B-M-W, anyone?
Excuse my greed.
You know you love me.
gossip girl
Nothing Can Keep us Together
Gossip Girl 08 - Nothing Can Keep Us Together
S demonstrates how to be naughty and nice
“Mr. Beckham?” Serena called, tugging open the first of four heavy black curtains that led into Constance Billard’s darkroom. “Mr. Beckham, is it okay if I come in and talk to you for a minute?”
Serena heard a stool squeak. “Sure thing, come on in,” Constance Billard’s only film teacher called back. “Careful with the curtains.”
Classes were over for the day, and a quiet hung over the school, broken only by the laughter of a few stray girls or the click of a teacher’s heels. Serena had stayed behind to see if she could remedy the whole senior-class-speaker situation. Not that she’d definitely get it, but she’d taken enough away from Blair already. Becoming senior class speaker would just be one more thing she got without really wanting it.
Like a certain green-eyed boyfriend?
She slipped inside the darkroom, making sure the curtains swung closed behind her to block out every bit of light. A special red darkroom lamp glowed overhead, but it was still hard to see. Goosebumps appeared on Serena’s bare arms and legs. The darkroom always gave her the chills.
Mr. Beckham was the only cool young male teacher at Constance. Except he thought he was cooler, younger, and better looking than he actually was. Fancying himself an artist, he wore chunky black rectangular glasses and tight black long-sleeved Club Monaco T-shirts that showed off his gym-toned chest. He spiked his dark blond hair with gel and inserted the odd French word whenever he could.
“Ah, Serena,” he exclaimed, pushing away the poppy-seed bagel with cream cheese he’d been snacking on. He spread his arms out wide. “Quelle pleasure!”
Serena fiddled with the button on the waistband of her light-blue-and-white seersucker spring uniform skirt and shifted from foot to foot. Why was talking to a teacher outside of class always slightly embarrassing?
Especially when you suspected the teacher had a teensy-weensy crush on you.
“Um, I just wanted to thank you for nominating me for senior speaker,” Serena told him. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and began gnawing on its already chewed-on pearly pink nail.
Note to all: Only ridiculously beautiful people can get away with this sort of behavior without grossing everyone else out.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I just wanted you to know that I crossed myself off the list of nominees.” She moved on to her ring finger, which hadn’t been chewed on since breakfast. “I’ve never been that good at making speeches.”
Plus, Blair is the only other person nominated, and she really wants to do it, and I’m afraid if I get it she might murder me in my sleep.
Mr. Beckham took off his glasses and began to clean them with the bottom of his black T-shirt, revealing a bare patch of surprisingly buff stomach. Serena tried not to stare and wondered fleetingly if he was gay. His bare skin seemed totally indecent, like he was flashing her or something.
“You know why I nominated you, n’est-ce pas?” he asked, looking searchingly at her in the red darkness as he continued to clean his glasses.
Mais oui. Because you have le hots pour elle?
“Well …” Serena began, searching for an excuse to turn and flee. There was suddenly something creepy and unsanitary about the fact that Mr. Beckham had been eating a bagel while developing film. She wondered if he was addicted to the chemicals or something.
Mr. Beckham put his glasses back on and sat back on his metal swivel stool. “Serena, I’ve been watching you since I came here, back when you were only in seventh grade. And I know it sounds corny, but you really lit up my darkroom.” He stopped to clear his throat, clearly too nervous to think of any words in French. “If I weren’t your teacher, I’d …”
He’d … pour fixer all over her and
Excuse my greed.
You know you love me.
gossip girl
Nothing Can Keep us Together
Gossip Girl 08 - Nothing Can Keep Us Together
S demonstrates how to be naughty and nice
“Mr. Beckham?” Serena called, tugging open the first of four heavy black curtains that led into Constance Billard’s darkroom. “Mr. Beckham, is it okay if I come in and talk to you for a minute?”
Serena heard a stool squeak. “Sure thing, come on in,” Constance Billard’s only film teacher called back. “Careful with the curtains.”
Classes were over for the day, and a quiet hung over the school, broken only by the laughter of a few stray girls or the click of a teacher’s heels. Serena had stayed behind to see if she could remedy the whole senior-class-speaker situation. Not that she’d definitely get it, but she’d taken enough away from Blair already. Becoming senior class speaker would just be one more thing she got without really wanting it.
Like a certain green-eyed boyfriend?
She slipped inside the darkroom, making sure the curtains swung closed behind her to block out every bit of light. A special red darkroom lamp glowed overhead, but it was still hard to see. Goosebumps appeared on Serena’s bare arms and legs. The darkroom always gave her the chills.
Mr. Beckham was the only cool young male teacher at Constance. Except he thought he was cooler, younger, and better looking than he actually was. Fancying himself an artist, he wore chunky black rectangular glasses and tight black long-sleeved Club Monaco T-shirts that showed off his gym-toned chest. He spiked his dark blond hair with gel and inserted the odd French word whenever he could.
“Ah, Serena,” he exclaimed, pushing away the poppy-seed bagel with cream cheese he’d been snacking on. He spread his arms out wide. “Quelle pleasure!”
Serena fiddled with the button on the waistband of her light-blue-and-white seersucker spring uniform skirt and shifted from foot to foot. Why was talking to a teacher outside of class always slightly embarrassing?
Especially when you suspected the teacher had a teensy-weensy crush on you.
“Um, I just wanted to thank you for nominating me for senior speaker,” Serena told him. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and began gnawing on its already chewed-on pearly pink nail.
Note to all: Only ridiculously beautiful people can get away with this sort of behavior without grossing everyone else out.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I just wanted you to know that I crossed myself off the list of nominees.” She moved on to her ring finger, which hadn’t been chewed on since breakfast. “I’ve never been that good at making speeches.”
Plus, Blair is the only other person nominated, and she really wants to do it, and I’m afraid if I get it she might murder me in my sleep.
Mr. Beckham took off his glasses and began to clean them with the bottom of his black T-shirt, revealing a bare patch of surprisingly buff stomach. Serena tried not to stare and wondered fleetingly if he was gay. His bare skin seemed totally indecent, like he was flashing her or something.
“You know why I nominated you, n’est-ce pas?” he asked, looking searchingly at her in the red darkness as he continued to clean his glasses.
Mais oui. Because you have le hots pour elle?
“Well …” Serena began, searching for an excuse to turn and flee. There was suddenly something creepy and unsanitary about the fact that Mr. Beckham had been eating a bagel while developing film. She wondered if he was addicted to the chemicals or something.
Mr. Beckham put his glasses back on and sat back on his metal swivel stool. “Serena, I’ve been watching you since I came here, back when you were only in seventh grade. And I know it sounds corny, but you really lit up my darkroom.” He stopped to clear his throat, clearly too nervous to think of any words in French. “If I weren’t your teacher, I’d …”
He’d … pour fixer all over her and
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