Status: In Progress
Can't Stop
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
"Call me as soon as your flight lands. There should be someone waiting to pick you up, but I want you to call me and make sure. And the flight attendant is going to keep an eye on you, and--"
"Okay, Mom."
"--Oh, and I packed a granola bar and a banana in your bag in case you get hungry on the plane. I know they have those pretzels, but honestly those bags are just so small and not nearly filling enough..."
"Mom."
"And Cass, don't forget your bag in the overhead compartment again. Last time was such a hassle, really, and we don't need a repeat of the spring break lost luggage fiasco. Honestly, I --"
"Mom!" I groaned, shutting me eyes. My mother was causing a scene in the airport, hysterically fussing over every detail. People sitting nearby were beginning to stare at us. It didn't help that she assigned a flight attendant to watch me, as if I were a little kid. I was 18 years old. This was ridiculous.
She smiled at me, oblivious to my embarrassment. "Cassidy, you're going to be fine. There's no need to be nervous," she sighed.
I stared blankly at her. "I'm not nervous, you're just being really annoying."
"I remember my first day of college," she continued, looking off to the distance as if she were reminiscing about some far-off memory. "I wish I could be there with you. But everything is going to be just fine, you'll get all settled in. Everything should be ready for you when you get to your dorm, just like we talked about."
I rolled my eyes, growing more frustrated as she babbled on about all the new adventures I was about to face. I know my mom has good intentions and is just trying to encourage me, but honestly, I could not wait to get away from her. I just needed to get on this plane and get out of here.
"Last call for boarding flight 318 to New York."
"Okay, I have to go," I said, allowing her to squeeze me in an overwhelming hug. I gave her one last smile and a quick "love you" before slinging my duffle bag over my shoulder, heading towards the gate. I knew my mom was still watching me as I boarded, but I didn't look back. There was no looking back; I was about to have more freedom than I'd ever had in my life.
I was the last person to board the plane. It was a relatively small flight, with groupings of only two seats on each side of the narrow aisle. A few passengers were angrily shoving bags into the overhead compartments, and several flight attendants milled about, helping adjust seatbelts and chatting amongst themselves. I glanced back at my ticket -- 23B, before making my way towards the back of the plane. Realizing that I had an aisle seat, I cursed under my breath and put my bag under the chair. I plopped down onto my seat and closed my eyes, letting out a deep breath.
It wasn't until I heard someone clear their throat that I noticed the man sitting beside me. He was slumped over slightly in his seat, leaning against the armrest near the window, and staring at me. My first observation was that he looked like the most exhausted person I had ever seen in my life -- his eyes were squinted, as if he could barely keep them open. He had two little wrinkles between his furrowed brows. They looked like permanent worry lines. His brown hair was pretty disheveled, a curly mess sticking up slightly in the back. I couldn't tell how old he was, maybe late twenties or early thirties. He wore a red flannel shirt beneath his leather jacket, and dark jeans that looked worn from use.
I must have been taking in his appearance for quite some time because he cleared his throat again.
"Hi," he said, giving me a slight smile. Something in his eyes lightened. He looked at me questioningly, as if he expected me to ask him something.
"Hey," I said casually before returning my gaze to the aisleway. Why was he looking at me like that? Did I have the wrong seat or something? No, this was definitely 23B.
The man shifted his weight, now propping his arm against the center armrest. "I'm James," he said. His voice startled me -- it was deep, yet it had a very lighthearted tone to it.
I glanced at him again. Why the hell was he staring at me so intensely? "Uh, Cassidy," I said, giving him a small smile in hopes he would go back to whatever he was doing before.
He flashed me the biggest grin I think I've ever seen. It lit up his entire face, spreading to his eyes, giving him little wrinkles in the corners. It was sort of infectious, and I found my smile growing in response.
