Tinsley watched him walk down the path until he disappeared into a cluster of people at the steps of Maxwell. The photo of herself in her red bikini was still in her pocket, but she was too shocked, and too proud, to race after him now. Instead, she headed back to his dorm and slipped it under his door.
Even if he didn’t want it, it was his, and his alone.
Instant Message Inbox
IsaacDresden: My dad said you came to see him today. Why’d you do that?
JennyHumphrey: I had to. It was really nice of you to protect me, but the party was my idea. I should get in trouble along with everyone else.
IsaacDresden: I still think you’re crazy, but oddly enough, I think you scored points with Dad for it.
JennyHumphrey: What about points with you?
IsaacDresden: You’re already way ahead in my book.
JennyHumphrey: What about U? R U in trouble?
IsaacDresden: Grounded. Indefinitely.
JennyHumphrey: Can you sneak out for coffee? I feel like I still owe you one.
IsaacDresden: Good. I’d like to keep seeing you—indefinitely.
Instant Message Inbox
BennyCunningham: I was just in the dean’s office and you won’t guess what I heard.
SageFrancis: What were U doing there?
BennyCunningham: Picking up my coat. And dropping off brownies. Whatever. Do U want 2 know what I heard or not?
SageFrancis: What, that the dean’s no Marymount? That he’s letting Easy Walsh back into Waverly cuz he saved his little girl’s life?
BennyCunningham: Bitch. So U already know?
SageFrancis: Everyone does. Wonder what that means for Callie.
BennyCunningham: I’ll tell you one thing it means—she’s gonna have some competition for EZ. I think Isla may have a crush on her knight in shining armor.
SageFrancis: Told you Jan Plan wouldn’t be boring.
Blair Waldorf, Serena van der Woodsen,
Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, and
Vanessa Abrams went off to live their lives.
Now, they’re coming home for the holidays.
A lot can change in a few months…
but some things never do.
Turn the page for a sneak peek of
I will always love you
a new gossip girl hardcover
featuring the original cast
Hey people!
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
For years, New York City—the center of the universe, the place where anything can happen—was our home. But we’ve moved beyond our uniform-required, single-sex schools and into bastions of higher education around the country. Yes, it finally happened: We went to college. For the past few months, we’ve been surrounded by people who don’t know who we’ve hooked up with, who don’t remember the time we wet our pants on the playground in kindergarten. We’ve learned new things and made new friends and maybe even met the loves our lives. We’ve changed.
Or at least, some of us have. Others are just as fabulous as always. Take B, heading to Vermont to spend a perfect holiday with her perfect Yale boyfriend and his perfect family. That girl always had her eye on the prize…. And speaking of prizes, what’s rumored SAG nominee S doing these days? Formerly worshipped by her Constance Billard classmates, she’s now followed by paparazzi and a posse of fellow movie starlets. No matter where she is or what she does, S will always be the center of attention.
Then there are the people who’ve tried their hardest to change: N is on a sailing trip around the world. But as we all know from reading Kant in our freshman seminars, no man is an island. He’ll be back. Then there’s D, scratching out poetry in his Moleskine notebook in the Pacific Northwest. It may look like a total lifestyle change, but he still insists on Folgers instead of French press in the coffee capital of the U.S. He also spends every waking moment attempting to Skype his shaven-headed, ultra independent filmmaker girlfriend, V, who’s at NYU and seems to almost… have hair. And friends. Lastly there’s C, last seen with a pack of flannel-wearing, very rugged boys. Is he into a new type, or has he gone through yet another reinvention? That man puts Madonna to shame.
Everyone’s back in town for the holidays, and this winter break is guaranteed to be filled with makeups, breakups, and shakeups. Lucky for you, I’m going to report everything worth reporting. Let the reunion begin.
sightings:
B on a train from New Haven to Montpelier, VT, looking very out of place in a sea of flannel… S with three identical girls, on the red carpet for a premiere…. V and some friends from NYU, including her very young, very cute teaching assistant, at a film-screening party in Bushwick. Is someone trying to get extra credit?… D and his little sister, J, splitting a plate of chocolate-chip pancakes at one of those curiously packed diners on upper Broadway…. C and a group of cowboy boot–clad guys ordering sodas at the lounge at the Tribeca Star. Ride ’em cowboy!
