FIC: WHITE HOUSES (SERENA/BLAIR)
TITLE: White Houses: Chapter II
RATING: PG now, will go up later
SUMMARY: Based on the song "White Houses" by Vanessa Carlton, this story is totally AU and has nothing to do with the actual story. It just shares characters/personalities. Eventual Blair/Serena, but other pairings as well. Link to lyrics for "White Houses" are inside if you want a better summary.
DISCLAIMER: I own neither the song nor the characters, nor really the plot itself.
NOTE: Sorry I didn't update; I had to write my Father's Day gift, so that ate up my time. Updates should be more regular from now on. And ignore the double cuts; there seems to be a glitch, 'cause only one cut shows up when I edit it.
LYRICS LINK: "WHITE HOUSES" BY VANESSA CARLTON
Crashed on the floor when I moved in
This little bungalow with some strange new friends
The house is big. And white. I really don't have much else to say about it, because it's just so boring looking. Really. There's a couple of shutters on the windows and a sort of overhang above the front porch, but other than that, the house looks pitifully normal. The white porch swing almost makes me want to throw up for its tackiness.
The gardens, though, are a different story. I'm the first one here, because I wanted to take an early train so I could scope out the territory before it's invaded by people who are certainly going to be useless. Even the hedges in the front are impressive, with beautiful roses spouting out from them. They're lined neatly in front of the stark white of the house, trimmed to perfection with nothing sticking out from the sides. I approve.
I've already visited the backyard, which is filled with all sorts of plants and creepers slinking around everywhere. Most of the plants I've never seen before. The whole place is overgrown, so that makes it a little less appealing. I prefer to stand on the back patio and stare at the winding vines and busted pots rather than actually venture into them. I suppose that's why Eleanor always refers to me as a “city girl.” I used to hate her for saying that, but now, sitting in a wicker chair on this back porch, I have to admit she might have a tiny bit of a point.
The other teenagers who are supposed to be here are all late. It's no wonder; teenagers generally are, unless, like me, they decide to make a point of being early. Based on the descriptions, I predict that Nate will get here first, followed by Chuck, and lastly Serena and Dan, who are renting a car and Dan is getting them lost, and Serena is cursing him because he wouldn't just let them use a driver like a normal person. Those are only my thoughts; I'll have no way of knowing if they're true until the four arrive.
It's kind of scary, but I feel almost jittery waiting for them. There's clearly no reason to be frightened of them, because I'm the Waldorf here, and Waldorfs never play second fiddle. We actually don't play fiddles at all; if anything, it would be a violin. At any rate, they can't expect to show up whenever they feel like it. All things demand a schedule, and meeting new “friends” follows the same guidelines. In fact, if we are meeting for societal advantages (why else would our parents send us to this deserted hellhole?), then it would make more sense to be prompt.
Tires squelch in the driveway and I eagerly make my way over to the garden gate, through the brush, on the stepping stones. I peek out over the top of the gate, not wanting to seem too eager to greet the stranger. I wait a short amount of time before opening the gate and walking out with a composed air. I always do try to make a great first impression.
The first person here is a boy, probably my age. So I'm assuming it's Chuck or Nate. Judging by his perfectly tousled little brown hair, regular button down blue-and-white striped shirt, long (wrinkled) khakis, and vague resemblance to Zac Efron, this is Nate. If Chuck truly turns out to be a bad boy as Eleanor warned me, he wouldn't be caught dead with those clothes or that hairstyle. He clamors out of the car, dazed and confused. Probably too sunny for him. He squints and glances over in my direction, seeming to think I'm a mirage or something along those lines.
“Oh, hey. Are you, um, Serena?” I scoff at him internally. “Or Blair?”
But I smile politely at him now. “Blair Waldorf.” I stick out my hand for him to shake. He takes it firmly. I wouldn't have expected him to have that strong of a grip, judging by his pretty-boy face.
“I'm Nate. Archibald.” That's nice. I don't care much about his name. I don't care much about him, or this ridiculous summer trip. “So, um, how are you?”