Just then, a young flight attendant stopped next to my seat. When she looked to the man beside me, her face softened and she adjusted her posture. I could have sworn she pulled down her shirt. Did she think he was cute? I looked back over to him, noticing that his smile had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He was definitely attractive, he had nice bone structure and from what I could see a fit body. But the guy looked like a trainwreck. In fact, he kind of looked like he was high. I started laughing to myself, suddenly realizing that he probably was high. That would explain those damn squinty eyes, and the weird staring.
Hearing my giggling, the lady averted her attention back to me. "Um, miss Teller?"
I raised an eyebrow. Oh God, this was the flight attendant my mom was telling me about. Well, this was about to be pretty embarrassing.
She shot me the least authentic smile I'd ever seen. "My name's Cheryl. I was told to let you know that I'm going to be keeping an eye on you during the flight. If you need anything, just ask," she said in a squeaky voice. Then she glanced behind me. "And the same goes for you, James" she said, lowering her gaze in an attempt to be seductive, "don't be a stranger."
Wow, could she be any more obvious? "Thanks," I said flatly. "I don't need anything."
She narrowed her eyes at me before nodding and heading back towards to the cabin.
I looked back over to James again. He seemed kind of annoyed. Maybe he was pissed that he now had to sit next to someone who apparently needed supervision on a pane ride. Then again, maybe there was some way I could play this off. "Heh," I mumbled, "That's weird how she knew our names..." As I said it, I realized that it was weird that she knew his name. Maybe he needed supervision, too? Hah, yeah right. She probably just looked at the flight key.
He shifted once again in his seat, looking kind of uncomfortable. "Yeah," he said slowly.
I couldn't help the laughter that erupted from me. When I saw his confused expression, I only laughed harder. "I'm sorry," I said, attempting to contain myself. "I just -- I mean... I think it's funny that you're high right now." Somehow I managed to get the words out.
He chuckled. "I'm not high," he said. "Why does everyone always think that?"
"Probably because you look pretty baked," I commented. Was it rude of me to say that to a stranger? Yeah, definitely rude. He didn't look like he really appreciated my comment; then again, he could have been someone who was super opposed to weed for all I knew.
Thankfully, he cracked another award-winning smile. "I guess I'm just happy person. No, but really, I'm not high. Just ridiculously tired."
"How come?" I wondered out loud, not realizing that I was prodding into his life until after I asked.
"Just really busy with work. School, too."
I glanced at the stack of books at his feet. I couldn't make out their titles from my seat and I didn't exactly want to peer over and blatantly look at his stuff, but I could tell that they were all worn out and well-used. Sticky notes and scraps of paper stuck out their edges.
When I didn't say anything, he continued. "I make this trip pretty often."
"From L.A. to New York?" I asked. "Why? I've been dreading this flight all week," I admitted.
He shrugged. "Work, school."
I was mildly interested, but he didn't elaborate, and I didn't want to bother him any more. The plane began to take off, and I dug my hands into the seat beneath my legs as I felt the familiar sensation of lifting off the ground. I hate flying.
James must have noticed how uncomfortable I was. "You okay?"
I kept my eyes focused in front of me and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine," I said, and out of the corner of my eye I could see that he was still watching me. I suddenly became very aware of my appearance. I had on light wash jeans and a loose grey sweater, neither of which did much to accentuate my figure. My hair was slightly tangled and my dull brown waves fell limply to my waist. I hadn't bothered to put on any makeup this morning, and now I was beginning to regret it. My face was probably blotchy from the anxiety, and no doubt James was staring at it.
When the plane leveled out and we stopped accelerating, I loosened my grip on the chair, breathing out a sigh of relief. James was busy rummaging through his books that had slid about on the floor, so I pulled out my laptop and busied myself with editing the latest short film that my friend and I had been working on over the summer. I popped in my headphones and began to zone out of the world around me, becoming absorbed in my work.
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I felt a nudge on my shoulder from James. I snapped my eyes up from my laptop screen and looked over to see the same flight attendant peering down at me. Taking out my headphones, I glared at her. "What?"
"Do you want something to drink?"
