Chapter Three

Dylan quickly learns that Owen is his golden ticket around the city. Owen teaches Dylan to use the subway and Dylan learns a bit about Owen's past life in this chapter.

Chapter 3

 

“So how far away do you live?” I asked as we walked out the door, into the gentle moonlight, and down the steps. The street we’d lived on was a one-way street. Cars were parked up and down either side, with enough room for one single car to drive down the middle. When my parents dropped me off, we had to park two blocks away, because the street was so crowded. On the sidewalks, at this hour anyways, there were a few people walking through. One woman walked by our stoop, holding three leashes " each with a dog.

When we stepped off the last step, Owen told me, “I don’t live there anymore, my parents do. It’s at Fifth Avenue, it over looks the park.” We began walking side by side, down to the corner of the street. A man on roller skates and short shorts skated right between us. Owen seemed to pay no mind to him. “Do you mind if we take the subway? It’ll be much quicker.”

“I, uh, haven’t used it before.” I muttered.

“Have you been to New York before?”

“Once,” I shrugged, “But we came by car. I never got to ride the bus, taxi or subway.”

“Just don’t think about buying a car though. There are five ways to get around this town quickly without your on vehicle. Those are the subway, a taxi, the bus, your personal town car with driver or your own feet.”

“What about a bicycle?”

“Eh,” He shrugged as we reached the corner. “You don’t have one of those anyways, so it doesn’t matter. I don’t think you’ll be able to afford it.” When we reached the corner, Owen stopped and looked around. “Aha! A subway terminal,” He pointed out to my left. As we crossed the street, Owen pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He sifted through a few dollar bills, and a condom, and pulled out two cards. “My mom wanted me to give this to you.” He handed me one of the cards. “Enjoy it.”

“What is it?” I asked as he placed the card in the pocket of the outside of his shirt, rather than back into his jeans.

“It’s a metro-card. My parents pay for my subway trips, and since I’m moving in with you, she wanted me to give you one. I’m not sure when it expires, but we’ll know when we can’t use the subway anymore!” He laughed.

“How and where do I use it?” We began to walk down a set of stairs, into the terminal.

“You use it on the turn-style.” He explained. “There’s a slot for you to put the card into. The machine sucks it through and it comes out the other end. Note that when you swipe that card, you won’t be able to use it for eighteen minutes.”

“Why eighteen minutes?”

“It’s to prevent two people from using the same card.”

I saw a bunch of odd looking people as we walked down the steps to the terminal. A homeless man was urinating in the corner, at the bottom of the steps. There were movie posters hanging on the walls. The walls seemed to be made of bathroom tiles.

“Wanna buy some coke?” A strange guy with a scraggly beard and two teeth, one on the top and one on the bottom, asked me. “It’ll give you everything you need.”

“No thanks,” I said.

Owen nudged me. “Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know.” He scowled.

“Are you sure?” The man shouted, his voice sounded as if a clump of spit had been lodged in the back of his throat. It was like scary Santa Claus. “I’ve got the best s**t this town’s ever seen.” He coughed hard, like I did with my first cigarette, “How about some Molly? She’ll get you good and where you need to be!”

“Ignore him,” Owen whispered. For a moment, I could’ve sworn the scary Santa Claus was following me, but when I looked back, he wasn’t. When we finally got to the turn-styles, Owen nudged me, telling me “Watch.” I watched as Owen took his metro card, placed it in the slot, the slot sucked up his card and he walked through the turn style, grabbing his card on the other side. “Easy as hell, wasn’t it?” He laughed.

“Sure.” I said, nervously. I counted to three, and then placed my card into the slot. My card was sucked up immediately. I saw it pop out the other side.

“Come on!” A man behind me shouted. “I’ve got places to go!”

I quickly walked through the turn style and picked up my card on the other end. Owen patted me on the back, saying, “Good job, but go a little faster next time.”

“Now what?” I asked as we walked. There was a big crowd of people in the terminal. Some police officers were walking around the crowds of people, holding their belts. “Should we be worried?” I turned to whisper in Owen’s ear.

“About what?” When I pointed out the cop, he replied, “No, they’re always down here. You’d only have to be worried if there was a bomb squad down here. The subways are safe " don’t worry!” Owen and I walked over to the map. Owen only had to look at it for two seconds, before he knew where we were going. “We’re in luck, our train’s next!” We could hear the wheels of the train clicking. “Come on!” He shouted, grabbing me by my shirt. Owen dragged me along to the tracks, through the hoards of people, who were all talking. When we stopped at the tracks, Owen let go of me and my feet were getting ahead of myself. I stepped onto the yellow line. “God damn it!” Owen shouted, grabbing me by the shirt again and whipping be backwards. I landed on my but, behind the yellow line. “Don’t ever cross the yellow line.”

