| "Okay, I screwed up"
"Why are you saying that in a surprised tone"
In which a privileged teen living on the Upper East Side, who takes crap from no one, finds something that she wasn't looking for in the first place
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"So he waved?" Eric asked Serena. Me and Serena were visiting him at rehab. "I wouldn't have taken him for a waver."
"No, he was just trying to be funny." Serena tells him.
"Or maybe he is shy." Eric adds.
"Or he hates me." Serena adds.
"No guy in the history of the world has ever hated you." Eric tells her.
"Yeah, a lot of girls, maybe." I interject from my place at the sofa. "But no guys."
"That's because I'm just that charming." She turns to me.
"Yeah, and being an easy lay isn't one of the reasons." I pipe up, and she turns to me with wide eyes. "What?" I ask, defensively. "I'm not judging, I never judge. And me joking about it is how you know that I'm comfortable with it."
"Whatever, it is probably for the best. The last thing I need in my life is another guy. He was just so smart, though, and funny..." Serena changes the topic.
"It sounds like you like him." Eric cuts in.
"... and really nice. God, Blair was so plain to me last night. I don't even know why. Whatever, I'm sure if we talk about it we can work it out. Hey, maybe I should go over there." Serena picks up the bag.
"Maybe that's not such a good..." I start saying, but she's already out of the door. "...idea."
« ——————— »
I walk into Chuck's suite, to get my dress for the brunch. Since Bart didn't know about our fight, sent it to Chuck's suite, which is usually where I am at most of the time. Mine and Chuck's fathers are business partners, and we basically grew up together.
"That's enough, ladies. And I'll make sure to tell my father just how committed you are to the hospitality industry." I hear Chuck's voice, and two maids walk out of the suite as I walk in.
"That kid popped you pretty good, huh? Never mess with a guy's sister." Nate says.
"If I knew his name I'd hunt him down and kill him." Chuck says.
"What, 'cause you kill people now?" Nate asks.
"Are you gonna strangle him with your scarf?" I ask, announcing my presence, and pick up his scarf and throw it on his face. He gets up, to make himself a hangover cure.
"Don't mock the scarf, Isabella. It's my signature." Chuck defends the scarf. "And what, now you're talking to me?"
"That depends." I tell him, as I sit down on the sofa. "Do you still have that stick up your ass?"
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