I Will Always Love You Read online

  Buckle up! The road ahead sounds seriously bumpy.

  the more the merrier

  “More wine, Blair-Bear? After all, you’ve been legal in England for months!” Harold Waldorf held up a bottle of his vineyard’s Côtes du Rhone. Blair sighed in contentment. It was the perfect winter break: no drama, no one protesting her movie choices, and plenty of cozy time with her family and her fabulous boyfriend.

  And who might that be?

  “Thanks, Daddy,” she cooed, holding out her glass. Harold wore a red cashmere sweater and tight jeans that, really, no man should ever wear, but he looked surprisingly good. It was hard to remember a time when her dad was a straitlaced partner of a Park Avenue law firm and not a French vineyard–owning gay man with a partner named Giles and adopted twins from Cambodia named Pierre and Pauline. As infants the twins had been named Ping and Pong, because of their cute round hairless heads, but as soon as Harold and Giles began applying to nursery school programs, they realized their son and daughter might be teased.

  You think?

  “‘For auld lang syne’…” Harold warbled as he stepped between the pieces of the elaborate train set the twins had gotten for Christmas spread out on the floor. In the corner, Giles was having a tea party with the twins.

  Blair contemplatively swirled the wine in her glass. It was nice to be in Newport, where she’d spent so many of her childhood holidays. Christmas had been perfect: They’d spent the morning opening presents underneath the gigantic Douglas fir, then taken turns helping Pauline and Pierre build their train set. She’d gotten a pair of limited edition Chanel booties from her father, and she’d spent the afternoon curled up by the fire reading and drinking wine. There’d been no unexpected surprises, and she liked it that way.

  She was even looking forward to a quiet New Year’s. No drama, no hangovers, and the only brushes with the past would be in the form of pleasant memories. The house smelled like oranges and cinnamon, and if she closed her eyes she could imagine herself as a teenager, annoyed to leave New York—and Serena and Nate—for boring, lonely Newport.

  “It’s good to have you back, Bear,” Harold told her.

  It felt like she’d been gone forever. Blair was spending her junior year at St. Peter’s College in Oxford. She’d pictured herself living in one of the Gothic buildings near campus, surrounded by posh classmates who kept flats in Sloane Square, attending thought-provoking lectures given by aged professors who drank scotch throughout their insightful monologues. But as had so often happened in Blair’s life, things hadn’t quite turned out as she planned. She’d been assigned to live in the basement of a dorm, where her hall mates were shrill girls from Mount Holyoke. Blair hated the weather, hated the snooty Oxford students who considered her a second-class citizen because she was American, and hated the fact that most of the pubs in Oxford closed at 11 p.m.

  It was almost like fate intervening one cold and rainy afternoon in mid-October. She’d been riding a bike to the library, the idea of which she’d thought seemed cute and quaint. What she hadn’t anticipated was how difficult it was to bike on cobblestone. She wound up falling in the center of town. She was sitting there miserably, soaked from the rain, knees skinned, when like a knight in shining armor, he appeared; just as he always had, she’d just never noticed him before….

  “These cookies are just delicious, Harold.” Chuck Bass ambled in from the kitchen, nibbling on one of the snowman-shaped sugar cookies Harold had baked with the twins. He eased down onto the sofa next to Blair.

  Blair smiled and squeezed Chuck’s hand. It was Chuck who had rescued her that day, except instead of shining armor he wore Thomas Pink, and instead of a knight, he was an Oxford University scholar. He’d transferred there after completing two years at Deep Springs, and ever since their paths crossed that fateful day, they’d been practically inseparable.

  “I’ll give you the recipe,” Harold offered, smiling at the compliment. “As if you can really cook in those horrible dorms Blair’s complained to me about. Many times,” he added with a teasing wink at his daughter.

  Blair rolled her eyes. “I was thinking about moving to a flat in town when we get back. We could probably find something on College Street.” Right now, Chuck lived with a bunch of his rowing buddies in a house on the mortifyingly named Titmarsh Lane. It would be nice to have a little more privacy, and a bigger bed.

  And a better mailing address?

  “If that’s okay with you, Daddy,” Blair added.

  “Wonderful,” Harold said. He’d always trusted Blair completely.

