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crispyimagines17 · 6 years ago

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“GOSSIP GIRL: New York, New York“ (Chapter 1).

Summary: Gossip Girl, your one and only social media source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s Elite. Things begin to stagger at the Upper East Side with the return of Alana Howarth and the unexpected arrival of Timothée Chalamet, a European handsome boy and rising ruler who has come for Alana; ignoring that NYC already has an heir and prince in its realm, Tom Holland. Secrets, romance, drama and lots of champagne are our daily bread. You know you love me, XOXO.

Originally based on: R’s & CrispyImagines writers’ idea.

Written by: @crispyimagines17

CAST:

Tom Holland

Timothée Chalamet

Disclaimer: This fiction is set on our days (2019). Gossip Girl is now all over social media, Twitter and Instagram being the best sites to find hot tea. Also, for those who may ask what happens with Serena, Blair, Chuck, Dan, Nate and the original cast, they’re now grownups who set the reign and have left it for new generations.

Author’s Note: Well, I’m really really excited for this. A huge sorry for those who’ve been waiting an eternity; college and our sense of perfection got in the way. But now here it is. Hope you love it as much as we do and enjoy every word <3 (also hope this feels like watching a Gossip Girl episode).

Further author's note: So this me from the future haha I was reading this chapter and holy crap! I needed an editor for this, it's good but some scenes are garbage and just make the chapter really REALLY long. Please new reader, give my series a chance. I promise the 2nd chapter is better (check it on the masterpost). Way better. Also, I'll try to re-write this chapter to take away that shit. In the meantime, please try to enjoy my efforts.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hey Upper East Siders. Gossip Girl here… And I have the biggest news ever. One of my many sources – jessica97 – sends us this;

Spotted at JFK International Airport, bags in hand: Alana Howarth. Was it only a year ago our It-Girl mysteriously disappeared for, quote, ‘boarding school’? And just as suddenly she’s back.

You don’t believe me? See it for yourselves. Thanks for the photo, Jess.

Wonder what Tom Holland thinks about her return? Not much, I guess. Manhattan’s elite prince himself was caught low-key undercover at a downtown Starbucks.

But she’s not the only surprise that comes up with foreign winds. Fresh meat sent from overseas, girls. A foreign handsome boy chatted with our Lana before taking his own way. New snack, huh?

Enjoy your mocha latte, Tom; you’re gonna need it. And welcome back, Alana.

The flight 0159 London-New York City had arrived at its destiny. And Alana Howarth breathed for the first time in a long time the air of her city. Maybe it was good to be back at home. The airport was somehow peaceful, at least.

Geoffrey, the family butler, was waiting for her in the same place as usual; near the candy shop where 7-year-old Alana loved to buy chocolates after a long journey.

“Geof!”, she took her Prada pale gold sunglasses up to her hair to glance at her old friend better.

“Miss Howarth”, the 50-year-old man who might be easily confused with Alfred Pennyworth showed her a bright smile.

“Oh, c’mon. I brought you something.”

“You’re so kind, miss Howarth. Let me take your luggage and…” Geoffrey went silent and only made a gesture with his eyebrows for Miss Howarth to turn her face behind her.

A young handsome man was decidedly walking towards her. By the Louis Vuitton travel pillow around his neck, one could say his flight had just landed too.

“Surprise!”, he shouted while shaking his hands as magicians do.

“Timothée?”, but Alana’s reaction wasn’t reciprocal. She frowned and narrowed her eyes, completely confused. “Wha- How?”

“I was on the same flight, London-New York. Literally crossed the sea to see you again.”

“But I never saw you on First Class boarding line”

“Ran late.” Before she could argue something else, he added “And asked for a seat far from yours, I didn’t want you to see me.”

“Wow… Why?”

Both youngsters were looking right into each other’s eyes; Timothée’s with a flash of hope and Alana’s were almost watery.

“I just couldn’t let you go so easily”

The following silence allowed Geoffrey to help her and cleared his throat loudly, bursting their bubble.

“Miss Howarth, your mother gave instructions to have you at the penthouse at 2 p.m.”

The clock read 1:40 p.m. Saved by the bell.

“Sure, she did. Thank you, Geof.”

“Go, go. I’ll send you a DM”, Timothée nodded and made a gesture with his hand for her to enter the limo.

They shared a brief eye contact once more before the handsome man turned back and walked away.

Overwhelmed, Alana was about to step into the limo when she heard a female known voice.

“Alana?”

“Marva?”, a brunette typical-Upper-East-Side-girl approached her with eyes wide open and eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Oh God, you’re back!”

Both girls shared a courtesy hug. Though, Alana was clearly tired.

“And… how you’ve been?”

“Cool. My cousin Jessica arrives today”, Marva answered as opened her purse to take out her cell phone and unblock it. “Well, I guess everyone knows you’re back now. It’s all over Gossip Girl”.

“Wait, what?”, Alana asked with a frown while trying to see Marva’s phone screen, but before she could read anything Marva kept it back into her purse.

“Gotta go, A. See you.”

------------------

Oh, A. New York has never been peaceful at all. You should know that more than anyone. Our princess is back, but apparently her crown has lost one diamond; what did she do last summer? And why did she return?

