Would I Lie To You (13 page)

Serena was once again lying in her all-white bed staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep now that she’d finally admitted how she really felt. The ceiling was pockmarked where she’d peeled off dozens of glow-in-the-dark stars just before she left for Europe, and she’d been counting the remaining stars for the last three hours, ever since she’d slipped the note into the Aston Martin. She kept losing count and starting again. And maybe she’d dozed off, or maybe not. Henry shifted onto his side, throwing his arm across her chest. It felt heavy and suffocating. She’d already been in this exact place, exactly a year before: in love with Nate, but lying next to Henry. She’d even admitted it and gotten it off her chest, so why couldn’t she sleep?

Second thoughts?

She slid out of bed for the second time that morning and slipped into the hallway. Downstairs a few people were clanking bottles into the trash and whispering about their headaches. From the grandfather clock downstairs she heard that it wasn’t morning anymore at all: it was exactly noon. She yanked at the long white T-shirt she was wearing. It said BROWN in capital letters across her chest and hung below her knees.

She didn’t even know where she was walking until she got there, but she soon found herself in front of her parents’ closed bedroom door. She knew that Blair and Nate were inside. They’d probably made a fort out of the many oversize pillows on the bed, which Blair had dubbed the Kissing Cave or something cheesy . . . or totally adorable if you were in love.Which Nate was.With Blair.

So what was Serena doing declaring her love for him now? There were so many other, better times she could have told him in the last year. Like when they were nearly naked in a Bergdorf’s dressing room. Or when they were kissing in the bathtub at Isabel Coates’s Hamptons house. Or when she’d decided not to go back to boarding school and came back to the city instead. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t told him any of those times, mostly because she’d been scared. That he didn’t love her back, which he didn’t. He loved Blair.

She backed away from the heavy wooden door that led to her parents’ master bedroom suite and toward the stairs where Nate had told Blair he loved her just last night. So why had she suddenly declared her love for Nate, now, at the very worst possible time?

“Hey, you’re the birthday girl.” A guy she’d never seen before looked up at her from the bottom of the staircase. His shaggy brown hair was piled on top of his head in a messy bun. “Selima, right?”

“Serena,” she told him.

“Right, so like, do you think you can give me a ride to the train station?” He reached under his sweat-stained and moth-eaten polo to scratch his belly, revealing a sliver of hairy stomach.

Ew.

Serena took a step down the stairs, letting her hand glide over the dark wooden banister. “I’m sure people will start getting up soon. Someone will drive you.”

“Cool.” He stretched his arms up high, yawning loudly, and headed back into the living room, where people were still sprawled out on every soft surface. She heard someone mutter “Duuuuude,” as he collapsed onto the antique but-toned-leather couch.

Serena swept through the marble foyer to the door and lingered for a moment, hand on the doorknob, before she pulled the door open and stepped outside. The front of the house was well shaded and cool, and she wrapped her arms around her body protectively as she scanned the driveway.

She wasn’t sure if she was having second thoughts, or not, or if she wanted to sneak back to that car and take back the envelope she’d left inside. But the decision had been made for her. The Aston Martin was nowhere in sight. Nate— and presumably Blair—were gone.

And they’d taken some very juicy reading material along with them.

Blair knelt in the bucket seat of the car as Nate slowed the Aston Martin to a stop in front of the whitewashed Newport Yacht Club. The harbor glimmered in the midday sun. Blair breathed in the warm, salty seaside air. She kept shaking her head, letting her windblown locks swing around her shoulders, which she hoped looked sexy. In truth, she was just trying to shake the thought of Serena’s letter from her mind. Seriously, what the fuck?

“I can’t believe we’re actually here.” Nate’s voice startled her back to attention. Despite having driven for hundreds of miles just to get there, Nate didn’t seem all that eager to get out of the car. He’d undone his seat belt and was just sitting there, staring out of the car’s tiny windshield at the forest of masts in the harbor.

“What’s wrong?” Blair opened the door and hopped up and down, getting the blood in her legs flowing again.

“What? Oh, nothing.” Nate looked startled.

Blair settled her fists on her hips. Her blousy cotton voile shirt fluttered in the wind. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You look kind of . . . distracted.”

“No, no, everything’s fine.” Nate stood and slammed his door shut behind him. “We’ll have to do something about the car, I guess.” He frowned.

Blair adjusted her bag and perched on the still-warm hood of the hunter-green Aston. Nate looked more than distracted. He looked like he was going to throw up. Was there any chance he knew about the letter? Or could Serena have called him while he was in the restroom? Was that why he’d taken so long? Blair fidgeted impatiently.What was the holdup? “Nate, is there anything you want to tell me?”

“What? No,” Nate answered, stuffing the keys in his pocket. “We’re really doing this, right?”

“We’re really doing this!” Leaving her bag on the hood of the car, Blair scurried around to where Nate stood and threw herself into his arms. A white seagull swooped down onto the parking lot. “You seem worried.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just . . . thinking is all.”

Don’t hurt yourself.

Inhaling Nate’s delicious scent—his deodorant, a hint of the lavender soap from Serena’s parents’ master bathroom, the ocean smell that had somehow already made it into his shirt—Blair closed her eyes. “Don’t worry, Natie. It’s summer. And we’re together.That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

Nate pulled away just far enough to look at her face. She smiled up at him, hoping for a moment that they’d get ship-wrecked somewhere and that they’d never have to see Serena again. They’d live in a bamboo hut, forage for food, and be naked all the time. Who needed clothes when they had each other?

She must be out of her mind.

“You’re right. Fuck it. Fuck everything and everyone else.” Then he bent down and pressed his delicious mouth to hers. “Let’s get out of here.”

Be sure to send a postcard.

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

You know what’s totally lame? Happy endings. Seriously. Like when I’m at the movies and see some plucky, determined girl finally land her leading man—whom I knew for the past two hours she’d end up with anyway—I just want to claw her eyes out. Real life is actually terribly messy and complicated and nothing ever just ends. . . . I mean really, if you’ll allow me get all philosophical about it for a minute, every ending is really just another beginning, isn’t it? Okay, I’ll shut up now.A NOVEL BY Cecily von Ziegesar

So while B and N may be sailing off into the sunset, something tells me this story is far from over. Especially when there are so many questions waiting to be answered. Like:

Will B tell N about the letter from S? Will S find N and tell him on her own? Will B throw her overboard if she does?

Will D really make out with another boy? Again. Will they go even further?!

Will V really cheer him on if he does?

And realistically how long can those two stay roommates and not bed-mates? Maybe he’s bi after all.

Then of course there’s the biggest question of all: Who am I? I know you guys are totally jonesing for more dirt on me, so here’s an interesting tidbit about yours truly (Don’t say I never give you anything!): I just can’t keep a secret. I mean, except for the secret of who I am, of course. But secrets like the one S has been keeping all these years? Hats off to her! I can understand fooling your friends and even your family, but if you can manage to keep me in the dark, well, bravo! So what else is she hiding? I have a feeling there’s a lot more to be discovered here. . . .

I know you’re dying for answers. Well, me too. And you know I always get what I want.

You know you love me.

gossip girl