I Will Always Love You (6 page)

“Nathaniel?”

Nate whirled around and found himself facing a dark-haired guy in jeans and a blue sweater, his arms laden down with two large
bags of ice.

“Chuck?” Nate asked incredulously. It was definitely Chuck Bass, but he looked… different. His features hadn’t changed: same sleek dark hair, same espresso-brown eyes. But the mischievous twinkle seemed gone from
Chuck’s eyes, and he wasn’t carrying the bad-tempered, snow white monkey he used to bring everywhere senior year. Gone was
his trademark navy blue cashmere monogrammed scarf; his jeans looked like they’d seen better days. It was like those spot-the-difference
puzzles Nate’s kindergarten tutor had given him as a kid.

“Good to see you, buddy!” Chuck placed one of the bags of ice on the ground and enthusiastically pumped Nate’s hand. Chuck’s
fingers felt callused, as if he’d spent the past couple of months doing manual labor.

“Should I send your packages up, sir?” The black overcoat-–clad doorman immediately bent down to pick up the bag.

“Nah, that’s cool,” Chuck waved him away. “I’ll bring it up myself.”

Nate blinked. Chuck Bass never did anything for himself.

“Glad you made it. Let’s head inside,” Chuck suggested, gesturing toward the door. Nate nodded dumbly as they whooshed through
the revolving door and into the vaulted-ceilinged, marble-floored lobby. Instead of turning left toward the elevator bank,
Chuck perched on one of the low-slung black leather couches in the dimly lit lobby. “Sorry. It was fucking freezing out there.
I’m used to California.” Chuck smiled. “But I’m not quite ready to head back upstairs. Want to chill here for a sec?”

Nate gingerly sat on an ottoman. “California? What were you doing out there?”

“Deep Springs, my man.” Chuck nodded, his eyes glazed over as if in happy reminiscence.

“Deep what?” Nate parroted. Was that some sort of Playboy resort?

Or a gay spa?

“Deep Springs,” Chuck repeated. “The all-male college. It’s a two-year program on a working alfalfa farm in California. We
all run the farm and the school in between humanities classes,” he explained patiently, settling back into the couch. Nate
glanced down and noticed he was no longer wearing the gold pinky ring he’d worn since sophomore year, after he’d starred in
a European cologne campaign.

“Oh.” Nate was still confused.

“Look, I didn’t get into any schools and I didn’t know what to do. My dad’s cousin is married to a board member there so they
allowed me to do a late interview. It was either that or go to military school, and I just couldn’t leave Sweetie.” Chuck
named his snow monkey. “I was fucking terrified when I got there. They made me give away my Armani sheets to use as tablecloths
in the boardinghouse. I had to get rid of all my clothes and find new clothes in the bone pile, which is all the clothing
left from guys who have moved on. I mean, I was wearing other people’s shit.” Chuck shuddered, as if reliving the experience.
“But it turned out to be what I needed. I was a mess in high school. I mean, you saw me. I was a dick, and I’m sorry about
that,” Chuck said, opening his hands as if to ask for forgiveness.

“Thanks.” Nate shrugged. He thought of a playdate at Chuck’s when they were four. While Chuck’s nanny was watching a soap
opera, Chuck had bit Nate’s arm, laughing the whole time. He’d always been a dick.

Just part of his charm.

“I’m a changed man, Nathaniel,” Chuck continued, crossing one ankle over his knee. He wore a pair of worn-out-looking cowboy
boots. “That’s why I needed to take a breather before I headed back upstairs.”

“I understand.” Nate nodded. He did understand. He needed a breather and he hadn’t even gone up there yet. “So what else happened
at Deep Springs?”

“So, I get there, I’m wearing some guy’s flannel shirt and jeans, we’re on this alfalfa farm in the middle of the desert,
and I swear to God, I was ready to call my father, our lawyers, everyone, but there was no service. I was in the middle of
the fucking desert. Our first night, Sweetie got bit by a rattlesnake. Poor girl.”

“Did she die?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, but not because of snakes. She sort of starved herself to death. She just couldn’t adapt.” Chuck shrugged sadly.

“How did you do it?” Nate asked, awed. “I mean, how did you make it through?” Chuck was nothing like the Mercedes-S-class-driving,
pink-shirt-wearing douche Nate remembered.

