anything more。 She couldn’t bear for Eleanor Waldorf to overhear
them。 Gossip and idle chat were amusing； but not at the expense of
an old friend’s feelings。
Bullshit！ Blair would have said if she could have heard Mrs。
Archibald’s thoughts。 Hypocrite！ All of these people were terrible
gossips。 And if you’re going to do it； why not enjoy it？
Across the room； Cyrus grabbed Eleanor and kissed her on the lips
in full view of everyone。 Blair shrank away from the revolting sight
of her mother and Cyrus acting like geeky teens with a crush and
turned to look out the penthouse window at Fifth Avenue and
Central Park。 The fall foliage was on fire。 A lone bicyclist rode out of
the Seventy…second Street entrance to the park and stopped at the
hot…dog vendor on the corner to buy a bottle of water。 Blair had
never noticed the hot…dog vendor before； and she wondered if he
always parked there； or if he was new。 It was funny how much you
could miss in what you saw every day。
Suddenly Blair was starving； and she knew just what she wanted： A
hot dog。 She wanted one right now—a steaming hot Sabrette hot
dog with mustard and ketchup and onions and sauerkraut—and she
was going to eat it in three bites and then burp in her mother’s
face。 If Cyrus could stick his tongue down her mother’s throat in
front of all of her friends； then she could eat a stupid hot dog。
“I’ll be right back；” Blair told Kati and Isabel。
She whirled around and began to walk across the room to the front
hall。 She was going to put on her coat； go outside； get a hot dog
from the vendor； eat it in three bites； e back； burp in her
mother’s face； have another drink； and then have sex with Nate。
“Where are you going？” Kati called after her。 But Blair didn’t stop；
she headed straight for the door。
Nate saw Blair ing and extracted himself from Cyrus and Blair’s
mother just in time。
“Blair？” he said。 “What’s up？”
Blair stopped and looked up into Nate’s sexy green eyes。 They were
like the emeralds in the cufflinks her father wore with his tux when
he went to the opera。
He’s wearing your heart on his sleeve； she reminded herself；
forgetting all about the hot dog。 In the movie of her life； Nate would
pick her up and carry her away to the bedroom and ravish her。
But this was real life； unfortunately。
“I have to talk to you；” Blair said。 She held out her glass。 “Fill me
up； first？”
Nate took her glass and Blair led him over to the marble…topped wet
bar by the French doors that opened onto the dining room。 Nate
poured them each a tumbler full of scotch and then followed Blair
across the living room once more。
“Hey； where are you two going？” Chuck Bass asked as they walked
by。 He raised his eyebrows； leering at them suggestively。
Blair rolled her eyes at Chuck and kept walking； drinking as she
went。 Nate followed her； ignoring Chuck pletely。
Chuck Bass； the oldest son of Misty and Bartholomew Bass； was
handsome； aftershave…mercial handsome。 In fact； he’d starred
in a British Drakkar Noir mercial； much to his parents’ public
dismay and secret pride。 Chuck was also the horniest boy in Blair
and Nate’s group of friends。 Once； at a party in ninth grade； Chuck
had hidden in a guest bedroom closet for two hours； waiting to
crawl into bed with Kati Farkas； who was so drunk she kept throwing
up in her sleep。 Chuck didn’t even mind。 He just got in bed with her。
He was pletely unshakeable when it came to girls。
The only way to deal with a guy like Chuck is to laugh in his face；
which is exactly what all the girls who knew him did。 In other circles；
Chuck might have been banished as a slimeball of the highest
order； but these families had been friends for generations。 Chuck
was a Bass； and so they were stuck with him。 They had even gotten
used to his gold monogrammed pinky ring； his trademark navy blue
monogrammed cashmere scarf； and the copies of his headshot；
which littered his parent’s many houses and apartments and spilled
out of his locker at the Riverside Preparatory School for Boys。
“Don’t forget to use protection；” Chuck called； raising his glass at
Blair and Nate as they turned down the long； red…carpeted hallway
to Blair’s bedroom。
Blair grasped the glass doorknob and turned it； surprising her
Russian Blue cat； Kitty Minky； who was curled up on the red silk
bedspread。 Blair paused at the threshold and leaned back against
Nate； pressing her body into his。 She reached down to take his
hand。
At that moment； Nate’s hopes perked up。 Blair was acting sort of
sultry and sexy and could it be 。 。 。 something was about to
happen？
Blair squeezed Nate’s hand and pulled him into the room。 They
stumbled over each other； falling toward the bed； and spilling their
drinks on the mohair rug。 Blair giggled； the scotch she’d pounded
had gone right to her head。
I’m about to have sex with Nate； she thought giddily。 And then
they’d both graduate in June and go to Yale in the fall and have a
huge wedding four years later and find a beautiful apartment on
Park Avenue and decorate the whole thing in velvet； silk； and fur
and have sex in every room on a rotating basis。
Suddenly Blair’s mother’s voice rang out； loud and clear； down the
hallway。
“Serena van der Woodsen！ What a lovely surprise！”
Nate dropped Blair’s hand and straightened up like a soldier called
to attention。 Blair sat down hard on the end of her bed； put her
drink on the floor； and grasped the bedspread in tight； white…
knuckled fists。
She looked up at Nate。
But Nate was already turning to go； striding back down the hall to
see if it could possibly be true。 Had Serena van der Woodsen really
e back？
The movie of Blair’s life had taken a sudden； tragic turn。 Blair
clutched her stomach； ravenous again。
She should have gone for the hot dog after all。
“Hello； hello； hello！” Blair’s mother crowed； kissing the smooth；
hollow cheeks of each van der Woodsen。
Kiss； kiss； kiss； kiss； kiss； kiss！
“I know you weren’t expecting Serena； dear；” Mrs。 van der Woodsen
whispered in a concerned； confidential tone。 “I hope it’s all right。”
“Of course。 Yes； it’s fine；” Mrs。 Waldorf said。 “Did you e home
for the weekend； Serena？”
Serena van der Woodsen shook her head and handed her vintage
Burberry coat to Esther； the maid。 She pushed a stray blond hair
behind her ear and smiled at her hostess。
When Serena smiled； she used her eyes—those dark； almost navy
blue eyes。 It was the kind of smile you might try to imitate； posing
in the bathroom mirror like an idiot。 The magnetic； delicious； “you
can’t stop looking at me； can you？” smile supermodels spend years
perfecting。 Well； Serena smiled that way without even trying。
“No； I’m here to—” Serena started to say。
Serena’s mother interrupted hastily。 “Serena has decided that
boarding school is not for her；” she announced； patting her hair
casually； as if it were no big deal。 She was the middle…aged version
of utter coolness。
The whole van der Woodsen family was like that。 They were all tall；
blond； thin； an