Break the rules
Remember, you don’t technically live under your parents’ roof anymore. You’ve already indulged them in holiday merry-making: Scrabble with the siblings, kissing Grandma, and decorating cookies that nobody’s going to eat. Which means now is the time to use all your pent-up energy to party. Remember, you can always reform after January 1—that’s what resolutions are for. So go out, have fun, and most of all, show your former besties and former flames just how much better you’ve become.
Besides, now that you know I’m watching, aren’t you just dying to put on a show? Thought so.
You know you love me,
All B wants for Christmas
“You awake, Scout?”
Blair Waldorf awoke from a nap to the sight of her boyfriend, Pete Carlson, gazing down at her. Pete smiled his adorable, lopsided smile. His eyes were a yellowish brown and reminded Blair of her cat, Kitty Minky’s.
She threw the Black Watch plaid duvet to the foot of the couch and discreetly checked for drool with her index finger. She loved being woken up by Pete, especially when he called her by an adorable nickname. Currently, it was Scout because she’d directed him and his three older brothers to the best Douglas fir Christmas tree, deep in the woods of the Carlson’s expansive Woodstock, Vermont estate.
“Of course I am,” Blair lied, sitting up and yawning. Why sleep when her waking life was so much better?
“Good.” Pete settled next to her on the couch, tenderly pushing Blair’s long bangs off her small, foxlike face. Her hair was a little shaggier than she’d like, but she simply didn’t trust any of the hair salons in New Haven. Besides, what were unkempt bangs when she was with a guy who loved her?
“Have any dreams? You were making these little growls in your sleep. It was cute.” Pete pulled the blanket off the floor and draped it over their legs.
“Oh.” Blair frowned. She was growling?
In truth, she’d been having a lot of weird dreams lately. Last night, she’d woken up and thought she was at a sleepover at her old best friend Serena van der Woodsen’s house, only to find herself all alone in the guest bedroom of the Carlson’s.
Maybe it was just homesickness. After all, she hadn’t seen Serena since August, she didn’t have a home in New York anymore, and no one in her family was even in the U.S. this week. Her father, Harold, was celebrating Christmas in France with his boyfriend and their adopted twins. Her stepbrother, Aaron, was spending the break on a kibbutz in Israel. Her mother; step-father; brother, Tyler; and baby sister, Yale, had moved to LA back in August, to a gigantic, tacky Pacific Palisades mansion that they were making even bigger and more tacky. While the renovations were taking place, they were spending the holidays in the South Pacific, visiting the islands that Eleanor Rose, in a fit of pregnancy-induced mania last spring, had bought for each member of the family. Blair had been somewhat tempted to tag along, if only to see her baby sister, the least fucked-up member of her tragically absurd family.
Not to mention pay a visit to Blair Island.
> But once she’d been invited to spend Christmas with the Carlsons, she felt it was her duty as a girlfriend to go.
“I was just dreaming about you. Us. I’m just so happy.” Blair sighed contentedly as she gazed into the orange fire roaring in the wood burning stove across the room. Outside, a thin blanket of snow covered the ground.
“Me too.” Pete ruffled her hair and pulled her face into his for a kiss.
“You taste nice,” Blair breathed, letting her body relax into Pete’s muscular arms.
It was funny how things worked out. When she arrived at Yale, Blair discovered that her roommate, Alana Hoffman, sang a cappella all the time. Blair would wake up to Alana singing “Son of a Preacher Man” to her collection of teddy bears. Avoiding her room, Blair spent a lot of time in the library, where Pete was writing a paper for his Magical Realism in the Caribbean class. They’d exchanged flirty glances, and finally Pete invited her for coffee.
It was amazing how easy everything could be with Pete. For the first time in Blair’s nineteen years, her life felt like it made sense. She loved her classes, lived in a house of boys who adored her, had an adoring, handsome boyfriend, and had even found a surrogate family in the Carlsons.
