You Know You Love Me (Gossip Girl Series #2)

Gossip Girl\ You Know You Love Me: A Novel \ \ By Cecily Von Ziegesar \ Rebound by Sagebrush\ Copyright ©2002 Cecily Von Ziegesar\ All right reserved.\ ISBN: 0613569555 \ \ \ Chapter One\ like most juicy stories, it started at a party \ "I watched Nickelodeon all morning in my room so I wouldn't have to eat breakfast with them," BlairWaldorf told her two best friends and Constance Billard School classmates, Kati Farkas and Isabel Coates. "My mother cooked him an omelet. I didn't even know she knew how to use the stove."\ Blair tucked her long, dark brown hair behind her ears and swigged her mother's fine vintage scotch from the crystal tumbler in her hand. She was already on her second glass.\ "What shows did you watch?" Isabel asked, removing a stray strand of hair from Blair's black cashmere cardigan.\ "Who cares?" Blair said, stamping her foot. She was wearing her new black ballet flats. Very bow-tie proper preppy, which she could get away with because she could change her mind in an instant and put on her trashy, pointed, knee-high boots and that sexy metallic skirt her mother hated. Poof-rock star sex kitten. Meow.\ "The point is, I was trapped in my room all morning because they were busy having a gross romantic breakfast in their matching red silk bathrobes. They didn't even take showers." Blair took another gulp of her drink. The only way to tolerate the thought of hermother sleeping with that man was to get drunk-very drunk.\ Luckily Blair and her friends came from the kind of families for whom drinking was as commonplace as blowing your nose. Their parents believed in the quasi-European idea that the more access kids have to alcohol, the less likely they are to abuse it. So Blair and her friends could drink whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, as long as they maintained their grades and their looks and didn't embarrass themselves or the family by puking in public, pissing their pants, or ranting in the streets. The same thing went for everything else, like sex or drugs-as long as you kept up appearances, you were all right.\ But keep your panties on. That's coming later.\ The man Blair was so upset about was Cyrus Rose, her mother's new boyfriend. At that very moment Cyrus Rose was standing on the other side of the living room, greeting the dinner guests. He looked like someone who might help you pick out shoes at Saks-bald, except for a small, bushy mustache, his fat stomach barely hidden in a shiny blue double-breasted suit. He jingled the change in his pocket incessantly, and when he took his jacket off, there were big, nasty sweat marks on his underarms. He had a loud laugh and was very sweet to Blair's mother. But he wasn't Blair's father. Last year Blair's father ran off to France with another man.\ No kidding. They live in a chateau and run a vineyard together. Which is actually pretty cool if you think about it.\ Of course none of that was Cyrus Rose's fault, but that didn't matter to Blair. As far as Blair was concerned, Cyrus Rose was a completely annoying, fat, loser.\ But tonight Blair was going to have to tolerate Cyrus Rose, because the dinner party her mother was giving was in his honor, and all the Waldorfs' family friends were there to meet him: the Bass family and their sons Chuck and Donald; Mr. Farkas and his daughter, Kati; the well-known actor Arthur Coates, his wife Titi, and their daughters, Isabel, Regina, and Camilla; Captain and Mrs. Archibald and their son Nate. The only ones still missing were Mr. and Mrs. van der Woodsen whose teenage daughter, Serena, and son, Erik, were both away at school.\ Blair's mother was famous for her dinner parties, and this was her first since her infamous divorce. The Waldorf penthouse had been expensively redecorated that summer in deep reds and chocolate browns, and it was full of antiques and artwork that would have impressed anyone who knew anything about art. In the center of the dining room table was an enormous silver bowl full of white orchids, pussy willows, and chestnut tree branches-a modern ensemble from Takashimaya, the Fifth Avenue luxury goods store. Gold-leafed place cards lay on every porcelain plate. In the kitchen, Myrtle the cook was singing Bob Marley songs to the souffle, and the sloppy Irish maid, Esther, hadn't poured scotch down anyone's dress yet, thank God.\ Blair was the one getting sloppy. And if Cyrus Rose didn't stop harassing Nate, her boyfriend, she was going to have to go over there and spill her scotch all over his tacky Italian loafers.\ "You and Blair have been going out a long time, am I right?" Cyrus said, punching Nate in the arm. He was trying to get the kid to loosen up a little. All these Upper East Side kids were way too uptight.\ That's what he thinks. Give them time.\ "You sleep with her yet?" Cyrus asked.