I thought for a moment. "Um, I'll have a gingerale."
She nodded and looked to James, batting her eyes. "Anything for you?"
"Coke and rum," he said nonchalantly. Suddenly, I felt really young. He was clearly old enough to order an alcoholic drink, and I asked for a freaking gingerale. Why didn't I just ask for water or something? More importantly, why did I care so much about what he thought?
The flight attendant smiled. "I'd ask to see your ID normally, but that's not really necessary. I'll be right back," she piped, turning on her heels and walking towards the cart several rows ahead of us.
"Hah, she is totally into you," I said quietly, laughing. "She didn't card you or anything. I'm pretty sure they always have to."
He shrugged. "Not my type," he whispered. I could have sworn I saw him wink.
Cheryl returned with our drinks, making sure to bend over when handing James' his, giving him a clear view of her chest. He smiled politely and thanked her, and I just rolled my eyes as she left.
"How's the gingerale?" he asked me.
"Good," I said. "Settles the stomach."
"I haven't had a gingerale in years."
I grinned mischievously at him. "Wanna trade?"
He laughed. "I'm down," he said. Before I could respond, he picked up both of our drinks and switched them on the fold-down trays in front of us.
I stared at him, surprised and disbelieving, but decided not to question him. I took a sip of the drink and smiled as I felt the alcohol burn slightly in my throat. Yes, this is definitely what I needed. I watched him drink the gingerale, his grin ever-present.
"What were you working on earlier?" he eventually asked.
"Oh," I mumbled, feeling myself blush. "Nothing, really. Just a little short film me and some of my friends are putting together. Nothing serious, it's just for fun."
James cocked his head to the side, his eyes meeting mine. "You're interested in film?"
"Among other things," I responded simply, attempting to sound sophisticated.
"That's awesome," he said.
I finished the rest of the drink. Cheryl was eyeing me suspiciously, but didn't say anything. James returned to his book, which I now could see was a collection of poems by William Faulkner. What was this guy, a poet? Who else sits around reading poetry besides other poets? I studied his face for a few moments -- he was so unbelievably focused. Every once in a while he would frown slightly, and then mark something on the page with his pen. I knew it was creepy of me to sit next to him, just watching him read, but there was something so intriguing about him that I couldn't pull my eyes away. After a while, he looked up and saw me.
"What?" he asked, chuckling.
I shook my head and looked away. "Nothing," I said.
"Cassidy..." James' voice trailed off. I turned back to face him as he said my name, slightly caught off guard. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to respond.
"Uh, just..." I rambled, searching for something to say. "I don't know. I like watching you read." Wow. Did I actually just say that out loud? Way to go, Cassidy.
James just smiled. He didn't say anything.
I could feel myself blushing. Ugh, this is so embarrassing. He's probably mocking me in his mind right now at how stupid I look. I yawned and turned back to face the aisle. Honestly, why am I stressing out so much over this? In a few hours, this flight will be over and I'll never have to see this guy again.
"You tired?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you tired?" he repeated.
"Kind of," I said, shifting in my seat. "I might try to get some sleep."
He nodded, still meeting my eyes with his own. "You can, uh, rest your head on my shoulder, if you want to," he said quietly. "I don't mind." He smiled.
I wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, his shoulder looked way more comfortable than attempting to sleep sitting straight up. On the other hand, I'm probably pretty gross when I'm asleep and I didn't want to drool all down his jacket.
He could sense my hesitation. "C'mon, Cassidy. I don't bite."
I shrugged, giving in. "Okay, thanks." I nestled my head into his shoulder. It was surprisingly soft due to the leather jacket, but I could feel his sculpted shoulder beneath the material. It didn't take long before I found myself drifting off as James read his book. His steady breathing, and the rise and fall of his body, lulled me to sleep.