“I mean, the first month sucked, but then they changed my job from farm team to dairy boy and everything just changed. I’d
be up at dawn with these cows, and I realized that there’s more to life than just acquiring things and people. You know, hooking
up with someone’s easy. Castrating a bull is fucking hard, man.”

“I guess so,” Nate grunted. In a way, he and Chuck had been through similar experiences. They’d both separated themselves
from society, they’d both thought about their lives while doing manual labor. But why did Chuck seem so grounded and happy
and normal while Nate felt more fucked-up than ever?

“So, what’s going on with you?” Chuck asked companionably, steepling his fingers against his chin. “You and Blair still together?
Or what about Serena? Dude, some guys at Deep Springs watch Breakfast at Fred’s over and over again in the rumpus room. During the next calving season, we’re going to name the firstborn Holly.” Chuck shook
his head fondly, his eye resting on the bags of ice melting at his feet. “Shit, I’ve gotta get back upstairs. Are you coming?”
Chuck’s brown eyes bored into him.

“I’m coming.” Nate stood up and grabbed one of the bags of ice. As they made their way into the elevator, Chuck went on about
all the Deep Springs buddies he’d invited to New York, but Nate was only half listening. Chuck really had changed. And if
college could change someone like Chuck Bass, Nate couldn’t begin to imagine what it could do for him.

It was freezing on the terrace and Blair had already smoked two Merits, but she didn’t want to head back inside. She didn’t
want to pretend to care what Laura and Rain were doing with their lives. She didn’t want to watch Isabel slobber all over
her girlfriend. She didn’t want to watch the cowboy guys try to beat each other in Grand Theft Auto as if they’d never played
a video game before in their lives. No wonder Chuck hadn’t even bothered to show up at his own party. Nothing was happening, no one interesting was here, and she was going to
fucking kill Serena as soon as she saw her. But first, she was going to have to beg the concierge to get her a suite in the
hotel—it was New Year’s Eve and they were probably all booked. She couldn’t wait to take off her dress, order room service,
and drink vodka sodas from the minibar while watching AMC.

Sounds like a rockin’ New Year’s Eve.

Blair yanked open the sliding door into the suite just as someone else was stepping out onto the terrace. She caught her breath.
Broad shoulders. Tanned skin. Light brown hair streaked blond from the sun. Hollowed-out cheekbones and a scruffy beard. Glittering
green eyes that were staring right at her. Adorable smile.

“Hi,” Blair finally managed. She twisted her ruby red ring around and around her little finger. The last time she’d even heard
from Nate was when he’d sent her a text message telling her he’d decided to sail the world instead of coming to Yale with
her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kick him, or… kiss him.

“Blair,” Nate croaked. He couldn’t believe it. Blair was standing before him like an angel. A sexy, dark-haired, slightly
pissed-off angel.

“What are you doing here?” Blair spat. She wanted to tell him how devastating it had been to go to Yale by herself, after
she’d spent the whole summer imagining their life together. She wanted to tell him how she dreamed about him every night the
first month of college, or how her roommate, Alana, offered Blair a teddy bear from her prized collection because she seemed
so lonely.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Nate breathed. Blair’s small face looked more angular, her skin paler. She wore a ladylike
black dress that hugged every curve of her body. Her chest seemed bigger, but her waist somehow smaller. Nate wanted to wrap
his arms around it.

“Well, I am.” Blair felt rooted to the ground.

Nate wanted to hug Blair and bury his nose in her hair, to smell the delicious shampoo she always used. He wanted to press
his lips against hers. He wanted to run his fingers along the curve of her back. Chips’s words rang through his head. You’ll know when you know.

He knew.

“I’m back,” he said finally.

“I can see that,” Blair hedged. She didn’t want to make this easy for him. He’d broken her heart, and she’d sworn she’d never
forgive him.

“Blair, I know I messed up. I was scared and didn’t know what to do. You know I love you. I always have.”

“That’s what you texted. To me and Serena.” Blair put her hands on her hips. The fact that he’d sent the exact same I love you, goodbye message to her and Serena had always been the most difficult thing.

“I know. I was so confused. I’ve known you both forever. Serena’s a friend, but I love you, Blair. I understand if you can’t
forgive me, but I hope we can at least be friends.” Nate’s eyes were pleading.