For the past few days, they’d spent every waking hour with the family: His former U.S. Senator dad, Chappy; his Boston debutante mom, Jane; his three older brothers, their wives, and assorted nephews and nieces Blair couldn’t even try to keep straight. It sounded like a nightmare, but it was great. His dad was barrel-chested and red-faced and told bad jokes in a way that made everyone crack up, and his mom would randomly recite poetry at the dinner table without being drunk. The brothers were friendly and smart, their wives were nice, and even the kids were polite. So far, it had been a perfect holiday.
And it was about to get even better. To celebrate the New Year, Chappy had booked the entire family at an exclusive resort in Costa Rica. Obviously, Blair could do without the rainforest adventure part, but she’d heard the beaches were pristine, the sun was hot and the villas had the most incredible mattresses.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. “You kids decent?” Pete’s brother Jason called as he entered. He had the same lanky frame as Pete. Tall, blond, and handsome, all four of the Carlson brothers—Everett, Randy, Jason, and Pete—looked like they could be quadruplets, even though there was a two year age difference between them. A second year law student at UPenn, Jason was the second youngest of the Carlson brothers. He was adorable, and Blair would’ve had a crush on him if she wasn’t dating Pete.
At least she has a backup.
“We’re playing charades. Your presence has been requested.”
“Do we have to?” Blair suppressed a groan. It was cute in theory, but they’d played Charades, Pictionary, or Scrabble the last three nights.
Maybe they should shake it up with some Truth or Dare.
“And guess who’s requested you on his team again?” Jason smirked, flashing Blair the trademark white-toothed Carlson smile. “Our dad loves you!”
“Aw, that’s cute!” Blair said, mustering her enthusiasm. They’d be at the resort soon, so she might as well continue being as polite and friendly as possible to his family. She followed Pete through the wide arching hallway that led to the kitchen. A large wood stove hunkered in the corner opposite two massive Sub-Zero refrigerators. Several overstuffed yellow chairs sat in front of a large dormer window, each one containing a different member of the family. Pete’s father Chappy stood in front of the group.
“Scout!” he called happily as he spotted Blair and Pete.
“Hi, Mr. Carlson.” Blair smiled warmly.
“I already claimed you, so back off, boys,” Chappy said jovially to Pete’s brothers, who all smiled politely back at her. “I’m telling you, Scout, I don’t know how I’m going to manage without you next week,” Chappy continued.
“Oh, well, I’m sure we can play on the beach or something,” Blair said. She blushed. “Play charades on the beach,” she clarified.
“Yeah, but what’ll I do without my favorite teammate?” Chappy shook his head sorrowfully. “No offense, Jane.” He cupped his hand over Blair’s ear. “My wife cheats,” he whispered, winking at his wife. Jane Carlson had wheat-blond hair cut in a sensible bob and was tall, with an athletic frame. Only the deep wrinkles in her forehead made her seem old enough to be Pete’s mom, and they didn’t make her look ancient so much as friendly.
“I do cheat, I’ll be the first to admit it,” Jane said merrily. “I’m glad you’re on the straight and narrow.” She winked at Blair.
But Blair was still stuck on the part of Chappy’s sentence that implied she wouldn’t be in Costa Rica with them. She’d bought five new Eres bikinis for the occasion. They made the most of the five pounds she’d gained from Yale’s meal plan. “Without me?” Blair repeated stupidly.
“I mean, I’d bring you along, but we’ve got a saying in the Carlson family…” Chappy began, his eyes shining, as if he were about to deliver a stump speech. “I believe, when it comes to vacations, in the no ring, no bring rule.”
“It’s the Carlson curse.” Jason sighed, elbowing Blair in the ribs sympathetically. Blair stepped away. While it was true she’d never officially been invited to Costa Rica, she’d been invited for Christmas, for God’s sake. Wasn’t that even more exclusive than a beach holiday? And why not invite her? After all, she’d brought Nate Archibald, her high school boyfriend, on her family vacations for years and it wasn’t like she’d been married to him.
Except in her dreams.
