I Will Always Love You (24 page)

You think?

He couldn’t believe it had snowed all day and they were stuck in Newport for another night. All he wanted was to be back in his apartment with Serena, a cup of coffee, and a good book.

“Oh my God, Blair, remember when we were Jenny’s peer counselors?” Serena laughed. The guidance department had chosen her
and Blair to act as role models for some of the younger Constance girls. They’d been assigned a group of freshman with whom
they met once a week to discuss topics like peer pressure, teen sex, and drinking. Instead, they’d spent most of their time
talking about boys and sample sales. Serena shot a sidelong glance at Jenny. She seemed to have turned out okay anyway.

“We were great role models. Unlike Nate’s role model, L’Wren.” Blair smirked, naming a supremely slutty University of Virginia
freshman who’d almost deflowered Nate when he was fifteen.

“Oh my God, L’Wren! I’d almost forgotten about her!” Serena cried, clapping her hands.

Nate shook his head ruefully. In truth, he still had a soft spot in his heart for L’Wren, the girl who’d taught him how to
smoke a bong.

Ah, memories.

Dan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wishing he had more to offer to the conversation. What would he say? Hey Chuck, remember when you locked me out of a party? Nate, remember when you invited yourself on my and Serena’s college
visiting tour senior year? “Hey beautiful,” he whispered to Serena, trying to pull her out of this lame remember-when conversation about people he’d
never met and parties he’d never been invited to.

“Hey,” Serena said distractedly, putting her hand on his arm as if to shush him. She leaned forward over the table, looking
from Nate to Blair. “What I really want to know is: How did none of us get arrested?”

“I went to rehab.” Nate shrugged.

“I followed you there,” Blair said in disbelief. Had she ever really been that crazy?

Does she want the long answer or the short answer? Oh wait, there is no long answer.

“And I rescued you!” Serena piped up. The three of them collapsed into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, this officially enters ‘I don’t want to know’ territory. Giles and I will excuse ourselves,” Harold said bemusedly,
pushing his chair back and beginning to clear the table.

Dan sighed, bored. Jenny was hanging on to every word, giggling like a maniac even though she hadn’t really been a part of
any of this either.

“Serena, remember the first time we met?” Dan whispered in Serena’s ear. He hoped that would be enough to get her to start
paying attention to him.

“Yeah.” Serena smiled, but she didn’t elaborate. “Oh my God, remember when we lived in the Breakfast at Tiffany’s apartment, Blair?”

“Remember the Raves?” Jenny asked, butting into the conversation. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was older or because
they were all out of high school, but suddenly, all the things that had seemed die-of-embarrassment awful when she was fourteen—like
the time a semipornographic video of her and Nate rolling around in the snow together was leaked on the Internet or the time
she appeared in just a bra in a photo spread for a national magazine—seemed almost funny. Jenny felt vaguely proud of herself
for surviving all that and ending up here.

“Of course! And our awesome photo shoot for W right before graduation? I still get compliments on that.”

Jenny beamed. Soon she’d be telling Serena she once stole her jog bra from her locker.

Dan stood up from the table, needing a break. He picked up the empty casserole dish and headed toward the kitchen after Harold
and Giles. He paused when he saw Harold’s hand on the back of Giles’s neck, and made his way back to the table. He plunked
down next to Serena and drained the rest of his wine. Maybe he could at least get some good poetic inspiration from his misery.

The grown-up beauty queens, Lipstick traces of glory faded

In ghost hallways, empty yearbooks. Angry. Jaded.

Or not.

Serena’s cheeks ached from laughing so hard and she knew she was going to be more than a little hungover tomorrow, but she
didn’t want to get up and leave the party yet. Dinner had been over for almost an hour, but everyone was still sitting around
the table, drinking wine and happily swapping stories.

Almost everyone.

“Okay, so what do you miss the most about high school?” Serena waved her empty wineglass around like a Madison Avenue divorcée
at a ladies-only luncheon and glanced around the table. Dan had been silent the entire time. Serena knew he felt out of place.
Even though he’d come to a lot of the parties they were remembering, he’d never really been part of their group of friends
back in high school. Still, that didn’t mean he had to sulk.

Jenny shrank lower in her seat, waiting for someone else to answer. Of course, she was still in high school, but she didn’t want to call attention to that fact.