It's a random question, but I don't want to appear rude to him, so I answer. “I'm doing alright.”
“Hey, have you been inside yet?” he asks.
“Not really,” I reply, idly thinking that he might be attractive enough to keep me entertained this summer. “I've only been into the foyer to put my things down. I went around the back, though, and it's basically a disaster area.”
He nods. “Well, shall we?” He extends his arm like a perfect gentleman, waving me in. I open the door into the lavishly decorated foyer, and he whistles at its elegance. Clearly he doesn't come from that much money, because it's nothing special. I mean, sure there's a Swavorski chandelier in the foyer, but it's not that big. And the Persian rugs? Barely even high end. The floor boards appear to only be mahogany, not anything worth noting.
“Nice place. Anyway, do you need help with your bags?” Nate's already on the move towards them. Hmm... is he flirting? If he is, I can use it to my advantage. Make him do stupid things and make this summer more eventful.
I smile with a slight flutter of my eyelashes. “Sure. I haven't picked a room out yet, so maybe you'd like to help?”
He's overeager. Perfect. “Yeah. I'd like that.” Nate picks up my suitcase and heaves it up the stairs. I then realize that a room has probably already been picked out for me, seeing as my other luggage was brought up here earlier. Oh, well. My personal bell hop doesn't know that.
The carpet on the landing actually looks like something respectable, maybe from Alex Cooper or somewhere like that. It pales in comparison to our carpets, but it's not awful. Nate once again appears fairly impressed. We go through the hall, finding many rooms, most of them sitting rooms dens. At the end of the hall, there's a bedroom with my bags stowed neatly against the wall, my clothes tucked away in the closet. And two beds. It looks like I'll be spending some time with Miss Van der Woodsen, whether I want to or not.
“Is this all your stuff, or did Serena get here first?” he wonders, gently tossing my bag onto the bed closer to the window.
I shrug casually. “It's mine. I had it shipped up.”
He nods like he actually cares. “Do you know where everyone else is?”
Okay, that was clearly a bid for communication, because how would I know where they are? “I'm not sure. I've never met anyone here before.”
Here he goes with a shy grin. “Well, now you met me.”
I'm going to play with him, be coy. “Yeah. I guess I have.”
The door creaks downstairs, saving me from whatever cheesy response he has planned next. “Hello! Anyone up there!” A couple of heavy footfalls follows this statement, and pretty soon the next boy, who must be Chuck since I see no girl accompanying him, trots into our room. “Not interrupting anything, am I?” His smile is shrewd and sleazy and I'd prefer if he left immediately.
“Not at all.” I size him up: about as tall as Nate, with darker, more orderly hair, olive skin, and vaguely narrow eyes. This is the bad boy “chick” magnet my mother warned me about? He doesn't look so tough.
“I'm Nate Archibald.” Nate sticks out his hand in a gesture of friendship, but can he honestly be naïve enough to think that Chuck cares? Chuck is more interested in me, and I'm not just saying that. He shakes Nate's hand for appearance's sake, but keeps his gaze fixedly on me.
“I'm Chuck Bass.” His voice is tough and hoarse like he's trying to get something out of his throat. I assume he thinks that he sounds cool.
I fold both my arms across my chest, making it clear that I don't want to shake his hand. “Blair Waldorf.”
He nods in recognition. “Ah, yes, Blair. Pity we've never met before.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “I suppose.” Nate looks on like he wants to resolve the tension that instantly sprung up between Chuck and myself. He also looks pretty hopeless at being able to do so.
He opts for a question instead. “You guys kind of know each other?” No, Nate, we don't. I believe that's what Chuck just said. At this moment, I don't know which of them I prefer less.
Chuck shakes his head. “Nathaniel- mind if I call you Nathaniel?- our parents know each other very well, but we have never met.” I think I barely prefer Chuck, because when he says “Nathaniel,” Nate's nose wrinkles into a confused, indignant look that does not suit him at all and causes him to resemble a genetically modified pig. It's very funny.
