Summer Break
Chapter 1 (May, June, and July)
They wasted no time getting out of the city. Eric was grateful for some time away from the Van der Woodsen/Humphrey apartment, of late Sing Sing, UES Campus. Lily was adjusting to her ankle bracelet (so avant garde) and the confinement that went with it. But Eric still worried that his last summer before college would be compromised as preparation for Sarah Lawrence in the fall was bound to become one of her house arrest "projects." Rufus understood, and quietly, selflessly approved of the prison escape. Dan's sudden interest in the Hamptons still left him perplexed, but he hoped the change of scenery would end his son's funk.
Summer in the Hamptons, away from the extreme heat and manic bustle of the city, started out as expected. Lots of time at the beach. Afternoons at the pool. Lather, rinse, repeat. Neither was anxious to hit the party circuit, but Eric was making some effort to be social...and actually leaving the house and grounds.
Dan, however, brought his own summer survival supplies (books-check; laptop-check). The pantry always seemed to be stocked by the invisible staff. Other than the occasional coffee run, he was set for the duration. He had a tight, movie-watching schedule to keep and was loathe to divert from it.
Eric playfully teased him the first couple of weeks, hoping to help ease him out of his Blair...preoccupation. He hoped that Monaco Blair would simply be too busy to interact much with Dan, but the opposite seemed to be true. What started out as a weekly movie activity quickly compounded.
"Dan, for someone who swore off writing, you have spent most of June pounding away on your laptop," Eric commented one Friday morning over cereal. Dan did not even look up, just mumbled "Blair is on a French New Wave tear, and she has found my last several discourses lacking."
"It sounds like you need to pick something a little less cerebral for your next selection."
He finally looked up, and seemed genuinely anguished. "I can't do that. It is like she is daring me to back down. As it is, she is planning a royal wedding, attending multiple state functions a week, plotting world domination, and schooling my ass on French cinema. This is literally all I have to do...and, and...I'm failing miserably."
"Dan, this is supposed to be a relaxing summer. I've seen you less stressed during finals."
"Mmm hmm," head back down, with fingers feverishly typing.
A little later, "So I am still heading into the city this afternoon to have dinner with my mom and Rufus tonight. Remember, I am staying the weekend. Do you maybe want to come with? Dan?"
Eric knew the answer before he even asked the question. He made one last effort later, as he was walking out the door. But Dan and his beard seemed intractable. "At least he's moved outside by the pool," Eric thought while getting in the Town Car.
Dan had resisted calling her when they first arrived. And then he dialed her cell phone reflexively, without thinking, late one night when he ran across "Rosemary's Baby" quite by accident. Fortunately for him, the seven hour time difference meant it was 8:00 AM Blair time, and, a stroke of luck, she had a rare opening in her day's agenda for him. "Rosemary's Baby" was soon forgotten as Blair filled him in on her most recent princess adventures. She could have been reading the phone book or counting by threes, Dan did not care. He missed her and the sound of her voice, and as always, he drew the greatest joy from absorbing the ebb and flow of that voice, the staccato rise of something she was excited about or the sudden tonal drop that signaled conspiracy. His favorite was always the bemused tone she took when humoring him. The occasional "Humphrey, are you listening?" (Conciliatory, with a hint of annoyance) would guiltily draw him out of his aural reverie. It seemed like months since they had parted ways from brunch at Lily's. Instead, it had been just 17 days.
Only later, while trying to go to sleep, but stubbornly, endlessly, obsessively reviewing their conversation over and over again, did he try and pinpoint when she had become his first thought. His first call. And when did cell phone calls (in the middle of the night, even, from Dan Humphrey) become acceptable with Blair Waldorf?
Away from her, with some space between him and her e-mails, or even harder, in the wake of her recent phone calls, he kept trying to convince himself that it all needed to stop, and that determination was surely within his power. He was out of the city and in the Hamptons in order to take control and exact some positive, personal change. Poor Eric had already weathered many late night discussions and afternoon post-movie wrap-ups, doing his best to reason, cajole, sway a neurotic wannabe writer with one foot in Brooklyn and one in the Upper East Side (and currently summering with the beautiful people in the Hamptons). And all Dan had succeeded in doing was wearing Eric down so much that a weekend at Sing Sing, UES Campus, seemed like a vacation in comparison to this existence.
