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used to bothering Erik up at Brown at least three times a week, moaning to him about her love life or lack thereof, while he complained about his perma-hangover.
    “Hey, perverted man. I was just reading your gross Playboy with the Demi Moore centerfold. Isn't she like fifty years old or something?”
    “So?” Erik yawned in reply.
    “So how lucky are you that Mom and Dad don't drag you around to boring benefits anymore?”
    “What is it tonight?”
    “Tomorrow night. Some art thing at the Frick,” Serena answered tiredly. “It's not even worth getting a new dress for. Blair and I are just going to trade clothes so they feel new. Anyway, she wants to ask you something.” And then, without warning, Serena tossed the phone to Blair.
    Blair caught it and held it in her hands. “Hello?” she heard Erik say. She heard Erik say. She put the phone to her ear.
    “Hey. It's Blair. Um, I'm staying in your room. I hope that's okay.”
    “Sure. Hey, listen, my sister told me a while ago you're really worried about Yale and your shitty interview and all that. …”
    Blair's eyes widened in horror. Her fucked-up Yale interview was the last thing Erik needed to know about her. Serena was such a—
    “Well, don't be,” Erik continued. “My Brown interview was completely retarded, and I got in early. I know for a fact you're an ace at tennis, you do a shitload of charity stuff, and Serena says your grades and scores are all amazing. So don't sweat it, okay?”
    “Okay,” Blair promised tremulously. No wonder Serena called her brother all the time. He was absolutely the sexiest, sweetest boy alive!
    “So, are you coming to Sun Valley with us for break or what?” he asked.
    Blair kicked off her turquoise flats and wiggled her red-painted toes. She liked the matted, scratchy feeling of Erik's rug beneath her bare feet. “I'm supposed to go to Hawaii with my family.”
    “No, you're not,” Serena interjected from the bed. “She's not!” she yelled, loud enough for Erik to hear. “She's coming to Sun Valley with us!”
    “You don't really want to go to Hawaii, do you?” Erik asked her half-gently, half-mockingly. “You'd much rather go skiing with us.”
    Blair studied Erik's face in the photograph. Had he always talked to her in that familiar, you-know-you-want-me tone of voice? Had she always been totally deaf? She imagined lounging by the fire with him in the bar at the Sun Valley Lodge. She'd play Marilyn Monroe at her red-hot skinniest, dressed in a white rabbit fur vest, her favorite pair of Seven jeans, and the white sheepskin après-ski boots she'd bought in January and never worn. He'd be … Ernest Hemingway, all manly and studied, wearing one of those tight, navy blue zip-neck turtlenecks the sexy ski patrol guys always wore, half unzipped. They'd sip warm brandy and watch the shadows cast by the flames flickering on each other's faces, while she caressed his strong, warm muscles beneath his shirt.
    Three years ago, Erik had had no idea who he was or what he was doing or who he wanted to be, but now it was three years later, and he'd definitely figured it out. Just the thought of sleeping in his bed tonight was extremely comforting. She might even wear one of his old shirts to bed for added atmosphere.
    “Yes,” Blair told him in her breathiest Marilyn Monroe voice. “Yes, I think I will go.”
    And you, sweet boy, are in for a special treat.

Gossip Girl 05 - I Like It Like That
    Can n resist hot board chick with dope breath?
    The following day, after lacrosse practice and before he had to be home to get ready for the benefit at the Frick, Nate made a detour to the Scandinavian Ski Shop on West Fifty-seventh Street to outfit himself for Sun Valley. He had been skiing and snowboarding practically since he was born and already had tons of ski equipment, but it was all up in Maine—and besides, this was the type of shopping he actually enjoyed.
    The Scandinavian Ski Shop specialized in thousand-dollar