Nothing Can Keep Us Together (18 page)

Jenny latched the door to the handicapped stall in the men’s room, unsure of whether to take off her clothes or fish the tab of E out of her purse. There was an impatient flare to Nate’s nostrils but she wasn’t sure which he wanted first, sex or drugs.

She unzipped her black LeSportsac with the white Persian cats on it and clicked open her matching change purse. “Here it is.” She removed the tiny piece of Saran Wrap with the pill inside and carefully began to unfold it.

Nate peered over her shoulder. “Do you want to take it or should I?”

Jenny didn’t want it, and he obviously did. “You take it.” She held out her palm and Nate pinched the tab between his thumb and forefinger. He opened his mouth, closed his eyes, and stuck out his tongue, pressing the tab onto it before opening his eyes and closing his mouth again. Like that, he didn’t look very hot, but Jenny was still intent on hooking up with him. This was her swan song, her last chance to forge her own memories and be remembered.

Oh, she’d be remembered all right.

“Does it taste like anything?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Nope.” Nate smiled. The more time he spent alone with Jennifer, the more he felt like his old self again. All she wanted was a little no-obligation, no-expectations end-of-the-year fun before she took off for boarding school or wherever the hell she was going this summer, and that was his specialty. He bent down and kissed her carefully on the lips, like he was biting into something that was still too hot to eat. “But you do.”

Jenny loved the idea that she was using Nate, and the fact that he wanted her to use him gave her even more of a thrill. He stroked her curly brown hair and she tilted her chin up and gazed into his stunning green eyes. “Remember when I fell so in love with you?”

Nate smiled again and kissed her again. He did that for a while, smiling and kissing, smiling and kissing, like he was lapping up a delicious ice cream cone.

“You’ve got skin like … like … petals,” Nate remarked as the E began to take effect. He rubbed the tip of his nose against her temple. “Grr.”

Jenny giggled. It felt completely amazing to be this close and comfortable with Nate again. He was absurdly handsome, and being kissed by him felt really, really, really good. But Nate was beginning to trip, and she didn’t want to lose her virginity to a boy who thought he was a Labrador puppy. She wouldn’t.

Well, at least she has that much integrity.

Still, this was her last crazy night out before she flew to Prague for the summer. She wasn’t quite ready for it to end.

Nate rubbed his chin against her carefully plucked dark brown eyebrows, and she lifted her chin to catch him in another long, hungry kiss. Her brother was always moaning about how much his life sucked. But she couldn’t have disagreed more. It wasn’t like she’d planned for life to be this thrilling. It just was; it really was.

Nothing Can Keep us Together

“Marcus, darling?” Blair called tentatively through the molded white wooden door to Marcus’s suite. She’d never actually called him “darling” out loud before, but it was becoming her favorite endearment. “Are you in there?”

She considered stripping down to only her Bvlgari pearls right there in the hallway, but the Yale Club was booked solid, and what if some bow-tie-wearing Yale professor saw her naked tonight and then she wound up having him in Intro to Law or another one of her freshman classes next year?

Well, it would certainly make the class more interesting.

“Marcus?” Blair pressed her ear against the door, listening for him. Nothing. She tried the knob. The door was unlocked. She pushed it open a few inches and stuck her head inside. “Marcus?” Still nothing. She pushed the door open all the way.

The drawers of the suite’s antique oak armoire had been pulled open and a damp towel lay strewn on the bed. The air was heavy with steam and the scent of Marcus’s Carolina Herrera for Men cologne. The closet door stood open. The cedar suit hangers were all bare. Marcus was gone.

Whoops.

Blair sat down heavily on the bed, feeling very much like the jilted but beautiful heroine in one of the epic films in her head that she’d temporarily stopped watching. She’d forgone her enormous Jackie O sunglasses, her signature Hermès head scarf, and her Burberry tea-length trench coat, because the heroine who was in love and part of a couple didn’t need them. Now she wanted them back.

How had this happened? Was her only purpose in life to serve as a fuck-over mat for boys like Nate and Lord Marcus to wipe the soles of their lying, cheating Church’s of London shoes on?

Her stomach churning, she stood up and rushed next door to her own suite, fully intending to make herself sick as soon as she reached the toilet. Propped up on the bureau was a large cream-colored envelope with the words My Darling B scrawled on it in Marcus’s swirly script, and a small black velvet box with the word BVLGARI printed on it in gold. Blair resisted opening the box and tore open the envelope. Inside was a note from Marcus written on a matching cream-colored Crane’s note card with LORD MARCUS BEATON-RHODES printed on it in Yale blue ink, along with a British Airways plane ticket.

Blair remained standing as she devoured the note, trying to ignore the small explosions in her stomach, like soap bubbles popping.

