B gets horny just looking at his shoes ?You can sleep in here,? Serena told Blair as the two girls dragged Blair's overstuffed Louis Vuitton duffel bags into Erik's room. ?My brother took his TV and stereo and everything with him, so it's kind of bare in here, but we'll hang out in my room most of the time. ?? ?That's okay,? Blair said, looking around. Compared to the sumptuous d?cor of the rest of the van der Woodsens' apartment, the room was pretty sparse. A single antique sleigh bed stood under the double-sized windows that faced Fifth Avenue, the Met, and Central Park. Beside it was a long, low dresser, and on the opposite wall was a desk and chair, all in the same dark wood as the bed. On the floor was a woven Turkish rug in shades of navy blue and tangerine. The closet door stood partially open so that Blair could see the silhouette of Erik's old denim jacket, hanging on the rail. Blair breathed in the room's musty wood smell. The idea of sleeping in the lair of an older boy she didn't know that well was strangely exciting. ?Do you mind if I unpack my stuff?? ?Sure, go ahead.? Serena flopped on the bed and pulled aPlayboy magazine out from under Erik's mattress, scrunching up her perfectly straight nose as she flipped through it. Both girls were too savvy about what boys really do when they're in their rooms alone to squirm and scream at the sight ofPlayboy. Blair pulled a pair of pants out of her bag and opened the closet. Beside the denim jacket, two white J. Press button-down shirts with frayed collars and cuffs hung next to a barely worn black Hugo Boss tuxedo. On the floor of the closet was a pair of beaten-up Stan Smith tennis shoes, and next to them was a Prada shoe box. Blair glanced at Serena, but her friend was completely transfixed byPlayboy. She knelt down, wondering what kind of person would leave their Prada shoes behind. The black box was dusty, and when she lifted the lid she found there were no shoes inside, only a small brown leather-bound notebook. Gingerly, she lifted it out and opened it up to the first page. I can't believe I'm fucking writing in a journal like a fucking girl, but I'm drunk on tequila from Case's graduation party and instead of passing out like a normal person, I'm fucking freaking out. We just graduated. We're going to college. I don't know who I am or what I'm doing or who I want to be and now I'm leaving everything I know and FUCK! Serena is so lucky?she's only just started high school, and I'll be able to tell her what the deal is with college, so she'll know. No one's going to tell ME. And it's not like I'm going to walk up to any of my friends and admit how scared I am. All they talk about is the girls we can have sex with. And I'm sure that will happen, unless I become one of those freaks who lives in a single and never comes out of his room and they finally have to break in because of the smell. Fuck, this is crazy. I'm going to bed. Blair turned the pages to read more, but the rest of the book had been left blank. Obviously, Erik had decided journal-writing wasn't for him. Her heart beat loudly as she reread the first and only entry. How crazy was it that Erik van der Woodsen, a boy she hardly knew, had captured the way she'd been feeling these last few weeks so completely perfectly? She stood up and walked over to a silver-framed family photograph on top of Erik's dresser. The van der Woodsens were sprawled on a beach somewhere in their bathing suits, all with tanned skin, pale blond hair, white smiles, and huge dark blue eyes. Blair could tell Serena was about fourteen in the picture because she still had those bangs she'd gotten at the end of eighth grade and spent the next year growing out. So Erik must have been seventeen. In his weather-beaten blue surf shorts his body looked muscular and ready for action, but his handsome face was slightly weary, like he'd been up all night carousing, or maybe he was even a little sad. Why didn't I ever notice before?Blair wondered to herself. Behind her Serena rustled the pages ofPlayboy. ?Does Erik have a girlfriend?? Blair wondered out loud. ?Let's ask him ourselves.? Serena tossed the magazine on the floor and reached for the phone, a mischievous grin playing on her face. She was 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 grossPlayboy 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 reallywant 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 healways talked to her in that familiar, you-know-you-want-me tone of voice? Had she always been totallydeaf ? 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 apr?s-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 wo............