\ Nate turned redder than the upholstery on the eighteenth-century French chaise next to him. "Well, we've known each other practically since we were born," he stuttered. "But we've only been going out for like, a year. We don't want to ruin it by, you know, rushing, before we're ready?" Nate was just spitting back the line that Blair always gave him when he asked her if she was ready to do it or not. But he was talking to his girlfriend's mother's boyfriend. What was he supposed to say, "Dude, if I had my way we'd be doing it right now"?\ "Absolutely," Cyrus Rose said. He clasped Nate's shoulder with a fleshy hand. Around his wrist was one of those gold Cartier cuff bracelets that you screw on and never take off-very popular in the 1980s and not so popular now, unless you've actually bought into that whole '80s revival thing. Hello?\ "Let me give you some advice," Cyrus told Nate, as if Nate had a choice. "Don't listen to a word that girl says. Girls like surprises. They want you to keep things interesting. You know what I mean?"\ Nate nodded, frowning. He tried to remember the last time he'd surprised Blair. The only thing that came to mind was the time he'd brought her an ice cream cone when he picked her up at her tennis lesson. That was over a month ago, and it was a pretty lame surprise by any standard. At this rate, he and Blair might never have sex.\ Nate was one of those boys you look at and while you're looking at them, you know they're thinking, that girl can't take her eyes off me because I'm so hot. Although he didn't act at all conceited about it. He couldn't help looking hot, he was just born that way. Poor guy.\ That night Nate was wearing the moss-green cashmere V-neck sweater Blair had given him last Easter, when her father had taken them skiing in Sun Valley for a week. Secretly, Blair had sewn a tiny gold heart pendant onto the inside of one of the sweater's sleeves, so that Nate would always be wearing her heart on his sleeve. Blair liked to think of herself as a hopeless romantic in the style of old movie actresses like Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe. She was always coming up with plot devices for the movie she was starring in at the moment, the movie that was her life.\ "I love you," Blair had told Nate breathily when she gave him the sweater.\ "Me too," Nate had said back, although he wasn't exactly sure if it was true or not.\ When he put the sweater on, it looked so good on him that Blair wanted to scream and rip all her clothes off. But it seemed unattractive to scream in the heat of the moment-more femme fatale than girl-who-gets-boy-so Blair kept quiet, trying to remain fragile and baby-birdlike in Nate's arms. They kissed for a long time, their cheeks hot and cold at the same time from being out on the slopes all day. Nate twined his fingers in Blair's hair and pulled her down on the hotel bed. Blair put her arms above her head and let Nate begin to undress her, until she realized where this was all heading, and that it wasn't a movie after all, it was real. So, like a good girl, she sat up and made Nate stop.\ She'd kept on making him stop right on up until today. Only two nights ago, Nate had come over after a party with a half-drunk flask of brandy in his pocket and had lain down on her bed and murmured, "I want you, Blair." Once again, Blair had wanted to scream and jump on top of him, but she resisted. Nate fell asleep, snoring softly, and Blair lay down next to him and imagined that she and Nate were starring in a movie in which they were married and he had a drinking problem, but she would stand by him always and love him forever, even if he occasionally wet the bed.\ Blair wasn't trying to be a tease, she just wasn't ready. She and Nate had barely seen each other at all over the summer because she had gone to that horrible boot camp of a tennis school in North Carolina, and Nate had gone sailing with his father off the coast of Maine. Blair wanted to make sure that after spending the whole summer apart they still loved each other as much as ever. She had wanted to wait to have sex until her seventeenth birthday next month.\ But now she was through with waiting.\ Nate was looking better than ever. The moss-green sweater had turned his eyes a dark, sparkling green, and his wavy brown hair was streaked with golden blond from his summer on the ocean. And, just like that, Blair knew she was ready. She took another sip of her scotch. Oh, yes. She was definitely ready.\ \ \ Continues... \ \ \ Excerpted from Gossip Girl by Cecily Von Ziegesar Copyright ©2002 by Cecily Von Ziegesar. Excerpted by permission.\ All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.\ Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site. \ \