“I miss stealing homework from the smart kids,” Chuck offered with a wry smile at Dan.

“Thanks,” Dan said stiffly. He had supplied Chuck with most of his English assignments for a year.

“Just kidding,” Chuck laughed. “Didn’t I give you an autographed picture one time in exchange? God, I was a douche.” Chuck
shook his head.

Blair shifted back in her chair. All this talk about their high school escapades had made her feel restless and antsy. There
were now half a dozen empty champagne and wine bottles on the table. Outside, an almost-full moon reflected on the still falling
snow, making the whole world look magical. She didn’t want to sit across from Nate anymore or watch Jenny gaze at him with
puppylike adoration or remember any of the reasons why Chuck was a freak in high school. She needed to get outside and do
something.

Or someone?

“Let’s go sledding,” Blair announced, already scraping her chair across the cherrywood floors.

“Yay!” Serena yelled, clambering to her feet.

Dan cringed. He hated snow in his socks or in the wrists of his jacket and the feel of icy snow on his skin. He hated trudging through the cold
only to ride a piece of plastic down a hill. Why walk up just to slide down? But more than anything, he was scared. When he
was ten, he’d gone sledding with Zeke, his former best friend with unfortunate wide hips, and they’d crashed into a three-hundred-pound
man, who toppled on top of them. Dan had lain there on his back with the wind knocked out of him, thinking he was destined
to die under the fat man’s girth. He hadn’t gotten on a sled since.

“Let’s go!” Serena needled, grabbing Dan’s hand and trying to drag him to his feet. Blair, Chuck, Nate, and Jenny were already
in the mudroom, searching through old mittens and hats for things to wear.

Dan shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Serena’s eyes narrowed. What was Dan’s problem? He’d been moody ever since they’d left Providence. Serena had tried
as hard as she could to include him in the conversation tonight, but he wouldn’t even try. Giles had talked more than Dan tonight, and not only did Giles not know who anyone was, English wasn’t even his first language.

“I think I might be getting sick,” Dan lied. “Besides, I thought we could curl up in front of the fire. You know, just do
something quiet. I think that would make me feel better.” Lying on a rug next to a roaring fire with Serena was exactly what
he needed to just chill out from the last twenty-four hours.

“If you’re feeling sick, I don’t want to catch it,” she told him coldly. Then she half ran to keep up with the rest of the
group. “Don’t leave without me,” she called after them.

Dan sighed heavily as he trudged toward the small library off the main living room. The fireplace was stacked with wood, but
Dan had no idea how to make a fire. The shelves were neatly organized by color—deep greens, blues, and burgundy, and Dan quickly
realized they’d been purchased at the Strand through their books-by-the-yard program, where you could buy books based on your
house’s color scheme rather than their literary merit.

Dan gazed unhopefully at the musty maroon volumes in front of him. He stopped at one thin volume with gold script on the spine.
It was The Sorrows of Young Werther, by Goethe, about a guy’s unrequited love for a beautiful woman. It had been Dan’s favorite book in high school.

Wonder why.

He settled into a stiff red leather wingback chair under a cathedral-like window and flipped open to a random page. It was
where the hero, Werther, realizes he either has to kill his love, her husband, or himself. Dan frowned. This probably wasn’t the best choice for tonight.

Instead, he pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his old tan cords. No missed calls. Of course.

He idly scrolled through his phone book. He didn’t have many numbers stored—just some other creative writing majors from college,
his dad, Jenny, and Serena. As he reached the end of the list, he paused at the lone V. Every other entry had a first and last name, but he’d just put a V for Vanessa the first time he’d programmed her into his phone and never bothered to change it. He’d always sort of loved the simplicity
of it. Why would he ever need to say more than that?

Dan gazed at her number. He hadn’t spoken to Vanessa in almost two years. He’d thought that, living in the same, geographically
small city, they might run into each other. But then again, he lived way uptown and rarely left the neighborhood, while she
probably spent all her time in Brooklyn. He’d heard she was still dating that famous indie film director. She probably never
even thought about Dan anymore. But maybe she did.