Dearest darling Blair, Bee, my bumblebee,

How could I have known when I planned a brief visit to New York after I finished up at Yale that I would meet a girl and fall in love? And not just any girl—you. It would be impossible to describe my feelings, so I dashed out and bought you two little somethings to go with the necklace. Promise me you’ll wear them all when I see you next, which should be only a few weeks away if you’d be so kind as to get your gorgeousness on the flight I so presumptuously booked a ticket for—first class, of course. It’s in two weeks, which gives you ample time to buy a whole new wardrobe, have a series of facials or tanning treatments, or whatever you do to keep yourself looking as stunning as you always do. Sorry for running out on you like this, but it’s your graduation-from-high-school party, the only one you’ll ever have, and I didn’t want to put a damper on it by saying good-bye. All right, I’m off. Please come to England. I shall miss you.

Love for always,

Marcus

Blair snatched the black velvet box off the white-painted bureau and pried it open. Two perfect, enormous round pearls glowed back at her, each dangling from a gold cursive B—the earrings to match the necklace. She ripped out her boring pearl studs and put in the Bvlgaris.

Bee. My bumblebee.

It seemed highly doubtful that Marcus was engaged to some overweight, big-nosed, blue-blooded duchess if he’d bought Blair a plane ticket to travel to England to meet his mum. Judging from his impeccable stationery, Lord Marcus was a bona fide lord, too. And judging from the note and the plane ticket and the pearls, he truly loved her.

Opening the top drawer of the bureau, she tucked the plane ticket alongside her favorite black La Perla demicup bra.

Contrary to popular belief, there’s nothing like a mysterious departure to pique a girl’s interest.

Nothing Can Keep us Together

Serena’s pale blond hair was matted with sweat and her yellow Tocca dress clung to her skin like wet tissue paper. She’d been dancing for an hour and she could barely stand up. Vanessa was leaning against the wall, chugging from a bottle of Perrier, her cheeks red with exertion. Serena joined her, grabbing the water out of her friend’s hand and pouring it down her throat.

“You haven’t seen Dan, have you?” Vanessa asked breathlessly. Now that she was finished dancing, it might be fun to find a quiet nook in the club somewhere and make out with Dan for a while.

“Nope,” Serena remarked. The two girls surveyed the room, their eyes stinging with the salt from their sweat. A group of gray-uniform-wearing tenth-grade boys from some Catholic school were making a human pyramid with Chuck Bass on top, even though he weighed as much as all of them combined. One of the L’École girls had taken off her halter top and was dancing by herself in the corner, smoking a joint and strumming a guitar, a sun, moon, and stars tattoo standing out on her shoulder blade.

“This party is weird,” Vanessa observed.

“Have you seen Nate?” Serena asked. She vaguely remembered arriving with him, but she hadn’t seen him since. She squinted, half expecting to find Nate weeping at the bar, but she couldn’t see him anywhere.

Blair stepped away from the bar, a fresh flute of bubbling champagne in her hand and a fresh cigarette dangling from the antique ebony-and-mother-of-pearl cigarette holder between her glossed lips, looking like a character out of an old movie. Serena pushed herself away from the wall and went over to her.

“I love your pearls.”

Blair decided not to spit in Serena’s face or scratch her dark blue eyes out. “They’re from Marcus.”

Serena nodded, about to say something about what an amazing guy Marcus was, but she was distracted. “You haven’t seen Nate, have you?”

Blair took a long sip of champagne and blew smoke into the air. She’d been busy accepting gifts from her mysterious royal beau. She didn’t have time to keep track of Nate’s erratic whereabouts. “Not really.”

Serena scanned the room with her eyes. “He’s been acting strange,” she remarked, chewing on her thumbnail. “Don’t you think so?”

Again, Blair really didn’t have an opinion on the subject. The moss green sweater was where she’d left it, folded on a chair nearby. “I guess,” she allowed.

That tiny big-chested ninth grader Jenny Humphrey stepped out of the alcove where the men’s room was, her curly dark hair slightly askew and her mouth red and swollen, as if from too much kissing. She paused and held out her hand, as if to a child. Then Nate appeared, looking happily disoriented. Jenny put her arm around his waist, and he turned and kissed her eagerly on the mouth, as if her lips were made of chocolate or something.

“Oh!” Serena exclaimed, as if she’d been pinched. She blinked her dark blue eyes, trying to ascertain whether she was truly hurt or just surprised. It had never felt right, her and Nate being together. And it would be better to be single this summer so she could focus on the film. At least now she wouldn’t have to bother breaking up with him. Not that they’d ever really been together.

No, not really.

“Typical,” Blair scoffed. She shook a Merit Ultra Light out of her pack and handed it to Serena. “Don’t be mad. He can’t help himself.”