In truth, I didn’t even realize I’d gone over the line. Everything was moving so quickly. “Affirmative,” Was the one thing I was able to muster out of my lips, as the train whipped by us. Own grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.

“When you board a train, you have ten seconds to do so. Get on, quickly.”

“But, what about the people exiting the train?”

“Ignore them,” When the train came to a complete stop, the doors hissed open. Owen insistently pushed through the people to get on. I followed close behind him. I could hear a voice speaking over the intercom, but couldn’t make out what was being said.

“What’s that voice saying?”

“If you can’t hear it, watch the other people on the train. If other people start to panic, then you should too. Otherwise, just mind yourself.” I grabbed onto one of the poles. Owen grabbed onto the same pole that I did. The subway was feeling incredibly crowded. After a man’s voice spoke on the intercom, the doors shut and the train began to move.

All of the people on the train were quiet incredibly. The only thing I could hear was the wheels clicking on the track. The sound was similar to a roller coaster at a theme park. When everything went dark around us, I could feel a hand brush against my leg and rub it. I took one hand off the pole and slapped it. I could then feel another hand reach in for my butt. I swatted that hand away too. “Stop that!” I shouted, breaking the silence.

I could feel another hand grab my hand that was on the pole and squeeze it. I had a feeling that it was Owen, trying to scold me. The lights came back on about thirty seconds later, and the train was about to make its next stop. I looked around at the people in front of, and behind me. Nobody had looked suspicious enough to be pick pocketing me.

Perhaps somebody was trying to ‘fool around’ with me.

When the train stopped, Owen spoke aloud to tell me, “We have one more stop, hang on.” I let go of the pole to pat the back of my butt. I suddenly remembered that I’d left my wallet in my suitcase back at the apartment. “One more thing,” Owen slapped my hand to get my attention. “Don’t speak when you’re on the subway.”

“Why not? You’re the one who said I should stop obeying the rules!” I retorted.

“There’s a difference between following the rules, and following etiquette.” He waved his finger as the doors closed, and the train took off once again. I held onto the pole, letting the few hands touch around my back and front pockets.          

 When the train stopped after about a minute and thirty seconds, Owen and I exited the train. This subway station looked the same as the one we’d boarded before.

Owen guided me up stairs, above ground. I took a deep breath of fresh air. This neighborhood smelled cleaner than the one where Owen and I were living. Once we were above ground, Owen pulled his wallet out of the pocket of his shirt and put it back into his jeans. “If at all possible, try to keep anything of value near your chest and with your hand over it when riding the subway. You probably felt a lot of people touching you, down there, didn’t you?”

“I could, actually.”

He laughed. “Of course, you’re like fresh meat to these people. The people in this town know how to scope you out; if you look like you’re from out of town, then you probably are, and you’re probably going to get mugged or stabbed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said as we continued to walk down the street.

“New York is a dangerously fun place " you’d do well to remember that.”

“Of course,” I agreed. For the next two blocks, Owen and I caught up.

I told Owen how the suburbs were doing. As I went through life in New York, I learned that whenever you tell a New Yorker that you’re from the suburbs, they‘d want to know every detail " it was almost as if some New Yorkers never left the island. Owen was no exception. So, I told him about our two other best friends, Keith and Mike. Keith moved away to Michigan, or something like that, and Mike locked himself in his mother’s basement to spend his days playing World of Warcraft. I hadn’t stayed friends with either of them. Throughout my high school years, I tried to maintain serious relationships. I’d only had two major relationships, and had sex once " my entire time in High School. Besides the two girls I’d dated, I was an introvert. I told him how I turned to writing as a way to create my own fictional world, and how I knew New York was going to make my life easier. In short " I didn’t have many friends.

While I was in New York, I had a plan to change that.

Meanwhile, Owen told me about his New York life. His best friend was a pyromaniac named Brad who ran away from home for a summer at the age of fifteen to sleep with his father’s house cleaner. Brad came back without the girl. Owen’s parents had always been pushing him to get into private school, but he wouldn’t let them place him in one. Owen had preferred the public school environment. His conquests consisted of six girls whom he’d dated throughout high school, and, in secret, one boy. The blonde girl he’d invited over a few hours earlier was his eight. Owen had seemed to be much more sociable, and many people seemed to enjoy chatting with him. I’d wanted to know his secret " why was Owen more likeable than I was?

After our exchange of stories, Owen and I reached his apartment building. It was incredibly tall, had a lobby and had a door attendant. He seemed to be living the lap of luxury while I was stuck in a small house in the suburbs. I was intrigued.

Owen walked ahead of me to push a revolving door. As I was about to step into the revolving door, I was stopped by a hand in a white glove. “Ahem,” Owen’s door attendant scoffed at me. He was an old man with white hair. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m with Owen,” I explained.

