Only in Your Dreams (Gossip Girl #9)(7)

But would she be willing to overlook the dorky plaid box-ers he was probably wearing underneath?

“I’m just looking for this address,” Serena sighed, handing the stranger her keys with the number 169 painted on them in red.

Some girls really know how to work the damsel-in-distress thing.

“Well”—he grinned, “I think I know exactly where this building is. Because I actually kind of live there.” He extended a hand to help Serena to her feet. “Hey, I’m Jason Bridges.”

“Serena van der Woodsen,” she replied, smoothing her Kelly green Lily Pulitzer skirt, smiling the sort of sly, wide-eyed-ingenue smile that Audrey Hepburn was famous for.

No wonder she got the part.

Just like Holly Golightly, Serena was a master of the she-can’t-possibly-be-that-beautiful-and-that-innocent-allure that made guys flock to her.

“Well, Serena.” Jason bent down to pick up her two over-stuffed totes. “Let’s head on home.”

He unlocked the door to number 169, a white town house with black trim and ivy climbing up the side of it. He shoved the heavy old black door open to allow Serena to step inside first.

A true gentleman!

“So,” he began as the door slammed behind him. “You visiting Therese?”

“No.” Serena frowned as she inspected the vestibule’s creaky wooden staircase, lit only by a pretty but dim wrought-iron chandelier. The whole place smacked of dead old lady, as though it hadn’t been touched since its original owner died thirty years ago. Yet it was still charming and semi-grand, in its own way. “I’m moving in, I guess.”

“You guess?” Jason laughed as he started to climb the wooden steps, which groaned and squeaked noisily. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Well,” Serena began, “I’m in this movie, and this morning I got a note from my director telling me to pack my bags and come here, and now here I am. I think it’s to help me get into character or something.”

“Movie star, huh?” Jason asked.

“Something like that,” Serena answered, mildly embarrassed.

“Wow.” He turned to shoot her a slow, shy smile. “This is a nice building, but I’d think most movie stars would just want to stay somewhere a bit more glamorous, like the Waldorf or something.”

“We’re doing a retelling of Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” she explained, choosing the exact words Ken Mogul had used to describe his big-budget debut, Breakfast at Fred’s. “This is where Holly Golightly lived in the original movie, but I guess you probably knew that already. It’s supposed to make me feel just like she does. It’s my first movie.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason asked as they reached the landing, where the black-and-white mosaic-tile floor was missing a few tiles. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about a wild city girl—that’s my part—who meets this innocent guy from the country who’s trying to make it as an actor.” She conveniently left out that the guy would be played by super-hot actor Thaddeus Smith. “Then, this uptight Upper East Side girl wows him with her money . . . and things like lunch at Fred’s, the restaurant at Barneys?” Serena hoped what she was saying made some sense. She had a tendency to ramble and lose track of the plot.

As if any guy she’d ever talked to even cared.

They turned up another staircase and Serena went on, starting to feel a little winded as she spoke. “The other girl ruins his innocence, which is, like, the one quality that would make him a success as an actor—and turns him into a jaded New Yorker. Then it’s up to my character to save him.”

“So does that means we’ll be neighbors all summer?” Jason asked, sounding adorably hopeful.

“Actually, just for a couple of weeks,” she admitted. Breakfast at Fred’s was a big-budget picture, but Ken Mogul had only twelve days scheduled for the actual filming.

They reached one landing and walked down a narrow hall. Then he turned and led her up another flight of steps.

“How far up are we going?” Serena wondered out loud. She was slightly out of breath.

Better lay off those hard-core French cigarettes.

They reached another landing, walked down another hallway, and started up another flight. Was it possible that he was just leading her up to some dark, hidden, date-rape lair? Should she be scared? She patted her skirt pocket, checking for her cell phone, just in case.

“I’m at my first job, too,” he explained. “I’m a summer associate at Lowell, Bonderoff, Foster and Wallace. The law firm? I was there until four last night, so that’s why I’m going to work now. I don’t usually have to work so late, though.”

At last they reached the top floor, where the ceiling was low and the hallway was dark. Serena could see the flush on Jason’s cheeks. She wasn’t sure if it was from all those damn stairs or if he was blushing because of her.

“Here we are,” he announced.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Jason followed her inside and dropped her bags on the ground with a thud that echoed off the walls of the empty apartment. Two bare bulbs protruded from the urine-colored ceiling, which was marred with so many water stains, it almost looked like the orange-and-yellow tie-dye pattern had been painted on.

“It’s nice,” he observed gamely.