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was　so　handsome；　and　he　probably　still　loved　her。。。。　

And　maybe　she　was　just　alittle　drunk？　

Someone　had　managed　to　get　the　van　der　Woodsens？　back　garden　fire　pit　going；　and　Henry　and　
three　guys　Serena　didn？t　recognize　were　huddled　around　it；　warming　themselves　against　the　
surprisingly　brisk　summer　evening。　Except　for　the　flickering　flames　and　the　stars　high　overhead；　
the　night　was　dark。　It　was　a　forting；　familiar　kind　of　darkness。　Serena　had　spent　so　many　
summer　nights　here；　like　the　night　she　ditched　Henry。　

？I？ve　been　looking　for　you。？　Serena　settled　down　next　to　him　on　one　of　the　low　stone　benches　
that　encircled　the　fire　pit。　She　was　wearing　an　ancient　pair　of　Seven　cutoffs　and　he　was　still　in　his　
swim　trunks。Their　bare　knees　were　almost　touching。　

？Well；　you　found　me。？　He　used　the　tiny　stub　of　the　cigarette　he　was　smoking　to　ignite　a　new　one。　

？This　is　your　birthday　party；　right？？　asked　one　of　the　other　guys；　who　Serena　recognized　as　one　
of　her　brother？s　Brown　freshman　year　suitemates；　although　she　couldn？t　remember　his　name。　

？It？s　my　birthday　tomorrow。？　Serena　glanced　at　her　slim　Chanel　watch。　？In　approximately　
ninety…seven　minutes；　actually。　And　it？s　also　Bastille　Day。？　


？Vive　la　France。？Henry　raised　the　bottle　of　Corzo　tequila　in　his　hands　and　clinked　it　against　her　
glass。　

？Vive　la　France。？Serena　tipped　her　glass　back；　draining　her　whiskey　in　one　gulp。　？I　missed　you；？　
she　added；　even　though　it　was　sort　of　untrue。　As　soon　as　she？d　returned　to　the　city；　she？d　forgotten　
all　about　Henry。　

？I　missed　you　too。？　Henry　popped　the　bottle　open　and　refilled　her　glass　and　then　his；　then　passed　
the　bottle　to　his　left。　？Let？s　have　our　own　little　prebirthday　celebration。？　

Serena　looked　up　at　the　glittering　stars　overhead。　Everything　around　her　was　bringing　her　back　to　
a　year　ago；　and　then　two　years　ago；　when　everything　had　been　so　different　but　also　exactly　the　
same。　She　turned　her　head；　meeting　Henry？s　gaze。　She　wanted　to　let　him　distract　her　all　over　again。　
She　needed　him　to　distract　her　so　she　could　try　and　forget　about　what　was　probably　happening　
right　now　on　her　parents？　bed。　

？And　what　happens　at　midnight？？　she　asked；　sniffing　the　tequila　tentatively。　

？At　midnight？？　Henry　clinked　his　glass　against　hers　and　tossed　the　shot　back　down　his　
throat。　？That？s　when　you　get　your　present。？　

If　she　can　stay　awake　that　long。　

love　is　in　the　air　

？You　boys　okay　in　there？？　Rufus　Humphrey　poked　his　crazy…haired　head　into　the　living　room。　？I　
can？t　get　you　any…thing　else？　I？ve　got　some　almond…and…lentil　pesto　in　the　blender。？　

？No；　Mr。　Humphrey；　you？ve　been　too　kind　already！？　Greg　smiled　graciously　and　turned　to　
Dan。　？Your　dad？s　a　riot。？　

Dan　took　a　deep　breath　and　used　the　remote　control　to　crank　the　volume　on　the　Humphreys？　
battered　old　television；　which　was　tuned　to　a　documentary　on　the　Beats。　Though　he　had　no　
memory　of　it；　he？d　apparently　extended　a　drunken　invitation　to　Greg　to　watch　it　together。　

Who　knows　what　else　he　offered　up　in　his　drunken　state？　

？Um。？　Dan　thoughtlessly　shoveled　popcorn　into　his　mouth；　eager　to　have　something　to　do　with　
his　hands。　？Thanks　for　bringing　this。？　