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A/N: Let me know what you guys think about this first chapter! I'm currently working on chapter 2 and will update as soon as I can. Please please please leave comments and vote if you think I should continue this story!
xoxo
"Call me as soon as your flight lands. There should be someone waiting to pick you up, but I want you to call me and make sure. And the flight attendant is going to keep an eye on you, and--"
"Okay, Mom."
"--Oh, and I packed a granola bar and a banana in your bag in case you get hungry on the plane. I know they have those pretzels, but honestly those bags are just so small and not nearly filling enough..."
"Mom."
"And Cass, don't forget your bag in the overhead compartment again. Last time was such a hassle, really, and we don't need a repeat of the spring break lost luggage fiasco. Honestly, I --"
"Mom!" I groaned, shutting me eyes. My mother was causing a scene in the airport, hysterically fussing over every detail. People sitting nearby were beginning to stare at us. It didn't help that she assigned a flight attendant to watch me, as if I were a little kid. I was 18 years old. This was ridiculous.
She smiled at me, oblivious to my embarrassment. "Cassidy, you're going to be fine. There's no need to be nervous," she sighed.
I stared blankly at her. "I'm not nervous, you're just being really annoying."
"I remember my first day of college," she continued, looking off to the distance as if she were reminiscing about some far-off memory. "I wish I could be there with you. But everything is going to be just fine, you'll get all settled in. Everything should be ready for you when you get to your dorm, just like we talked about."
I rolled my eyes, growing more frustrated as she babbled on about all the new adventures I was about to face. I know my mom has good intentions and is just trying to encourage me, but honestly, I could not wait to get away from her. I just needed to get on this plane and get out of here.
"Last call for boarding flight 318 to New York."
"Okay, I have to go," I said, allowing her to squeeze me in an overwhelming hug. I gave her one last smile and a quick "love you" before slinging my duffle bag over my shoulder, heading towards the gate. I knew my mom was still watching me as I boarded, but I didn't look back. There was no looking back; I was about to have more freedom than I'd ever had in my life.
I was the last person to board the plane. It was a relatively small flight, with groupings of only two seats on each side of the narrow aisle. A few passengers were angrily shoving bags into the overhead compartments, and several flight attendants milled about, helping adjust seatbelts and chatting amongst themselves. I glanced back at my ticket -- 23B, before making my way towards the back of the plane. Realizing that I had an aisle seat, I cursed under my breath and put my bag under the chair. I plopped down onto my seat and closed my eyes, letting out a deep breath.
It wasn't until I heard someone clear their throat that I noticed the man sitting beside me. He was slumped over slightly in his seat, leaning against the armrest near the window, and staring at me. My first observation was that he looked like the most exhausted person I had ever seen in my life -- his eyes were squinted, as if he could barely keep them open. He had two little wrinkles between his furrowed brows. They looked like permanent worry lines. His brown hair was pretty disheveled, a curly mess sticking up slightly in the back. I couldn't tell how old he was, maybe late twenties or early thirties. He wore a red flannel shirt beneath his leather jacket, and dark jeans that looked worn from use.
I must have been taking in his appearance for quite some time because he cleared his throat again.
"Hi," he said, giving me a slight smile. Something in his eyes lightened. He looked at me questioningly, as if he expected me to ask him something.
"Hey," I said casually before returning my gaze to the aisleway. Why was he looking at me like that? Did I have the wrong seat or something? No, this was definitely 23B.
The man shifted his weight, now propping his arm against the center armrest. "I'm James," he said. His voice startled me -- it was deep, yet it had a very lighthearted tone to it.
I glanced at him again. Why the hell was he staring at me so intensely? "Uh, Cassidy," I said, giving him a small smile in hopes he would go back to whatever he was doing before.
He flashed me the biggest grin I think I've ever seen. It lit up his entire face, spreading to his eyes, giving him little wrinkles in the corners. It was sort of infectious, and I found my smile growing in response.
