you're gonna hate me when i tell you everything
you're gonna question whether you really know me at all
you will revisit every smile, and where it fit into the day
i know this is how it will play
and i try, oh i try to think of all the things
that i could do to let you know that i love you

-- Even So by Rachael Yamagata

Martinis and Coca Colas

By: beachbumyeahh

For some odd reason, you find yourself at some Upper East Side party. You know you don't belong there, you know you will never fit in. You hate everything about the Upper East Side. You know you have to work harder than everybody else. You know you don't have the money like these other snobby rich kids do to pass school. You know how hard your father and mother work just so that you and your sister would go to a proper school. That's the reason you attend this hell they call St. Jude's. That's the reason you try so hard to get your grades up and running.

You didn't mean to end up at some club with the people you hate the most. You were just walking home from the bakery store to get some bread when some polo player invites you. You have this feeling in your gut that you should leave, but instead you come inside with high hopes of seeing Serena Celia van der Woodsen, the girl you first saw from your sister's laptop, the only one that kept you in awe whenever she came in the courtyard.

You enter the dark club, instantly hearing the loud, deafening music of some rock band you have never heard of. You scan the room for any signs of the magnificent golden hair you dream of holding one day. But your luck is running short, she wasn't here. Your hopes are still intact as you walk around the club, looking for that very person you have been fantasizing about.

You walk past the so-called Queen B of the Upper East Side. But to you, she's just the Queen Bitch of the Gullible Upper East Side. She of course sees you and almost immediately, a dark, disgusted look appeared on her face. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?" She sneers at you as if you were trash.

You mustered up some courage to be able to fight back. "I'm Dan, Dan Humphrey." She raises an eyebrow in the most snobbish way as you hear her mutter something about your clothes. "I go to St. Jude's." You finally believe what everybody says about Blair Waldorf. She can stare at you and make you feel like the worst thing that's ever happened for the world.

"Ugh." She remarks. "Brooklyn trash. Charity week is done, people." She takes one final look at you. "Leave." You know you shouldn't be afraid of this little girl, but you don't want to be kicked out before you even see Serena, so you follow her command and walk away.

You head towards the bar and sigh heavily. This is harder than you thought it was. She could be everywhere, she could've already left. You ask the bartender for a can of coke. He looks at you weirdly before leaving to arrange what you ordered. You sit on the nearest empty bar stool as you wait for your order.

You scan the crowd one more time; your hope was slowly falling. You keep thinking on how you put up with Blair Waldorf's insults for nothing. You sigh one more time as your order finally arrived.

But at the last moment, you started thanking the Lord. How you didn't notice, we will never know. Sitting beside you, a martini in hand was the Serena van der Woodsen. You guess that she felt your intense gaze when she looks your way.

"Hey." She smiles at you before turning her gaze back onto the martini. She drinks it in one gulp before ordering another one.

The only thing running through your mind was the image of Serena smiling at you. She had actually smiled at you! You feel like the happiest man alive. She would never know how much that smile meant to you. She would never know the affect she did on you. And you keep on thinking, maybe one day she will.

You keep on watching her as she drank four glasses in less than five minutes. She turns to your direction as she sighs problematically before saying, "You look like your night sucked."

You laugh lightly as you took a sip of your coke. "I'm doing okay." You took one good look at her, and you realize she's drunk. But drunk or not, she's talking to you. You start to feel a little less happy than before, but nonetheless, happy.

She starts to glare at you. You panic as you began thinking of what you did wrong. You keep thinking that your fifteen minutes of sitting beside her were over. "Well, that's good." She narrows her eyes. "If it helps you, mine sucked." She admits.

A wave of concern hits you straight in the face. "Why?" You try to act nonchalant as you ask.

"Nate is back with Blair." She mutters as she asks the bartender for another drink. "She's back with my Natie."

You nod; you knew you could understand a bit. Nate Archibald was Blair Waldorf's boyfriend, and apparently Serena likes Nate. But she wants to move on, you feel delighted about the news. "Sucks." You say. We know that isn't true, right Dan? For you, it's the happiest news you've heard this week.

Serena deserves someone better than Nate. You keep thinking of someone better, but the only picture that's popping in your mind was you.

You sip your coke before pursing your lips together. She looks at you, curiously. "You deserve better," You finally say.

She nods and smiles at you. For the second time that night, she smiled at you. If the time came, you wouldn't mind dying right now. You're the happiest person around. "Yeah, I guess I do."

You snort, "You know you do, Serena. You're gorgeous, nice, and absolutely amazing. You deserve a hell of a lot better than Nate Archibald." You once again thank your skills with words.

She suddenly surprises you when she grabs the collar of your shirt and puts her lips on yours. You were caught off guard for just a second before hungrily kissing back. Her breath smells like alcohol, but you couldn't care less. She was your alcohol, and you were drunk. You hear her moan quietly as your tongue explores her mouth. You feel like you were floating on cloud nine.

And then the fast realization hits you, she was drunk and you aren't, which automatically means you're taking advantage of her. You realize that you love her too much to take advantage of her. You reluctantly pull back and remove your gaze from her.

"What the hell?" She asks. Apparently, you caught her by surprise.

"You're drunk." You state the obvious as you ordered for another can of coke.

She looks at you as if you were crazy. "And so?"

"You're drunk, I'm not. I don't take advantage of women when their drunk." You realize you are smitten. This girl is perfect, flawless.

Her eyes widened. "You're not gay, are you?"

You laugh. "I don't think so,"

"Then why did you stop?" She sounds confused, you better enlighten her.

You sigh as you turn to her. "I told you. I don't want to take advantage of you."

She grunts and pouts. "Fine, then don't take advantage of me. See if I care."

"Serena . . ." You start to say, but she cuts you off.

"You know what, the moment's done. Just go, leave, and skedaddle." She says as she takes a drink from her fifth – or was it sixth?

You sigh and lay down five dollars on the bar. "I'm sorry." You whisper.

"Whatever." She mutters before turning her head back to her drink.

You walk away from her and the party. Just like that, you lose the chance of a lifetime because you were trying to be the better person. The one time she notices and actually talks to you, you reject her. Why do you have to be so nice? Serena van der Woodsen talked to you, even though she was completely drunk and you were sure she wouldn't be able to remember anything tomorrow, she still did talk to you.

You walk down the dark streets, thinking maybe one day she'll notice you again. And maybe, just maybe she would be sober.

A guy can dream, right Dan?

A/N: Reviews are very much appreciated. This version is the un-beta'd (is that even a word?). So, if there are any errors, please alert me asap. And, oh, check out my other GG fics as well. :D I have a new DS fic called "You're Choking Me With Your Beauty" Check it out as well. :D

I think I forgot something. Oh yeah.

Disclaimer: You think you own Gossip Girl, but really, you don't. You frown because you don't own Dan Humphrey or Chuck Bass. You can't even have Nate Archibald.