？No　problem。？　Greg　reached　into　the　plastic　bowl；　his　fingers　brushing　against　Dan？s　as　he　


grabbed　a　handful。　？You　mentioned　that　your　dad　isn？t　much　of　a　cook；　so　I　thought　I　should　
e　prepared。？　

I　did？？Yeah；　well；　it？s　a　good　thing。？　Dan　chuckled　nervously；　noticing　now　that　his　dad　had　
displayed　the　freaky　penis　vase　on　a　book…laden　shelf。　The　paint　on　the　crumbly　living　room　was　
looking　particularly　water…stained。　

？In　vino　veritas。？Greg　giggled。　

Dan　recognized　the　Latin　phrase　suggesting　that　people　are　more　likely　to　say　what　they　really　
feel　when　drunk。In　wine　there　is　truth。　His　dad　said　it　all　the　time　before　downing　a　whole　bottle　
of　Merlot。　

？Dude；　look　at　Kerouac。　He？s　so　。　。　。　electric；？　Greg　observed。　

Dan　studied　the　famous　writers　on　the　flickering　screen。　He　was　electric；　wasn？t　he？　He　was　
almost　。　。　。　handsome。　Was　it　totally　gay　to　think　that？　Dan　felt　his　stomach　lurch。　There　was　
something　unfortably　familiar　about　this　scene：　sitting　on　the　couch；　the　warmth　and　weight　of　
another　body　next　to　his；　a　cerebral　documentary　on　the　screen。What　did　this　remind　him　of？

　What？　Orwho　？　

Dan　might　have　been　totally　clueless；　but　he　knew　what　was　ing　next：　the　lights　were　turned　
down　low；　the　television　was　alive　with　stories　of　rollicking；　devil…may…care　out…law　writers；　the　
evening　was　warm；　the　couch　was　cozy：　there　was　only　one　way　this　could　end；　and　that　was　with　
a　make…out　session。　

Anothermake…out　session；　to　be　more　specific。　

？I　can？t　see　very　well。　Can　you？？　Dan　reached　to　his　left　and　switched　on　the　chipped　ceramic　
table　lamp；　helping　to　break　the　room？s　romantic　mood　a　little。　

？Now　I　can　see　you　better。？　Greg　smiled　coyly　at　Dan。　

？Right。？　Dan　took　the　oversize　plastic　bowl　off　of　his　lap　and　wedged　it　into　the　small　space　
between　him　and　Greg。　？That　should　give　you　easier　access；？　he　explained。　

Dan　patted　at　his　pockets　anxiously。　He　was　dying　for　a　cigarette　。。。but　did　he　dare　risk　it？　Dan　
was　pretty　sure　there　was　nothing　sexier　than　smoking：　the　little　burst　of　flame　as　you　struck　the　
match；　the　languorous　exhale　of　long　plumes　of　smoke。　He　didn？t　want　to　send　Greg　the　wrong　
message。　

Yeah；　we　all　love　smoker？s　breath。　Not。　


There　were　a　few　minutes　of　silence；　during　which　Dan　tried　to　focus　on　the　television　but　
couldn？t　stop　monitoring　Greg？s　every　movement　in　his　peripheral　vision。　Greg　kept　running　his　
hand　over　his　soft　blond　crew　cut　and　chewing　on　his　slightly　chapped　bottom　lip。　

？You　don？t　like　the　movie？？　Greg　caught　Dan？s　eye。　He　reached　for　the　remote　control　and　
turned　the　volume　down　enough　to　make　the　television　nothing　more　than　ambient　background　
noise。　

？No；　no；　it？s　not　that；？　Dan　stammered。　？I　was　just　。　。　。　thinking　about　what　we　should　do　at　our　
next　salon　meeting。？　

？I　think　we　should　do　the　Beats。？　Greg　pulled　his　feet　up　onto　the　couch　and　rested　his　chin　on　
his　knees。　He　had　a　layer　of　soft…looking　blond　stubble　on　his　face。　We　could　even　screen　this　
documentary。。。。I　mean；　if　you　want　to。？　