Down at Starbucks in the Upper East Side, Tom Holland had his phone on Do Not Disturb mode. He preferred it that way. His mother had announced him Alana’s arrival at breakfast, and he wanted to take a breath before seeing her. The last time both had spoken left a weird feeling down his chest, so he better be prepared.

Tom plopped down on his Jaguar’s leather back seats with a sigh, leaned against his back and sip his cappuccino. His mother words echoed on his mind over and over again.

“Our dear Alana comes back today, Tom. Please, don’t forget the party Margot and I have prepared for her at the Palace.”

Our dear Alana. Another sigh escaped through his mouth as he smoothed his hair back with one hand. But he had a special ringtone for Gossip Girl and its sound interrupted his thoughts, couldn’t helping himself on unblocking his device and check out the latest news.

Tom tightened his grip on his phone as his eyes read the lines about a foreign handsome man. In a single move, he dialed a number and approached it to his ear with pursed lips.

“Evan. Tom Holland here. Tell me everything you know about this man, I’ll send you his picture.”

--------------------

Timothée looked through the polarized windows with his eyes fixed on New York City. It was very American, not a single glimpse of Europe, indeed. His phone vibrated under his right pocket and as soon as he read the name on the screen, he answered.

“How was your flight, Timmy?”, a soft female voice asked on the other line.

“Good, mom.”

“Fine. Your father wondered where the private jet was.”

“Father… Asking for the jet instead of his son”, Timothée gritted his teeth and nodded ironically.

“Are you…?”

But he anticipated to her words and answered right away.

“Yeah, I’m on my way to uncle Chuck’s. Call you later… Love you too, bye.”

Chuck Bass, his mother’s millionaire cousin. They were related by Chuck’s mother, but her death didn’t make them close. Though, family is family and the Chalamet were always invited to every Bass event. But Timothée hadn’t seen him in years, he barely remembered Bart Bass’ funeral or more so, Chuck’s wedding with Blair Waldorf.

But he knew one thing for sure; his uncle had been the king of the Upper East Side, and now that he’s not a youngster then his place must be someone else’s.

With a frown and pursed lips only a true Slytherin could do, Timothée opened his Twitter and typed “Gossip Girl”, being immediately presented to an account describing;

Gossip Girl, your one and only social media source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s Elite.

He smirked.

“Time to catch up.”

---------------

February 16th, 2018. One year ago.

The sun drew a soft orange-blue in the sky, ready to let the night its way. Her Louis Vuitton luggage set laid behind her, up in an airport cart.

“Bye, daddy”, Alana kissed her father’s cheek and embraced him as a couple of teardrops fell over his shoulder.

“Take care, sweetheart”, Dr. Howarth’s nose huffed in an effort not to cry.

“Bye, Geof”, she embraced her old friend. The butler took his hat off and smiled at the Howarth girl he had served since her very first day.

“Bye, mom”, Alana kissed her mother. Though their adieu was shorter than her father’s.

A male voice echoed in every corner of the Airport, announcing the boarding room for flight 912 New York-London. Alana took a deep breath before nodding an airport butler for him to drive the cart along her side.

And without further goodbye, she walked towards the VIP boarding line.

***

Once on her seat, she asked the stewardess for a glass of water and an Aspirin. This was more than she can handle. Though, they say it’s better to tear it from the root. So, she typed the well-known user on her Instagram and found right-away the latest hit she had read a couple of days before.

In fairy tales, Cinderella danced until midnight with her Prince Charming. But on the Upper East Side, our Cinderalana ran away before dancing with our Prince T and, instead of a crystal slipper, left a whole crowd open-mouthed. Sorry T, but you had to read the tale first; Cinderella didn’t kiss the Prince on Valentine’s Day ball while he was under vodka’s spell.

Her eyes went watery and bit her tongue to hold her feelings inside. Gossip Girl having perfect timing for dropping bombs. Suddenly, Alana felt the chills running down her spine as she remembered Tom’s closeness and everybody’s eyes on them with their phones out ready to snap the moment.

And it made her sick. She shut her eyes as she leaned against her back on the comfortable seat with a sigh. This had to end, now. But gossips would always be around, and people have no mercy. That’s why she had to leave.

In a movement worthy of dramatic film scenes, Alana looked out through the plane’s window and saw New York City lights vanish before her eyes. Then, she brought her attention back to her phone screen still on Gossip Girl and decidedly clicked ‘Unfollow’.

A new beginning, far far away.

---------------

May 2019. Present Day NYC - Howarth’s penthouse.

“What do you mean dad is not at home?”

Alana frowned at the woman standing behind a desk with her glasses in the middle of her nose, focused on the golden MacBook screen.

“Well, hospitals demand a lot of him these days. And it certainly did not help the fact he had to deal with the Foundation too when his daughter left.” Margot, Alana’s mother, answered throwing a reproach glance in her daughter’s direction while interlacing her fingers to rest her chin on top.

“But I’m back now.”

“He said he’d be here as soon as his meeting with the board finishes. Maybe you can re-join your place as ‘Charity and Foundation leader’.”

“I’d love that, truly.” Alana said as a warm smile covered her face. If one thing she had missed was the Foundation and all its activities; see children’s faces when they were told their surgeries would be free.

