Blair stood outside the VIP lounge in the British Airways terminal at JFK with her cell phone pressed to her ear. On either side of her, whole families sat on the floor like homeless people, eating stale bagels and drinking Starbucks. Peasants.
That's what you get for traveling in August.
Come on, Nate. Answer your frigging phone. Blair tapped the toe of her black suede French Sole ballet flat impatiently. Her plane to Glasgow was leaving in less than an hour and she wanted to say goodbye and leave Nate with a little something to keep him thinking about her. She'd worn a gorgeous new black Diane von Furstenberg shirtdress to travel in, thinking she'd sit alone at a table in the VIP lounge, looking mysterious. A cast of handsome admirers would eavesdrop jealously while she smoked and drank dirty martinis and flirted on the phone with Nate. But as soon as she'd arrived, she discovered her phone didn't work in the lounge
"Hey." Nate suddenly picked up.
"My plane's leaving soon," Blair told him breathily. "Only two more weeks until we see each other again."
"Sweet," he responded.
"I should have asked you meet me here," she added suggestively, as if they could have had sex right there in the middle of the airport. Maybe they would have been arrested for indecent exposure. They might have gotten locked in a jail cell together. They could have had sex all week. But then she'd miss her plane.
Not to mention the wedding.
"I can't wait to kiss you," Nate told her, his voice hoarse from all the pot he'd been smoking. She tried to picture him sprawled out on his single bed in his house in Maine, where she'd actually never been. The picture in her mind was of a ramshackle fishing cabin with screens for windows and a dilapidated wood stove in the corner, but she knew it was a lot nicer than that.
Kind of.
Still, the idea of him lying on a scratchy red wool camping blanket thinking of her in her gorgeous ivory satin and black lace underwear was too delicious to dispel. She smiled into her silver Samsung. Across the terminal a couple held hands while they watched the planes taxi out to their respective runways. On the floor a few feet away a girl with spiky black hair and an eyebrow ring was kissing her gray-haired, tattooed boyfriend. Airports were so sexy.
"You know, Serena always said just kissing was the most romantic thing," Blair murmured. "But that's so boring. I'm definitely ready to go all the way." She twirled the little ruby ring he'd given her around and around on her finger. "When I get back. Like, the minute I get back," she giggled.
A gong went off inside the VIP lounge and Eleanor stuck her head out the door. She'd lost thirty pounds since March and wore a black linen Chanel dress, a wide-brimmed black linen hat, and enormous round black Chanel sunglasses—-looking every inch the jaded divorcée. "Blair, darling, our flight's leaving in half an hour. We have to get to the gate."
Blair pressed the phone to her lips and kissed it noisily.
Mwa!
"I love you," she whispered loudly as she followed her mother down the corridor to the awaiting plane. "And next time no more boring kisses."
Long after Blair had signed off, Nate stood in his little weed garden behind the boat barn, looking at the small black phone in his hand. He was baked after smoking the first two joints of his very own homegrown pot. It wasn't the best stuff in the world—it hurt his throat and gave him the shakes. But that thing Blair said about Serena had shaken him up even more. He'd barely seen Serena since they were in Sun Valley together. Even then, they hadn't really hung out. And, as it turned out, it was Serena who was the romantic, the one who talked about kissing. The one who had kissed him first.
"I could just kiss you forever," she'd whispered to him in the dark in her bed on Valentine's Day. Those words were more powerful than anything he'd ever smoked. And the craving he had right now for the sound of her voice, her soft breath on his skin, the honeysuckle scent of her lush blond hair, the way her lips moved against his, the feel of her long, lean body beneath his hands, was stronger than any craving he'd ever had.
Uh-oh.
GOSSIPGIRL.NET
hey people!
something's fishy
Did anyone see the write-up in Time Out about that tiny Russian fish shop in Williamsburg? Apparently it's the place to get the freshest fish for grilling in your backyard this summer. As if any of us is doing any grilling. Well, not grilling of that nature. B will be doing a bit of grilling when she next sees her boyfriend (see sightings).
belle of the ball
Word in from Connecticut that S has been partying up a storm and acting her little tushy off at her summer acting workshop. It's about time she learned the art of distraction: surround yourself with gorgeous boys, play pretty temptresses onstage, and pretend you're not missing a damn thing.
sightings
B getting buffed and polished at the Vidal Sassoon salon in Glasgow in preparation for her aunt's wedding. She's got her chastity belt locked, but all that Rhode Island country air has her looking bronzed, fit, and gorgeous. S in a black silk bonnet and low-cut golden gown -on-stage in the The Age of Innocence. S at the after-party at the polo club, dancing on tables sans bonnet and gown. N installing an automatic watering system behind an old red barn in Maine. What's he growing back there, pumpkins? K and I wearing their blue-and-white seersucker school uniforms as cover-ups on the beach in East Hampton. Do they really think this is a trend that's going to catch on? Maybe they just miss school. C picketing at his local beach in Bar Harbor to reverse the no-topless-sunbathing rule. N in NYC, buying Molson and everything bagels in his local deli. Hey—summer's not over yet. What's he doing back??
your e-mail
Q: Dear GG,
Have you been to that crazy fish shop in Williamsburg? I swear that bald girl slices a mean filet of sole. She's freaking cute, too.
—crbby
A: Dear crbby,
I guess I'm going to have to make the trip, since no one will stop talking about this.
—GG
Q: Dear GG,
There's this girl, actually a friend's younger sister, who all my friends are talking about. She's gorgeous. Everyone always lies about hooking up with her, but of course I want to hook up with her too. What should I do?
—gdflw
A: Dear gdflw,
Do not pop out of the bushes at her and pretend you don't know who she is. She gets that all the time. If it's meant to be, maybe she'll pop out of the bushes at you!
—GG
All right, people, I'm off to Williamsburg to watch this notorious bald girl slice fish firsthand. It better be as good as everyone says it is, because I do not like to leave the island of Manhattan unless it involves going to the beach. And I better not get lost getting there. You might be wondering what I'm doing back in the city. Whither a certain boy goes, I cannot stay away. . . .
Don't worry, we'll save some beluga caviar for you.
You know you love me,
gossip girl
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Gossip Girl: It Had To Be You
Teen Fiction'Welcome to New York City's Upper East Side, where my friends and I all live in huge, fabulous apartments and go to exclusive single-sex private schools. We aren't always the nicest people in the world, but we make up for it in looks and taste.' Ent...
