Only in Your Dreams (Gossip Girl #9)(41)

Don’t we all?

Bree had braided her platinum blond hair and wound it tightly into a bun at the base of her neck. She was sporting a clean white T-shirt emblazoned with the Adidas logo and iridescent blue running shorts that were cropped short and showcased her well-muscled, lean, long legs. When she spied Dan, she stood and waved excitedly.

“Right on time!” When he reached her, she threw her arms around him in a warm embrace. “Namaste,” she whispered. “You smell nice.”

“Thanks,” Dan responded with relief as he inadvertently breathed in the bouquet of Bree’s organic sage deodorant and the patchouli oil she wore dabbed behind each ear.

“Let’s get warmed up,” Bree ordered. She released Dan from her embrace, turned, and put her right foot on the bench where she’d just been sitting, then leaned in, shifting all her weight to that leg.

Dan imitated her, wincing in pain as he tried to awaken the muscles in his legs. This was a lot more demanding than his usual workout: a walk to the corner for smokes.

“Feels great, huh?” Bree grinned enthusiastically while she stretched, as though a good stretch was better than a hot bath.

“Yeah,” Dan wheezed. “Excellent.”

“I thought we’d start here,” Bree explained, putting her feet back on the ground. She locked her knees, then reached down, touching the ground with both palms. “You know, head across Fourteenth Street to the Hudson and then downtown to Battery Park.”

Dan did some mental math. That was at least two miles, which was two miles farther than he’d ever jogged in his life.

What had he gotten himself into?

At first it seemed like he was going to be fine: the first block went by without incident. Dan followed the sexy wiggle of Bree’s ass as she jogged down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians and strollers.

This is fun! he told himself. It feels great.

When they reached the corner of Fifth Avenue, they paused for the light, and Bree turned to him. “Are you okay?” She furrowed her brow in worry.

Dan’s skin felt prickly. The sweat poured off of his forehead and down his nose, dripping on the sidewalk. The early evening sun was beating down on them. He was pretty sure he’d be dead by sundown.

“Sure,” he responded shakily. “I’m fine.”

When they’d been moving, the burn in his legs and the pounding in his chest had been somehow bearable, but as soon as they’d stopped his knees had felt like they might buckle underneath him.

The light changed and Bree dashed into the street. “Come on!” she called over her shoulder happily.

Dan took a deep breath and stumbled into the street, just missing running over an old lady in a big straw hat, pulling a shopping trolley.

“Watch it, *!” she shouted.

Ignoring her, Dan kept running, following Bree like a dog at the track chasing that mechanical rabbit. His heart pounded in his ears as they jogged down the sidewalk past Sixth, then Seventh, Eighth, and, finally, Ninth Avenues. Between Ninth and Greenwich the traffic cleared, so Bree ran in the street. Ignoring the hot blasts of exhaust from the oncoming buses, Dan followed behind, jogging toward the shimmering Hudson River, just two blocks away.

Hang in there, he told himself. Just make it to the river. Just keep going. He had no idea how he’d make it all the way down to Battery Park, on the tip of Manhattan, but first things first: he had to get to the river. His feet throbbed inside his not-quite-broken-in ice blue New Balance bought-for-ten-bucks-at-the-Paragon-Sports-sale running shoes. He’d wiped so much sweat from his forehead that he was scared that he might be completely dehydrated. He was dying for a drink of water. He was dying to sit down.

Maybe he was just plain dying?

They dashed across the West Side Highway and into Hudson River Park, where a wide, paved jogging/rollerblading/ bike path ran from midtown to Tribeca. They weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the clear, sunny day—hundreds of people were running and rollerblading, bicycling, and strolling hand in hand. Bree beat him across the street and wove through the crowd until she reached the chain-link fence that presumably kept people from diving right into the river. She kicked her legs up in front of her, jogging in place as she waited for Dan to catch up. Despite the heat, she was barely sweating.

Dan hurled himself in Bree’s direction. This is great, he told himself. He felt great! The sun was bright, the air was fresh, and there was a breeze blowing in off the river. He grinned wildly. He could do this!

Then his legs gave way underneath him and he landed on the rough pavement with a thud as he crumpled to the ground.

“Dan!” Bree cried, leaning over him. “Are you okay?”

Dan looked up to see her flushed face framed by wispy ringlets of flaxen hair. His vision started to cloud.

“Am I dying?” he asked out loud. “Are you an angel?”

“I better administer CPR,” Bree announced sternly, crouching down and pressing her mouth to his.

As if that wouldn’t give him an even bigger heart attack.





Gossip Girl 09 - Only in Your Dreams

from the frying pan to the fire

Wobbling uneasily, Vanessa Abrams gripped the wrought-iron railing and steadied herself on the low marble steps leading up to the ivy-covered mansion on Eighty-seventh Street. She burped noisily and jabbed at the illuminated doorbell four or five times before she finally managed to ring it. Maybe consoling herself with an ice-cold bottle of pinot grigio hadn’t been the wisest decision she’d ever made, especially since she was minutes away from a job interview.