“By the way, the Holland’s organized an evening party at the Palace in honor of your return.” Margot added, bringing her attention back to the MacBoook screen and typing fast over the keyboard.

“Oh mom…”, the prodigal daughter rolled her eyes. Margot being Margot Howarth and the socialite.

“You know they’re very fond of you. Besides, Tom and you have always been close, like cousins.” Alana’s mom took her glasses off to fix her eyes on her daughter as she shrugged. “And when Elizabeth told me about her idea, well, I thought it was hilarious.”

“Hilarious for you.”

“Alana please don’t act like a chi…”

“I’ll be on my room!”, she shouted already on her way towards the stairs. “Until I move again somewhere else”, this last muttered under her breath.

***

As soon as her foot stepped into her room, a kind of relief relaxed every muscle of her body, plopping down over her big bed. After a few seconds, the whole world fell under her chest.

“Fuck”

The very one thing she wasn’t ready to face, and her mother arranges everything as always for it to happen. Alana could’ve continued regretting her bad luck, but jetlag dominated her will and a couple of minutes later, fell deeply asleep.

***

It wasn’t until Dr. Howarth kissed her forehead that her eyes opened, and she slowly got up, still under the sleep’s stupor.

“Morning, sunshine”

“God, what time is it?”

“Six.” He answered calmly as he lend her a glass of cold water. “So, how was Europe?”

After drinking the last drop, she placed the empty glass on the bedside table and fixed her eyes into her father’s.

“Great. Thanks for… everything. Spending my Senior high school year there was the best I could’ve ever done, thank you for supporting that.”

Dr. Marcus Howarth sat up on her bed with his lips pursed in an apologizing manner.

“I’m sorry we had to leave so soon on your Graduation Day, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay. You were there, that’s all that matters.”

“You know I’m so thrilled you’re back, and more so behaving like an adult. What happened to my naughty teenager?”

Both shared a laugh. Her father had always been honest with her and knew exactly when to act as a friend or as a parent.

“She grew up.”

Marcus nodded with a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, she did.”

A brief silence floated in the room. Dr. Howarth was about to stood up when Alana asked.

“Dad?”

He looked at Alana with a slight frown.

“I met someone”

His father’s blissful aura faded and narrowed his eyes, ready to hear the story his daughter was about to tell.

---------------

February 17th, 2018. London City.

Alana closed the door as soon as the last worker left the last suitcase and stood before the mess, but a genuine smile covered her face making it almost shine.

There she was in her new, and so far craziest, adventure: living alone. After enjoying a few minutes of peace, Alana began unpacking. It’d be a long night and she had to hurry.

Tomorrow was her first day at Woldingham School for Girls in Surrey, only 35 minutes away from her location; her father alleged she should study somewhere in London, but her mother decided that, if her daughter was studying in the UK, then she’d do it at the same school she once did. At least Gossip Girl’s realm didn’t get that far.

The bell rang, bringing her back to Earth; approached to the micro near the button instalment that controlled the gate.

“Who is it?”

Her favorite female voice answered.

“It’s me. Blair.”

“Come up!”

A couple of minutes later, godmother and goddaughter were embraced with big smiles.

“Goodness, you’re here!”

“Chuck’s waiting outside, I just wanted to see the place you… chose to live”, Blair Waldorf glanced with a frown every corner of the floor as if looking a horror show. “Seriously, Lana, you should stay at my house here, nobody’s living there. And I’ve heard Benedict Cumberbatch lives a couple of houses from it.”

“I’d like to give this place a try. But thank you.”

Blair hold her goddaughter’s hands and showed her a sincere encouraging smile.

“And remember, no matter if your last name is Howarth, you’ve always been a Waldorf.”

***

The subway ride hadn’t been as bad as she imagined. But living in London with less privileges than in New York felt good.

Alana was about to step outside the principal’s office.

“Here”, the principal handed her a bunch of papers. “Your first class had just begun a couple of minutes ago. ‘Art History’, you better hurry up.”

“Thank you for receiving me, Principal Martha.”

Both women shook hands and shared polite smiles.

“You’re welcome, Alana. It was a pleasure.”

Once on the aisle, she inspected the papers content and between them found a map of the whole campus.

“Not even Harry Potter’s Hogwarts map was that difficult.” Alana muttered under her breath with her eyes locked in the drawings of aisles and buildings.

Apparently, this boarding school was only for girls but was related to the boys’ boarding one next to this, and so, some classes were shared; such as Art History.

When she finally figured out where the hell her room was, it had already begun as the principal warned her. She was standing near the door with her eyes trying to see through the little windows.

“Maybe it’s almost finishing”

But before she decided to leave, a boy with wavy hair and indie aspect cleared his throat and touched her back with his finger. He had drops of sweat running around his face, he ran late too.

“Excuse me uh, are you coming inside?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Seems the class is interesting, I’ll interrupt the professor’s speech, maybe.”

“Mr. Blackwood’s? He doesn’t mind.”

“Really?”

His aura was full of electricity and calm at the same time. And his eyes made Alana’s impression to sound reasonable; both eyeballs were surrounded by a smoldering green.

“Yeah. Besides, if you come in with me, he won’t get mad. Trust me”

“Alright”, she answered doubtfully.

