Were leaving i tell him kind of excited by blairs

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"We're leaving," I tell him, kind of excited by Blair's whisper and the gloved hand on my thigh. "Why?"
"Why? Well, because..." My voice trails off. "But you just got here." "But we really have to go." I don't want to stay that much either and maybe going over to Blair's house seems like a good idea. "Stick around." Daniel tries to lift himself from the chaise longue but can't. "Why?" I ask. This confuses him, I guess, because he doesn't say anything. Blair looks over at me. "Just to be here," he says. "Blair isn't feeling well," I tell him. "But I wanted you to meet Carleton and Cecil. They were supposed to be here but their limo broke down in the Palisades and... " Daniel sighs and looks back into the pool. "Sorry, dude," I say, getting up. "We'll have lunch." "Carleton goes to AFI." "Well, Blair really doesn't... She wants to go. Now." Blair nods her head and coughs. "Maybe I'll drop by later," I tell him, feeling guilty about leaving so soon; feeling guilty about going to Blair's house. "No, you won't." Daniel sits back down and sighs again. Blair's getting really anxious and says to me, "Listen, I'm really not too crazy about arguing over this all fucking night. Let's go, Clay." She finishes the rest of the gin and tonic. "See, Daniel, we're leaving, okay?" I say. "Bye." Daniel tells me that he'll call me tomorrow. "Let's have lunch or something." "Great," I say, without a whole lot of enthusiasm. "Lunch." Once in the car, Blair says, "Let's go somewhere. Hurry." I'm thinking to myself, Why don't you just say it. "Where?" I ask. She stalls, names a club.
"I left my wallet at home," I lie. "I have a pass there," she says, knowing I lied. "I really don't want to." She turns the volume on the radio up and hums along with the song for a minute and I'm thinking that I should just drive to her house. I keep driving, not sure where to go. We stop at a coffee shop in Beverly Hills and afterwards, when we get back in the car, I ask, "Where do you want to go, Blair?" "I want to go..." she stops. "To my house." * * * I'm lying in Blair's bed. There are all these stuffed animals on the floor and at the foot of the bed and when I roll over onto my back, I feel something hard and covered with fur and I reach under myself and it's this stuffed black cat. I drop it on the floor and then get up and take a shower. After I've toweled my hair dry, I wrap the towel around my waist and walk back into her room, start to dress. Blair's smoking a cigarette and watching MTV, the sound turned down low. "Will you call me before Christmas?" she asks. "Maybe." I pull on my vest, wondering why I even came here in the first place. "You've still got my number, don't you?" She reaches for a pad and begins to write it down. "Yeah, Blair. I've got your number. I'll get in touch." I button up my jeans and turn to leave. "Clay?" "Yeah, Blair." "If I don't see you before Christmas," she stops. "Have a good one." I look at her a moment. "Hey, you too." She picks up the stuffed black cat and strokes its head. I step out the door and start to close it.

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