\ From Barnes & NobleThe Barnes & Noble Review\ Cecily von Ziegesar's fabulous second volume starring the Jeffrey-shopping, Blahnik-wearing Upper East Side pack finally has its coming-out, and Blair, Serena, and the crew are creating enough juicy news to make Gossip Girl's typing fingers simply exhausted. \ Unfortunately, Blair Waldorf has a new family member to contend with -- Cyrus Rose, her mom's new fiancé. Complete with a rotund figure, ruddy hue, and dreadlocked son, Cyrus isn't Blair's choice for a stepfather. No matter, she's got direction: Lose it to Nate and ace her Yale interview. Too bad Nate's developing a relationship with freshman-goer Jenny, and her interview was rather embarrassing, to say the least (maybe her gay dad's donation will help). Serena, on the other hand, is hardly thinking about her stalkeresque romantic interest, Dan, and did she actually see Blair shoplifting? It all comes to a head at the wedding of the season, where the Vogue cameras will flash, new relationships will form, and old friendships will be tested.\ You Know You Love Me includes all the scandal and sexiness of von Ziegesar's first installment, and readers won't be disappointed. The characters are as stylish and sassy as ever, but this time, their humanity peeks through, making these well-bred vixens even more likable. Purely for fun and just as hot a Barneys Warehouse Sale, this necessary item reminds us that aside from her Manolo Blahniks, a girl can depend only on one thing -- herself. Shana Taylor\ \ \ \ \ \ Publishers WeeklyCollege interviews, romantic troubles and a fancy wedding photographed for Vogue dominate this second installment of von Ziegesar's frothy but fun series about rich Manhattan prep school kids and the gossip Web site tracking their lives. Blair Waldorf's mother is marrying her "seriously tacky" boyfriend on Blair's birthday and has chosen the bulimic overachiever's former best friend Serena as a bridesmaid (Blair will be maid of honor). Meanwhile, "hunky" Nate avoids Blair (he's secretly seeing chesty Jenny Humphrey), and the compounded stress makes her act like a "freakshow" during her Yale interview. Blonde bombshell Serena is disturbed by poet Dan's intense affections, struggles through her own interview at Brown and scores first prize in a school film contest. The plot culminates at the wedding, where the girls' boy troubles come to a head. As with her Gossip Girl, von Ziegesar creates a complete world: the characters get drunk, shop and indulge in spa treatments plus, the film contest prize is two tickets to Cannes. While this is still strictly a guilty pleasure, the story lines are better developed in this volume and the characters show more growth. But it's their outrageous lifestyles and antics and the snide omniscient narrator that will keep readers turning the pages. Ages 15-up. (Sept.) Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.\ \ \ School Library JournalGr 9 Up-In the spirit of Gossip Girl (Little, Brown, 2002) comes You Know You Love Me, which deals with the same New York City friends. The novel runs much like a soap opera, except that the main characters are all rich and snobby chic 17-year-olds who want what they want and let nothing get in the way. Blair's mother has just announced that she will marry a short, stubby man of high society, Cyrus Rose, after a two-month courtship, and Blair must deal with a whole new family life, including Aaron, a dreadlocked hippie stepbrother. She has disowned her best friend, Serena, who slept with her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, Nate. He has begun to return the affections of ninth-grader Jennifer, whose brother, a hopeless romantic, is pining over Serena. Gossip Girl is a chat room for relaying information to and about the group. A great read for those who like romance and drama related in a sassy manner, complete with obscenities and some alcohol, drugs, and sex.-Nicole M. Marcuccilli, Glenview Public Library, IL Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.\ \ \ \ \ Kirkus ReviewsContinuing her soap opera saga where Gossip Girl (p. 580) left off, von Ziegesar again has her mostly rich, private-school crew of privileged Manhattan teenagers partying at elegant eateries, drinking booze, and shopping at high-end stores, but also thinking about college. Because of their wealth and social status, "not applying to the Ivy Leagues is not an option" and not getting accepted "would be a total embarrassment," so "the pressure is on." As the hunky, rich, pot-addled Nate says, "All of a sudden we have to plan what we’re doing for the rest of our lives and try to impress people with how smart and involved we are. I mean, do our parents take eight classes . . . , play on sports teams, edit the paper, and tutor underprivileged children . . . every single day?" Despite their jealousy inducing advantages, the characters are surprisingly sympathetic and von Ziegesar has the gift of summing up an experience with incisive wit. For example, at "a hippie arts camp," Jenny "had to write haikus about the environment, sing peace songs in Spanish and Chinese, and weave blankets for the homeless." Almost Chekhovian in situation, the bulk of the kids are in love with someone who is either indifferent to their charms or in love with someone else. Getting it all sorted out is the fun of it, and like its predecessor, it’s a highly enjoyable speedboat of a read, zipping along at lightning speed, leaving adolescent angst, wounded egos, and Manolo Blahnik mules in its wake. (Fiction. YA)\ \