“We live within in twenty blocks of each other, but have never met,” I inform Nate.
“Regrettably, I spend most of my time at Mother's house in New Hampshire.” What?
“Your mother's house?”
Chuck nods superiorly. “I believe that's what I said.”
“I was always told you went to some boarding school in Massachusetts.” I try not to appear too puzzled or surprised.
He shrugs. “That's what Father tells everyone. He's a little ashamed his own son prefers his divorced wife to himself.” He obviously has some daddy issues that I'd rather not know about, especially since I still plan on spending this summer holed up in a room... well, being in there with Serena puts a damper on things, but I can manage. Eleanor's description says she's something of a partier, so maybe she'll spend all of her time outside of the house. One can hope.
“So when are the Wonder Twins getting here?” Chuck questions.
“'Wonder Twins?'” Nate looks kind of cute when he's confused.
Chuck shrugs. “The other two,” he says in a who-else-would-I-be-talking-about voice. “Dan and that girl... something that starts with an 'S'?”
“Serena,” I snap quickly.
He smirks impishly. “That's right. Well, I'm off to get the good room. See you both later.” Chuck sharply turns on his heel and saunters out the door in a very confident manner.
Leaving Nate and myself to be awkward with each other.
“Which room is the good room?” Nate wonders.
“I'm guessing the only room with one bed.” Shocked realization etches onto Nate's face, but then he quickly shrugs it off and smirks.
“Guess we'll both be rooming with one half of the Wonder Twins, then?” If this is supposed to forge some sort of bond between us, then this summer will be a lot longer than I anticipated.
“I'm going to get some fresh air.” I leave as abruptly as Chuck. Let Nate have some alone time. Maybe the next time we talk he won't sound half as stupid. Besides, the front of the house really is beautiful, and with some work, the back might be, too. I could make that my project: hire some gardeners and design a prettier backyard. It certainly would keep the others out of my hair.
I arrive on the front porch and, though it pains me, take a seat on the swing. If I rock back and forth and close my eyes, I can almost pretend I'm navigating the Amazon River with a strange and beautiful man. But this my life, not Green Mansions. So I'll have to stick with pretending for now until someone comes to rescue me from this awful, dreary, dreadful, hideous-
“Hey, are you Blair?” A girl's voice calls out from a black Mercedes SUV rental car sitting in the front of the house. She stands there with a hand pressed upon her forehead, squinting against the sun. I smirk a little at the sight of the rental car; at least I was right about something.
Beside her, Dan (I assume) unloads oodles of suitcases from the trunk and back seats of the car. His hair is a vaguely military style cut, and he has a coffee house vibe that I can sense all the way from back here. If there's one thing I cannot stand, it's people who frequent coffee houses. They all act intelligent and worldly, like they're actually informed about things going on. Most of them know nothing beyond the basic facts, so they sit there, having the same conversations and drinking the same coffee every day for the entirety of their pathetic lives.
Needless to say, I take an immediate dislike to Dan.
Serena, well, there is no word to describe her other than breathtaking. I'm surprised she hasn't been cast as a model yet, what with her flowing naturally golden hair (dyed hair just doesn't have that sparkle, and Serena's hair sure sparkles a lot), beautiful legs that never end, healthily tanned, bronzed skin, and a dazzling smile that blinds me even as I sit on the porch. Three guesses as to who the boys are flying with this summer. And that leaves Dan to go after me. I think I'd rather have Nate chasing me.
I stand up and make my way off the porch, across the stone pathway, and through the wooden gate. “Yes, I am Blair.” That's a good way to start a relationship with someone. Pity I don't care about starting a relationship with her.
She lets out a breath of relief. “Oh, thank God,” she mutters while still smiling. “If you hadn't been, I would've looked like a total moron.” I smirk- barely- in spite of myself. She's infectious. And looks nothing like the party girl Eleanor said she was. I can't imagine that face dancing drunkenly with a gaggle of horny teenage boys grinding against her. She seems far too angelic for that.
