Chapter Fifteen: Vacation

He made his way through the elegant crowd, elbowing people he should have but didn't know. The grass was dry, and it was hot and sunny, yet she shone brighter than the sun. At least in his eyes.

A beautiful June afternoon. Perfect weather, perfect moment, perfect girl. It seemed like his life was this way; perfect. And as selfish as it sounded, he wouldn't have traded it for anything.

She has her back to him, as she talks to the Dean at Columbia, and he finds it hard to focus on one aspect of her; her beautiful blonde hair, cascading softly down her back, the white flower above her ear, intact from where he secured it. The elegant bodice of her dress, the short, yet tasteful, nature of its skirt. The sophisticated way she positioned her feet, legs crossed, knees touching, heels steady as rocks. It's a lot to take in, and after years of trying, he still can't observe it all at the same time. She still enchants him as she did yesterday, last year, the first time he laid eyes on her. And that was one of the things he loved most about her.

I haven't been able to get you out of my head all summer.

This summer he didn't have to even try. And he wasn't sure if she realised how happy that made him.

Her face lit up as soon as she saw him. She walked towards him, a smile soft on her face, crooked on his. He took her hand in his, kissed it, and knotted their fingers together, leading her to the dance floor. He had never been a good dancer. In fact, he could swear that the doctors diagnosed two left feet when he was born. But he didn't care. Because she loved that about him.

He felt the need to say something. Compliment her. That was harder than it should have been; he couldn't put it in one word. Cliché; true. Beautiful – not enough. Ravishing – inappropriate; her mother is here somewhere. With my father. Perfect – too common.

He decided on, 'I love you.'

'I know.'

'You look...' He still couldn't finish, and the look on his face as he tried to think harder made her laugh, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

'Thank you. You clean up nicely, too.'

'What, this? Nah, just threw this on ten minutes before the ceremony.' He wished that was true.

She laughed again, and leaned in, smiling against his lips, the same way she had done many times in their past. A brief moment.

A perfect moment. Inspired by the past.

'Let's get out of here. You want to get out of here?'

She smiled. Yes. In her mind, it all happens again. They meet on the beach, and she mends herself. She breathes again. They embrace, and kiss, and lie by the fire. It's not rushed, or crazy, and it definitely doesn't feel wrong. In fact, it's right, and tender, and sweet, and enough to make up for all the nights when she'd dream his arms were around her.

Yes. 'I'd love to... But I can't just leave our graduation party. Blair would be so mad at me...'

'Blair understands more than you think she does,' he spoke, and led her by her hand, not unwillingly at all, to the town car waiting for them outside.

xoxo

That was the moment he was waiting for.

'So, I was thinking, what are our plans for the summer? Gin with CeCe, Scotch with Chuck and waffles with our parents sounds good, right?'

'You better be joking about that one.'

'Then how about Hampstead?' he said, taking out a set of a much too familiar set of keys from his coat pocket.

'Oh, my God, Dan.' She didn't know what to say. She actually had no idea. But this time, it was a good feeling. She didn't need to.

He pulled her closer to him, the palms of his hands pressed against her back. He kissed her cheek, softly, full of the love he couldn't express to her in words.

'Are you ready to finally go on our vacation together?' he whispered in her ear, before she held his head between her hands and brought their lips together again.

xoxo

S, suitcases are in the boot. I couldn't have let you go on holiday without a decent wardrobe. Please note I have replaced French lingerie with thick novels (get Dan to carry it; it's heavy). Read them! Have fun, and don't get dysentery or food poisoning. (Why are you going to that village again, anyways?) If you do, however, you'll only have your Brooklyn lover and his tight wallet to blame. Don't worry; I'll take you to Paris when you get back. Retail therapy will be good for you. Love you always, B.

A/N: Here we are! My last chapter, I think. I wanted to take this opportunity to thank all of you for the support you have shown me; I don't think I could have done it otherwise. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you enjoy this, and PLEASE REVIEW! xx