“Blair, we love you and we want you in our family for years to come, but I need to be a stickler on this,” Chappy explained sympathetically, as if she were one of his constituents, arguing over some impossible and arcane rule. “I’ve raised four boys, and while they’ve behaved around you, honestly, these gentlemen cause more theatrics when it comes to ladies than the Yale School of Drama,” he finished.
“Maybe you could get together with your girlfriends and have a girl’s adventure!” Pete’s sister-in-law Sarah piped up from the corner of the room, stroking her eight-months-pregnant belly. “I remember when I heard the Carlson rule, I had a great time with the Theta girls. We went to Cancun!” A look of happy reminiscence crossed Sarah’s heart-shaped face.
“You did?” Randy asked, shooting a look at Sarah. “I didn’t know that.”
“All I’m saying is that Blair should have her own fun.” Sarah winked conspiratorially at Blair.
“More hot chocolate, anyone?” Pete’s mother asked, excusing herself.
“Sorry, son!” Chappy said, genuinely sounding remorseful as he clapped Pete on the back. “Sorry, Scout!”
Blair narrowed her eyes at a painting that hung over the fireplace, of a ship in what looked like an exceptionally violent storm. What type of fucking art was that to hang in a house? And what the fuck was up with that stupid nickname? Scout?
Out would have been more appropriate.
“Blair, I’m sorry,” Pete said simply. “I thought you understood…”
“What? I knew I wasn’t coming,” Blair lied, smiling fakely. Her stomach was churning wildly. For a brief second, she wanted to excuse herself, run to the second floor bathroom, and puke everything she’d eaten for the past five days. But she didn’t.
“Blair, darling, here’s your hot chocolate. I made sure to put some extra marshmallows in there.” Jane pushed the steaming mug into Blair’s hands. “Won’t you sit down?” She gestured to one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs.
“Thanks,” Blair said. She squared her shoulders and turned to the waiting Carlson clan. “You all ready to play?” She forced herself to smile, a plan already forming.
“Maybe I will have a wild girls’ weekend,” she whispered to Pete. “I haven’t been to New York all year.” His face fell as he no doubt pictured all the fun she’d be having without him. Blair raised an eyebrow challengingly. After all, she was a woman. A Yale woman. She had places to go.
And games to play.
make new friends, but keep the old…
“This came from the man at the other end of the bar,” the skinny bartender slash model said as he proffered a glass of champagne.
“Thanks.” Serena van der Woodsen glanced down the long, dark oak bar of Saucebox, the new lounge in the just-opened hotel on Thompson Street. Breckin O’Dell, an actor she vaguely remembered meeting a few times, held up his own glass of champagne and saluted her. Serena nodded, brought the glass to her lips and took a sip, even though she preferred vodka.
“Oh my God, you should totally date him. His agent has ridiculous connections,” Amanda Atkins said, pulling on the sleeve of Serena’s black The Row scoopneck jersey dress in excitement. “Can we get some shots down here?” she called to the bartender. Serena smiled indulgently. Amanda was an eighteen-year-old recent LA transplant best known for her role in a dorky sitcom about a girl from Paris who moves to a farm in Tennessee to live with her redneck uncle. Recently, though, she’d been cast in an indie film and was trying to break free from her good-girl reputation.
Another shot and she’s almost there.
“Maybe,” Serena said unconvincingly. She stared at the bubbles fizzing to the top of her glass as if they held the secrets to the universe. If she looked around her, she’d see tons of Breckin O’Dell look-alikes, no doubt wishing they’d been the ones to buy Serena van der Woodsen—the Serena van der Woodsen—a drink. Instead, they buzzed around Amanda, and her other two actress-friends, Alysia and Alison. They called themselves the three A’s, even though Alysia’s name was actually Jennifer.
The three A’s were admittedly a little shallow, but they were also goofy and fun and never turned down a party. Usually Serena had a blast hanging out with them, but tonight, she felt a little… off. Her parents had just left for St. Barths, while her brother, Eric, was spending the winter break in Australia with a girl who’d been a visiting student at Brown last year. It wasn’t like she wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with her family, but she also didn’t like waking up in their huge Fifth Avenue apartment alone. Serena downed her champagne in one gulp, telling herself that she just needed to have fun.