Only in Your Dreams (Gossip Girl #9)(24)

“Hello, again,” came a voice from above them. It was Jason, her downstairs neighbor, wearing a navy pinstripe suit. His blue-and-yellow-striped tie was loose around his neck and the collar of his white oxford shirt was unbuttoned. She hadn’t seen him since he’d come to her rescue her first day in the apartment, and she’d actually sort of forgotten about him.

“Hi, Jason.” Serena wanted to be polite but she honestly hoped he’d just disappear. He was friendly and cute but she and Thaddeus had homework to do.

“What’s up?” Thaddeus put on that same, friendly, flirty tone he used on the talk show circuit. He extended a hand to Jason but remained perched on the stoop. “I’m Thaddeus.”

Jason came down the steps. “I was just getting my mail. Hey, I’m Jason.” He gave Thaddeus’s hand a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pull up a step,” Thaddeus joked, scooting over a little. “There’s plenty of room.”

“Or we could go upstairs to my place and get a drink,” Serena suggested hopefully.

“Why don’t I just grab some beers?” Jason offered. “I’ve got some inside. Then we don’t have to bother with all those stairs.”

“Excellent. I kind of like it right here. Nice breeze. Good company.”Thaddeus grinned at Serena.

“Me too.” She smiled back, even though she’d much rather have been upstairs and alone with him. If he wanted a breeze, she could always open a window.

Jason lived on the parlor floor, so it only took him a minute to dash inside and fetch three cold bottles of Heineken.

“Thanks.” Thaddeus sighed as he cracked the top and tossed the cap onto the next step.

“Long day?” asked Jason.

“Seriously,”Thaddeus agreed.“What do you do?”

“I’m a summer associate at Lowell, Bonderoff, Foster and Wallace,” Jason explained before taking a long swig. A car honked loudly in the street. Serena looked at her watch. This conversation was really quite riveting, but frankly, she’d rather be soaking in a Bliss salt-and-sage bubble bath.

“They’re my lawyers!” Thaddeus exclaimed excitedly, like Jason was the most interesting guy he’d ever met. “You don’t know Sam, do you?”

“I know of him,” Jason replied. “He’s a partner over in the LA office, right?”

A gentle breeze lifted Thaddeus’s messy hair off his fore-head. “He’s a real pit bull. God, I remember one time I was having this contract dispute with a studio and—”

“It’s a small world.” Serena yawned and pointed her ballet-slippered toes.

“Here’s to a small world.” Thaddeus lifted his bottle and clinked it against Jason’s and then Serena’s.

She chugged the entire contents of her beer and inched a little closer to Thaddeus. Even if their conversation was deathly boring, she knew she was in the presence of two sweet young gentlemen who would probably carry her up four flights of stairs to her apartment if she happened to drink too much and couldn’t walk.

After all, she’s always depended on the kindness of strangers.





Gossip Girl 09 - Only in Your Dreams

the runaway bride

Blair Waldorf burst into the lobby of Claridge’s like a woman on a mission, which was exactly what she was. She had to get back to her suite and sift through the packages she’d had delivered. She was particularly interested in revisiting the show-stopping wedding gown that had been her week’s biggest quarry: at ten thousand pounds it was a splurge, even for her, but it was so perfect that it was worth every penny, and Blair knew her mother would agree. And if she didn’t, Blair knew her father, Harold J. Waldorf, would: he was a fabulous gay man living the high life in the south of France. If anyone understood the thrill of finding the perfect wedding dress, he would.

She’d been meaning to schedule a weekend rendezvous with her dear old dad in Paris—surely it was time for Marcus to meet her parents? It was only a couple of hours away by the Chunnel, and it would be so fun to take a romantic train ride with her boyfriend and leave cousin Camilla behind. As she marched through the lobby, she spied the concierge standing behind her neat little desk. Perfect, Blair thought. She could have her make the arrangements! Blair stormed across the marble tiles to where the woman stood, scribbling notes in some sort of leather-bound ledger.

“I need some assistance,” Blair ordered. “Tickets to Paris.”

“Madam! Ms. er, Beaton-Rhodes?” asked the concierge, a short, prim Asian woman sporting circular John Lennon–type glasses and a nononsense bob.

“It’s Miss Waldorf, actually,” Blair corrected her.

Not Mrs. yet.

“Yes, of course,” the concierge apologized. “Madam, I’m just confirming your reservation for another week. Is that accurate?”

“Sure, sure.” Blair waved her hand. She had business to attend to. “Like I was saying, I want to go to Paris. Like, immediately.”

“That’s fine, then. I’ll just need a credit card. For the room charge.”

“Can you just bill Lord Marcus?” Blair asked, irritated. “He’s handling the whole thing.”

“I see,” nodded the concierge, making a note in her little leather notebook. “And will his Lordship be visiting soon? We’ll need him to sign.”