  Blair sighed happily and nuzzled closer to Chuck. She couldn’t believe this was the same Chuck Bass she’d known growing up. He was sweet and sensitive and got along well with everyone. Blair imagined them settling down in Sloane Square. She’d be a barrister, he’d work as a banker in Canary Wharf, and they’d have three children with adorable accents and picnic in Kensington Gardens on weekends.

  “Moving in already. Sounds serious!” Harold said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “I apologize for your meddling dad,” Giles piped up from his tea party in the corner. “That’s why I prefer hanging out with the knee-high set.” Giles ruffled Pierre’s dark hair.

  Suddenly, the sound of the doorbell filled the house.

  “Did we order something?” Giles asked.

  Blair threw the plaid blanket from her knees, ran to the entryway, and flung open the door, half expecting to find a singing messenger or some over-the-top surprise that Chuck or her generous father had planned for her as a post-Christmas surprise. A car? A pony? A private plane to sweep them all off to St. Barts for New Year’s?

  Instead, her eyes fell on Serena van der Woodsen, Nate Archibald, that younger girl who’d been kicked out of Constance for extreme sluttiness, and her shaggy-haired older brother, who she’d heard Serena was actually seeing. It was like a band of carolers gone wrong.

  What. The. Fuck? Was this some sort of joke? A hallucination from too many glasses of red wine and not enough exercise?

  Or a late visit from the Ghosts of Christmas Past?

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Blair asked rudely. The shaggy-haired guy awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if he had to pee.

  “We’ll leave. Sorry for the confusion,” he said quickly, turning on the sole of his ugly loafer.

  Serena finally managed to clear her throat. Of course she’d suggested staying at Blair’s house, but the thought that Blair might actually be here hadn’t even occurred to her. “Yeah, we’ll find a hotel in town.” Serena glanced nervously at Blair, whose veins were throbbing at her temples. This was not how she wanted to see her former best friend for the first time after a year apart. Blair had gone to Oxford to get away from Serena, and now here she was, standing on her doorstep like a stalker.

  “Hey guys!” Chuck said, sidling up next to Blair. Serena tried to stop the gasp that formed in her throat. What was Chuck Bass doing here? Chuck’s hand rested protectively on Blair’s petite shoulder. Was he… with Blair? “Dan Humphrey, long time no see,” he said enthusiastically, reaching out a hand.

  “Hi Chuck,” Dan muttered, limply shaking Chuck’s hand. He hadn’t thought it was possible for the night to get any weirder, but apparently, it could. What the fuck was his Riverside Prep nemesis doing here, in a pair of cashmere pajamas?

  “Who do we have here?” Harold boomed as he strode down the entryway. “Serena van der Woodsen and Nate Archibald! Why didn’t you tell me they were coming, Bear?” Harold cried, kissing Serena on both cheeks and leaning in to clap Nate on the back. “Come in, come in!” Harold escorted everyone inside, pumping hands enthusiastically as if he were an ambassador.

  To a very hostile country?

  “Thanks, sir!” Serena said weakly as she shuffled into the house. She didn’t really have a choice.

  “So, what brings you this way?” Harold asked, throwing more logs onto the crackling fire and settling back into his leather wingback chair as
if preparing for an all-night chat. Jenny, Nate, and Dan all clustered around Serena, delegating explanation responsibilities to her.

  “Mr. Waldorf, I’m really sorry to intrude. This is my boyfriend, Dan Humphrey.” Serena emphasized the word boyfriend. Maybe if Blair knew she wasn’t with Nate, she’d soften a little. “And his sister, Jenny. Jenny was visiting colleges and ran into Nate on a tour of Brown. And we were all driving back to the city and got stuck in the snow.” She shrugged, as if that explained everything.

  Blair narrowed her eyes. Of course Serena would play the Miss Innocent card, as if they’d just happened to be driving right past the Newport house. Newport wasn’t exactly in Brown’s backyard.

  “So you just ran into each other?” Blair asked icily.