Just then, a young flight attendant stopped next to my seat. When she looked to the man beside me, her face softened and she adjusted her posture. I could have sworn she pulled down her shirt. Did she think he was cute? I looked back over to him, noticing that his smile had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He was definitely attractive, he had nice bone structure and from what I could see a fit body. But the guy looked like a trainwreck. In fact, he kind of looked like he was high. I started laughing to myself, suddenly realizing that he probably was high. That would explain those damn squinty eyes, and the weird staring.
Hearing my giggling, the lady averted her attention back to me. "Um, miss Teller?"
I raised an eyebrow. Oh God, this was the flight attendant my mom was telling me about. Well, this was about to be pretty embarrassing.
She shot me the least authentic smile I'd ever seen. "My name's Cheryl. I was told to let you know that I'm going to be keeping an eye on you during the flight. If you need anything, just ask," she said in a squeaky voice. Then she glanced behind me. "And the same goes for you, James" she said, lowering her gaze in an attempt to be seductive, "don't be a stranger."
Wow, could she be any more obvious? "Thanks," I said flatly. "I don't need anything."
She narrowed her eyes at me before nodding and heading back towards to the cabin.
I looked back over to James again. He seemed kind of annoyed. Maybe he was pissed that he now had to sit next to someone who apparently needed supervision on a pane ride. Then again, maybe there was some way I could play this off. "Heh," I mumbled, "That's weird how she knew our names..." As I said it, I realized that it was weird that she knew his name. Maybe he needed supervision, too? Hah, yeah right. She probably just looked at the flight key.
He shifted once again in his seat, looking kind of uncomfortable. "Yeah," he said slowly.
I couldn't help the laughter that erupted from me. When I saw his confused expression, I only laughed harder. "I'm sorry," I said, attempting to contain myself. "I just -- I mean... I think it's funny that you're high right now." Somehow I managed to get the words out.
He chuckled. "I'm not high," he said. "Why does everyone always think that?"
"Probably because you look pretty baked," I commented. Was it rude of me to say that to a stranger? Yeah, definitely rude. He didn't look like he really appreciated my comment; then again, he could have been someone who was super opposed to weed for all I knew.
Thankfully, he cracked another award-winning smile. "I guess I'm just happy person. No, but really, I'm not high. Just ridiculously tired."
"How come?" I wondered out loud, not realizing that I was prodding into his life until after I asked.
"Just really busy with work. School, too."
I glanced at the stack of books at his feet. I couldn't make out their titles from my seat and I didn't exactly want to peer over and blatantly look at his stuff, but I could tell that they were all worn out and well-used. Sticky notes and scraps of paper stuck out their edges.
When I didn't say anything, he continued. "I make this trip pretty often."
"From L.A. to New York?" I asked. "Why? I've been dreading this flight all week," I admitted.
He shrugged. "Work, school."
I was mildly interested, but he didn't elaborate, and I didn't want to bother him any more. The plane began to take off, and I dug my hands into the seat beneath my legs as I felt the familiar sensation of lifting off the ground. I hate flying.
James must have noticed how uncomfortable I was. "You okay?"
I kept my eyes focused in front of me and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine," I said, and out of the corner of my eye I could see that he was still watching me. I suddenly became very aware of my appearance. I had on light wash jeans and a loose grey sweater, neither of which did much to accentuate my figure. My hair was slightly tangled and my dull brown waves fell limply to my waist. I hadn't bothered to put on any makeup this morning, and now I was beginning to regret it. My face was probably blotchy from the anxiety, and no doubt James was staring at it.
When the plane leveled out and we stopped accelerating, I loosened my grip on the chair, breathing out a sigh of relief. James was busy rummaging through his books that had slid about on the floor, so I pulled out my laptop and busied myself with editing the latest short film that my friend and I had been working on over the summer. I popped in my headphones and began to zone out of the world around me, becoming absorbed in my work.
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I felt a nudge on my shoulder from James. I snapped my eyes up from my laptop screen and looked over to see the same flight attendant peering down at me. Taking out my headphones, I glared at her. "What?"
"Do you want something to drink?"
