wondered what she was doing。 Standing on her roof； maybe； smoking a Merit Ultra Light and
sticking thumbtacks into the little voodoo dolls she？d probably made of him and Serena。
Don？t flatter yourself； honey。
Nate flicked the tears away from his gorgeous green eyes with his thumb and dropped his barely
touched slice of pepperoni pizza into the garbage。 Anthony came over； slung his thick…muscled
arm around Nate？s shoulders； and kissed him on the cheek with mock tenderness。 ？What？s the
matter； sweetheart？？
？Fuck off；？ Nate replied； jabbing Anthony in the ribs。
His friend refused to be shaken off so easily。 ？Will you just drink a beer with us and stop moping
already？？ An overgrown hank of white…blond hair swung over Anthony？s freckled face and he
brushed it away。 ？Dude； it？s party time！？
Nate laughed and allowed himself to be shepherded over to where the other guys were standing；
drinking beer and listening to the coach talk。 Jeremy hitched up his way…too…big dark blue Levi？s
and tossed Nate a bottle of Heineken。 ？Hey； did you hear this？ Every Wednesday after practice
Coach has been popping Viagra and meeting his wife at the Pierre Hotel。？ He cracked open
another bottle for himself and took a long swig。 ？Who would have thunk。？
Coach Michaels stuck his hands into the pockets of his ever…present red Lands？ End windbreaker；
looking pleased with himself。 ？Who says we can？t enjoy ourselves？？
Nate raised his bottle in silent answer to the coach？s question and chugged half its contents。
Coach Michaels had all the gruff； fatherly qualities a guy could wish for in a coach； but Nate had
never had much affection for him。 The coach had made him captain halfway into the season only
because the junior who was supposed to be captain went mysteriously AWOL from school。 And
the coach had yet to congratulate Nate on getting into Yale； Brown；and Harvard。 It didn？t surprise
Nate that the coach needed Viagra to get it on。 He was sort of a cold fish。
Not that Nate was one to judge。 After the trunk show at the St。 Claire that morning Serena had
been all over him； but instead of working up a sweat with her as the cab zoomed up Park Avenue；
all he？d been able to do was look out at the grassy divider running down the center of the street；
weeping because the heat had caused the red and yellow tulips to scatter their blossoms and wilt。
Guess the tulips weren？t the only things wilting。
Coach Michaels started on a tear about how minivans were actually the sexiest cars on the road
because they had two sets of backseats。 Nate sipped his beer as he reevaluated the coach。 Even in
his stupid red Lands？ End jacket he was healthy； sharp； and vital。 No one ever caughthim crying
like a girl at the slightest thing。 Maybe a little Viagra was exactly what Nate needed。
Oh； no。
Nate finished off his beer and set the bottle down on the long white collapsible table the school
kitchen staff had set up for the party。 Then he turned and headed toward the physical education
staff office on the other side of the gym； next to the guys？ locker room。 Everyone would think he
was just taking a piss。
When in fact ？
On Coach？s desk was an eight…by…ten photo…portrait of his wife； Patricia。 She looked a little like
Jennifer Aniston with wrinkles and a dyed…auburn pageboy haircut。 Small and leathery； in a
magenta…colored Lands？ End for Ladies version of Coach？s jacket； her brown eyes were shining
and her pink； lipstick…free lips were parted in a broad； happy smile。 Her teeth were so white they
had to be fake； and Nate wondered if she took them out during those Viagra…induced escapades at
the Pierre Hotel。
The P。E。 department office smelled like stale potato chips and feet。 A huge stack of old
magazines was on the floor； topped with the swimsuit issue； which sported a picture of some
impossibly hot Brazilian chick wearing nothing but what looked like a chain…mail thong。 Her
freckled arms hugged her bare chest casually； and she was laughing at the camera； as if to
say； ？Dare me to drop my arms！？
Nate was tempted to pick the magazine up and check it out but he resisted； pulling open the wide
drawer beneath Coach？s green metal desktop instead。 The drawer was a mess； full of those small
foil bags of honey…roasted peanuts they pass out on airplanes； bottles of whiteout； bulldog clips；
Advil； ice packs； and various vials of prescription medicine。 Nate sorted through them until he
found the one he was looking for。 Casually； he dropped it in his Brooks Brothers khakis pocket
and slipped out of the office。
The other boys were still listening to the coach brag about how many times he？d gotten his wife
pregnant。
？I was already married by the time I was your age；？ the coach was saying。
？Whoa；？Nate？s teammates murmured in horror。
Actually； being already married to Blair might have saved him a lot of trouble； Nate thought a
little nonsensically。
Right。 Like being married would have kept him from cheating on her？
？Yo； Babes！？ Jeremy shouted over to Nate。 He hitched up his jeans and grabbed another
Heineken out of the cooler。 ？You got a girl hiding in the bathroom or what？？
The other boys looked up expectantly。 Despite being a dumb； handsome jock just like the rest of
them； Nate always managed to deliver the most surprises。 The mere fact that he？d managed to bag
both Blair Waldorfand Serena van der Woodsen had raised his status to near…godlike。
Nate smiled weakly and held out his hands； motioning for Jeremy to toss him another beer。 If
they could have seen what was in his pocket； they would have been very surprised indeed。
Copyright ？ 2005 by Alloy Entertainment
All rights reserved。
Little； Brown and pany
Hachette Book Group； USA
237 Park Avenue； New York； NY 10017
Visit our Web site athachettebookgroupusa。
First Edition： May 2005
The characters and events in this book are fictitious。 Any similarity to real persons； living or dead；
is coincidental and not intended by the author。
ISBN： 978…0…316…04199…7
When caught between two evils； I generally like to take the one I never tried。
？Mae West
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Disclaimer： All the real names of places； people； and events have been altered or abbreviated to
protect the innocent。 Namely； me。
hey people！
June is right around the corner and New York City is like a burning Diptyque candle： hot and
smelly； beautiful and bright。 It？s getting dark so late now； we can？t tell the difference between
night and day。 Not that we care。 At this time of year our turf？also known as the Upper East Side？is
virtually parent…free。 They？re far too busy with polo matches and garden parties； tennis matches
and golf games up at our country houses in Ridgefield； Connecticut； Bridgehampton； Long Island；
Newport； Rhode Island； or Mt。 Desert Isle； Maine； leaving us to rule the town。 Not that we
everstopped ruling the town。 Ou