He had had an epiphany, a startling moment of clarity, wandering the frigid streets of Manhattan. He found his way to her home. In the midst of Upper East Side drama and catastrophe, they had shared a kiss, passionate and unexpected, honest and true. His brief hesitancy had given way to the decisive, take charge woman he so admired, and he followed her lead, after his initial faltering, for fear of jeopardizing their tenuous friendship they had fostered those last few, precious months.
That kiss. Her delicate hands, suddenly strong and full of purpose, on his coat lapels drawing him to her, then around his neck and in his hair. Pulling him closer and holding him fast. One of his hands tentatively on her collarbone, then her arm, and finally tangled in her hair, and the other around her waist. It had been a revelation.
Or so he thought. The record came to a screeching halt. She spent a week in bed, incommunicado...and then she sought out Chuck. His naive hopes were crushed, but then rekindled in a fleeting moment, in her indictment of Chuck's scheming, immature ways. Dan had promised her a prince, wanting more than anything for her to find happiness, quietly hoping that it might be him. And in a twist of fate possible only to a cursed, forever-doomed Brooklyn Humphrey, one stepped into her fairytale, captured her heart, and whisked her away to an honest-to-goodness castle in a faraway land. Only Blair had the shear force of will to make a fairytale come true. Too bad he was her court jester.
Dan had this conversation with himself multiple times a day. She seemed over the moon at the fairytale she always wanted and that he knows she deserves. He was truly happy for her. And infinitely sorry for himself. So pathetic. So Dan Humphrey.
And yet, was he wrong, but had he sensed a recent, subtle change? Or was it just wishful thinking? He was beyond objectivity. His perception changed by the hour. That first week they watched "The Landlord." The next week, two more movies. They were up to three a week for this week and last. And since that first call to her, she frequently called him (and far more often than he dared call her). But doubt inevitably settled back in and he would chalk it up to her feeling sorry for him, with her in France, Serena in California, Nate holding Chuck's leash God knows where.
His cell phone rang and he recognized her ring tone immediately. A smile crossed his face for the first time that day. A sign? Probably not. But temporary salvation, and a little denial never hurt anyone, right? He realized just how weak he was. And for the moment, in that moment, realized he also did not care.
"Humphrey, what are you doing sitting at home on a Friday night?"
"Blair, how did you-"
"How many times have I told you, I always know."
"In my defense, it is only like 7:30. You don't know that I might be on my way out." (Weak. Unlikely. He knew. And worse, she certainly would.) "Why are you up this late? Isn't it past the royal curfew?"
Blair sighed. "It is France, Humphrey. 2:30 is hardly late here."
"But I know how much you like your beauty rest and like to keep a schedule."
"You also know sleep will not keep me from accomplishing all that I desire."
"Then why aren't you at some soiree?"
"Well, actually I was having the most splendid time at the ball honoring the British Ambassador. But then I had the most awful run-in with Louis's sister. It seems that she is still having some issues with my 'pedigree' and my 'motives' for marrying Louis." She could barely choke the words out. "And my French! Can you believe that? I actually heard her remark to one of her cronies about how provincial my accent sounded. Can you imagine? Never mind the fact that I am fully capable of following this conversation, IN FRENCH! What do I have to do to prove my worth to this woman...Why are you laughing? Don't make me come over there and exact some revenge by proxy."
(If only, he thought.)
"It is a little ironic, though, isn't it? She has minions! You might as well be me at St. Jude's. Or me now anytime I travel above Midtown. It is actually something I have had a lot of opportunity to consider-"
"Not the same, Humphrey," Blair interrupted.
He tried a different tact. "What does Louis say?"