I thought for a moment. "Um, I'll have a gingerale."
She nodded and looked to James, batting her eyes. "Anything for you?"
"Coke and rum," he said nonchalantly. Suddenly, I felt really young. He was clearly old enough to order an alcoholic drink, and I asked for a freaking gingerale. Why didn't I just ask for water or something? More importantly, why did I care so much about what he thought?
The flight attendant smiled. "I'd ask to see your ID normally, but that's not really necessary. I'll be right back," she piped, turning on her heels and walking towards the cart several rows ahead of us.
"Hah, she is totally into you," I said quietly, laughing. "She didn't card you or anything. I'm pretty sure they always have to."
He shrugged. "Not my type," he whispered. I could have sworn I saw him wink.
Cheryl returned with our drinks, making sure to bend over when handing James' his, giving him a clear view of her chest. He smiled politely and thanked her, and I just rolled my eyes as she left.
"How's the gingerale?" he asked me.
"Good," I said. "Settles the stomach."
"I haven't had a gingerale in years."
I grinned mischievously at him. "Wanna trade?"
He laughed. "I'm down," he said. Before I could respond, he picked up both of our drinks and switched them on the fold-down trays in front of us.
I stared at him, surprised and disbelieving, but decided not to question him. I took a sip of the drink and smiled as I felt the alcohol burn slightly in my throat. Yes, this is definitely what I needed. I watched him drink the gingerale, his grin ever-present.
"What were you working on earlier?" he eventually asked.
"Oh," I mumbled, feeling myself blush. "Nothing, really. Just a little short film me and some of my friends are putting together. Nothing serious, it's just for fun."
James cocked his head to the side, his eyes meeting mine. "You're interested in film?"
"Among other things," I responded simply, attempting to sound sophisticated.
"That's awesome," he said.
I finished the rest of the drink. Cheryl was eyeing me suspiciously, but didn't say anything. James returned to his book, which I now could see was a collection of poems by William Faulkner. What was this guy, a poet? Who else sits around reading poetry besides other poets? I studied his face for a few moments -- he was so unbelievably focused. Every once in a while he would frown slightly, and then mark something on the page with his pen. I knew it was creepy of me to sit next to him, just watching him read, but there was something so intriguing about him that I couldn't pull my eyes away. After a while, he looked up and saw me.
"What?" he asked, chuckling.
I shook my head and looked away. "Nothing," I said.
"Cassidy..." James' voice trailed off. I turned back to face him as he said my name, slightly caught off guard. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to respond.
"Uh, just..." I rambled, searching for something to say. "I don't know. I like watching you read." Wow. Did I actually just say that out loud? Way to go, Cassidy.
James just smiled. He didn't say anything.
I could feel myself blushing. Ugh, this is so embarrassing. He's probably mocking me in his mind right now at how stupid I look. I yawned and turned back to face the aisle. Honestly, why am I stressing out so much over this? In a few hours, this flight will be over and I'll never have to see this guy again.
"You tired?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you tired?" he repeated.
"Kind of," I said, shifting in my seat. "I might try to get some sleep."
He nodded, still meeting my eyes with his own. "You can, uh, rest your head on my shoulder, if you want to," he said quietly. "I don't mind." He smiled.
I wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, his shoulder looked way more comfortable than attempting to sleep sitting straight up. On the other hand, I'm probably pretty gross when I'm asleep and I didn't want to drool all down his jacket.
He could sense my hesitation. "C'mon, Cassidy. I don't bite."
I shrugged, giving in. "Okay, thanks." I nestled my head into his shoulder. It was surprisingly soft due to the leather jacket, but I could feel his sculpted shoulder beneath the material. It didn't take long before I found myself drifting off as James read his book. His steady breathing, and the rise and fall of his body, lulled me to sleep.
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A/N: Let me know what you guys think about this first chapter! I'm currently working on chapter 2 and will update as soon as I can. Please please please leave comments and vote if you think I should continue this story!
xoxo