“Gee, how do you think you look now?” Dan slams the doors to the SUV, stumbling over the piles of luggage.
She laughs. It's brilliant, funny, light, the way she laughs. “Not as moronic as you. And by the way, I'm Serena. Van der Woodsen.” She doesn't offer me her hand to shake. Weird, but I don't mind. “This is my brother-by-marriage, Dan Humphrey.”
“Such a grand introduction,” Dan says. He's dorky, sarcastic, every bad quality a man can have. I don't like him at all. “There are better descriptors.”
“None that Blair would like to hear, I'm sure,” Serena mutters.
I try to hide the little smile that quirks at the corners of my mouth. “Well, I would, but we have others to meet.”
“Others? Are we the last ones?”
Serena gives him an incredulous glare. “Dan, you got lost for almost an hour. If you'd have just let me navigate-”
“How much do you know about navigation?”
“I knew how to get here. You should've listened to my directions.”
“It's a bit difficult to read a map while you're driving!”
She laughs at him like she can't believe what he's saying. I can't either, because it's proving me right once again. “Then maybe you should've given it to me!”
“Ah. Trademark sibling spats.” Chuck waltzes out of the house with full champagne glass. I guess these cupboards are pretty stocked. I wonder if our parents knew that. Too late for baby-sitting now, though. “Nathaniel and I were opening a housewarming bottle, and we happened to pick up on the dulcet tones of a stubborn baritone and a bickering soprano. I take it you too are the Wonder Twins?”
“We're not twins,” Dan tells him quickly.
“Yeah. I'm a couple of months older.” Dan looks down, rejected. Chuck grins into the champagne glass he sips. Well played, Serena. Maybe I judged her a little too rapidly.
“I'm Chuck Bass.” He doesn't miss a beat, does he? As soon as he gulps his drink down, he's bending over to clasp her hand in a light shake. “And you are absolutely stunning.”
She quirks her head to the side and giggles. “... Thanks? My actual name is Serena.”
He nods in response. “That's always good to know.”
“Hi. I'm Dan,” Dan interjects sarcastically as a plea for attention. He's certainly not getting any, and I do mean that both ways.
Chuck inclines his head in Dan's direction, but other than that, doesn't acknowledge him. We're about to descend into an awkward silence, when Serena turns to me, ready to break it. But Nate breaks it for her.
“Why did no one tell me about the party?” His gaze is instantly drawn to Serena; why wouldn't it be? The only other new thing to look at is Dan, and I don't get the impression that Nate swings that way. “Serena and Dan?”
“Nate?” Dan steps up to grasp Nate's hand. He puts both of his hands on top of Nate's. Strange, but I won't question.
“Hey, let us help you with that stuff. You don't have to carry it all up yourself,” Nate offers. What a gentleman.
Chuck laughs at this suggestion. “Chuck Bass is no bellboy.” He swigs down the rest of his champagne and watches Nate, Dan, and Serena gather up their things. And I feel myself compelled to help, too, just grab a handbag or something. I do this because Nate sticks out his graceless elbow for Serena and she loops her arm through it with only the slightest smile on her face. Dan notices none of this as he heaves more luggage onto his body than the other two combined.
Chuck notices my eyes wandering towards the pair of interlocked elbows and cocks his eyebrows at me, amused. I send him a death glare, and he returns the favor, only his is mocking. Maybe I'm going back to liking Nate better than Chuck, only by a minuscule margin once again.
Then again, maybe not. He's so fickle in his attractions, Nate. Just a moment ago, he was making clumsy, nonsensical small talk and flirting using middle school level skills with me. Now it's transferred to Serena.
I said before that the picture I'd painted of Serena might've been wrong. But never mind that. I mean, I know I'm not even that attracted to Nate. Yet he was attracted to me, and Serena just stole that. Serena, of course, isn't privy to the fact that a Waldorf never loses her conquests, no matter how small and brief they were to begin with. So I'll have the element of surprise on my side, which is good.