Though his charisma convinced her about the professor’s behavior, this was the first time she trusted someone who had just met.

“I’m Timothée, by the way.” He stretched out his hand to shake it with hers, something not commonly used among youngsters.

“Alana.”

Timothée gently smiled at her as he made a gesture with his hand to let her walk inside first.

“Nice to meet you, Alana. Shall we?”

***

April (one week before Summer) 2018. Woldingham Boarding School.

A couple of months were enough for Alana to feel like a Londoner. She might not know the city by heart but had connected to it in a way she never had with New York. And she barely remembered Gossip Girl or the Valentine’s ball incident.

Mr. Blackwood was in front of the whole class pointing something on the projector’s screen. ‘Modern Art’ era and music was the main subject of the day.

“So, as many of you may know or even have the honor of meeting, Hans Zimmer did change the way film music was recorded…”

The boarding school, despite what her mother commented her, had rich kids from several Western Europe countries. Perhaps Margot referred to the fact most were new monied instead of old monied as in Constance, her former high school in New York.

Timothée was sitting next to her in the middle row.

“He’s getting sentimental.” He turned his head and whispered near her ear.

“Shh.” Alana giggled.

“He is. Jesus, I told him to follow his dream, get his butt to Hollywood and ‘boom’ the Oscar goes to Joe Blackwood for Best Original Score”

Blackwood crossed his legs as he leaned his arms over the desk behind his back.

“Alexandre Desplat finally received his Oscar, but… Alright, back to topic, please eyes on the screen.”

Everyone did as told. Unlike other classes, this one gave them the opportunity to flirt, so in exchange they obeyed the young and cool professor Joe.

“The following video reflects what we’ve been talking these weeks; the power of music.”

Letters – Abel Korzeniowski

Lights had been turned down, leaving the room in complete darkness until two dancers appeared on screen. Their performance was so beyond perfect it almost made her wince.

Once the lights were on again, Mr. Blackwood’s excitement filled his face and voice.

“You see? Every note was sintonized with every movement. Did you feel the passion?”

A moment of silence between the students reigned in the room, until Timothée broke it and everyone’s heads turned in his direction.

“Indeed, Mr. Blackwood. The sequence of the young man reading his lover’s letter reflects pure desperation and pain. Ballet is quite misunderstood sometimes, just bodies moving doesn’t make any sense… But when music accompanies this, it’s… Art.”

His velvety voice was casting a hypnotizing shadow on his very feature. Everyone’s eyes were glued on him. However, it wasn’t interest what she saw reflected on them but a weird mix of respect and fear? She wasn’t sure.

And when he finished his comment, Mr. Blackwood cleared his throat bringing the class’ attention back to the desk where he had been without moving, also spelled by Timothée’s charm.

“That’s art, ladies and gentlemen. Your final Project is about this video, I want an essay on my desk by the end of the week.”

***

Ten minutes later, Timothée and Alana were walking down the aisle in silence.

“What are your plans for this summer?”

She glanced at him with a slight frown as she let out a chuckle. That was unexpected.

“Head back to New York, maybe.”

His eyes were fixed on her, ready to perceive any reaction on her feature while both kept walking.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Suddenly, her face changed to a completely speechless expression. So, he decided to add more and ease her a bit.

“Yeah, road tripping all over Europe. Or at least Western Europe before senior year.”

Nothing. Her eyes were blank.

“Don’t tell me Summer at the Hamptons sounds better.”

Two blinks. And seconds later, a smile.

“No… Uhm, you know what? I’d like a road trip… Very much.”

It was true, another summer listening to her mother’s speech was the last she wanted to do. Or facing what she left.

---------------

May 2019. Present Day

***

Spotted: The airport handsome young man stepping into the Empire Hotel. There are only two reasons a stranger would walk in with such determination; he’s a guest in a hurry or he’s visiting our former prince Chuck Bass.

***

NYC – Bass’ penthouse.

The elevator door opened and Timothée walked into his uncle’s penthouse. He had his hands inside his pocket as he stared the whole place; it must be the biggest penthouse in New York.

Chuck Bass appeared in a blue suit, holding a glass of whisky on his right hand.

“Timmy, long time no see!”

Bass handed him the glass as he approached to his mini-bar and served a drink for himself.

“Indeed, uncle.”

“Your mother?”

“She’s fine but couldn’t come. You know, Europe is-“

“Her home. That’s what she always told me when we were kids.”

His uncle made a slight gesture for him to seat over the couch.

“And your father?”

“Business.”

“Chalamet… Guess his new empire got him pretty busy.”

Timothée nodded before drinking a sip of whisky.

“I still remember when my father learned your mother was going to marry your father Domenico, a nobody, as he called him.” A hint of a playful grin showed over his face. “He surprised us all when suddenly bought your mother a mansion at Monte Carlo and had investors everywhere.”

A naughty smile covered Timothée’s face as a memory crossed over his mind at the mention of Monte Carlo.

“Oh, that mansion… Got some cool parties over there”

Chuck joined him with the same smile.

“You got that fun sense from your mother’s family side, particularly me.” Chuck blinked as he reminded himself the main subject of that chat.“But, what can I do for you, nephew?”

“Well, I’m pretending to stay here for a while. Yale haven’t accepted me, but Columbia already did and just wanted to let you know.”

