Can't Stop

Chapter 3

I stared at the little red hand flashing at us, just ten yards away. How long had we been standing here -- five, six minutes? I narrowed my eyes at the hand. It was mocking me, disappearing for a moment and then returning only to laugh at me. How could this one little hand have so much power over me? It had the power to tell my body what it could or could not do. Was someone controlling the hand and watching us from afar, pointing and laughing at our clear frustration?

"Fuck it!" Dave yelled, grabbing my wrist and pulling me across the empty street. As we reached the middle of the road, I saw the red hand abruptly switch to a white man walking, and I smiled. Me and this man... we were friends. I was friends with the little walking man, and together, we would defeat all evil red hands.

Shit, I was really high.

When we stepped up to the sidewalk, Dave locked his arm through mine. We walked for a few moments in silence, then he stopped and turned to me. "Damn, Cassidy," he grumbled, biting his lip.

"What?"

"You're really hot. Like, so fucking hot."

I couldn't stop the smile from tugging at the corners of my mouth. "And you're really drunk," I replied, looking away from him. I glanced around us, taking in the relatively empty streets. For a city that never sleeps, this place was pretty dead. Although I'm not quite sure what I expected at nearly four o'clock in the morning. We were just outside the entrance to my dorm building, and after spending the past five hours drinking and smoking weed with Dave, it was safe to say that I would have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.

Dave put his hand on my hip and pulled me closer to him. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. "Mmm not that drunk," he murmured, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "Not as drunk as you." His teeth were almost glowing in the dark, they were so white.

I rested a hand against his chest and leaned in towards him. "Oh really?" I whispered. Was that my attempt at being sexy? Why did I even try?

He pulled me in closer so that our bodies were pressed against one another. I could hear a faint groan in the back of his throat.

"Do you want to come upstairs?" I asked softly.

"Mm-hmm," he nodded slowly. His face leaned in to mine, our lips a mere inch apart. He was going to kiss me -- I could feel it. I closed my eyes, preparing for the soft impact, when I felt his lips brush past my cheek and land on my ear. He paused for a second, and then breathed out huskily, "I want to. But you're drunk and so am I, and I should go." He kissed my cheek and let his lips linger a little too long before letting me go.

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My alarm went off three hours later, but I decided to skip my first class and sleep in. Who needs calculus, anyways? I'd make up the lesson online and catch up later.

I slept through my second alarm, and instead woke up hours later to the sound of Libby slamming the door shut as she waltzed through the dorm. "You're still sleeping? Wake the fuck up!"

I groaned. "What time is it?"

"Like, 1:30."

1:30? I had somehow managed to sleep through all three of my classes, and I still had a pounding headache. "Shit," I grumbled, sitting up in my bed. "I didn't mean to sleep this late."

Libby grinned mischievously at me. "That just means you had one hell of a night!"

I smiled. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Sooo..." she sang. "Who was that guy? Where'd you guys go?"

I shrugged. "His name's Dave, he's an actor -- in the film the party was for. I honestly don't know that much about him," I admitted, racking my brain for more details. Either he had told me his life and I had forgotten in my drunken state, or somehow I spent the night with a complete stranger that I knew nothing about. "We just kinda roamed around, did some crazy stuff I barely remember. I don't even know how old he or anything... but he said he'd call me."

Libby squealed, jumping out of her bed and onto mine. She bumped her shoulder against my own and beamed at me. "An older man!" she exclaimed. "This is so exciting!"

"Yeah, well, because of this older man I missed the first day of three of my classes, so I'm kind of screwed," I grumbled, burying my face in my pillow. I felt Libby's small hand pat my back, and the bed lift slightly as she stood up.

"We've got an orientation thing for the freshman class later today, don't forget," her voice called out as she opened the door. "I'll meet you there, okay? I've got a coffee date with Danny!"

I began to respond, but before I could say anything I heard the door shut behind her. I rolled onto my back and glared up at the crack in the ceiling. It had grown a little bit longer since yesterday, I think.

