The Girl in the Boys' Dorms

Chapter Thirty: Sometimes you make the world stop.

The Girl in the Boys' Dorms - Chapter Thirty: Sometimes you make the world stop spinning, and other times I do.

"Let's go somewhere," Chase announced the next morning, shifting on the bed to look at me. 

I arched a brow at him, surprised by his spontaneity. We were still in the same position we'd been in the night before, squashed together on his bed to conserve as much heat as possible. Of course, at this point, the sun had warmed the room enough for us to untangle ourselves, but neither of us seemed willing enough to do so.

"Where?" I asked, finally sliding out of his grasp and sitting up, the mattress squeaking beneath me. From this angle, I could see every angle of Chase's face, the sharp planes highlighted by stripes of light streaming in from the window; he really was gorgeous. I waved a hand toward my desk, which was piled high with textbooks and scattered notes, "We do have homework for the weekend, you know." 

Chase scoffed, raking his fingers through his already tousled blond hair, "I'd much rather explore the city for the day. It's the middle of November, almost Christmas time," his soft green eyes seemed to brighten at the thought of the winter holidays approaching. "Have you ever seen New York prepare for Christmas, Bailey?" 

I shook my head at him. I'd never been outside of Nebraska before the start of this year, strolling around New York City in December was completely out of the question. 

"Thanksgiving isn't for another week," I said, suddenly suspicious of his suggestion, "how could they be 'preparing for Christmas' already?" 

At that, Chase laughed. Without any sort of warning, he tossed the comforter aside, allowing a sudden rush of cold air to seep into the sheets again. Within another minute, he was parked in front of his closet, plucking clothes for himself to wear. Glancing back at me, a split second of eye contact from over his shoulder, he added, "You really don't know much about New York City, do you?" 

. . .

We were standing right in the middle of Rockefeller Center. Around me, thousands of people were rushing about, some apologizing when they stepped on my toes and others glowering angrily as if I'd purposely slipped my foot underneath theirs. 

Chase had brought us here with such enthusiasm, he couldn't stop promising me how magnificent it would be. Since exiting the subway, we'd circled the same block for twenty minutes, pushed aside a fairly large number of strangers in order to examine the cement, and finally skidded to a halt beneath an enormous television screen boasting an advertisement for perfume. Beside me, Chase was utterly bursting with excitement.

"Don't you see it, Bailey?" He demanded, pointing to something invisible on the concrete. 

When I didn't agree, he grabbed me by the waist and pushed me forward, until I was directly in front of him. Again, he gestured to the same spot, where I could now detect a minuscule orange X. Ten feet away was another neon orange X, spray painted calculatedly but inconspicuously. 

"What are these for?" I asked, genuinely confused. I didn't know what those symbols stood for, let alone why they brought Chase so much joy. 

"They're marking where the tree goes." Chase explained, pulling me lightly behind him as he searched for more of the same blotches of paint. After another few moments, he paused again, this time to show me a perfectly written C. "That's the center."

I gasped, his words finally falling into place. It was the beginning of preparation for the gigantic decorated Christmas tree that adorned Rockefeller Center every year. It was only the middle of November, but the planning had already begun; they'd decided just where the base would go, and done it so precisely that any passersby wouldn't even realize what they were stepping over. It was impressive, really, just how exact their proceedings were.