Because this means war.
RATING: PG now, will go up later
SUMMARY: Based on the song "White Houses" by Vanessa Carlton, this story is totally AU and has nothing to do with the actual story. It just shares characters/personalities. Eventual Blair/Serena, but other pairings as well. Link to lyrics for "White Houses" are inside if you want a better summary.
DISCLAIMER: I own neither the song nor the characters, nor really the plot itself.
NOTE: Sorry I didn't update; I had to write my Father's Day gift, so that ate up my time. Updates should be more regular from now on. And ignore the double cuts; there seems to be a glitch, 'cause only one cut shows up when I edit it.
LYRICS LINK: "WHITE HOUSES" BY VANESSA CARLTON
Crashed on the floor when I moved in
This little bungalow with some strange new friends
The house is big. And white. I really don't have much else to say about it, because it's just so boring looking. Really. There's a couple of shutters on the windows and a sort of overhang above the front porch, but other than that, the house looks pitifully normal. The white porch swing almost makes me want to throw up for its tackiness.
The gardens, though, are a different story. I'm the first one here, because I wanted to take an early train so I could scope out the territory before it's invaded by people who are certainly going to be useless. Even the hedges in the front are impressive, with beautiful roses spouting out from them. They're lined neatly in front of the stark white of the house, trimmed to perfection with nothing sticking out from the sides. I approve.
I've already visited the backyard, which is filled with all sorts of plants and creepers slinking around everywhere. Most of the plants I've never seen before. The whole place is overgrown, so that makes it a little less appealing. I prefer to stand on the back patio and stare at the winding vines and busted pots rather than actually venture into them. I suppose that's why Eleanor always refers to me as a “city girl.” I used to hate her for saying that, but now, sitting in a wicker chair on this back porch, I have to admit she might have a tiny bit of a point.
The other teenagers who are supposed to be here are all late. It's no wonder; teenagers generally are, unless, like me, they decide to make a point of being early. Based on the descriptions, I predict that Nate will get here first, followed by Chuck, and lastly Serena and Dan, who are renting a car and Dan is getting them lost, and Serena is cursing him because he wouldn't just let them use a driver like a normal person. Those are only my thoughts; I'll have no way of knowing if they're true until the four arrive.
It's kind of scary, but I feel almost jittery waiting for them. There's clearly no reason to be frightened of them, because I'm the Waldorf here, and Waldorfs never play second fiddle. We actually don't play fiddles at all; if anything, it would be a violin. At any rate, they can't expect to show up whenever they feel like it. All things demand a schedule, and meeting new “friends” follows the same guidelines. In fact, if we are meeting for societal advantages (why else would our parents send us to this deserted hellhole?), then it would make more sense to be prompt.
Tires squelch in the driveway and I eagerly make my way over to the garden gate, through the brush, on the stepping stones. I peek out over the top of the gate, not wanting to seem too eager to greet the stranger. I wait a short amount of time before opening the gate and walking out with a composed air. I always do try to make a great first impression.
The first person here is a boy, probably my age. So I'm assuming it's Chuck or Nate. Judging by his perfectly tousled little brown hair, regular button down blue-and-white striped shirt, long (wrinkled) khakis, and vague resemblance to Zac Efron, this is Nate. If Chuck truly turns out to be a bad boy as Eleanor warned me, he wouldn't be caught dead with those clothes or that hairstyle. He clamors out of the car, dazed and confused. Probably too sunny for him. He squints and glances over in my direction, seeming to think I'm a mirage or something along those lines.
“Oh, hey. Are you, um, Serena?” I scoff at him internally. “Or Blair?”
But I smile politely at him now. “Blair Waldorf.” I stick out my hand for him to shake. He takes it firmly. I wouldn't have expected him to have that strong of a grip, judging by his pretty-boy face.
“I'm Nate. Archibald.” That's nice. I don't care much about his name. I don't care much about him, or this ridiculous summer trip. “So, um, how are you?”