“You already found where to live?”

“Yeah, they’re sending my luggage there.”

Again, the elevator doors opened but this time Serena van der Woodsen stepped inside, announcing her hurried way.

“Chuck it’s me! Just came for something Blair left and…”

She was open-mouthed for a splice of a second, before approaching to Chuck though not taking her eyes away from the young man sitting in front of him.

“Serena, this is my nephew Timothée Hal Chalamet.” Both stretched hands politely. “Timothée, this is Serena van der Woodsen, my wife’s best friend.”

“A pleasure.” Serena, despite the years, still glowed in beauty showing him her characteristic smile. “Maybe you’d like to join us tonight. It’s at the Palace, Blair and a friend organized a party to celebrate Alana Howarth’s return.”

“Come, Tim. Blair would be delighted to see you.”

The young man raised his eyebrows in surprise at the invitation. He pretended to be speechless for a few seconds just before a big smile wrote all over his face.

“I’d love to. Thank you so much”

Well, he had to admit it. That insane egocentric philosophy ‘The Universe conspires in your favor to achieve your purposes’ proved him wrong. Thank you, New York.

---------------

May 2019. Present Day

***

Spotted: A prince with bewilderment written all over his face. Poor T, here’s an advice; if you need help, don’t ask Cupid nor Saint Vodka.

***

NYC – Holland’s penthouse.

Tom was under a warm shower. As soon as he arrived, he locked his door and went straight to his bathroom in an attempt to slowly regain his senses and clarity. He later changed warm for cold water, running his fingers through his hair and sniffing loudly at the freezing touch.

A couple of months ago, he would do this same thing and more, and still say he deserved this pain for what he had done. But today, his mind had changed. Now, he did it as a knight would’ve prepared his horse and his best sword before battle.

Evan was fast, his best informer in fact. Tom was quite pleased by his efficiency; he still hadn’t reached the building when already had the file on his phone. It took his informer less than an hour to get everything about Timothée Hal Chalamet and gather it onto a file.

The first pages were enough for Holland to understand what this man was doing here. He felt blood running faster than ever through his veins, his breathing sped up, clenched his jaw hard and his body was almost trembling in rage. So, he got himself into the shower.

And there he was.

“I fucked up, Alana… I fucked up everything.” He shut his eyes, trying to hold tears inside. “And now this son of a bitch appears from Nowhere…”

Tom couldn’t blame him for the main title in the first page.

“Timothée ‘The King’ Chalamet”

He had laughed when he read it; only someone stupid would name himself a king and add it to his own name. But his smile faded as he kept analyzing and reading newspaper headers.

Chalamet had earned his nickname in late years, by heart. All over Europe, people recognized him as a nice charismatic and gentle young man when regarding adults. But among youngsters, a different story surrounded his name.

Not that he was terrifying or a murderer, a psycho or whatever. Not at all. He was more like a plague. A virus that entered through your ears and eyes.

Newspapers described him in few words as a promoter of good, mainly when he attended to hospitals or charity events. They ignored completely his scandalous life. Early on, his social status had remained low-key, almost nonexistent if not for a couple events his family attended hosted by the Bass family. His debut in true high society had been at the age of 11, when his family moved to Monte Carlo and since then have enjoyed a very wealthy life.

Though, he began building his realm in an Italian boarding school when he was 14; a professor was fired. Nobody really knew the reason; some said that had been because he had seduced her, others said that she scolded him after class for not delivering his homework on time and he turned things around until she cried, and others said she sneezed very close of him.

Later, at the age of 16, when his name was known in several Western Europe countries, he offered a party in Amsterdam. Some say celebrities such as The Weeknd and Cristiano Ronaldo were there. And more parties like that were hosted by him; it’s said Ed Sheeran got inspiration for a song that later became his hit ‘Shape of You’ while he attended one.

Although, when Chalamet turned 18 and moved to London, he settled down and devoted to Art in a calm boarding school.

“Months later, just after he decided to agree a kind of armistice with his realm, Alana comes to his life… And everything because of me.”

The water had ceased falling and Tom reached a towel, drying his face first and breathing deep while blaming himself.

“But this motherfucker is not in Europe. This is New York.”

---------------

Summer 2018

Seventy summer nights together. Perhaps Shakespeare, Nancy Meyers, and the whole bunch of screenwriters who wrote romcoms about summer loves were right. And she’d confirm it a thousand times… She hadn’t felt better in a long long time.

Alana chuckled and bit her lower lip from time to time as she reviewed her phone gallery with all her on-the-road memories.

He had told her this was his favorite, thus he set it as his lockscreen.

This was Paradise. Although the deal was road tripping, some luxury wouldn’t do any harm. She couldn’t even believe the beauty in the view their shared suite enjoyed.

The sound of the glass door from the shower made her immediately smile as the picture of Timothée with a towel wrapped around his waist filled her eyes.

He smiled at her too and turned around to open the mirrored cabinet and look for his Hugo Boss cologne. Once he found it, he poured some over his hand and dispersed it around his neck.

“Ready for your surprise?”

Alana smirked. Her eyes had been focused on his movements she didn’t expect that.

“What? You didn’t tell me”

“Oh, it’s true. I forgot to tell you about your surprise, maybe cause that’s what surprises are. A SECRET.”