Serena took the cigarette and propped it between her lips, waiting for Blair to light it for her. “I’m not mad,” she sighed, feeling relieved. For once, she and Blair were bonding over Nate instead of fighting over him. It was a welcome change. “So, will you loan me that for the movie?” She pointed at Blair’s cigarette holder. “Although I’ll probably set my ass on fire if I try to use it. I’m such a klutz.”

Blair loved it when Serena put herself down. It gave her hope. “Of course I will.”

Instinctively the two girls turned as someone careened toward them from across the room. Nate’s face was slack, his green eyes were huge, and his body seemed more loose-limbed than usual. He came at them with his arms open, grabbed Serena, and pulled her into an even gooier kiss than he’d just given Jenny. Serena giggled and pushed him away.

“Natie!”

But he was unflappable. Letting go of Serena, he reached for Blair, pressed his wet lips against hers and sort of inhaled her entire mouth.

“What the fuck?” Blair exclaimed, stepping backward to free herself.

Nate just stood between the two girls, smiling like the luckiest guy on earth. “We’re all too beautiful,” he said by way of explanation. “I can’t stop kissing us.”

Blair met Serena’s gaze. Yes, Nate was acting strange. He was off his tits, as they say in England. Still, there was something infectious about his puppylike exuberance. They’d just graduated today. Why not act a little strange? And why not kiss everybody? Some of them might never be together again.

And some of them were going to be together quite a lot.

“You want to see something really cool?” Blair asked, cocking her right eyebrow in a way that all the underclassmen at Constance had spent hours trying to imitate.

She stepped forward and put her hands on Serena’s bare shoulders. Immediately, Serena understood what they were about to do. The two girls smiled, their heads drawing nearer and nearer to each other, as if in slow motion.

“You know you love me,” they murmured in unison before their lips met in a kiss.

The room grew noticeably silent as everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare, but the two girls kept on kissing. Was this some sort of gag, everyone wondered, some final senior hoax?

Maybe. Or maybe not.

Gossipgirl.net

Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.

Good morning, graduates!

Didn’t you think your face looked a wee bit different this morning—or afternoon, I should say, since none of us even went to bed until this morning? Yesterday was sort of surreal, but yes, it really did happen. We did it, and now we’re done.

The days are short and the nights are very, very long

It’s Tuesday afternoon—almost evening, really—and here I am still in bed. First thing I did when I woke up? Tossed my graduation outfit in the back of my closet and tossed my never-to-be-worn-again school uniforms down my building’s garbage chute. I then thought about making complicated plans to take a bunch of friends out to the beach in Sag Harbor in my exquisite new European-import car. But then I changed my mind. There’s absolutely no hurry. We can do that tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. So I ordered up breakfast from E.A.T., climbed back into bed, and here I am still, utterly content. I’m going to stay here for at least another half hour—until it’s time to get ready to go out again. Forget frolicking in the sun all day—you have to get up early for that. Summer is really about those long, long nights out!

Yale club adopts new party policy

Twelve hours later and they’re still scraping people off the oriental carpets in the lounge and tucking them into cabs. After last night’s mix of topless girls, boys in human pyramids, girls making out with girls, boys making out with boys, the disappearance of the Yale flag that hangs over the club’s front door, and guests complaining about the insanely loud music and cigarette smoke, the club simply had to do something. From now on, Yale Club members are welcome to throw parties, but only for other Yale Club members and their families. No outside guests allowed. Sounds like a certain Yale-bound threesome had better stay on good terms if they ever want to have any fun there again.

Looks like it’s gonna be a summer of love

B + S

V + D

D + himself

V + herself

S + herself

J + some random but hot Czech artist who doesn’t speak English

N + himself

B + Lord M … and herself, of course

But that just raises more questions

Are S and B friends now, or lovers? Does that mean the old hot-tub rumor is actually true?

Will N survive his summer of hard work and piety in the Hamptons, especially without B and S?

Will V get the Breakfast at Fred’s cinematography job? How will she tolerate the film’s madman director?

Are V and D actually together now? If so, will they last through the summer and beyond?

Will D learn to drive his vintage Buick, or will his hands be too sweaty to hold the wheel?

Will B really go to England to visit her handsome lord? Will she come back wearing a crown? Will she come back at all?

Will S make Audrey Hepburn look like an amateur? More importantly, who will be her leading man?

Will we still hear about J, even when she’s off in Europe? And what about when she’s at boarding school? …

Undoubtedly, you’ll hear everything about everyone. I’ve never been very good at withholding information!

Not fade away

In case you’re wondering: I may have just graduated, and I may be off to college in the fall, but I’m definitely not going to burn out or fade away. There’s too much to talk about. There always will be.…

You know you love me.