Only in Your Dreams (Gossip Girl #9)(23)

“I’d sort of thought I was bound for community college and living with my parents for the rest of my life,” she admitted. “Now here I am acting in this movie, living on my own, and going to Yale in the fall.” She grinned drunkenly and a little seductively at Thaddeus. “I guess you just never know what’s going to happen.” Secretly, it was an invitation to kiss her. But they were in a crowded restaurant full of starers and gossips—it was probably best that he didn’t.

“Should we go?” Thaddeus asked, as if he couldn’t wait to take her somewhere more private.

As the pair stepped outside onto the crowded, steaming street corner, they were startled by a sudden, insistent cry.

“Thad! Thad!” A bulky, bearded figure emerged from the shadows wielding a camera. He snapped pictures as he hurried toward them, the bright flash illuminating the otherwise dark stretch of street.

Thaddeus put his arm protectively around Serena’s waist, a phony but still charming smile plastered to his handsome face.

Serena smiled, too. She was used to having her photo taken for newspaper society columns. She’d even modeled a few times, but it felt a little scary to be hounded like this.

“Let’s go,” sighed Thaddeus. He waved at the photographer. “Okay, man, that’s cool, that’s enough. We’re going.”

But the guy trailed them, weaving and bobbing like a boxer, snapping and clicking the camera’s shutter so quickly it sounded like machine gun fire. He finished a roll, deftly reloaded the camera in a matter of seconds, and kept shooting.

“That’s enough,”Thaddeus ordered, more firmly this time. He tugged on Serena’s arm, pulling her across the street, “Come on. Let’s go.”

Serena continued to smile but her huge blue eyes darted around, searching for a cab.

“Who is she, Thad?” the photographer demanded from behind them. “What are you wearing tonight, Thad?” he continued in an almost mocking tone. “You’re gorgeous, sweet-heart. What about you? What are you wearing?”

Actually, she was wearing her favorite black Les Best pique cotton sundress and black Capezio ballet slippers, but she was too freaked out to open her mouth.

“That’s enough, man!”Thaddeus yelled angrily.

Was he going to pull a Cameron Diaz?

Thaddeus stepped into the oncoming traffic on Clinton Street, waving his arms frantically like a survivor marooned on a desert island flagging down a plane. A taxi pulled over, and he shoved Serena into the backseat. Then he jumped in behind her and slammed the door. The photographer pressed his camera close to the window and Serena buried her face in Thaddeus’s broad shoulder, feeling a little like Princess Di must have just before she died.

“Let’s go, let’s go!”Thad barked at the driver.

As they sped away, the photographer called after them. “That’ll be the cover of the Post tomorrow!”

When they reached Seventy-first and Third,Thaddeus paid the driver and hopped out so he could open her door. Their footfalls echoed into the night, and the distant traffic on Second Avenue sounded vaguely like the ocean. Serena climbed the bottom step of her stoop and then turned. Standing there, she was at eye level with Thaddeus.

“Would you like to come up for a drink?” she asked, determined that the ugly incident with the paparazzi wouldn’t put a damper on the evening. After all, this was the first time she’d had Thaddeus all to herself. There was no angry director, no fussy cinematographer, no script to follow. She wasn’t going to let this moment pass.

He shrugged. “Maybe we should just sit here for a while.” He sank down onto the stoop. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she breathed, delicately pulling at her dress before sitting down next to him.

“That f*cking photographer,” he growled sulkily.

Serena put a protective hand on his leg. “He was just an *.” She smiled cheerfully at him. “Don’t worry about it. Come up and I’ll make you a nice cold mojito.”

“Sometimes I just get tired of it—the way they talk to you like they know you. The way he called me Thad, you know?” Thaddeus went on, ignoring her invitation. Serena blinked at the sliver of moon hovering over a Seventy-second Street high-rise.

“It must be hard for you. I mean, people probably think they know you. They see your movies, they see you in maga-zines.”

But they don’t get to enjoy intimate dinners with him, poor babies.

“I mean, my name’s not even Thaddeus, for Christ’s sake.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

“It’s Tim. My agent thought it should be something catchier.”

“I guess it worked.” Serena nodded, wondering suddenly if she shouldn’t change her name. It might be good for her career.

Yeah, Serena van der Woodsen isn’t catchy at all.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a soft pack of Parliament Lights. “At least it’s quiet here,” he said, lighting up.

That’s right. You’re safe, right here, with me. “No photographers here,” Serena giggled. “Just the two of us.”

“Working on our chemistry,” Thaddeus laughed. “Our homework. Chemistry homework, get it?”

Better stick to the script, dude.

It was easily the best homework assignment Serena had ever been given, and she was sure she was acing it. The question was how to nuzzle up to him but make it clear she wasn’t rehearsing. She wanted to make sure he saw her as Serena and not Holly, and that he could distinguish the fake kisses from the real thing.