WOULD YOU RATHER EAT MY DAD’S FONDUE FOR A MONTH OR GO SLEDDING EVERY DAY FOR A YEAR? he wrote quickly, then, without thinking, hit send. Jenny tortured him with the would-you-rather game, coming up with absurd
scenarios like would he rather have uncontrollable back hair or uncontrollable nose hair. But he knew Vanessa liked absurd
questions. Besides, it was just a little innocent blast from the past.

And since when are blasts from the past ever innocent?

love don’t live here anymore

“You want to go out?” Vanessa asked Norma. The little chow-poodle mix cocked her head and emitted a low-pitched whine. Vanessa
understood what she was trying to say: that she was bored and antsy and didn’t know what to do with herself. Vanessa felt
the same way. It was nine o’clock, but Hollis was still in a meeting with Streetscape execs over distribution for Rowing to Reykjavík. She’d called him a few times, but the phone had gone straight to voice mail.

Vanessa had hoped they could spend some quality time alone, now that he was finally home, but he had such a crammed schedule
of meetings and mandatory studio holiday parties and conference calls that they’d barely spent any time together. In fact,
they hadn’t even exchanged Christmas presents yet—unless you counted the several pairs of ugly wool socks he’d presented to
her his first night back. He said that they were the only thing that kept him warm in Iceland. Vanessa was planning on giving
him a framed photo of the dilapidated picnic table on his old roof. She’d begged his old roommates for access, and had spent
one chilly afternoon shooting it, recalling their first kiss. But she hadn’t even had the chance to give it to him. It felt
like he’d only come into the apartment to dump his stuff and then leave again. A collection of gray wool socks were balled
up under the glass coffee table like nesting chinchillas, and a collection of coffee mugs were in a Stonehenge-like formation
around the sink. Huge stills from Rowing to Reykjavík were lined up along the hallway, blocking the way as they waited to be hung.

The elevator door finally slid open. “Hey babe!” Hollis yelled happily.

“Hey!” she called out. She tried not to let her annoyance show when she noticed the two skinny, goateed guys trailing behind
Hollis.

“These are two Streetscape interns. Josh, Randy, this is Vanessa.” The two guys trailed Hollis into the kitchen and stood
there, not taking off their shoes or coats. Instead of handshakes, they each offered Vanessa a limp wave before leaning against
the wall, turning to Hollis to play ambassador.

“We’re going to this party in Red Hook,” Hollis announced, traipsing gray slush on the freshly cleaned pine floors. It had
been snowing, sleeting, and slushy for three days all across the northeast. Brooklyn was blanketed in a thin layer of white,
barely concealing the dingy gray slush beneath it.

“Okay.” Vanessa resisted the urge to trail after Hollis with the WetJet. She’d much rather order in and have sex, but she
didn’t want to be a bitch. Besides, there’d be plenty of time for that later. “I’ll just get ready.” Vanessa smiled, trying
to figure out what she should wear. It had been a long time since she’d been to a party.

“Oh, you want to come?” Hollis asked in surprise. “Okay, that’s cool. Guys, want some beers? You picked some up, right, babe?”
Hollis asked Vanessa, already midway to the Sub-Zero refrigerator. He hadn’t even taken off his jacket.

Vanessa shook her head in disbelief. Um, no she hadn’t, and since when was her job to go on beer runs for the guys she didn’t
know were coming over?

“That’s fine. We have a bottle of wine.” Hollis grabbed the bottle of white Ruby had brought over the other night.

That’s mine! Vanessa wanted to yell. But that was ridiculous. It was Hollis’s apartment. “You know, I think I’m actually going to stay
in for the night. Have fun, guys.” Vanessa shrugged.

“You sure?” Hollis asked. “I won’t be home too late. So good to be back!” Hollis said, kissing the top of Vanessa’s head.

Vanessa collapsed back on the leather couch and pulled her phone from the crevice behind the cushions. One new text. She smiled.
It was probably Hollis, texting from a cab, sweetly saying that he’d miss her and that he’d be back soon.

Instead, it was from Dan. Asking if she’d rather sled or eat his dad’s fondue. She immediately thought of Rufus, his crazy outfits and his crazier
culinary creations, and then of Dan’s traumatizing story about being mowed over by a large man on a sled when he was a kid.
She laughed out loud, the tension of the last half hour slowly seeping from her limbs.