“I’m sorry, but-”

The door attendant was interrupted by Owen, who’d come out of the spinning door, saying, “Samuel, this is Dylan Price. He’s a friend of mine from grade school. I’m allowing him to have access to the building from now on. Are we understood?”

The attendant, now named Samuel, nodded.

Damn, Owen put this man in his place.

Samuel lifted his hand and allowed me to pass into the building. I’d gotten caught in Owen’s door slot, as we spun around three times before actually entering his apartment. When we stepped into the lobby, which was made of marble walls and floor, Owen explained to me that I should, “never try to pass a door man who’s got a white glove. They can be the most aggressive of them all.”

“Really?” I said sarcastically. “Samuel seemed nice.”

Owen rolled his eyes. “He hates all my friends, and he hates me specifically.” Owen turned around and snarled at him. Samuel’s back was facing the window. “It’s not my fault that I’m a teenage boy, my hormones are raging and I want to have fun!” Owen shouted as we walked up three steps. I had assumed that Samuel hated Owen because of his numerous “sleepovers”. I wondered how Owen got his girlfriends past his parents.

We were now standing in front of three elevators. The first door from the right opened up immediately. An elderly woman, who was dressed in her finest Chanel like The Queen, walked out of the elevator and down the steps. His building even had an elevator operator. His operator was an African American man with a black mustache that was cut in two, resting upon his upper lip.

“Owen, how are ya!” He shouted.

“Alonzo, hey!” Owen shouted, as we both stepped into the elevator. “This is my friend Dylan Price. We’re subletting an apartment together.”

“Oh my gosh,” Alonzo said as he put his finger on the button that read PH. If I was right, PH meant Pent House level. “Are you two a couple?”

His sentence hit me like a gong after it’d been hit. “No!” I shouted.

Owen laughed, “What’s up, Dylan, am I not hot enough stuff for ya?” He and Alonzo continued to laugh. I tried to laugh along, but noticed that my laughs were as fake as Samuel’s love for Owen.

In an attempt to mess with him, I slapped Owen’s butt, saying, “You’re just right,” in as seductive of a tone as I could. In truth, I wasn’t anywhere near gay, and I wasn’t anywhere near homophobic. Hey- Owen said I needed to break the rules, right?

The rest of the ride to the pent house was filled with sex jokes shared between Alonzo and Owen. I laughed a long with them. Alonzo had actually seemed like a funny guy.

When we reached the top, Owen and I stepped out. I could feel pressure in my head. It was from being up so high.

“Thanks again, Alonzo!” Owen smiled with a wave to him as the elevator door closed. We were now in a small hallway, which had just one door. Owen led me up to the door, which was glass so that you could see inside. He put his key into the door, and opened it. “Oh,” He muttered, “I should have mentioned that my parents are rich as hell.” He opened up the door with ease and allowed me to walk in first.

Right in front of me was a water fountain, spewing water from the top, and letting it drizzle down to the bottom. On either side of us were windows " as tall as I’d ever seen them. The light from the moon really lit the place up. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, above a sculpture. I was in awe " trying to remember what kind of jobs Owen’s parents took in the city.

I didn’t even have to ask, because Owen just came out and said, “My dad’s a head surgeon. He operates on the biggest stars in show business. My mother is one of the head reporters on E! News. There’s talk of her getting her own talk show one day.”

I turned around and looked him deep in the eyes. “I might have to turn gay after all.” Just seeing all of this art, culture, and the amount of money this whole thing must’ve cost, all around us " I knew that I’d have to marry Owen just to have all of this for myself.

We both laughed together as we walked to the window. He had a view overlooking the park, just as he’d said. Central Park had never looked more appealing to me. I had to have this whole place to myself. I just had to.

“How long have you been this rich?” I asked him.

“I don’t like to talk much about money,” He shrugged, “But, you know, since I moved to the city eight years ago.” This was one of those times when I had to obey Owen’s rules versus etiquette law.

Owen guided me through a huge arch, and into his living room. We had to walk down literally two steps, and we were in the living room. He’d had the biggest television I’d ever seen, and the nicest couches. They were made of a material I wasn’t familiar.

“Ma, I’m home!” Owen shouted, as he guided me through another arch and into the kitchen. His mother was sitting at their granite island, on her laptop. She took the last bite of her crumpet and set it back on her place. A man wearing two white gloves and a suit came by and picked up the plate for her. He’d had a butler too!

“Owen, dear,” His mother stood up and hugged him. “Oh my goodness, is this Dylan?” His mother walked over to hug me before I could even say anything. Her hug was tight. “You’ll have to say ‘hello’ to your mother for me, won’t you?” She whispered in my ear.

“Will do,” I whispered in hers.

When she let me go, she turned back to Owen. “What are you boys up to this evening?”

“We’re just getting my stuff from my room.”