"Oh, what he always says. To be patient. He loves me, and that is all that matters. But life is not that simple, is it?"
"It should be. But I know how important it is for you to have the acceptance of all of Louis's family. Maybe he is right...you just need more time to win-"
"Time is a limited resource...and I will waste no more of it tonight. What shall we watch?"
"I thought you would never ask."
Eric was back Sunday night. He had lots to report from home, but Dan immediately asked Eric about his call to Blair. He played the innocent at first, but finally fessed up.
"She called you? I'm sorry...she promised she wouldn't. I was killing some time on the ride into the city. I first called Serena, who did not answer. So I called Blair to ask if she had heard from Serena. She had spoken to her last week about sketches for her bridesmaid dress ("sorry" shrug at the indirect reference to the wedding), but had not heard from her in the last few days."
"And?"
"And, she may have asked about our lack of activities this summer. I get the feeling she thinks that we could be more productive."
"Martha Stewart is a slacker in Blair's book. What else?"
"And, she asked if you were writing. And maybe if you had been seeing anyone. And if you had talked to Serena."
Alarmed on multiple fronts, Dan asked "What did you say?"
"Well, I told her you had been hard at work at the computer...she didn't press about what. I tried to be vague about if you had been seeing anyone...of course as soon as I mentioned your beard, she saw right through me."
"Figures."
"I hope I didn't say anything wrong..."
"No. Don't worry about it. I got an earful from her...but mostly about the grief she continues to get from some of Louis's relatives. It was actually nice to talk to her. "
"Dan," intoned with Eric's sternest warning voice.
"I know, I know." Dan was always a glutton for Blair's punishment.
"Well, I am holding you to your promise of parties in the Hamptons. There is a big Fourth of July celebration planned that my mom told me about...it is beach casual, barbecue and beer, and fireworks. And I promised your dad I would get you there, no matter what."
"That does sound like fun...I am sorry I have been such a wet-blanket."
"Big changes are coming for you in July, Dan."
As pledged, Dan attended the big Fourth of July party, hosted by old friends of CeCe Rhodes, not far up the beach from the house, with Eric. Clearly, no expense was spared. "Barbecue" seemed too quaint a word for this party. And Dan was immediately ill at ease, wishing he had shaved and hoping for a bolt of lightning to put him out of his misery. Alas, the night remained clear.
Eric reminded him of his wingman promise made weeks prior, and Dan, with sudden purpose, fully committed to his new occupation. By evening's end, Eric had three phone numbers, including that of a rising sophomore (Lukas Armitage) at Sarah Lawrence. Dan spotted Eric with Lukas just as the Fourth of July fireworks off Southampton started. They looked cozy, and not wanting to play third wheel, he texted Eric that he was heading home.
He started down the beach, away from the festivities, pausing briefly to watch a few volleys of the fireworks. On a whim, he pulled out his cell phone and captured some of the spectacle. He thumbed through the images, selected the best one, and e-mailed it to Blair, with an uncharacteristically succinct Humphrey message: "Thought you might be missing something this Fourth of July." He did not...could not...answer when she called him within five minutes.
Three days later, there was a package delivered to him at the beach house. Eric recognized the sender as a tony department store in Paris. Inside, Dan found the most beautifully wrapped gift box he had ever seen. Satin-lined, it contained a gold razor, a fine badger-bristled shaving brush, shaving soaps, and shaving cream. The card simply read: "Shave immediately. We'll address those wild curls of yours soon enough." Dan's blood ran cold, then hot in an instant. Terrified and turned-on in the same heartbeat. "How does she do that?" he wondered.
Eric smiled, but did not comment on Dan's clean-shaven face the next morning.
And it was Eric who finally pieced it together, only after Serena called the following week. She asked about the party, sounding wistful for the first time in months about missing an event back East. She had seen pictures on Page Six online, and at least one posted on Gossip Girl. Eric doubted Blair would read the Post, but checked Gossip Girl and found a picture of him and Dan (who, good soldier that he was, had managed a wan smile under that unruly beard of his).