Dan　looked　at　the　black…and…white　footage　of　a　couple　of　shirtless　poets　drinking　bottles　of　beer　
and　smoking　cigarettes。　He　nodded　miserably。　There　was　no　use　fighting　fate；　was　there？　He　was　
gay　now？everywhere　he　turned　there　were　signs　from　the　universe　telling　him　to　just　go　with　it。　So　
why　couldn？t　he　just　put　his　arm　around　Greg？s　shoulders　and　nuzzle　into　his　neck？　It　didn？t　seem　
wrong；　but　it　didn？t　seem　quite　right；　either。　

？Kerouac！　Christ；　it　just　doesn？t　get　any　better；　does　it？？　Apparently；　Rufus　Humphrey　had　
entered　the　room　unob…served。　He　was　standing　behind　the　couch；　breathing　over　their　heads。　

Thank　goodness　for　nosy　dads。　

Rufus　leaned　in　to　murmur　in　Dan？s　ear。　？It　was　a　different　time；　I　tell　you。We　didn？t　have　any　
regard　for　rules　or　the　rigid　definitions　of　society。　We　all　just　。　。　。　were。　You　know　what　I　mean？？　

？Sounds　amazing；？　Greg　agreed；　leaning　in　closer　to　Dan。　He　smelled　like　popcorn　and　laundry　
detergent。　He　smelled　delicious。　In　a　nongay　way。　

？Dad！　Join　us！？　Dan　jerked　away；　grabbing　onto　the　sofa？s　arm　as　though　it　were　a　life　preserver。　
He　grabbed　the　bowl　of　popcorn　and　patted　the　empty　space　on　the　couch。　？Plenty　of　room　for　one　
more！？　

？Really？？　Rufus　exclaimed。Then；　in　a　surprisingly　graceful　move　for　such　a　massive　man；　he　
leapt　over　the　back　of　the　couch　and　landed　squarely　between　the　two　boys。　？Don？t　mind　if　I　do！？　

Dan　exhaled。　He？d　never　been　so　happy　to　see　his　dad　before。　？Yeah；　watch　with　us。　And　maybe　
after　you　can　tell　us　all　your　stories　about　the　good　old　days？？　

Rufus　studied　his　son　suspiciously。　His　neon　green　tank　top　was　pulled　tight　over　his　belly　and　
tucked　into　a　pair　of　Dan？s　navy　blue　school　gym　shorts。　？You　want　to　hear　my　old　stories？？　


？Definitely。？　Dan　nodded　excitedly。　？I？m　sure　Greg　does　too！？　

？Sure。？　Greg　nodded　politely。　

？Yes；　tell　useverything。　？　Dan　smiled。　His　dad？s　stories　were　always　endless　and　nonsensical。　
And　totally　unromantic。　

let？s　get　it　on　

？So。？　Blair　exhaled　sexily；　her　voice　husky　and　low。　She？d　lost　count　of　how　many　cocktails　
she？d　had；　but　she　felt　pletely　sober　now。I　love　you。　I　love　you。　He　loved　her。　She　leaned　back　
on　the　pale　yellow　Frette　pillows　on　the　bed　in　the　van　der　Woodsens？　quiet　master　suite。　The　
pumping　music　downstairs　and　the　sounds　of　drunken　revelers　outside　were　hushed　by　the　gentle　
hum　of　the　A/C。　

？So。？　Nate　stood　at　the　foot　of　the　bed；　grinning　at　her　excitedly。　His　cheeks　were　flushed　and　his　
green　eyes　gleamed。　He　shifted　his　weight　from　foot　to　foot；　looking　more　like　he　was　waiting　in　
line　for　the　bathroom　than　waiting　to　pounce　on　her。　

Blair　patted　the　soft　feather　duvet　beside　her。　？Get　over　here；？　she　said　with　a　knowing　smile。　

　Yes；　ma？am。　

Nate　kicked　off　his　gray…blue　canvas　deck　shoes　and　leapt　up　onto　the　bed。　He　bounced　
tentatively　to　check　if　the　ceiling　was　high　enough　for　him　to　jump　up　and　down　without　hitting　
his　head。Then　he　started　bouncing　around　crazily。　

