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手机浏览器扫描二维码访问

第18部分（第2页）

The　cab　easily　navigated　the　short　distance　from　the　tangled　streets　of　the　West　Village　to　the　wide　streets　of　Tribeca　and　dropped　them　off　in　front　of　the　purple　awning　of　the　Tribeca　Star　hotel；　where　they　had　checked　in　earlier　in　the　day。

Blair　confidently　led　Pete　to　the　elevator　bank；　where　two　girls　were　also　waiting；　looking　miserable　and　cold　in　matching　backless　dresses　and　five…inch　heels。　Blair　smiled　benevolently　at　the　younger　girls；　feeling　infinitely　superior　and　happy　that　she　was　so　beyond　the　stage　of　dressing　for　shock　value　at　parties。　It　had　never　been　her　thing—Serena　had　always　been　the　one　to　goad　her　into　dressing　scandalously；　like　the　time　they　showed　up　at　a　Valentine’s　party　without　underwear。

That’s　one　tradition　not　worth　revisiting。

“After　you；　ladies；”　Pete　said　as　the　elevator　door　slid　open。　Once　they　reached　the　ninth　floor；　Blair　and　Pete　followed　the　younger　girls　into　the　Bass　suite。　Blair’s　eyes　adjusted　to　the　dim　light。　It　looked　just　like　all　the　dozens　of　other　parties　she’d　been　to　at　the　suite：　The　hot　tub　was　overcrowded　with　half…dressed　girls；　couples　were　making　out　on　the　leather　couches；　and　the　lonely；　dateless　girls　were　all　clustered　around　the　makeshift　bar；　desperately　trying　to　make　eye　contact　with　any　guy　who　passed　their　way。

“So；　who　is　everyone？”　Pete　asked　affably；　smiling　at　the　room　in　general。

Blair　frowned；　trying　to　spot　any　familiar　faces　in　the　crowd。

“Let’s　see…”　she　began；　before　trailing　off　in　disbelief。　Framed　perfectly　by　the　floor…to…ceiling　window　that　overlooked　downtown　New　York；　she　saw　Serena—kissing　someone。　She　could　only　see　the　guy’s　back；　and　Serena’s　blond　hair　obscured　her　face。　Her　white　halter　top　was　blindingly　bright　against　the　sea　of　black　outside　the　window　and　her　long；　tanned　limbs　were　clenched　against　the　guy’s　back。　She　looked　like　she　was　trying　to　devour　him。

For　a　split　second；　Blair　was　transfixed。　Then；　as　if　stepping　closer　and　closer　to　an　Impressionist　painting；　Blair　noticed　the　messy　golden　hair；　the　easy　posture；　the　Stan　Smith　canvas　sneakers。

“Blair？”

She　heard　Pete　say　her　name；　but　she　didn’t　respond。　She　couldn’t　blink。　Serena’s　chin　was　tilted　upward；　and　her　eyes　were　half　closed。　She　looked　totally　blissful。　Just　then；　the　pair　pulled　apart　and　Blair　saw　Nate’s　face。　He　was　smiling　happily　and　staring　at　Serena　like　the　party　didn’t　exist；　like　the　lame　Justin　Timberlake　song　wasn’t　playing　on　the　sound　dock；　like　the　L’école　girls　in　the　hot　tub　weren’t　shrieking。　It　was　like　Nate　and　Serena　were　in　their　own　little　world。

Blair　felt　like　she　was　going　to　throw　up。　How　the　fuck　had　this　happened？　Were　they　dating？　And　how　could　they　just　stand　there；　making　out　like　that；　oblivious　to　the　entire　world？

“We　have　to　go。”　She　dug　her　fingernails　tightly　into　Pete’s　wrist。

“Ow！”　Pete　yanked　his　hand　out　of　Blair’s　grip。　“What　are　you　doing？”

“Leaving；”　Blair　announced。　“I　don’t　feel　well。”　She　would　throw　up　if　she　stayed　an　extra　minute。　She　needed　to　get　out。　She　pushed　her　way　past　a　gaggle　of　high　school　girls　standing　in　a　tight　circle；　not　even　noticing　when　she　knocked　one　of　the　girl’s　drinks　out　of　her　hand　and　onto　the　bodice　of　her　ugly　pink　dress。

And　that’s　what　she　does　to　people　who　aren’t　making　out　with　her　exes。

Blair　and　Pete　wordlessly　rode　the　elevator　up　to　the　eleventh　floor。　Blair　ran　down　the　carpeted　hallway　and　into　their　suite；　where　they’d　gotten　dressed　only　a　couple　of　hours　before。　She　stalked　over　to　the　minibar　and　pulled　out　a　tiny　bottle　of　Absolut；　unscrewed　the　cap；　and　drank　it；　not　caring　that　she　looked　like　an　unstable　alcoholic。

“What　would　you　like　to　drink？”　she　asked；　trying　to　stop　her　voice　from　shaking。

“Blair；”　Pete　said　firmly。

“What？　The　party　was　lame　anyway。　I　think　we　should　just　celebrate　here。　And　I　have　stomach　cramps；”　she　lied。　“Anyway；　do　you　want　vodka？　Or　Jack　Daniel’s？”

“Blair。”　Pete　wrapped　his　strong　arms　around　her　waist　and　dragged　her　away　from　the　minibar。　“Look　at　me。”

He　pulled　her　onto　the　edge　of　the　bed　and　cupped　Blair’s　chin。　It　was　a　tender；　sweet　gesture　he　did　dozens　of　times　a　day；　but　now；　his　touch　made　her　recoil。　The　tears　that　were　threatening　to　fall　sprang　from　her　eyes。

“I’m　fine；”　Blair　squeaked。

“No；　you’re　not；”　Pete　said　gently。　“Last　year；　it　was　Tiffany；　this　year　it’s　New　Year’s。　I　don’t　understand；”　he　said；　a　note　of　suspicion　evident　in　his　otherwise　concerned　voice。

“It’s…”　Blair　sighed。　“I’m　just　so　tired；”　she　said　finally。　She　wanted　to　tell　Pete　how　much　seeing　Serena　and　Nate　had　shaken　her。　Being　back　in　New　York　was　like　pulling　a　gigantic　Band…Aid　off　her　whole　fucking　life；　exposing　the　raw；　oozing　parts

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