“You’re a bad bad guy for not telling me.”

He walked towards her with a mischievous smile.

“But I’m YOUR bad guy.”

Timothée approached slowly and then captured her lips with his in a long and soft kiss. He cupped her face in his hands after pulling away.

“Go, babe. Get ready.”

Now was her turn to take a shower. Life couldn’t be better.

***

“Oh God. Timothée you didn’t…”

Alana was open-mouthed as she looked through the window how the limo drove them to the front door of the auditorium. A big poster announced tonight’s event: The 1975 in concert.

He rejoiced in his success for making her that happy.

“I did, darling. I did.”

“But- wh- how?”

“Let’s just say Matty Healy owed me a favor.”

“You know Matty Healy? Oh, dear heaven…”

Once inside the complex, another surprise came for her; Matty reserved them special seats in the front row. This had to be a fucking dream, one Alana wanted to never end.

The lights were all off, only a few white shadows were visible. Some guitar chords resonated. And suddenly, a blue neon light lit up the stage. Robbers characteristic sounds shouted making the whole crowd crazy and she couldn’t help herself but joining them.

Timothée just looked at her, at the shine in her eyes reflecting those lights and felt his heart melt. When he remembered the lyrics, he also joined the crowd and the woman next to him.

The group played a lot of songs more, connected, laughed and played with their audience. Matty even mentioned them:

“A few friends of mine are here tonight. Hope you’re enjoying this. ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PEOPLE?”

As the end of the night came closer, the illumination changed slowly until a violet-pink light colored the stage and a kind of white smoke covered the arena. One more song and it’d be over.

It was ‘Somebody Else’. Alana’s favorite song from The 1975. Her eyes went watery as a soft smile wrote over her face.

He felt it too. Countless times he had told Matty this was their best song ever, so when it began playing Healy looked at him and blinked an eye before singing.

Timothée pressed his body against hers with her back touching his chest. He wondered if she could feel his fast heartbeats. Though she did nothing, but wince at his touch that only sent shivers down her spine.

He was a few inches taller, so his breath moved some strands of her hair. His hands ran down her arms until it reached hers and hold them as both crossed their fingers; hand to hand. Slowly, he led their arms to raise them above their heads and move with the music.

And if there’s a thought, it was a lie.

Two bodies, two souls, two hearts. Dancing together. Being one.

“Let’s keep dancing, let’s do it”.

Matty said to the audience, but Timothée felt the message had been more for him because he saw the way he danced with Alana. Yeah, he perfectly knew what Healy wondered and he was right; The King fell in love.

***

Backstage, Timothée introduced Alana to The 1975 members.

“You guys enjoyed the concert?” Matty asked as he grabbed a bottle of water.

“Hell yeah. It was amazing, you guys are AWESOME.”

Her smile was infinite. Almost nothing in the world would make it fade.

“Thank you, thank you. And what are you both doing? I mean, you wanna join us at the after-party?”

The couple looked at each other’s eyes and immediately knew the answer; they wanted to spend the night together at the hotel.

“Maybe next time, Matty. But thank you.” Timothée answered as he nodded to his friend.

“The King shall rest.”

The singer and Timothée shared a masculine hug before Alana took a picture of them with her Polaroid.

“Was a big pleasure seeing you, man. And hope to hear more from you, Alana; you gotta be The Queen.”

***

Alana stood before the mirror and started removing pins from her hair.

“What a night. I still cannot believe it.”

“Pure magic”, Timothée said standing behind her and slowly approaching to retake the same contact as in the concert.

Both looked at their reflection and stayed in silence for a minute before she turned her face to meet her lips with his in a soft kiss.

“Do you love me?”, she asked.

Instead of answering, he kissed her again but desperately this time. Her back hit the nearest wall as he deepened the kiss and unfastened her robe before kissing her neck.

But suddenly he stopped. The Killers Mr. Brightside’s chords coming from her purse interrupted the moment; her phone was ringing. She reached for it and her face paled when she saw the name flashing on the screen; Tom Holland.

She tried to collect herself, speechless as hesitance prevented her from making what her memory commanded her almost instinctively. Her thumb struggled between two choices; she answered, obeying her brain’s will.

“Alana?”

Alana winced at the sound of his voice, though she couldn’t utter a word. Timothée stood behind her as he smoothed his hair back with both hands, confused and frustrated.

“If you’re listening… Oh God, I-I-I don’t know what time is in your location, maybe it’s late or… not,” he began with jitters and hesitance cracking his voice. “Listen, it doesn’t matter if you’re a couple hundred miles from Japan… I was wondering if you have plans tonight.”

He made a pause, waiting for an answer or at least a reaction on the other line, but Alana kept frozen in her place, so he took a deep breath to encourage himself and continue.

“Maybe we could talk. Please, let me explain what-”

“Stop!” Alana exclaimed with an angry yet broken voice and hung up the phone.

She stood there for a couple of minutes more, with her eyes glued to the window view facing the darkness of the ocean at night. And when she finally faced Timothée, who had his eyes fixed on her, she swallowed hard. His eyes widened at the sight of her face, pale as ghost.

“I’d like to get some fresh air… Alone.”