It's a random question, but I don't want to appear rude to him, so I answer. “I'm doing alright.”
“Hey, have you been inside yet?” he asks.
“Not really,” I reply, idly thinking that he might be attractive enough to keep me entertained this summer. “I've only been into the foyer to put my things down. I went around the back, though, and it's basically a disaster area.”
He nods. “Well, shall we?” He extends his arm like a perfect gentleman, waving me in. I open the door into the lavishly decorated foyer, and he whistles at its elegance. Clearly he doesn't come from that much money, because it's nothing special. I mean, sure there's a Swavorski chandelier in the foyer, but it's not that big. And the Persian rugs? Barely even high end. The floor boards appear to only be mahogany, not anything worth noting.
“Nice place. Anyway, do you need help with your bags?” Nate's already on the move towards them. Hmm... is he flirting? If he is, I can use it to my advantage. Make him do stupid things and make this summer more eventful.
I smile with a slight flutter of my eyelashes. “Sure. I haven't picked a room out yet, so maybe you'd like to help?”
He's overeager. Perfect. “Yeah. I'd like that.” Nate picks up my suitcase and heaves it up the stairs. I then realize that a room has probably already been picked out for me, seeing as my other luggage was brought up here earlier. Oh, well. My personal bell hop doesn't know that.
The carpet on the landing actually looks like something respectable, maybe from Alex Cooper or somewhere like that. It pales in comparison to our carpets, but it's not awful. Nate once again appears fairly impressed. We go through the hall, finding many rooms, most of them sitting rooms dens. At the end of the hall, there's a bedroom with my bags stowed neatly against the wall, my clothes tucked away in the closet. And two beds. It looks like I'll be spending some time with Miss Van der Woodsen, whether I want to or not.
“Is this all your stuff, or did Serena get here first?” he wonders, gently tossing my bag onto the bed closer to the window.
I shrug casually. “It's mine. I had it shipped up.”
He nods like he actually cares. “Do you know where everyone else is?”
Okay, that was clearly a bid for communication, because how would I know where they are? “I'm not sure. I've never met anyone here before.”
Here he goes with a shy grin. “Well, now you met me.”
I'm going to play with him, be coy. “Yeah. I guess I have.”
The door creaks downstairs, saving me from whatever cheesy response he has planned next. “Hello! Anyone up there!” A couple of heavy footfalls follows this statement, and pretty soon the next boy, who must be Chuck since I see no girl accompanying him, trots into our room. “Not interrupting anything, am I?” His smile is shrewd and sleazy and I'd prefer if he left immediately.
“Not at all.” I size him up: about as tall as Nate, with darker, more orderly hair, olive skin, and vaguely narrow eyes. This is the bad boy “chick” magnet my mother warned me about? He doesn't look so tough.
“I'm Nate Archibald.” Nate sticks out his hand in a gesture of friendship, but can he honestly be naïve enough to think that Chuck cares? Chuck is more interested in me, and I'm not just saying that. He shakes Nate's hand for appearance's sake, but keeps his gaze fixedly on me.
“I'm Chuck Bass.” His voice is tough and hoarse like he's trying to get something out of his throat. I assume he thinks that he sounds cool.
I fold both my arms across my chest, making it clear that I don't want to shake his hand. “Blair Waldorf.”
He nods in recognition. “Ah, yes, Blair. Pity we've never met before.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “I suppose.” Nate looks on like he wants to resolve the tension that instantly sprung up between Chuck and myself. He also looks pretty hopeless at being able to do so.
He opts for a question instead. “You guys kind of know each other?” No, Nate, we don't. I believe that's what Chuck just said. At this moment, I don't know which of them I prefer less.
Chuck shakes his head. “Nathaniel- mind if I call you Nathaniel?- our parents know each other very well, but we have never met.” I think I barely prefer Chuck, because when he says “Nathaniel,” Nate's nose wrinkles into a confused, indignant look that does not suit him at all and causes him to resemble a genetically modified pig. It's very funny.
