Thank Gawd Bloomingdale's keeps it doors open for an entire 24 hours in honor of this special occasion. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to go to Merri-Lee's party. Let me explain: I went shopping last Saturday for the perfect outfit for the New Year's Yves blowout, and I found it: a sea-green raw silk Prada number with a sweetheart neckline and absolutely ah-mazing Jimmy Choos to go along with it. But I got home, tried it on, and a seam tore out. I was all set for a major teen-girl tantrum, but my driver very kindly pointed out that Bloomingdale's was open. So we high-tailed it to Main Street, where I bought a $4,300 Versace cocktail dress, which is just going to have to cut it.

Also, I owe LaGuardia airport a serious thank you. What else can get me from NYC to St. Barts straight back to my private headquarters in just a matter of hours?

Anyway, I'm back from my day-long redezvous with my favorite childhood beach house (and my best friends in the whole world), and ready to serve your gossip needs. I'm sure you're all wondering what happened when the clock struck midnight. But first...

SIGHTINGS

M and D entering Merri-Lee's party, waving those precious black tickets as though they were nothing more than tissues, A and J right beside them. D and C taking their time, while K can be found at Heaven with a brand-new guy, who we'll call D. C and C skipping out on their so-called friends so they could share a Delicious Nutritious smoothie at the Vanilla Bean, then take a drive in Cam's sweet forest-green Porsche convertible. Last I saw them, they were speeding off into the sunset. Literally. Notice anything suspicious here? I do.

But then again, you're nawt an insider like me.

You know you love me,
Gossip Girl


It was five minutes to midnight, and Dylan Marvil was sick and tired of being sick and tired. She knew it was because of what she was doing to herself, but she just couldn't seem to stawp.

Right now, she was lying on Chris's bed in nothing but a pink silk Hanro cami. He was next to her, stripping down to his boxers. She rolled over to face him.

"I'm done," she said with a quick glance at her thighs, which were appearing to bulge out from under the lacy hem of her tank top.

"What?" He gazed into her eyes in a way that was supposed to be meaningful.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she assured her boyfriend. "I'm... I'm just nawt ready."

"But we've done this before," he replied, petting her back.

"It doesn't matter." Dylan got up and yanked her Juicy Couture miniskirt over her legs. Now that she was covering what she considered to be the least attractive part of her body (other than her stomach, of course), she was much more comfortable. She crept back into bed and kissed Chris lightly on the top of his head. "Can we just snuggle for a little while?"

Anyone could tell that he was deeply disappointed, but soon, a peck on the lips had turned into a full-on makeout session, which quickly became much more. But Dylan tactfully avoided sex.


While her friend was doing everything she could to slow Chris down, Massie made a conscious effort to speed things up. Derrick, being the loving, caring guy he was, had asked her more than once if she was ready, and every time she'd responded breathlessly, "Yes, yes, of course." But now she was petrified.

As he caressed her tan cheek, she closed her eyes and thought about Alicia's accounts of sex. And suddenly it seemed vulgar, repulsive, almost, that she'd even considered doing something that animals did during mating season on the Discovery Channel. But it wasn't like she could just back down. Then a thought struck her: she was the Alpha! She could do anything she wanted.

With renewed strength, she sat up, Derrick's hand slipping off her smooth face, and said softly quietly, "No."

Derrick glanced at her with a small smile. "I thought you were the great Massie Block," he replied. "Can't you do anything?"

"No," she whispered. "I can only try."


Alicia was leaning against Josh outside the party, looking like a total LBR who hadn't been invited. So she made a habit of waving the black paper around whenever someone walked by. She'd promised her Alpha she wouldn't dream of entering the vast room without her, and she was regretting it.

"Why are we standing here again?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"Cuz... You know what, I have no fucking clue!" she announced. "It's Massie's fault she's late!" With that, she grabbed her boyfriend's hand and dragged him inside. As she was downing her second champagne flute, a chime sounded from her iPhone.

MASSIEKUR: Sry we're late. Isaac will pull up in 5. R u still outside?
HOLAGURRL: Of course.
MASSIEKUR: Thx, girlie. :) C u soon!

"Come on!" Alicia hissed. "Josh!"

He was talking to some Swedish model, and from the looks of the conversation, he didn't seem to want to give it up. So she reached up and rubbed his shoulders, a small motion which always turned him on instantly.

"Do you need something, sweetheart?" he asked.

"We need to go outside. Now."

"S'party already over?" he slurred.

"In ten minutes we can come back in, k?" she pleaded. Then, after shooting an apologetic smile at the blonde-haired girl, who was staring after them in shock, she pulled Josh outside just as Massie's limo arrived. "Don't look drunk," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am." Josh gave her a faux salute.

"Ugh." Alicia always wanted to hide her boyfriend behind her when he was like this.

"Hey!" Massie greeted her with a smile. She was about to become the life of the party, second only to Merri-Lee herself, and she knew it. In a stunning Ralph Lauren dress with black netting over her boobs, a cream-colored sash, and charcoal ruffles floating over her knees, she looked absolutely invincible.

So Massie and Derrick strolled in arm-in-arm, while Alicia and Josh ducked in behind them, waltzing back over to their half-empty glasses.


Kristen was downing her first shot in years at Heaven, which had used to be her favorite club. She had first discovered the place when she was 13, Alicia by her side. She'd had her first real drink at 15. Then, for the past 42 months, she'd been banned from alcohol. But it didn't matter. Kristen had officially given up on the Soccer Sisters, or so she thought.

"You wanna come back to my place?" offered a guy who was sitting at the bar.

Kristen looked up, and up and up, into his gorgeous electric blue eyes. His short dirty blonde hair and pale skin suggested a guy who liked reading more than athletics. "No way," she replied. But she had to think for a second before the response came to her.

"Are you sure?" he tempted. "It's New Year's Eve."

She plopped onto the stool next to him, struggling to make herself heard over the roaring crowd. "How about we get to know each other first?" she shout-suggested.

"I'm 19, my name is Dempsey Solomon, you know me from my loser days at Octavian Country Day, and I think I'm in love with you," is what Kristen Gregory heard right before she passed out.


"Don't we need to go to the party?" asked Cam.

"They're not missing us," Claire answered.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, then reached down for a sip of the smoothie sitting in front of them. "Let's go for a ride," she said suddenly.

"Alright." Cam paid for their drink and they left Vanilla Bean.

Hours later, they were still at it, about to cross the New York border. It seemed as though they were heading for a crummy old motel on the outskirts of nowhere, but I can't swear to that, so let's just keep it between us.