Gossip Girl: It Had To Be You

D can't lose this loving feeling

Dan had jogged through Central Park and over to Constance from Riverside Prep on West End Avenue and now he was dying. Sweat poured from his face and seeped into his collar. He was shaking and red-faced and looked like he needed to go to the hospital. It was a hot and breezeless day. He lit a cigarette and sucked on it desperately. There . . . much better. He still felt awful, but a better, more intriguing kind of awful. Now all he had to do was think of something nice to say to Vanessa so she wouldn't hate him anymore. Too bad the only thing he could think of to say was, "You're nice. I like you," which sounded like a marriage proposal from somebody who'd been living in a windowless basement all his life, eating cockroaches.

At least it would be a step in the right direction.

With its flawless redbrick façade, billowing American flag, and great blue doors, Constance Billard was much more imposing than Riverside Prep. Even the teachers looked more intimidating, with their crisp linen suits, pointy shoes, perfectly coiffed hair, and steely makeup. No wonder Vanessa hated school. She must have felt like the ugly duckling in this place.

Dan lit another cigarette, tossing his old one discreetly beside the front tire of the parked gray town car he was leaning against. The sturdy redbrick school building in front of him seemed to shudder with relief as the final bell rang within. Then the great blue doors flew open and a stream of girls wearing Constance's blue-and-white seersucker summer uniforms poured out. First came the little ones in their white Peter Pan–collared blouses, lugging enormous wheeled backpacks full of lunchboxes, sticker albums, pencil kits, and scrapbooks. Next came the middle schoolers, looking awkward in their braces and glasses, weighed down by their enormous math and Latin textbooks. And finally the upper schoolers began to ooze out more casually, after changing into shorts, halter tops, and flip-flops, turning on their iPods, and applying their one thousandth coat of MAC lip gloss for the day.

Jenny should have been out already, but she often got caught up with a project in the art room, so Dan wasn't surprised she was late. Still, she was supposed to be his cover. If Vanessa refused to talk to him or gave him a hard time, he was counting on pretending he was just there to pick up Jenny.

Then he spotted her exiting the great blue doors wearing a cap-sleeved black T-shirt, a super-short, maroon wool Constance winter uniform skirt, and cut-off-at-the-knee black fishnet stockings with her ever-present black Doc Martens. She traipsed down the stairs in that deliberately slow, fuck-all-you-losers-for-rushing way she had of walking and headed straight for him. Her big brown eyes were mild and almost bored-looking, and he could tell she was determined not to let on how mad at him she truly was."

Been staying dry and secure?" she demanded, pointing at his black corduroys. "I hear Depend undergarments give a better fit than Pampers."

Nice.

Dan threw his cigarette onto the steaming sidewalk. "It's not my fault you stuck my hand in a bowl of water. What'd you expect?" He wasn't about to mention why she'd stuck his hand in a bowl of water in the first place. How could he explain his tireless obsession with a girl who didn't even know his name?Vanessa shrugged her shoulders. What did she expect? A lot, actually. She squinted at him. "What's wrong with your face? Have you been exercising or are you just happy to see me?" She cackled at her own joke. "Did you come to finally demand an apology for my little prank, or are you just waiting for your sister?"

Dan smiled, then frowned, suddenly confused. Why was he here? "I could say I'm here to pick up Jenny, but I'm not." Words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I ran all the way here . . . to see you . . . to apologize for being . . . I don't know, a jerk."

Vanessa wanted to hug him, she really did. But hugs were so corny. She just wasn't a hugger.

Aw, go on. Hug him.