“We live within in twenty blocks of each other, but have never met,” I inform Nate.
“Regrettably, I spend most of my time at Mother's house in New Hampshire.” What?
“Your mother's house?”
Chuck nods superiorly. “I believe that's what I said.”
“I was always told you went to some boarding school in Massachusetts.” I try not to appear too puzzled or surprised.
He shrugs. “That's what Father tells everyone. He's a little ashamed his own son prefers his divorced wife to himself.” He obviously has some daddy issues that I'd rather not know about, especially since I still plan on spending this summer holed up in a room... well, being in there with Serena puts a damper on things, but I can manage. Eleanor's description says she's something of a partier, so maybe she'll spend all of her time outside of the house. One can hope.
“So when are the Wonder Twins getting here?” Chuck questions.
“'Wonder Twins?'” Nate looks kind of cute when he's confused.
Chuck shrugs. “The other two,” he says in a who-else-would-I-be-talking-about voice. “Dan and that girl... something that starts with an 'S'?”
“Serena,” I snap quickly.
He smirks impishly. “That's right. Well, I'm off to get the good room. See you both later.” Chuck sharply turns on his heel and saunters out the door in a very confident manner.
Leaving Nate and myself to be awkward with each other.
“Which room is the good room?” Nate wonders.
“I'm guessing the only room with one bed.” Shocked realization etches onto Nate's face, but then he quickly shrugs it off and smirks.
“Guess we'll both be rooming with one half of the Wonder Twins, then?” If this is supposed to forge some sort of bond between us, then this summer will be a lot longer than I anticipated.
“I'm going to get some fresh air.” I leave as abruptly as Chuck. Let Nate have some alone time. Maybe the next time we talk he won't sound half as stupid. Besides, the front of the house really is beautiful, and with some work, the back might be, too. I could make that my project: hire some gardeners and design a prettier backyard. It certainly would keep the others out of my hair.
I arrive on the front porch and, though it pains me, take a seat on the swing. If I rock back and forth and close my eyes, I can almost pretend I'm navigating the Amazon River with a strange and beautiful man. But this my life, not Green Mansions. So I'll have to stick with pretending for now until someone comes to rescue me from this awful, dreary, dreadful, hideous-
“Hey, are you Blair?” A girl's voice calls out from a black Mercedes SUV rental car sitting in the front of the house. She stands there with a hand pressed upon her forehead, squinting against the sun. I smirk a little at the sight of the rental car; at least I was right about something.
Beside her, Dan (I assume) unloads oodles of suitcases from the trunk and back seats of the car. His hair is a vaguely military style cut, and he has a coffee house vibe that I can sense all the way from back here. If there's one thing I cannot stand, it's people who frequent coffee houses. They all act intelligent and worldly, like they're actually informed about things going on. Most of them know nothing beyond the basic facts, so they sit there, having the same conversations and drinking the same coffee every day for the entirety of their pathetic lives.
Needless to say, I take an immediate dislike to Dan.
Serena, well, there is no word to describe her other than breathtaking. I'm surprised she hasn't been cast as a model yet, what with her flowing naturally golden hair (dyed hair just doesn't have that sparkle, and Serena's hair sure sparkles a lot), beautiful legs that never end, healthily tanned, bronzed skin, and a dazzling smile that blinds me even as I sit on the porch. Three guesses as to who the boys are flying with this summer. And that leaves Dan to go after me. I think I'd rather have Nate chasing me.
I stand up and make my way off the porch, across the stone pathway, and through the wooden gate. “Yes, I am Blair.” That's a good way to start a relationship with someone. Pity I don't care about starting a relationship with her.
She lets out a breath of relief. “Oh, thank God,” she mutters while still smiling. “If you hadn't been, I would've looked like a total moron.” I smirk- barely- in spite of myself. She's infectious. And looks nothing like the party girl Eleanor said she was. I can't imagine that face dancing drunkenly with a gaggle of horny teenage boys grinding against her. She seems far too angelic for that.