He nodded with a slight worried frown. It was clear she had to make an effort to utter a word. He leaned against the couch, letting a sigh escape from his mouth.

The phone rang again. Mr. Brightside’s chords again over the bed.

Timothée answered.

“Alana? Please, listen to me. I-I-I’m so sorry.”

As soon as he heard a male voice, and even more after listening the weak apologize, his blood boiled.

Who the hell ever dared to hurt her?

He clenched his jaw when he read the name; Tom Holland.

***

When Alana crossed the door and entered their suite, a huge relief relaxed every muscle of Timothée’s body. A part of him told him not to, but he couldn’t help himself on pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Thank you.” She whispered over his shoulder before pulling away. “I’m sorry for leaving like that…”

His eyes were filled with tenderness for the woman standing face to face.

“No need to apologize, Alana.”

“Yes, I have to. We were having OUR moment and he suddenly calls with perfect timing and everything came back…”, a knot formed in her throat and her voice broke against her will.

Timothée immediately placed his hands over her shoulders, ready to pull her again and protect her. Only God knew what he was capable of if that man placed a finger on her without consent.

“What? He did something to you?”

Even though her voice was now recovered, he could tell it wasn’t easy for her to talk about it.

“Not exactly. There’s a stupid site called Gossip Girl that makes public everything that happens on the Upper E…”

Her lower lip trembled, perhaps as a sign for trying to keep the calm. So he made a decision; no more pain.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me right now if you don’t want to.” Alana fixed his eyes into his in utter silence. “This is your fresh start.”

“A fresh start.” She nodded.

“The past is on the past”, he gently grabbed her by the chin. “Don’t feel you gotta tell me everything that happened before we met… Let’s make a deal, okay? Like… Hakuna Matata.”

She chuckled. And this relieved him in more than one way.

“No worries, no bad experiences, just today. Present is all that matters.”

“That sounds promising”, she said with a soft smile spreading across her face.

His thumb caressed her chin while both stared straight into each other’s eyes.

“It does, yeah. So… deal?”

“Deal.”

Timothée holded her right hand and kissed it as he promised himself he would never let her go.

---------------

The Palace. Present Day.

The terrace was crowded by those distinguished guests who were, in Mrs. Howarth’s opinion, indispensable to celebrate her daughter’s return.

Tom had arrived earlier than everyone hoping she’d come with her mother. But she didn’t. People started arriving and there was no sight of her. He was sitting at the Palace hotel bar, taking a sip of scotch as he tried not to check his phone again. One hour. One hour late to her own party.

Just when he was about to believe she wouldn’t come; a waiter tinkled a glass to gain everyone’s attention and music stopped. His mother and Margot Howarth stood mid-stairs with a microphone each in their right hand.

“Good evening”, his mother said.

“Thank you for being here, it’s a pleasure for us to…”

Margot’s voice was in the background while Tom kept glancing in every direction to see if Alana was around. But the face he recognized from the pictures made him grip his scotch glass a little too tight; Timothée Chalamet. What was he doing here?

“Well, she doesn’t really need an introduction. Ladies and gentlemen, my daughter Alana Howarth.”

The words resonated in his ears as Tom instinctively turned his face at the stairs. Everyone clapped joyfully.

“Thank you, mom. And thank you, Mrs. Holland. I’m so glad for being here with all of you…”

Still not a minute went by when her voice seemed to have everyone under a spell, as always. Her charm to connect with people had always been her strongest gift.

“…hope to rejoin the Olivia Howarth Charity Foundation and serve our people as it’s meant to be”

More claps. People loved her benevolent soul.

As she walked down the stairs, Alana made eye contact with Tom, but she looked away almost immediately, paying attention to Blair Waldorf and the couple talking with her.

***

Wind wasn’t blowing in Tom’s favor.

Alana had done everything in her power to keep herself busy eating canapes and talking about the beautiful flowers or the dress of Mrs. Perkins with every guest. With this luck, the night would end before he could approach her.

The clock read 9:40 p.m; it was now or never. Tom walked towards Serena van der Woodsen who was standing with a group of people, however when she saw from the corner of her eye her godson, she excused herself and turned to meet him.

“Auntie, I need your help”, Tom said handing her a glass of champagne.

“What is it, Tommy?”

She stared at him with a worried look on her face.

“You see that guy over there?” He glanced at Timothée’s direction talking with Chuck Bass and a couple more businessman. “I need you to distract him so I can have a word with Alana.”

“Oh, I saw him today with Chuck Bass. He’s his nephew.”

“I know. Would you talk to him while I’m with her, please?”

“He’s not with Alana, why don’t you just simply ask her?”

His eyes traveled the whole room.

“It’s… complicated, auntie S.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it, but please Tom don’t make a scene”, Serena placed one hand over her godson’s elbow. “It’s classic of Gossip Girl haunting for something in parties like this one.”

He nodded as putting on a smile and taking a step back from her.

“Don’t worry, auntie S.”

Serena went to the canape table and grabbed two, one for Chuck and one for her, then she headed up to their direction. Timothée welcomed her.

Fortunately, Alana was with a group of women who appreciated him very much. Confident of himself, he took a deep encouraging breath and he took three long strides to stand before her.

“Good evening, ladies.”

A couple of them raised their eyebrows, but they welcomed him nicely.