  “Yeah.” Nate tried to catch Blair’s eye. In his time at Deep Springs, he’d almost forgotten how pretty she was. Her hair framed her small, fine-featured face, her eyes were bright, and she wore a black sweater that hugged her petite frame. Nate forced himself to glance away. She looked happy now. The last thing he wanted to do was get in the way. “We can leave. Blair, we’ll leave,” he repeated quietly, trying to let Blair know that he wasn’t here to fuck up her life.

  Again.

  “In this weather? Nonsense! We’re thrilled to have you. I see Pierre and Pauline have already made a friend!” Harold nodded to the corner, where Jenny was kneeling on the Oriental-carpeted floor, patiently asking the twins about their train set. “It’s almost their bedtime. Almost my bedtime, too,” Harold chuckled, draining the last of his wine. “But we have plenty of food, and we all know Blair has plenty of clothes to share with the girls. Our house is your house, so please, make yourselves at home. It’ll be like a big pajama party!”

  Hooray!

  “We’ll set Serena and Dan up in the downstairs guest room. Jennifer, you can have the upstairs, and Nate gets the attic. Will that work?”

  Blair shrugged. “Fine. Chuck and I are going to bed,” she announced, grabbing Chuck’s elbow and yanking him up the stairs. Hopefully by tomorrow morning the snow would have stopped and they could all go back to wherever the fuck they came from. Better yet, she’d wake up and discover this was all just a big, terrible nightmare.

  Sleep tight!

  nice day for an imaginary white wedding

  Jenny woke up to sunlight streaming onto her face. She stretched lazily, reveling in the softness of the goose-down pillows surrounding her. The delicate hands of the silver clock on the nightstand pointed to 7 a.m. She was momentarily disoriented, then remembered that she was at Blair Waldorf’s Newport house.

  It had been awkward when they’d first arrived. Everyone had guiltily headed to the rooms Harold assigned them, but Jenny had lain awake in bed, thinking about Nate in the attic above her.

  She swung her feet onto the walnut floor and looked out one of the east-facing bay windows. Frost covered the windowpanes, and in the distance she could see the ocean, waves slowly rolling toward the shore. The expansive land surrounding the house was covered with a thick blanket of snow, and icicles hung on the branches of the fir trees that edged the slate walkway. Snow was still falling heavily. Jenny felt a shiver of anticipation run up her spine. How could she possibly sleep when she was in such a beautiful place?

  She carefully pushed the door open and padded down the lengthy hallway, bringing her sketchbook and a pencil from her bag. She’d head to the attic and sketch the snowstorm, and if she just happened to run into a boxer-clad Nate, she wouldn’t complain.

  She slowly tiptoed up the creaky stairs that led to the attic and gasped. She’d been imagining a creepy, cobwebby crawl space. Instead, Oriental rugs covered the dark oak floors. Louis Vuitton steamer trunks and abandoned antique furniture vied for space. Clothes were hanging on coatracks, and bookshelves were overflowing with first editions. The old sleigh bed in the corner looked slept in, but Nate wasn’t in it. She couldn’t be disappointed, though—there was so much else to look at.

  Jenny timidly pulled open one of the doors of an antique-looking wardrobe.

  “Oh!” she breathed in surprise. Packed in the small space were dresses of all different colors and styles, hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of couture. It was even better than shopping at Next to New, the vintage store in Rhinecliff that all the Waverly girls visited when they needed a one-of-a-kind party outfit. Jenny found herself pulling out a short Nina Ricci sparkly halter dress. It probably hadn’t been worn or even looked at in years. It was practically her duty to try it on.

  She wedged herself behind the wardrobe, pulled off the baby pink Senior Spa Weekend T-shirt she’d found in the guest room, and shimmied into the dress.

  She scampered over to a freestanding mirror and gazed at herself. Her chest didn’t look as ginormous as usual, and her petite frame was lengthened by the halter straps. She shook her curls around her face. She felt like she was headed to a party at Studio 54.

  Jenny continued to paw through the dresses in the wardrobe until she came to an oversize garment bag. It was taller than she was and could fit a person inside.

  We may need that body bag soon….

  She wrestled the hanger off the rack and pulled the heavy garment to the bed. Then she unzipped the bag, revealing a white wedding dress with a heavily beaded bodice and a long train. It probably cost more than a year at RISD, but she had to try it on. She yanked the Nina Ricci dress over her head and dropped it on the floor in a sequined puddle. Next, she stepped into the wedding gown feetfirst and pulled the heavy bodice up her torso. She struggled with the zipper at the back, finally giving up when it was halfway done. Her boobs easily held it up anyway.