“Gee, how do you think you look now?” Dan slams the doors to the SUV, stumbling over the piles of luggage.
She laughs. It's brilliant, funny, light, the way she laughs. “Not as moronic as you. And by the way, I'm Serena. Van der Woodsen.” She doesn't offer me her hand to shake. Weird, but I don't mind. “This is my brother-by-marriage, Dan Humphrey.”
“Such a grand introduction,” Dan says. He's dorky, sarcastic, every bad quality a man can have. I don't like him at all. “There are better descriptors.”
“None that Blair would like to hear, I'm sure,” Serena mutters.
I try to hide the little smile that quirks at the corners of my mouth. “Well, I would, but we have others to meet.”
“Others? Are we the last ones?”
Serena gives him an incredulous glare. “Dan, you got lost for almost an hour. If you'd have just let me navigate-”
“How much do you know about navigation?”
“I knew how to get here. You should've listened to my directions.”
“It's a bit difficult to read a map while you're driving!”
She laughs at him like she can't believe what he's saying. I can't either, because it's proving me right once again. “Then maybe you should've given it to me!”
“Ah. Trademark sibling spats.” Chuck waltzes out of the house with full champagne glass. I guess these cupboards are pretty stocked. I wonder if our parents knew that. Too late for baby-sitting now, though. “Nathaniel and I were opening a housewarming bottle, and we happened to pick up on the dulcet tones of a stubborn baritone and a bickering soprano. I take it you too are the Wonder Twins?”
“We're not twins,” Dan tells him quickly.
“Yeah. I'm a couple of months older.” Dan looks down, rejected. Chuck grins into the champagne glass he sips. Well played, Serena. Maybe I judged her a little too rapidly.
“I'm Chuck Bass.” He doesn't miss a beat, does he? As soon as he gulps his drink down, he's bending over to clasp her hand in a light shake. “And you are absolutely stunning.”
She quirks her head to the side and giggles. “... Thanks? My actual name is Serena.”
He nods in response. “That's always good to know.”
“Hi. I'm Dan,” Dan interjects sarcastically as a plea for attention. He's certainly not getting any, and I do mean that both ways.
Chuck inclines his head in Dan's direction, but other than that, doesn't acknowledge him. We're about to descend into an awkward silence, when Serena turns to me, ready to break it. But Nate breaks it for her.
“Why did no one tell me about the party?” His gaze is instantly drawn to Serena; why wouldn't it be? The only other new thing to look at is Dan, and I don't get the impression that Nate swings that way. “Serena and Dan?”
“Nate?” Dan steps up to grasp Nate's hand. He puts both of his hands on top of Nate's. Strange, but I won't question.
“Hey, let us help you with that stuff. You don't have to carry it all up yourself,” Nate offers. What a gentleman.
Chuck laughs at this suggestion. “Chuck Bass is no bellboy.” He swigs down the rest of his champagne and watches Nate, Dan, and Serena gather up their things. And I feel myself compelled to help, too, just grab a handbag or something. I do this because Nate sticks out his graceless elbow for Serena and she loops her arm through it with only the slightest smile on her face. Dan notices none of this as he heaves more luggage onto his body than the other two combined.
Chuck notices my eyes wandering towards the pair of interlocked elbows and cocks his eyebrows at me, amused. I send him a death glare, and he returns the favor, only his is mocking. Maybe I'm going back to liking Nate better than Chuck, only by a minuscule margin once again.
Then again, maybe not. He's so fickle in his attractions, Nate. Just a moment ago, he was making clumsy, nonsensical small talk and flirting using middle school level skills with me. Now it's transferred to Serena.
I said before that the picture I'd painted of Serena might've been wrong. But never mind that. I mean, I know I'm not even that attracted to Nate. Yet he was attracted to me, and Serena just stole that. Serena, of course, isn't privy to the fact that a Waldorf never loses her conquests, no matter how small and brief they were to begin with. So I'll have the element of surprise on my side, which is good.
Because this means war.