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There are at least 5,000 freshmen at NYU, too many to cram into any one of the auditoriums spread throughout the campus. Instead, they split us up into groups of about 250. Libby didn't end up in my group, but Ryan did, so at least I had one person I knew that I could sit next to in the small theater. We sat towards the back, as did most of the others, and the front rows were the last to fill up. After several minutes of mindless chatter and people watching, a man in khakis and a blue button-down shirt stepped onto the stage.

"Hey, everyone," he said into a microphone, waving at us.

Nobody responded.

"Alright then, I can see this is a real outgoing group."

A few people laughed.

He cleared his throat, and breathed a little too loudly into the microphone. "So, my name is Gregory. You can call me Greg, Greggy, G-man, G-dawg, Homie, or whatever else you kids say these days..."

More silence.

"But, uh, Gregory is fine, too. I'm going to be your group leader, which sounds lame, but basically means that if you have any issues -- social or academic -- you should feel comfortable coming to talk to me," he said. His voice was awkwardly high-pitched and didn't seem to fit his tall, lanky body. "I know I don't know all of you yet, but over the next few weeks we'll get to know each other. Bare with me, though. There's a lot of names to remember... so try and make yourself stand out from the crowd. Like, if you want me to ..."

At this point, I and every other student in the theater had zoned out. His long speech about being individualized and being the best version of yourself wasn't bad, but focusing on him as he droned on became too much work, and the only thing keeping me from nodding off was the buzzing of my phone.

It was Dave calling me. I quickly ignored the call and shoved my phone back into my pocket. Ryan glanced at me and raised an eyebrow, but I shrugged him off. I directed my attention back to Gregory, who was now talking about how dangerous drinking and drugs were, and how we should talk to him if we're struggling with peer pressure. Gregory seemed nice enough, and he probably had good intentions, but I could not see myself having a heart-to-heart with him any time soon.

My phone started buzzing again.

"Do you need to take that?" Ryan asked.

I shook my head and silenced the phone. What did Dave want so badly? Why couldn't the guy just leave a voicemail?

We listened to Gregory for another half an hour until he finally dismissed us. I lost Ryan in the swarm of people all trying to exit the building at once, and so I walked by myself out of the theater, fiddling with my phone. As I stepped outside the building and onto the sidewalk, a large hand grasped my arm and pulled me aside.

My first instinct was to scream, but another hand quickly covered my mouth to muffle my yelling. I looked at the man standing in front of me, and my eyes widened in disbelief. He put a finger to his lips, signaling for me to be quiet, before removing his hand from my mouth.

"James?" I sputtered, attempting to catch my breath.

"Hey," he said casually as he flashed me a smile.

I could feel my heart rate quicken as I gaped at him. He looked better -- more alive -- than he had looked on the plane. His face was freshly shaved and stubble-free now, and the baseball cap on his head helped tame his dark, curly hair. He looked good, and I think he knew it.

"What...what are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I teach here sometimes. What are you doing here?"

I froze. Did he seriously not just see the hoard of freshmen leaving the orientation? Did he still think I was older than I really was? No, that's impossible. I sighed and decided to tell him the truth. "I'm, uh, a student here," I said.

"Cool," he replied, seemingly unfazed. "So, I guess you never wanted a tour guide after all, huh?"

"What?"

"You never called," he continued, chuckling to himself.

"Oh, uh..." I stammered, caught off guard by his forwardness. "Sorry about that. I was really going to, but I wasn't sure if you were being serious or not."

He cocked his head to the side, smiling. "I'm a pretty serious person."

"Right," I said. "Okay, well, it was nice to see you again..." Oh my god, this entire encounter is so awkward. Why are we hiding behind the side of the building, anyway?

He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Hang on, speedy," he said. "What's the rush?"

I looked up at him, meeting his eyes with my own. There it was again -- that intense stare. I couldn't tear my eyes away. "No rush," I said, my voice cracking slightly.

James grinned. "Great. Want to grab a bite? I'm starving and could use some good company."

I frowned slightly, but nodded in response. "Sure."

He motioned for me to follow him back in front of he building, pulling sunglasses out of his pocket and putting them on as I hastened to keep up with his quick pace. "You know, Cassidy," he said, casting his gaze down at me. "I'm really glad I bumped into you."

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