？Stop！　Stop！？　Blair　shrieked。　She　stood　up　and　took　Nate？s　hands；　and　they　bounced　together　
like　a　couple　of　demented；　overgrown　kids。　

Then　Nate　stopped　bouncing；　suddenly　serious。　？So；　um；　does　this　mean　something？？　

Blair　held　on　to　his　hands；　swinging　them　from　side　to　side。　？Mean　something？？　she　asked。　？As　
in；　are　we　back　together？？　

Nate　shrugged　his　shoulders。　？Yeah。？　

Blair　blushed　again；　more　deeply　this　time。　？Well；　we　better　be；　because　I　love　you　too。？　Nate　
grinned　and　took　a　bouncy　step　forward　so　that　his　chin　brushed　her　forehead。　Blair　tipped　her　
head　back。　His　gold…flecked　green　eyes　sparkled。　And　then　he　kissed　her。　


It　wasn？t　like　they　had　a　lot　more　to　say。　

n　knows　a　desperate　housewife　when　he　sees　one　

？Nate？　Naaa…te？　Whereare　you　hiding；　my　little　goose…berry？？　

That　muffled；　far…off　cry　made　the　fine　sun…bleached　hairs　on　the　back　of　Nate　Archibald？s　
tanned　neck　stand　straight　up。　He？d　purposely　chosen　the　dingy　but　deserted　attic　of　Coach　
Michaels？s　house　for　a　quick　escape　from　yet　another　day　of　indentured　servitude　in　the　
not…so…fashionable　part　of　Long　Island。　

Escape；　of　course；　meaning　escape　to　stoned　land。　Inhale　THC；　exhale　CO2。　

He　took　a　long　drag　from　the　freshly　rolled　joint　and　blew　a　plume　of　warm；　dry　smoke　out　the　
small　half…window；　straining　to　hear　where　the　voice　was　ing　from。　The　voice　in　question　
belonged　to　Patricia；　also　known　as　？Babs；？　Coach　Michaels？s　ever…present　and　usually　
sun…bathing…topless…by…the…pool　wife。　Nate　had　been　working　at　the　Michaelses？　Hampton　Bays　
house　since　graduation？or　in　his　case；　semigraduation；　since　he　hadn？t　yet　received　his　diploma；　
due　to　a　now…infamous　Viagra…stealing　incident。　And　while　Babs　had　always　been　
friendly？bringing　him　tall　glasses　of　lemon…infused　ice　tea　as　he　guided　the　lawnmower　over　
Coach？s　beloved　lawn；　urging　him　to　eat　a　slice　of　buttery　cinnamon　toast　when　he　showed　up　in　
the　morning；　bleary…eyed　and　ready　for　work？for　the　past　two　days　she？d　been　。　。　。　well；extra　
friendly。　He　might　have　been　stoned　most　of　the　time；　but　he　was　with　it　enough　to　notice　that　
Babs　Michaelsdefinitely　had　a　thing　for　him。　

　Doesn？t　everyone？　

Nate　paused　and　focused　all　his　energy　on　listening　to　the　quiet　house；　but　the　only　noise　he　
heard　was　the　pounding　of　his　stoned；　nervous　heart。　He　brought　the　joint　back　up　to　his　lips　and　
paused？maybe　the　pot　was　making　him　paranoid；　but　he　thought　he　heard　something。　It　sounded　
like　footsteps　ing　closer。　

Shit！Nate　hastily　stubbed　the　joint　out　on　the　rough　wooden　windowsill；　sending　a　shower　of　
sparks　onto　the　floor。　Great？not　only　was　he　about　to　get　caught　smoking　a　joint　on　the　job；　he　was　
going　to　burn　the　fucking　house　down　in　the　process。　He　tucked　the　roach　into　his　pocket？　no　
sense　wasting　it？and　frantically　fanned　the　smoke　out　the　open　window。　

？Are　you　up　here；　Nate？？　Babs？s　voice　boomed　from　the　bottom　of　the