  Jenny eagerly scampered over to the mirror and sucked in her breath. She looked beautiful.

  If she does say so herself.

  Jenny smiled at her reflection and a pretty, rosy-cheeked bride smiled back. Would she ever get married? And to whom? She’d spent the past four years of her life falling in and out of love with various boys. How could you possibly only kiss and love one person for the rest of your life?

  Jenny twirled again, then paused. Were those footsteps on the other side of the door? She looked around for a place to hide. A steamer trunk? The wardrobe?

  The body bag?

  Too late. A door on the other side of the attic opened, and Nate wandered out. He wore a pair of blue boxers with sailboats printed on them and his hair was sticking up in every direction.

  “Hi!” Jenny squeaked, her hands flying to her chest.

  “Jennifer?” Nate blinked. Was this some weird dream? He opened his eyes again. She was standing there all right. Dressed in a wedding dress that created amazing cleavage and made her look innocent and sexy as hell all at once.

  “I was just exploring. Sorry! I’m just going to take the dress off. I mean, I’m going to change!” Jenny said quickly, even though she kind of liked the way Nate was looking at her. “I didn’t think you were here.”

  “I was in the bathroom.”

  Nate grinned, causing cute crinkles to emerge around his sleepy green eyes. “The dress looks nice. You look nice,” Nate clarified, his eyes flicking from her chest up to her large dark brown eyes, and then, without meaning to, to the old antique sleigh bed behind her.

  “You look nice too,” Jenny said, hooking her dark curls behind her small ears. She grinned.

  “Thanks.” Nate willed his bare feet to remain planted on the cold beams of the floor. Girls made him crazy, an unproductive, pot-smoking mess. The past year at Deep Springs he’d worked harder than he had in his life and had finally lived up to his potential in school. And it was all because he’d given up chicks. They’re bad for you, he told himself now. But Jenny seemed so simple and pure, and Nate couldn’t imagine her being bad for anyone. He took a tentative step toward her.

  “So, I guess this is Blair’s mom’s dress, right?” Jenny asked, shrugging her milky white shoulders.

  He reached up and brushed an errant curl off Jenny’s shoulders, then
quickly yanked his hand back to his side.

  So much for staying strong.

  Jenny giggled and tilted her face toward his. He pressed his lips against hers, slowly at first, then more urgently.

  “Nate,” Jenny murmured. She felt his hand on her bare upper back, right above where the zipper had stopped on the dress. She wondered if he could feel how quickly her heart was beating in her chest. The stubble from his chin tickled her face. Her fingers fluttered up behind his head, to pull him closer.

  Suddenly, Nate pulled away. “Do you hear that?” He cocked his hand in a way that reminded Jenny of a golden retriever. Jenny listened. She could hear the twins’ wavering toddler voices singing an off-key rendition of “Frère Jacques” from downstairs.

  “Sounds like the twins are up. We should…” Nate trailed off, shrugging.

  “Yeah,” Jenny agreed, disappointed. “I should change,” she added sheepishly. She reached behind her, fumbling for the zipper.

  “Can I help?” Nate reached for the zipper and eased it down, gently allowing his fingers to brush against the soft skin of her bare back. He’d forgotten how soft girls’ skin was.

  “Thanks.” Jenny crossed her arms tightly over her chest to make sure the dress didn’t fall down. She suddenly felt shy.

  “I’ll give you some privacy,” he offered, and stepped back into the bathroom. He closed the door and she quickly stepped out of the dress. She made her way over to the wardrobe, but before she could set the heavy dress inside, her foot caught on the leg of the mirror. It toppled to the ground with a crash. Fuck.

  “You okay?” Nate called, popping his head around the door.

  “Everything’s fine!” She yelped. The mirror hadn’t broken, but it was lying on its side. She hastily set it upright, threw the dress back on the bed, then sprinted down the attic stairs and back to the tiny guest room, her heart pounding from adrenaline.

  Not to mention infatuation.

  crushes cover for each other