Chapter 5: Everyday I Write the Book

Don't tell me you don't know the difference
Between a lover and a fighter
With my pen and my electric typewriter
Even in a perfect world where everyone was equal
I'd still own the film rights and be working on the sequel

-"Everyday I Write the Book" Elvis Costello

Dan was still preoccupied after his run in with Serena the day before. He knew he had been right not to share the truth with her – that he had been following her for eleven blocks straight since she was first spotted on Gossip Girl. He wasn't obsessed with her or anything, but it would be what she would assume if she saw him following her. It was just that he had gotten writer's block. Again. In the past, Serena had always been able to get the gears in his head back to working mode; therefore normally, this would be the time when he would throw himself on her, begging her to take him back and praying silently that it would work in relieving his writer's block, but Vanessa complicated things too much for that. Hence, the following Serena around. But when no new ideas popped into his brain, he decided to call her name and see if the creative juices would begin to flow during their conversation. As usual, his plan had failed miserably. He had made up some lame excuse about French coffee and run away like a dog with a tail between its legs, in the wrong direction no less.

Dan wondered if he would still be feeling this way about Serena if it weren't for the fact that he had spent all of the previous night staring at a blank computer screen. And then, when he felt like the flickering of the cursor was mocking him, he stared at a blank piece of paper instead and had no more success than he had experienced with his laptop. He knew that his failure to write definitely factored into it, but he also realized that when Serena had told him that she had been trying to choose between him and Nate when she got back from Paris, he was hurt that she'd even had to think about it at all.

"Dan?" Vanessa called, walking in the front door of the Brooklyn loft. "There you are! I was just at the bookstore picking up another Hemingway, and I thought you might like this." She pulled a thick novel out of her bag and handed it to him. "Tolstoy," she explained. "That copy was published in, like, the 20s or something. Cool, right?" Dan just looked at her, and in that moment he realized the problem with Vanessa. They talked about books and movies and food and culture. But Dan never felt comfortable sharing more feelings than he had to with her, or even the things that were going on in his life. She was a great friend, and he did love her as a friend, but there was a reason they had never worked as more than that.

"Thanks," Dan said finally, taking the book from her hand. "I can't wait to read it." Vanessa had a satisfied smile on her face and entwined her fingers with the ones of Dan's other hand.

"You know," she began in a low voice. He knew right away that it was supposed to be her seductive voice, but to him, it always came across more as mumbling. He hadn't had the heart to tell her how much it bugged him. He cringed inwardly as she batted her eyelashes in a way that made her appear as if she had a twitch. "I can think of a way for you to show your gratitude," she finished, raising a single black eyebrow. Dan repeated the nervous laugh for what felt like the hundredth time in the past couple of days and slipped his hand out of her grip, a small miracle, considering it was as tight as iron.

"I'm not really feeling up to that now," he offered weakly. "But later, for sure." He knew it was a lie as soon as the words left his mouth. He had no intention of being in the loft that night; that was certain. Until he figured out what was going on with his feelings for Serena, he was going to avoid Vanessa as much as possible.

Gossip Girl: It seems both Queen B and the King of The Empire are heading to the New York Opera tonight. Will a dramatic reunion ensue or are we just in for some major drama? You know what they say - nothing is over until the fat lady sings. You know you love me.

"Blair!" Serena sang in her best opera voice. "Are you ready for the opera? Because I know I aaaaammmm!"

"Serena!" she heard Blair yell in annoyance. "I swear to God, if you use that voice one more time, I am going to rip the golden locks right off your head and then stuff them into your mouth so you can't sing anymore!" Serena heard someone chuckle behind her and turned to see Chuck decked out in his best tux.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, already shoving him in the direction of the elevator. "You can't be here right now!" Her blue eyes were wide, and she felt her heart start to pick up. "Blair's not ready to –"

"To see me," Chuck finished for her. "Yeah, I know, but she's not the person I'm here to see." Serena's face morphed into one of confusion.

"Then who?"

"Lily," Chuck answered, his dark eyes unreadable. "Rufus has something for the band he manages, and it came up at the last minute, so she didn't have time to find someone else to take her. I didn't know Blair was coming until now, and I would have respectfully declined the invitation if I had."

"Oh." Serena was at a loss for words. She had to come up with a way to break it to Blair. She had been going on about this opera since spring, and there was no way she would want to go now.

"Serena, I think the best thing you can do is make sure Blair isn't ready for another fifteen minutes at least. I'll go get Lily and convince her to sit in my father's old box seats instead of hers, and then it'll be like I'm not even there." Serena felt herself nodding, and she was astounded at the ability of Chuck to think on his feet. He must have figured how much Blair was looking forward to this. She floated up the stairs, sea blue gown trailing behind her, and gave Chuck one last glance. He didn't appear as assured as he had sounded just a moment ago. He looked…Serena considered, racking her brain for the word that fit best and settled on something simple. He looked sad. She thought for a moment and remembered that Chuck used to take Blair to the opera fairly often, and they would watch, holding hands, from his father's old seats. In fact, he and Blair were probably supposed to go to this one together. She desperately wished that Blair wouldn't see him there, because it was going to be hard enough for her already. But if Serena knew anything about the two, it was that their magnetic pull toward one another would prevent Serena's wish from coming true. They would see each other; there was no doubt in Serena's mind. She just hoped that things didn't fall into the disastrous category until after they had exited the theater.

...

Earlier in the day, Blair had reacted quite well to the flowers. She wasn't ecstatic by any means, but Serena could tell she was pleased. She had picked up the first bouquet that arrived and smiled softly as she inhaled their sweet scent. The deliveryman had patiently waited for her to notice his presence to hand over the form she had to sign. Her eyes flitted over to him and she grabbed the clipboard without a word, signing her name with a flourish.

"Thanks," she said. "I have to figure out where to put these, so feel free to see yourself out."

"Uh, I would Miss –" he looked down at his sheet and stroked his thick, dark mustache distractedly. "Waldorf. But, uh, we got another 729 of those to bring in here, and you're gonna have to decide where you want all of those too." If Blair was shocked, she didn't show it.

"Very well. Just don't knock anything over. It would take you at least three years to pay for anything that's breakable in here." Blair may not have been surprised, but Serena was purely because of Blair's nonexistent reaction to the sheer number of bouquets that were arriving.

"Blair," Serena said carefully. "You did hear him, right?"

"You mean that there are 730 bouquets coming in here?"

"Yeah. Do you understand that number? Does it mean anything to you?" Serena was really curious by this point.

"Did Chuck say it would?" Blair asked with a faraway look on her face. She was probably going through every possible meaning 730 could have.

"Yes, actually, he did." Serena watched Blair's face carefully, but there was no change in her expression.

"Well, then I guess it should mean something to me, shouldn't it?" Blair didn't speak a word about the flowers after that, and Serena didn't dare ask her. But that didn't mean she had stopped wondering for a second.

Chapter One we didn't really get along
Chapter Two I think I fell in love with you
You said you'd stand by me in the middle of Chapter Three
But you were up to your old tricks in Chapters Four, Five and Six

And I'm giving you a longing look
Everyday, everyday, everyday I write the book

Until next time –xoxo