Read Online Only In Your Dreams by Cecily von Ziegesar - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cecily von Ziegesar
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definitely only one N. If he’s in the construction game now, I suggest you hire him to come over and build you a deck. Maybe he’ll work up a sweat and then you can invite him to go skinny-dipping!
—GG
sightings
B getting into a tiff with the mousy-looking handbag clerk at Harvey Nichols. They’ve got waiting lists in London, too, but some girls have never learned that patience is a virtue. S wandering around an unfamiliar part of the Upper East Side—really far from the park—looking forlorn and buying Purina cat chow at the deli. Maybe she’s trying some crazy new diet? N strolling along Catachungo Road in Hampton Bays, wearing a Yale baseball cap and standing quite close to a mystery girl wearing a pink tube top embellished with Old Navy logos. I must have missed their Hamptons store opening. V settling into a maroon leather barber chair at an old-school barbershop on the Upper West Side, ignoring the men-only rule. Maybe someone should tell her that she’s definitely not in Brooklyn anymore. D curled up on a bench in Union Square, reading a thick paperback book on kundalini yoga while smoking a cigarette. Is he planning to write an epic poem about yoga positions for lung cancer patients? Who wants to know? I know I do.
And you know you love me.
gossip girl
Gossip Girl 09 - Only in Your Dreams
townies are people too
Nate guided his trusty Schwinn off the gravelly road and onto the dirt shoulder in front of the Oyster Shack, managing to avoid a replay of his humiliating wipeout yesterday. After their ice cream, Tawny had taken him to get his tire fixed at Bob’s Gas ’n’ Dogs and it was as good as new. He breathed in the fresh air appreciatively. He’d only smoked a third of a joint that morning, so his head was clear.
That’s a first.
Even though it was only six o’clock, the Oyster Shack was crowded with kids in shorts and halter tops eating fries and drinking canned Bud. Leaning the bike on the kickstand, Nate ambled over to the barnred picnic bench where Tawny sat smoking a Virginia Slim, a devilish little smile on her full, opalescent peach–glossed lips.
Normally Nate would have felt kind of stupid meeting a girl on a bike, but he kind of enjoyed the workout, the breeze in his face and the wind in his hair. Of course, he could enjoy the wind in his hair behind the wheel of his dad’s powder blue 1978 vintage Aston Martin convertible parked in his garage only twenty minutes away, but the car was the Captain’s pride and joy, and Nate wasn’t allowed to drive it alone, much less into one of the Hamptons’ less desirable neighborhoods, like Hampton Bays.
After they’d shared an innocent ice cream cone and gotten Nate’s bike fixed yesterday,Tawny had suggested they meet up for dinner today. Nate hardly needed convincing; like a good ex-girlfriend, Fate always pulled through for him, right when he needed her. Just when his loneliness had started to get him down, he’d happened to meet confident, sexy Tawny.
“You made it,” she chirped, stubbing her cigarette out on the table and tossing the butt in the grass behind her. She was wearing a peach-colored bikini top and a black jersey wrap-around skirt that showed off her tanned, round, but firm thighs. Her hair was down, grazing her freckled shoulders, and her peachy lips matched the bikini straps that were falling off her shoulders. “Without falling.”
“Yeah, no accidents this time.” Nate laughed, shaking his head. He flipped down the collar of the clean but faded light blue Brooks Brothers shirt he’d changed into after work and slipped onto the bench across from her. “So I’d say the day is going pretty well.”
“How was work?”Tawny asked as she smeared some goopy vanilla-scented stuff on her lips. Nate could smell it from where he sat.
“Just the usual: backbreaking manual labor.” He’d spent all of yesterday and today nailing new shingles onto Coach Michaels’s roof. His hands were riddled with calluses and
—GG
sightings
B getting into a tiff with the mousy-looking handbag clerk at Harvey Nichols. They’ve got waiting lists in London, too, but some girls have never learned that patience is a virtue. S wandering around an unfamiliar part of the Upper East Side—really far from the park—looking forlorn and buying Purina cat chow at the deli. Maybe she’s trying some crazy new diet? N strolling along Catachungo Road in Hampton Bays, wearing a Yale baseball cap and standing quite close to a mystery girl wearing a pink tube top embellished with Old Navy logos. I must have missed their Hamptons store opening. V settling into a maroon leather barber chair at an old-school barbershop on the Upper West Side, ignoring the men-only rule. Maybe someone should tell her that she’s definitely not in Brooklyn anymore. D curled up on a bench in Union Square, reading a thick paperback book on kundalini yoga while smoking a cigarette. Is he planning to write an epic poem about yoga positions for lung cancer patients? Who wants to know? I know I do.
And you know you love me.
gossip girl
Gossip Girl 09 - Only in Your Dreams
townies are people too
Nate guided his trusty Schwinn off the gravelly road and onto the dirt shoulder in front of the Oyster Shack, managing to avoid a replay of his humiliating wipeout yesterday. After their ice cream, Tawny had taken him to get his tire fixed at Bob’s Gas ’n’ Dogs and it was as good as new. He breathed in the fresh air appreciatively. He’d only smoked a third of a joint that morning, so his head was clear.
That’s a first.
Even though it was only six o’clock, the Oyster Shack was crowded with kids in shorts and halter tops eating fries and drinking canned Bud. Leaning the bike on the kickstand, Nate ambled over to the barnred picnic bench where Tawny sat smoking a Virginia Slim, a devilish little smile on her full, opalescent peach–glossed lips.
Normally Nate would have felt kind of stupid meeting a girl on a bike, but he kind of enjoyed the workout, the breeze in his face and the wind in his hair. Of course, he could enjoy the wind in his hair behind the wheel of his dad’s powder blue 1978 vintage Aston Martin convertible parked in his garage only twenty minutes away, but the car was the Captain’s pride and joy, and Nate wasn’t allowed to drive it alone, much less into one of the Hamptons’ less desirable neighborhoods, like Hampton Bays.
After they’d shared an innocent ice cream cone and gotten Nate’s bike fixed yesterday,Tawny had suggested they meet up for dinner today. Nate hardly needed convincing; like a good ex-girlfriend, Fate always pulled through for him, right when he needed her. Just when his loneliness had started to get him down, he’d happened to meet confident, sexy Tawny.
“You made it,” she chirped, stubbing her cigarette out on the table and tossing the butt in the grass behind her. She was wearing a peach-colored bikini top and a black jersey wrap-around skirt that showed off her tanned, round, but firm thighs. Her hair was down, grazing her freckled shoulders, and her peachy lips matched the bikini straps that were falling off her shoulders. “Without falling.”
“Yeah, no accidents this time.” Nate laughed, shaking his head. He flipped down the collar of the clean but faded light blue Brooks Brothers shirt he’d changed into after work and slipped onto the bench across from her. “So I’d say the day is going pretty well.”
“How was work?”Tawny asked as she smeared some goopy vanilla-scented stuff on her lips. Nate could smell it from where he sat.
“Just the usual: backbreaking manual labor.” He’d spent all of yesterday and today nailing new shingles onto Coach Michaels’s roof. His hands were riddled with calluses and
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