“Oh Tom dear, we were just talking about high school.”

“Thank God we graduated”, he chuckled, and the group joined him in his polite laugh. His charm might not be as powerful as hers, but it worked, and he used it. After the laugh faded, he cleared his throat. “Alana may I have a word?”

He got her. Fuck. The only thing left for her was nod and force a smile.

“Excuse me.”

Tom led her to a balcony away from the party, not without looking around to make sure no one saw them. In the midst of nervousness and excitement, Tom missed a pair of green eyes watching from the other side of the terrace.

Once outside, Alana turned to face him; she wasn’t chickening out this time.

“Tom, please don’t do this.”

He raised his hands as an innocent man would do in front of a cop.

“I just have to say something, please”

Her eyes were locked on his while she shook her head as if begging him not to press his finger over the wound.

“Don’t, don’t go there.”

“You just need to hear it.” He took one step to be closer to her, and when his mouth opened his voice had a soft sound. “I’m sorry, Alana. For that night. I never wanted to disrespect you or make you feel so bad for you to leave the city and…”

“I didn’t leave because of that!”, she cut him off.

His lips parted, looking genuinely confused. She shut her eyes for a brief moment before letting go a tired sigh.

“Jesus! What happened was the drop that spilled the glass. One day I woke up and… I didn’t want my life to be the way it had been with Gossip Girl shouting every party I hosted or even if I sniffed.” Alana swallowed hard and prayed her courage wouldn’t let her voice fail. “I… thought it’d be enough if I just stayed at the edge, but on Valentine’s…”, a complex mixture of rage and sadness were threatening to crack her voice, but she collected herself before tears flood her eyes. “The very person I cared the most about… showed me this world wasn’t for me cause no one would be truly a friend.”

She let the words hit him as she bit her lower lip in a last attempt not to cry. It still hurt.

“And, you know the rest.”

Silence set between the two of them. Tom was shattered; she had trusted him, and he failed her. He failed. And her words explained a lot of things but one. Tom tried to swallow the knot that formed in his throat.

“So, why you came back?”

“My aunt Blair told me Gossip Girl’s gift for Upper East Side grads was a clean slate for college. That’s why I’m here. A new beginning in New York, with my family.”

“I called you a thousand times and you were mad with me.”

Alana exhaled loudly and her rage seemed to come back for a second.

“I was, right. I knew you had feelings for me, and that night I expected you’d do something. And you did, but under alcohol’s effect. In front of the whole class with their phones out.”

“And I would never forgive myself for that”

Once more, Alana shut her eyes trying to control herself. When she got it, her eyes opened with a calmer pace and saw a dark knight walking towards them. Tom had his back to him and didn’t feel him coming.

“The past is in the past, Tom. Wish you a good life.” She administered the coup de grâce.

“Alana, please…”

Tom lifted his right hand to caress her arm. But Timothée’s hand stepped in the way, pushing his hands away before he could touch her.

Alana rolled her eyes, tired of this drama. She glanced at both men and moved a strand of hair out of her face.

“My dad should be wondering where I am”, she said as she brushed past Timothée making his shoulder move.

As soon as she left, Tom pushed sharply away Timothée’s hand with pursed lips and clenched jaw.

“Who the fuck you think you are to interrupt us?”

Timothée stared at him with a quirked eyebrow, challenging him as a mocking smile threatened to set free at the corner of his lips.

“Would say it was over before I came.”

“Listen to me you…”

But his sarcastic feature changed in a blink of an eye into serious, taking a step closer to him.

“No, YOU listen to me; you got your opportunity and you lost it.”

“Use your words carefully, you’re not in Monte Carlo anymore”, Tom warned him.

“Yeah, that’s what Google Maps says”, Timothée raised his eyebrows as he nodded with a smile.

“Alana would’ve never trusted you if she knew every thing I know about you”, Holland furrowed his eyes while putting his hands inside his pocket.

“And you think she’d believe a word you say?”, Chalamet scoffed. “Wake up, Thomas. She’s not under your mercy anymore.” He enjoyed the face Holland made, speechless. “Do yourself a favor and move on.”

Though, the prince reminded himself his advantage.

“You don’t know her at all. No matter how much time you’ve spent together, the good stuff is on the details and that’s something you won’t get.”

This hit Chalamet hard.

“Are you threating me?”, the European king asked sounding annoyed.

“I’m warning you”, now Tom used Chalamet’s same attitude with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

The atmosphere got heavier as both young men stared at each other with rage overflowing from their auras. But before one could do anything else, Nate Archibald walked towards them with a drink in his right hand.

“Tom? Here you are. Serena’s been looking for you. She’s inside.”

Whether Serena was indeed looking for him or not, Nate prevented him from making a scene and so, Tom had nothing to do but walk away with Nate.

“Thanks”

Alone, Timothée stared at the amazing view.

“New York, New York”

---------------

The identity of the mysterious airport handsome man was revealed; Timothée Chalamet. But our prince is not delighted by his presence. Looks like Manhattan’s Elite might quake with their outstanding chemistry to light a bomb up.

Alana, you did have fun in your year out… Enjoy your clean slate. I know it won’t take much time for you to dirt them up.

You know you love me, XOXO

Gossip Girl.

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