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Citrus
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Dan Humphrey hates to be called Daniel. It's so disgustingly formal. And it simply makes him think of a boy wearing a ridiculous tie and a preppy sweater, which just so happens to be a version of him as he is forced to go to such a pretentious school as St. Jude's School For Boys. At least he's able to stick it to the man a little by wearing his shirts wrinkled, his ties loose, his pants worn and baggy, shoes scuffed with shoelaces untied.
And you know what sucks even worse than wearing shitty school uniforms, being called Daniel by your perverted gay closeted male professors who wink at you, and having to go to a school with a bunch of rich dumbass boys who don't give a fuck about getting an education? You know what just fucking blows? The fact that he must be hopelessly in love with Serena van der Woodsen.
She's so goddamn beautiful he forgets to exhale his smoke as he sits outside watching her perfect form perched on the front steps of Constance Billiard eating citrus flavored yogurts with her not as even equally gorgeous friends.
And then he looks like a damn fool as he turns bright red and wheezes. It's not as if he's never smoked before which is probably what most of the guys who snicker as they walk past him think. He's been smoking for the last three years now, thank you very much. He's quite seasoned.
He sighs as he drops his cigarette and stamps it out with his coal colored shoe, the black laces swinging from side to side. He's had enough embarrassment for the day. Not that she'd even noticed. Ha, he was invisible to her. He didn't even exist in Serena van der Woodsen's perfect little world. Which was probably just as well, since Dan was far from perfect.
He closes his eyes and leans against the brick wall of his school building. It's sunny today. He hates the sun. It's so cheery, and stupid, and bright and it makes him nauseous. Can't it like rain or something? Or at least can it just be cloudy.
"Dan," a voice says waking him from his thoughts.
He cracks one dark colored eye open to find Vanessa standing in front of him, her pale arms crossed over her noticeably large chest. He likes Vanessa. She's refreshingly…devoid of designer clothing and girlish squeals. She wears a tight black tee shirt and dark jeans, her practically bald head shiny under the bright sun. She's a cool chick. He would probably be in love with her if he didn't have to go and be totally vain and fall in love with a goddess.
He opens his other eye. "Yes," he answers lazily.
"Did you watch that documentary over homeless people that I made yet?"
"Not yet," he answers, tugging at his blood red tie. It's so hot out here.
"Damn it, Dan, it's been week? What have you been doing? I need to know what you think of it."
I've been drinking way too much coffee, writing lame poetry about my sister's fascination with her body, and imagining what it would be like to have sex with Serena van der Woodsen. "Rufus and I have been cleaning out the bookcases," he lies, running a hand through his raggedy brown hair. "I'll watch it this afternoon, swear."
"Good," Vanessa says satisfied. "Catch you later," she says giving his tie a tug and walking away, her Doc Martens squeaking against the cobblestone pathway.
He lets his eyes linger on Vanessa as she walks away and then closes them again. She sort of walks sexy he supposes. Maybe if she had hair…
Nah, he'd still be too fucking narcissistic. She'd never look like Serena.
The bell goes off announcing school has begun and the tune is happy and lighthearted. As if they were all so excited to skip into the school and take a seat in those huge dark wooden chairs and listen to lectures about how fascinating the life span of an iguana is.
His eyes pop open to find Chuck Bass standing in front of him. He's wearing a naughty smile and that ridiculous scarf he always wears, no matter the weather. The only good thing about Chuck Bass standing in front of him is he is blocking the sun. Unfortunately the list stops there.
"So, Daniel, is it?"
Why the fuck is Bass talking to him? He stares at him blankly.
"Dan," he states, through his teeth. He hates that name.
"Bitter, are we? Daniel."
"What do you want, Bass?"
"Ah, so you know me."
"Unfortunately."
"So frank," he says with a grin. "I'm trying to make an effort here, Daniel," he says faux sincerely.
"What. Do. You. Want?"
"All right, all right. I'll cut to the chase."
"Finally."
Chuck pauses to grin evilly and continues. "So you like her, huh?"
"Who? Vanessa. No. She's my friend."
"Oh is that the chubby bald one," he says. "No, not her… the other."
"Who's the other?"
"I think we both know who the other is, Daniel."
"No, I believe, I don't."
"Why so secretive Daniel? I know your secret. You love her. You love Serena van der Woodsen. Don't you?" Chuck asks, smirking with the joy of dispelling Dan's hidden affection. Guess, not as hidden as he thought it was.
"Serena," Dan sputters awkwardly. "As if, Bass."
"Oh, Daniel. Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. Don't deny it. I know I'm right. You sit here every day before school and you watch her. You enjoy the way she looks. It's ok, Daniel. Everyone does. Everyone stares at her in that short, short skirt," Chuck says as he cocks his head to peek over at her, licking his lips sleazily.
"A shame they're required to wear tights. There even more delicious bare," Chuck says with a lustful smile.
"Never mind that, Daniel," Chuck says mysteriously. "Just thought I'd chat for a second. Broaden my horizons. I don't usually converse with scrawny emo children, if you haven't noticed."
Dan just stands there. At a loss for witty comebacks that would sting. He's too… tired.
"Have a nice day, Daniel," Chuck says with a wink and turns around, his scarf fluttering around in the breeze.
The second bell rings, this one long, low, and yet still… cheery. Shit. He's officially late for homeroom. But hey, isn't it Professor Collins that told him he had a remarkable complexion? Maybe if Dan gives him a flirtatious smile he'll let it slide.