Only in Your Dreams (Gossip Girl #9)(35)
“Whatcha writing?” she asked, reaching for the notebook. She read the first couple of lines:
Pure love. Pure lust. Trust trust.
Buddha was no Jesus. Neither am I.
I’m just a guy.
News flash: Bikram yoga kills creative brain cells, causing poets who already write bad poetry to write really bad poetry.
“You can’t read that!” Dan snatched the notebook out of her hands. “It’s, um, private.”
“Do you want some tea?” he asked, sitting up. “I just bought some Mint Meltdown. It’s supposed to empty the body of toxins and help your body really breathe.”
Vanessa snorted. “You’re joking, right?”
“Come on.” Dan yawned. He rose to his feet unsteadily, and Vanessa followed him out of the bedroom and down the dark hall, moving at a grandfather’s pace through the swinging door into the kitchen, which was filled with stacks of dirty dishes. There were breadcrumbs all over the counter and the toaster was lying on its side. Rufus had left a fondue pot filled with cheese in the middle of the butcher-block island. Vanessa took a fork and poked at its thick skin while Dan microwaved two mugs full of water.
Dan dropped two bags of Mint Meltdown into the mugs and handed her one. Vanessa tried to catch his eye, but weirdly, he wouldn’t look at her. This was partly due to the fact that Vanessa looked pretty in her new black cap-sleeve dress and partly because he was wracked with guilt for getting sweaty with Bree and not even mentioning anything about it to his supposed girlfriend.
“So,” she began tentatively. “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you.”
“I’ve been working a lot,” he replied, burying his nose in his mug. “They really need me at the Strand. And I’ve made some new friends.”
Vanessa chuckled. “I guess the high-stakes world of used-book retail never quits.” Why was he acting so bizarre? She’d been able to tell he was disappointed a couple days ago about her working such long hours, but ever since she moved in they’d been like new roommates who didn’t even know each other.
“You don’t have to be rude,” Dan countered, tapping his spoon against the top of his BEAT POETS DO IT ON THE ROAD travel mug. “Judgment leads but to the path of negative energy.”
“Excuse me?” Vanessa whispered shrilly. “Could you run that by me again?”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” He sipped his tea even though it was still scalding hot. “It’s one of the elemental sign-posts of the yogi’s philosophy.”
“The only yogi I know is the bear who steals the picnic baskets. I don’t know where you picked up this New Age talk, but the Dan Humphrey I used to know and love and kind of had the hots for would think you are full of shit.”
“Well, the Vanessa Abrams I used to know and love wouldn’t be caught dead slaving for a Hollywood sellout,” Dan retorted angrily. He left out the “kind of had the hots for” part since he kind of had the hots for someone else at the moment.
“Excuse me?”Vanessa set her cup down. Now that was just plain unfair. He knew Ruby had kicked her out and she needed the money. And wasn’t he proud of her working on a feature film at the age of only eighteen? “At least my job requires more skill than alphabetizing dusty old books by author name.”
He closed his eyes and breathed in noisily through his flared nostrils, something he’d learned yesterday in yoga. In with the good, out with the bad. “I thought living together would be so great, but I think you’ve changed.”
Vanessa sighed over her steaming cup of tea. It tasted like Aquafresh toothpaste and Pine-Sol. “You’re the one who’s changed,” she shot back. “Maybe I should just get out of your hair.” She blew into her mug.
“Please,” Dan retorted angrily. “You wanted me out of your hair, not the other way around. I was the one who cared about this summer together. You just wanted to work.”
“Well, I guess we’re both getting what we want.” Vanessa took another sip of Mint Meltdown tea before setting it down on the counter among the old newspapers and food-encrusted saucepans. Then she stomped out of the kitchen and out of the apartment to get a decent cup of coffee at the greasy deli up on Broadway.
Dan ran his hands through his messy light brown hair. He was having a meltdown all right, but not the right kind of meltdown. He pulled a pack of Camels out of the pocket of his faded black cords and lit one using the front burner on the gas stove.
Surely Yogi would not approve.
Gossip Girl 09 - Only in Your Dreams
imitation is the sincerest form of flattery
Blair slipped her feet into the ivory calfskin Winter by Bailey Winter stilettos she’d chosen as the finishing touch to her interview outfit. They were a tad over the top, maybe, but she had to wear something by the man himself. It would have been so cheesy to show up in his clothes, but shoes were a sly, subtle way to acknowledge his greatness without looking like some dorky, desperate fashion groupie.
Blair was in baby Yale’s nursery—aka her former bedroom—admiring herself in the full-length mirrors—the light was so much better there than in Aaron’s dingy room, where the stink of his herbal cigarettes was embedded in the walls. She nodded at herself in the mirror. She looked confident, but she felt nervous. Blair had a history of bad luck with interviews—she had actually kissed her interviewer when she was applying to Yale. Then, when she’d requested a second interview with a Yale alumnus, she’d almost slept with him. Chances were slim she’d end up making a pass at Bailey Winter—he was handsome enough in a supertan, blinding-white-teeth kind of way, but Blair was definitely not his type.