Status: In Progress
Can't Stop
Chapter 8
Chapter 8
The buzzing of my alarm woke me up. I flailed my arm against the clock, desperately trying to stop the alarm. I had carefully crafted my schedule so that I had no early morning classes, but Gregory, my advisor, emailed me about an opening in the best filmmaking class on campus last week. Today was my first day joining the class, and I was already regretting it.
I threw on my favorite pair of jeans and a sweatshirt before heading down the hallway to the communal bathroom. Libby was standing at the counter, washing her face in the sink.
"Hey," I said as I pulled out my toothbrush.
She looked up, dripping water down her shirt. A smile spread across her face as she realized it was me me. "I can't believe you're even awake right now," she laughed.
"Me neither."
I listened to her tell me about her date with Ryan the night before as I brushed my teeth. Things were going well between them -- he took her out to a steakhouse and wanted her to meet his parents next weekend. I smiled as she rambled on about what a gentleman he was.
I spit into the sink. "Nothing like Danny, huh?"
She grinned. "Nope. So, any update on Dave?"
I shook my head. I hadn't seen Dave since the day I found out he was "famous James"'s famous little brother -- that was nearly a week ago. We had texted back and forth a few times, but he flew out to L.A. for a movie audition over the weekend and didn't have much time to talk.
"And... James?" Libby asked tentatively.
I rolled my eyes. "He finally stopped calling. I guess he got the message."
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By the time I got to the lecture hall, the only remaining seats were in the first few rows. I sat in the second, slightly off to the side, and began doodling in my notebook. I scoped out the room and saw most of the other students chatting amongst themselves. A few sat alone, listening to music or distracted by their laptops. I felt somewhat left out -- I didn't recognize anyone in this class, and it seemed like they had already formed friendships with each other. I wish I had been enrolled since day one, but for whatever reason this was the most popular class in the film program.
A girl abruptly dropped her bag to the ground and sat beside me, distracting me from my thoughts. I quickly glanced at her, taking in her deep red hair and the freckles splattered generously across her face and arms. She was pretty, definitely, but in an unconventional way.
She raised an eyebrow, evidently noticing my staring. "Hey," she said, raising the corner of her mouth in an easy half-smile.
"Hey," I said a little too cheerfully.
She smirked and started fiddling around in her bag. After a few moments, she resurfaced with a notepad and pen. "I'm Tatum, by the way."
"Cassidy."
She nodded as if she approved of my name. "Cool. You new here or something? I don't recognize you. This is a pretty small class, I figured I'd met just about everyone," she said, glancing around the room. She nodded again. "Yep, just about."
"I was just added to the class today, guess I'm kind of behind now," I shrugged. "How do you like it?"
She grinned. "Love it. The professor can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, but he really pushes us to do some amazing work. I can send you my notes of the stuff you've missed so far, but it wasn't anything big."
"Thanks, that'd be awesome." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you majoring in film? I know this class --" I stopped myself, suddenly realizing the entire room had silenced and I was the only one still speaking. I bit my lip and turned to the front of the room.
The professor had entered and was writing something on the board behind his desk. A...U....T.... I couldn't make out the rest.
"Auteur."
Something in my brain clicked when I heard his voice -- it was too familiar. I stared at the back of his curly hair in disbelief.
"An auteur.... Can anyone tell me what an auteur is?" He asked, turning around as he spoke. I watched his eyes scan the hall, searching for a raised his hand. When his gaze fell on me, the piece of chalk dropped from his hand to the floor and broke against the tile. He stared at me, frozen like that, mouth agape, for at least a minute. A few students started to whisper and snicker to each other. Tatum stared at me in confusion, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his.
I felt my breath catch in my throat. James Franco was my professor. Shit.
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The buzzing of my alarm woke me up. I flailed my arm against the clock, desperately trying to stop the alarm. I had carefully crafted my schedule so that I had no early morning classes, but Gregory, my advisor, emailed me about an opening in the best filmmaking class on campus last week. Today was my first day joining the class, and I was already regretting it.
I threw on my favorite pair of jeans and a sweatshirt before heading down the hallway to the communal bathroom. Libby was standing at the counter, washing her face in the sink.
"Hey," I said as I pulled out my toothbrush.
She looked up, dripping water down her shirt. A smile spread across her face as she realized it was me me. "I can't believe you're even awake right now," she laughed.
"Me neither."
I listened to her tell me about her date with Ryan the night before as I brushed my teeth. Things were going well between them -- he took her out to a steakhouse and wanted her to meet his parents next weekend. I smiled as she rambled on about what a gentleman he was.
I spit into the sink. "Nothing like Danny, huh?"
She grinned. "Nope. So, any update on Dave?"
I shook my head. I hadn't seen Dave since the day I found out he was "famous James"'s famous little brother -- that was nearly a week ago. We had texted back and forth a few times, but he flew out to L.A. for a movie audition over the weekend and didn't have much time to talk.
"And... James?" Libby asked tentatively.
I rolled my eyes. "He finally stopped calling. I guess he got the message."
-----------------------------------
By the time I got to the lecture hall, the only remaining seats were in the first few rows. I sat in the second, slightly off to the side, and began doodling in my notebook. I scoped out the room and saw most of the other students chatting amongst themselves. A few sat alone, listening to music or distracted by their laptops. I felt somewhat left out -- I didn't recognize anyone in this class, and it seemed like they had already formed friendships with each other. I wish I had been enrolled since day one, but for whatever reason this was the most popular class in the film program.
A girl abruptly dropped her bag to the ground and sat beside me, distracting me from my thoughts. I quickly glanced at her, taking in her deep red hair and the freckles splattered generously across her face and arms. She was pretty, definitely, but in an unconventional way.
She raised an eyebrow, evidently noticing my staring. "Hey," she said, raising the corner of her mouth in an easy half-smile.
"Hey," I said a little too cheerfully.
She smirked and started fiddling around in her bag. After a few moments, she resurfaced with a notepad and pen. "I'm Tatum, by the way."
"Cassidy."
She nodded as if she approved of my name. "Cool. You new here or something? I don't recognize you. This is a pretty small class, I figured I'd met just about everyone," she said, glancing around the room. She nodded again. "Yep, just about."
"I was just added to the class today, guess I'm kind of behind now," I shrugged. "How do you like it?"
She grinned. "Love it. The professor can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, but he really pushes us to do some amazing work. I can send you my notes of the stuff you've missed so far, but it wasn't anything big."
"Thanks, that'd be awesome." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you majoring in film? I know this class --" I stopped myself, suddenly realizing the entire room had silenced and I was the only one still speaking. I bit my lip and turned to the front of the room.
The professor had entered and was writing something on the board behind his desk. A...U....T.... I couldn't make out the rest.
"Auteur."
Something in my brain clicked when I heard his voice -- it was too familiar. I stared at the back of his curly hair in disbelief.
"An auteur.... Can anyone tell me what an auteur is?" He asked, turning around as he spoke. I watched his eyes scan the hall, searching for a raised his hand. When his gaze fell on me, the piece of chalk dropped from his hand to the floor and broke against the tile. He stared at me, frozen like that, mouth agape, for at least a minute. A few students started to whisper and snicker to each other. Tatum stared at me in confusion, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his.
I felt my breath catch in my throat. James Franco was my professor. Shit.
---------------------