanted to take advantage of her.

“And I suppose I need company in that bubble bath,” Blair replied sarcastically, draining the rest of her drink and standing
up. She grabbed the bar counter for support, feeling shaky.

“Look, you can stay upstairs in my suite, and I’ll sleep in my apartment.” Chuck gently put his arm on her shoulder to steady
her. “And tomorrow, we can go to brunch.”

Blair wanted to shake him off, but she was too tired. Instead, she gratefully leaned into him.

Upstairs, Chuck led Blair down the hallway to the Bass suite. “Good night, Blair,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll
pick you up tomorrow morning.”

She may be down and out, but that doesn’t stop the boys from falling for her.

if all else fails, move across the ocean

Serena sat at a banquette of the Star Bar at the Tribeca Star hotel on Saturday afternoon, nervously chewing on a pink star-shaped
cocktail stirrer. She wore a clingy blue Alice+Olivia dress and Christian Louboutin over-the-knee boots, her hair pulled into
a high bun. She was utterly oblivious to the admiring glances shot her way, lost in her own little world.

The Star Lounge had never carded, so she’d been coming here since she was fifteen, when she used to meet Blair for a drink
before going up to Chuck’s suite. The lounge looked the same as always: black leather ottomans and couches surrounded the
perimeter, and the walls were covered with shelves of flickering candles. It was only Serena who’d changed.

Cue the Joni Mitchell sound track….

She’d sat on her bed in her empty apartment last night, leafing through scripts her agent had sent along. She could be a young
woman looking for love in the city; she could be the beautiful former golden girl who gets sucked into a downward spiral of
coke and vodka; she could be the love interest, a beautiful but vacuous blonde who was only the end goal; or, for a real change
of pace, she could be the bitchy villain in a superhero movie, wearing a leather catsuit and a dark wig.

Serena didn’t want to be in any of those movies. She didn’t want to be in any movies, period. Sure, the press junkets, the
swag, the glitz and glamour had been fun at first, but they’d quickly lost their appeal. Instead, she’d thought a lot about
what Dan Humphrey had said, about Columbia giving him the chance to think and learn and explore. The more and more she thought
about it, the more appealing college seemed. Where else could she spend her time reading and growing up and figuring out what
she wanted to do with the rest of her life?

Just this morning, she’d summoned her courage and made a call to the Yale admissions office, to let them know her deferral
period was over. Now she was officially in, ready to matriculate next fall. She’d told her parents and brother at brunch.
There was only one other person who needed to know.

I’m sure that person will be thrilled.

“Your friend coming?” the server asked dubiously, picking up Serena’s now-empty vodka soda.

“Who knows?” Serena sighed. She knew Blair was staying at the Tribeca Star, and was counting on her coming in or out at some
point in the evening. But she’d already been waiting for an hour, and so far, no sign of her. “I’ll have another one.”

Serena glanced up at the entrance again. If she didn’t come in five minutes, she was leaving.

That won’t be necessary.

Sweeping into the bar, not bothering to take off her oversize Louis Vuitton sunglasses, was Blair. She wore a dark pair of
skinny jeans and an oversize black sweater, looking like a more glamorous version of Katie Holmes.

“Blair!” Serena called, standing up and waving wildly. Blair flicked her eyes to Serena’s corner, as if she were completely
uninterested or unimpressed to see her there.

Blair put her hands on her hips and glared at her former friend. What the fuck was Serena doing here? First Nate, now this? That was it, she was never coming back to New York after this trip. She’d have bagels FedExed to her in New Haven and deal with the Barneys at The Grove
when she visited her mom in LA. She could probably go through the rest of her life never coming to the city again.

“What are you doing here?” Blair finally asked. She felt like hell. She’d barely slept last night. Chuck had been true to
his word and had picked her up for brunch. It might have been fun—Chuck had ridiculous stories about life at Deep Springs,
and had done his best to avoid the topic of Nate—but Blair had been hungover and shaky and tired. She’d been napping on and
off all afternoon. She probably looked like hell, too. She was still wearing the same jeans-and-sweater combination she’d
been wearing last night, but no way did she want to go back to her own hotel room and take the chance of running into Nate
or Pete. She was sure they were both gone by now—long gone. But just in case.

“I wanted to see you. Please sit down?” Serena begged. Blair paused, but then reluctantly slid onto a leather ottoman opposite
Serena.

“What is it?” Blair snapped.

Serena took a deep breath. At first she wanted to tell Blair everything: that she’d been burned by Nate, that she hadn’t been
able to stop thinking about Dan Humphrey for two days, and that, most important, she was going to Yale. But she didn’t know
where to begin.

“Vodka soda?” the server said, plunking a tumbler on top of a pink star-shaped coaster. “And what would your friend like?”

“Nothing.” Blair impatiently waved the server away with her hand. “You came to tell me something?” Blair asked pointedly,
as if she were conducting a job interview with someone who had absolutely no shot in hell of getting the position.

“Look, I know you’re mad at me. I’m sorry. I hate how we fight. It’s so pointless. And I wanted you to know—I’m coming to
Yale next fall,” Serena blurted. “We’ll be at the same school again—without Mrs. McLean watching us!” she joked, hoping Blair
would laugh, remembering their Talbots pantsuit–loving former headmistress. Blair just raised her eyebrow and sighed.

The sound track at the bar suddenly changed to a cheesy pop song, reminding Serena of how much fun the two of them used to
have, back when they would dance around her bedroom until they collapsed in a tired heap on top of each other. Back before
Nate came between them. Serena managed a watery smile. “Can’t we be friends?” she asked finally.

Blair stared into Serena’s large blue eyes, which looked so innocent and pleading. They’d had so many fights, followed by
so many teary makeup sessions. For a moment, Blair wanted to throw her arms around Serena and tell her everything would be
okay, that they would always be friends. But that wasn’t exactly true. Everything wasn’t okay. Serena had stolen Nate, had cost her Pete, and now wanted to come to Yale—and who knew what she would do once she got
there?

Blair stood up. Maybe forgiveness had worked in the past, but she had to move forward. And her future had no place for Serena.
Serena had taken Nate from her and now that she’d already lost him, she wanted to take Yale. She could have it. Blair wasn’t
going to be around to watch.

“Actually, I’m going abroad next year, so we won’t really see each other.” She slung her Chloé hobo bag over her shoulder.
“’Bye!” she called, not bothering to look back.

Au revoir…

We know who you are. We can hear and smell you from a mile away. You’re the guys and girls who pronounce everything with a
slightly clipped British accent, like Madonna, or roll your r’s even when you’re speaking English. You’re the ones talking about how the siesta really suits you, or how a glass of wine with lunch really calms the nerves. You’re the ones who won’t shut up about how
much better your adopted country is—even though you’ve spent most of your first semester getting drunk with fellow study abroaders and
you can only say one sentence in the language of your host country: “Where’s the bathroom?” or “toilet,” as they say in the
U.K.

Don’t get me wrong—I understand the appeal of your international environs. Take a look at B. Even though a bevy of well-bred British boys have been following her through the medieval streets of Oxford, she’s been
spotted drinking pints and sharing snogs with a fellow American… a very familiar one. Is it just me, or are American boys
that much sexier when they go abroad?