Blair studied Nate’s face and softened a bit. His green eyes were dull and his face was ashen. He looked like a guy who’d
just realized he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. “So much has happened,” she began, but then trailed off. Where to
even begin?

Blair glanced around. Rain and Laura and a whole bunch of slutty L’École freshmen were peering toward the terrace, watching
them. She didn’t know what she wanted to say to Nate, but she knew she didn’t want an audience.

“We could talk about it somewhere else,” he suggested, as if reading her mind.

Blair gazed at Nate, holding eye contact. Every night before she went to sleep at Yale, she’d revisited the same fantasy,
like a movie playing itself on loop in her head: Nate opening the door to her tiny dorm room and sitting down on the edge
of her regulation-size bed. Telling her that he’d gone out to sea to forget her, but that he couldn’t stay away. That he couldn’t
live without her. That he loved her, always and forever.

It wasn’t happening exactly as she’d imagined it. But it was still happening.

“Can we go back to your house?” Blair asked boldly, surprising herself. She knew what would happen when she was alone with
Nate. But she also knew, finally, that Nate loved her. And he deserved a second chance.

Or a third, or a fourth…

the last moment is the one that counts

Vanessa ran up the steps of the First Avenue L train station at eleven thirty on New Year’s Eve, eager to get to Hollis’s
party before midnight. The stairwell smelled like pee and was crowded with scantily clad revelers getting a late start on
party hopping.

She spontaneously pulled out her camera from her bright orange Brooklyn Industries bag. Last year, she’d captured footage
from a midnight run in Central Park. She loved the idea of having an archive of footage of anonymous New Yorkers, celebrating
the start of a new year. She began filming the packs of people swarming out of the subway station and onto the sidewalk. Avenue
B had been a sketchy avenue in the eighties and nineties, but it was now dotted with gourmet coffee shops and wine bars. The
entire street had the atmosphere of an enormous party, and Vanessa felt a shiver of anticipation run up her spine.

She made her way to the address from Hollis’s text. The black door to the four-story-tall building was propped open with a
broom, and strains of the Clash emanated from the top floor.

The apartment was sticky and humid from so many bodies in such close proximity. Vanessa pulled off her puffer coat and draped
it over her arm. She was wearing black jeans and a black hoodie emblazoned with the logo of her sister’s band, Sugar-Daddy.
She felt plain and underdressed compared to the guys in skinny jeans and ironic T-shirts and the girls in vintage silk dresses,
toasting each other with plastic cups.

Vanessa felt a tug on the hood of her sweatshirt and turned around.

“You came!” A slow smile spread across Hollis Lyons’s face, reaching his slate gray, thickly lashed eyes. He was tall and
lean, and wore jeans and a purple-and-black-striped vest over a white button-down. A black newsboy cap sat jauntily on his
head, his messy black hair sticking out from underneath. On anyone else, the outfit would’ve looked ridiculous, but on Hollis,
it somehow worked. Vanessa randomly thought of a young Christian Bale in Newsies, a movie Jenny loved for no apparent reason.

Hollis draped his arm over Vanessa’s shoulder and led her into the kitchen.

“As you can see, we’re extremely well stocked.” He gestured to the makeshift bar like a game show host. The cracked laminate
counter was littered with empty bottles and cans. “What can I get you?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“PBR?” Hollis opened the refrigerator and held out a can toward her. “Seems to be all that’s left. I thought we’d just have
a couple of people, but we’re at capacity.” He passed the beer to Vanessa. “Just so you know, I don’t make a habit of drinking
with my students.”

“I’m not your student anymore!” Vanessa had to yell above the music. Le Tigre was pounding so hard through the stereo that
the hardwood floor seemed to be shaking.

“I know!” Hollis grinned and clinked his glass against hers. “Let’s go upstairs!”

He opened the door of the apartment and Vanessa followed. He swung his leg onto a rickety fire escape ladder installed four
feet above the floor, holding his beer precariously with one hand the whole time. Vanessa clambered after him, her hands gripping
the freezing fire escape, and stepped onto a narrow landing. They faced a large black metal door with a note tacked on: DO NOT OPEN, ALARM WILL SOUND.

Hollis pushed open the door. They were greeted by silence instead of a loud siren. “That’s been there for years,” he explained,
walking out onto the unfinished tar-covered roof. Around them, other people were on their own rooftops, setting off rogue
fireworks, toasting each other, and laughing.