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gently brushed it away with his index finger before he realized he should have saved it。 When they were little; Serena had taught him to make a wish on an eyelash and then blow it away。
“Did you steal my wish?” Serena asked; tilting her face up toward him。
“I hope not;” Nate whispered huskily as he leaned down to kiss her。
Wish granted。
for auld lang syne
“Are you ready?” Blair fidgeted with the clasp on her Prada clutch while Pete sipped his cappuccino。 It was already eleven o’clock。 They were at Da Silvano on West Fourth for a romantic New Year’s dinner before they headed to the party in the Bass suite。 She couldn’t wait to show off Pete to all her bitchy former Constance classmates—including Serena。 Blair figured she’d be there and planned to act cordial。 After all; it must be hard to be a boyfriendless; confused; washed…up ex–movie star at the tender age of nineteen。
How generous of her。
Blair wore a tight black and silver DVF dress; and Pete’s blond hair flopped adorably into his blue eyes。 In his bright blue Thomas Pink button…down; he made the perfect accessory。
She smiled in satisfaction; trying to stifle a yawn。 She didn’t want to be tired; but it had been a long day。 They’d spent Christmas in LA with her family; and had just gotten to the city this afternoon。 Pete had always wanted to celebrate New Year’s in New York; and Blair was excited to show him where she grew up; especially after spending a week in her family’s tacky Pacific Palisades McMansion。 She couldn’t wait to reexperience all the cheesy romantic things New York had to offer with her boyfriend。 She wanted to go skating at Wollman Rink; take a horse…drawn carriage ride through Central Park while sipping mulled wine out of a thermos; and have drinks at Top of the Rock。 Even though Blair hated cheesiness; she didn’t mind it when she was with Pete。
Aw。
“Ready。” Pete put down his cup and signaled to the waiter for the check。 “So; remind me who I’m going to meet tonight?” He took his AmEx from his worn leather wallet and slipped it in the folder。
“Well; Chuck is hosting the party。 He’s… plicated;” Blair began。 plicated was an understatement。 Senior year; Chuck had practically molested every member of the Constance Billard student body; then had bee what could only be described as gay; wearing socks with monkey appliqués on them。 Now he went to Deep Springs; some queer…sounding all…guys college in California。 Deep Springs was a working farm where students cultivated alfalfa and read Proust。 Which was all random; but sort of fit Chuck’s try…anything…once personality。 The most bizarre thing was that Nate was apparently there as well。 When he’d run out on her and Serena last winter; Blair had half expected him to e to Yale anyway。 But when the first week of classes came and went without him; and when she called his cell and found it was disconnected; she’d known he was gone for good。 Which was probably for the best。
A few weeks after the start of the semester; on a snowy Wednesday; she’d spotted Pete walking into the student center。 She’d spontaneously gone to the coffee bar; bought a medium coffee; skim milk; no sugar; walked up to the table where he was reading The Love Poems of Pablo Neruda; and offered it to him。 It was a gesture that surprised him—almost as much as she surprised herself。 They’d ended up cutting their afternoon classes; cuddling underneath his duvet; and ordering a greasy pizza from Yorkside。 And ever since then; it had been her and Pete。 They’d lived in New Haven together over the summer—Blair had worked on the campaign for a Connecticut senator while Pete did research for his history professor。 At night; they’d wear as little clothing as possible to keep cool in the un…air…conditioned house。 She’d make brunch every weekend and they’d spend Sundays in bed reading the Times。 Being with Pete made her feel like a grown…up。 Pete was a real man; and Nate was just a sad little adolescent who had no idea what he wanted。
Is that so?
“Well; it’s Chuck’s party; and then there’ll probably be Kati Farkas and Isabel Coates and Laura Salmon。 Just these girls from school;” Blair said hurriedly; trying to get the conversation back on track。
“What about Serena?” Pete cocked his head expectantly。 Blair shrugged。 Normally; she loved how Pete remembered every little thing she’d told him—like how the only Audrey Hepburn movie she didn’t like was Wait Until Dark and how she’d accidentally kissed her first Yale interviewer。 But he didn’t know how plicated her best friendship with Serena was; and Blair wanted to keep it that way。
Wonder why?
“I don’t know。” Blair shrugged and scraped her chair away from the table。 They’d barely spoken at all since last winter。 Serena had sent her tickets to the premiere of Coffee at the Palace; but of course Blair hadn’t gone。
She hovered over Pete as he signed his messy boy signature on the check。 Briefly; she wondered if Nate could possibly be at the party; then shook off the idea。 Once; in high school; when she and Serena were smoking Merits on the steps of the Met; they came up with the theory that you had an almost psychic connection to anyone you’d ever kissed。 If you really concentrated; you could almost sense where they were in geographic relation to you。 And right now; Nate felt very far away。
Time to rethink that hypothesis。
Besides; why did it matter? She was happy。 Sure; she didn’t go out all night and dance until dawn; but there was something to be said for the simple life: arguing with Pete about what movies to put on their Netflix queue or whether to order Chinese or sushi on a Friday night。 It all seemed so… normal。
If you’re into that sort of thing。
They exited the restaurant and walked out to the curb。 Pete tentatively held up his hand to hail a cab。
“Not like that; like this!” Blair stepped forcefully out onto the street and threw her hand in the air。 “You have to be aggressive。 Rule number one of living in New York!” Blair smiled happily。 She looked uptown and saw the Empire State Building; still decorated in red; green; and white lights for Christmas。 Around them; pedestrians were traveling in merry packs; wearing Happy New Year headbands and blowing those totally annoying noisemakers; even though there was still an hour to go until the ball dropped。 “Happy New Year!” She squeezed Pete impulsively as a taxi roared to the curb。
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