N IS EASILY LED OUT TO SEA The roof terrace atop Nate's four-storey town house wasn't high enough for a real view, but it was still nice to sit up there and suck hits out of Jeremy's giant green glass bong and reminisce about all the wild shit they'd gotten up to when they were young and carefree- before they had stuff to worry about like college and future. As if they were worried. "Dude. Remember that time in Latin when you were so baked you thought you were in French?" Charlie Dern drawled, blowing smoke out of a tiny gap in the side of his wide, clownish mouth. "You were just babbling in French like a fucking lunatic and Mr. Herman the she-man was like, "I beg your pardon, Mr. Archibald. Although all romance languages find their roots in Latin, I never did master French." Anthony Avuldsen and Jeremy Scott Tompkinson began to crackle as they remembered that legendary day. "I was speaking fucking perfect French, too," Nate observed. "I think maybe for a moment there I thought I was French. Like a native speaker." "Right," Charlie agreed sarcastically. "Man, you know you could barely even talk." Lexie floated by in her tie-dyed dress, barefoot and waving her hands in front of her face. "She'd drawn flowers on her fingers and toes with a glow-in -the-dark pen she'd found on Nate's desk, and they glowed neon green in the deepening twilight. A ponytailed boy named Malcolm was playing the guitar and singing an ancient James Taylor song. 'You just call out my naaaame And you know where ever I aaam I'll come runnin' to see you again.' "I wish we were all at the beach." Jeremy sighed and traced his index finger along the rim of the bong. "Everything would be perfect if we were at the beach." Nate nodded his golden brown head in agreement. "We will be soon. My parents' Hamptons booze cruise is in a couple weeks. Boat's already docked down in Battery Park. You're coming right?" The junior boys on the roof terrace looked up, wondering hopefully if Nate was addressing them. Fat chance. "Everyone's coming," Anthony Avuldsen responded, making the juniors feel like even worse dweebs. "It's like the kick-off to the whole freaking summer." "Blair's class is doing their senior cut day the next day," Nate mused. He realized vaguely that Blair had never made an appearance on the roof terrace. Maybe, she was still in the shower, or maybe she'd kissed him good-bye and gone home? He honestly couldn't remember. If she was still in the shower, he might steal downstairs and surprise her. The thought of her wet and naked made him smile deliciously. Charlie pulled a marijuana-stuffed Ziploc from out of his khaki pants pocket and began loading it up on the bong. "You said the boat's in the harbor?" Before Nate had a chance to respond, his cell phone rang. BLAIR flashed up on the phone's little screen Speak of the she-devil. Nate pressed answer and put the phone on to his ear without actually saying anything. "Guess where I am?" Blair gushed happily. "The Plaza. So get your ass over here right now. I have a suite." The Plaza was only about twenty blocks away. Nate gazed in the general direction of downtown. It seemed very far away, but it would be nice to lie on a big white hotel bed and watch lots of movies and order room service. He was pretty hungry. Not exactly what Blair had in mind. "Just bring your toothbrush. I've got everything else covered," she added coyly. Meaning the three Cs: Champagne, caviar and condoms. "Sounds good," Nate responded gamely. "See you in a minute." He clicked off and Jeremy shoved the bong at him. "So what I'm thinking is," he told Nate with the intense face of a seriously stoned person. He'd pick the green alligator away from his Lacoste shirt, and it dangled from his chest like a partially removed scab. "We all head down to your parents' boat. It's stocked with booze, and the crew's probably doing the tourist thing in town and won't even notice if we take it out for a spin, right? You sail like a master. Why not go on a little pre-Hamptons excursion to, say-" "Bermuda!" Charlie piped up. "Fuck, yeah," Anthony agreed. The three boys looked at Nate. They knew they were asking to do something completely outrageous, but they could tell by the interested glimmer in Nate's eye that he was sort of into it. Nate's mind was racing in a blurry, zig-zaggedy, stoned way. Sail the boat to Bermuda? Sure, why not? They were seniors they could do whatever they wanted. Blair could come too, and they could drink mimosas and make love on the beach under the warm sun. She was always talking about going away together. Lexie came over and sat down in Nate's lap. She smelled like amber incense and goose-liver paté. The tip of her jet-black ponytail just grazed the sun, moon and the