Only in Your Dreams (Gossip Girl #9)(22)
“You didn’t?”
She didn’t?
Dan blushed and looked down at the ground, kicking idly at the cigarette butt he’d claimed wasn’t his. He wished he had it back.
“No, I wanted to see if you’d be interested in getting together sometime. I know that might sound kind of forward, but you know, I’m a person who believes in taking chances. I believe that the universe rewards bold actions, don’t you?”
Dan nodded eagerly.
“Anyway, I’m kind of lonely this summer. I grew up here in Greenwich Village but I was in boarding school out west, so I don’t really know anyone in the city anymore. I’m going to UC Santa Cruz in the fall, but I don’t want to spend my last summer in the city all by myself.”
“No, definitely not,” Dan agreed. “I’d love to hang out.”
“Awesome!” Bree cried, hopping down from the ledge. “What’s your schedule like?”
“Well, I work days. So anytime after six.”
“Cool. Do you think you’d be up for Bikram?”
“Sure,” Dan nodded, even though he’d never heard of it. He didn’t go out to clubs very often.
“Awesome!” she squealed again. “Give me your number and I’ll call and confirm, but let’s say Saturday?”
Dan recited his number and she typed it into her hot pink Razr. He had officially taken a much longer break than he was entitled to, but after Bree strolled away he had to light another Camel to calm his nerves. He wasn’t quite sure what Bikram was—a trendy new nightclub? Some new Indian restaurant? Maybe it was a new underground independent film? But it didn’t matter. Vanessa was busy filming, and he’d scored a hot date with a sweet, gorgeous girl who loved to read.
Oh, it’s sure to be a hot date indeed.
Gossip Girl 09 - Only in Your Dreams
lights, camera, but no action
“Cut!” barked Ken Mogul. “Fuck!” He threw his fluorescent green clipboard onto the floor and leapt out of the metal swivel chair he’d been slumped in. “Let’s take ten, please. I need a f*cking smoke.”
Serena’s hands trembled as she held the tip of her Gauloise cigarette to the flame from Thaddeus’s silver Zippo. She inhaled deeply but the nicotine did little to calm her nerves. Memorizing her lines and reciting them properly had turned out to be harder than she thought. On top of everything, it was majorly scary to have Ken, freak show director extraordi-naire, yelling at her every five seconds.
“Don’t worry about him,” Thaddeus assured her, running his hands through his dark blond curls and smiling at her with his adorable light blue eyes. He put his arm around Serena’s shoulders and squeezed. “I know it’s rough, and personally, I think you’ve done great for your first film. We’re just on a tight schedule, you know, and he’s nervous about pleasing the producers. Believe me, it has nothing to do with you.”
It doesn’t?
“Do you really think so?” Serena wondered, burrowing into Thaddeus’s protective embrace. Normally she wouldn’t have been quite so touchy-feely with a guy she’d only known for a couple of days, but Thaddeus wasn’t your average guy. It was more than the simple fact that he was a movie star: they were pretending to be in love. They’d already kissed eight times for the stupid climax scene. Cuddling on the couch like old friends seemed natural.
“Listen up!” boomed the director, striding back into the room, tucking his pack of Marlboros into the chest pocket of his rumpled denim shirt, which, oddly enough, had the sleeves cut out, so it was really more of a vest than a shirt.
Serena shivered at the sound of his voice and Thaddeus put his hand protectively over hers.
“I lost it back there,” Ken apologized. “Let’s call it a day, shall we? Vanessa and I have to go over our shot list anyway, but I want you two to keep working. Go to dinner—it’s on me.”
“Thanks, Ken.” Thaddeus stood and stretched, yawning noisily and giving off the heavenly odors of sweat and Carolina Herrera for Men cologne. “It really has been a long day. I could definitely use a drink.”
“And this will give you a chance to work on your chemistry, right, Holly? Get to know your leading man. Talk to him, listen to him, learn from him. I really want to see you meld, okay?”
Serena nodded and stubbed her cigarette out in the mother-of-pearl ashtray perched precariously on the arm of the brown leather couch. She could meld, especially with Thaddeus, but maybe not while Ken was watching.
“Good,” grunted the disgruntled director. “So go, have a bite. That’s your homework.”
Dinner with a major Hollywood hottie? Is there extra credit?
After gorging themselves on the city’s best steak tartare— mixed with two delicate quail eggs and served with a healthy portion of sea-salt-encrusted French fries—Serena and Thaddeus emerged from As Such on Clinton Street, currently the coolest, most crowded spot for the summer. They’d shared a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and a molten chocolate cake with fresh huckleberries for dessert, and Serena had tipsily blurted out the story of how she’d wound up not getting asked back to Hanover Academy last fall.
She’d spent the summer in Europe, partying with her older brother, Erik, and flirting with Frenchmen. Erik had left for Brown in August, but Serena had stayed and stayed. School just seemed so boring and unnecessary when the beaches in Saint-Tropez were so inviting, even in September. Thankfully Constance Billard, the New York City all-girls private school she’d attended since kindergarten, had been kind enough to take her back.