It started with a favor — one that sounded harmless enough coming from Serena Vanderwoodsen, who had a way of making even the wildest ideas sound like an adventure.

“Okay, before you say no,” she began one afternoon at the Met steps, oversized sunglasses perched perfectly on her golden hair, “just hear me out.”

You sighed, already sensing trouble. “That’s never a good way to start a sentence.”

She grinned — the kind of grin that could sell a thousand apologies. “I need you to pretend to be my partner.”