stars tattoo on her shoulder blade. "Alors, what's next?" she yawned, taking the bong from Nate. Nate waited until she was done with the bong to pushing her out of his lap and hoisting himself to his feet. He clapped his hands together like a stoned camp counselor. "Come on, everybody, we're going on an adventure." The junior boys began to murmur excitedly. Not only had they gotten to party at Nate Archibalds' town house, he was taking them somewhere- probably somewhere cooler than they had ever been before. "Anyone who pukes on boats should probably stay behind!" Jeremy warned. "No fucking way," whispered a St. Jude's junior whose name happened to be Nte lyons, and who mimicked his namesake down on the color of his navy blue Brooks Brothers socks. There was a mass rush to the exit. Nate Archibald, the coolest senior boy on the Upper East Side, was taking them out on his boat. It was their big fucking day! Nate followed the rest of the boys downstairs with good-natured amusement, completely forgetting what he's been about to do before the topic of a sail to Bermuda even came up. behind him, his cell phone lay forgotten on the roof terrace, its little screen flashing the name BLAIR as it rang every two minutes for the next half hour. 'Winter, sprinf, summer, or fa-waall All you have to do is ca-waall And I'll be there!' Yeah. Right. ANOTHER WASTED PAIR OF LA PERLA UNDERWEAR "Nate's on his way over," Blair announced to Serena smugly over the phone. She'd called Serena just to brag about being at the Plaza, feeling guilty as she dialed but getting over the guilt by the time the phone began to ring. She leaned toward the massive gilt-framed bathroom mirror and applied another coat of Chanel Vamp lipstick. It was dark red and she usually only wore it in winter, but when you were locked in a sumptuous hotel suite with your boyfriend having constant sex, who cared what season it was? "Don't be mad," Blair pleaded with her best friend. "We can hang out in my suit tomorrow afternoon or something, okay?" she flashed her reflection a sexy, knowing grin. "After Nate and I wake up." "you two are ridiculous," Serena scoffed without the slightest note of jealously. Blair had confessed to finally loosing her virginity to Nate the morning after it happened, but she'd resisted too much detail and Serena resisted asking too many questions. After all, Serena and Nate had lost their virginities together, so sex withy Nate was kind of an awkward subject. "I have to go to this new Yale student' party," Serena responded. "Not that I'm going to Yale," she hurriedly corrected herself. Her acceptance to Yale was an even worse subject. "My parents signed us up though, so I have to go." "Oh." Blair pouted her lips and turned around to examine her butt in her new black silk La Perla underwear set. Of course she wasn't exactly into Yale yet, but she was on the fucking waiting list- they still could have invited her. "I was hoping you'd come with me," Serena added. "Since you're more likely to go to Yale than I am." Blair readjusted her bra straps. Nate was into Yale too, but he hadn't mentioned any Yale party. And if he wasn't going, she certainly couldn't go. They might be... other-wise engaged. Uh-huh. "It's not until seven," Serena prompted. "You guys should be ready to venture outside by then." "Can I call you about it tomorrow?" Blair asked dubiously. "Whatever." Serena didn't mind going to parties by herself, since she was never by herself for very long. Boys buzzed and hovered around her like flies at a picnic. "Have fun tonight. 'Bye, sweetie." Blair hung up just as the bellboy arrived with the bottle of Dom Pérignon and the plate of caviar and toast points she'd ordered from room service. She slipped into one of the Plaza's thick white terrycloth robes and answered the door. "Over by the bed," she commanded, loving how Joan Crawfordishly jaded she sounded. She tipped the guy and waited until he closed the door. Then she slipped out of her robe, flopped down on her side on the massive California king bed, and reached for the remote. Within seconds she'd found AMC - American Movie Classics, the channel that regularly played all her favorites like 'Breakfast at Tiffany's', staring Audrey Hepburn, and "My Fair Lady' also staring Audrey Hepburn. To her disappointment, 'Dirt Dancing' was playing. Since when was anything made after 1980 a true classic? Blair wondered. All of a sudden she felt odd. But then, that seemed sort of appropriate, considering she was about to have a hot-and-heavy liaison with her lover in a sumptuous hotel suite. Where was Nate anyway? A cab away from his house to the Plaza would only take seven minutes. If she were Nate, she'd have made it in five. She diale............