His mom smirked as she said, “Owen, I told you, I can hire some movers to do it for you! You don’t need to move your own stuff around like that!”

“No, mom, it’s fine, really.”

“No, son, it’s not, really.”

She tried to put her arms around his shoulder, but he gently pushed her back. “Mom, no, I’m serious, I can do things for myself!” Owen looked at me and shrugged, half embarrassed because he’d just yelled at his mother in front of his friend. “If you want, you can help me.”

His mother’s face turned to instant disgust. “No,” She shook her head. “I worked hard so I wouldn’t have to lift another finger, and now you expect me to pack?” Owen’s mom had gone from super nice, to super psycho in seconds.

“Dylan, let’s go,” Owen called to me, as though I was the dog. Hell- I might as well have been the dog in this room full of cats.

I followed Owen to his bedroom. He clicked on the light, put his hands over his eyes, and crashed right onto his bed, letting out a loud groan. “Oh my f*****g god,” He shouted. When he pulled his hands from his head, he told me, “Don’t ever become rich. It’ll ruin you. That is the madness I’ve had to live with these last eight years.”

They say that money changes people. Whoever said that was completely correct.

Owen’s room was about the size of our apartment, minus the walls. All of the walls in the room were black, with white splatter paint. His floor was of a grey carpet. The television in his room was bigger than the one my family had in the living room, back in the suburbs.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied.

“I can’t wait to get back to our apartment,” Owen sat up, “I’m tired of being like this, this, this…thing.” He stood up, and began to pull the bed sheets, which had been neatly made off his King Sized bed. Those sheets were probably too big for Owen’s double bed back at the apartment.

Its funny isn’t it; how the rich want to be poor and the poor want to be rich. Where is the equilibrium between financially secure and happy?

“Well, what can I do to help?” I offered.

“I left some boxes in the other room " down the hall and to the left. Would you mind going to get them?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “How much stuff are you bringing with you?”

“Enough,” His voice raised.

I walked out of his room and down the hallway a bit. At the end of the hall was the kitchen. I could see his mother’s back, as she continued to be on the computer. She was now eating an apple. The walls in the hall had been about fifty shades of blue. I put my hand on the way, to feel whether it was paint of wallpaper. It was painted, and looked professional.

Owen’s butler came out of a room on the right. He wiped his hands on his apron. Since there had been so many rooms on the left, I asked the butler, “Hi, do you know where Owen put his boxes? He just say the down the hall and to the left.”

“Of course,” The Butler said with a smile. “Follow me.” The butler took me about five more doors down and opened the door where the boxes were. There was a bunch of boxes inside of a small closet.

The butler was much more efficient that I’d thought he would be. He compressed the three boxes Owen had left in there, so that I could have to carry them all together.

“Do all of these doors lead to closets?” I asked the butler out of curiosity.

The butler looked up and looked around. “Yeah; just about all of them except that one and that one. They lead to the bathroom and the study.” He pointed out the room he’d just come from, and another room, which I had not seen. “Here you are,” He said, handing me the boxes.

“Thank you,” I smiled and bowed. I know that most people don’t bow for the help, but I felt it was appropriate. He’d been on a higher level than I could have ever been.

When I returned to Owen’s room, he’d been filing the clothes out of his dresser. I watched as he pulled his jeans from the third drawer down. It had suddenly hit me that I could have called Owen a big hypocrite, but I didn’t. I understand why Owen wanted to be messy now " he wasn’t ever allowed to mess up. I set the boxes down on the bed, and walked over to his wardrobe and began pulling out his clothes with him. I didn’t make any comments about how neat and organized his room actually was.

Owen walked away and opened up one of the boxes. As we dug through his clothes, I realized that some of them were brand new, and the tags hadn’t been taken off. “What do you want me to do with these new clothes?” I asked him. 

“If you see anything you like, you can keep it.” He laughed. “I think we’re about the same size. I’ve either not gotten around to wearing it yet, or I liked it when I bought it, but didn’t when I got home.” The only thing of Owen’s that I’d kept were two plaid shirts with long sleeves like the one he was wearing when we rode the subway. His pocket trick would become useful. He was right " we were almost the same size.

When he opened his underwear drawer, he pulled out some of his boxers. I did not intend to touch his underwear, but I was curious when I saw a small note inside the drawer. “What’s this?” I said, as I picked it out and he loaded his clothes into the box.

“Ah!” Owen dashed over to me, dropping his boxers on the ground; he swiped the note out of my hand.

“That’s nothing!” He shouted, diving to the ground to pick it up. He took the note and shoved it in his back pocket.

“Oh come on, you’ve got to tell me what it is!” I tried to swipe it from his back pocket, but he turned and backed up. “Really? I can’t read it?”

“No, you can’t.”

“But I’m supposed to know everything about my roommate, aren’t I?” I laughed. “What could it possibly be? A story you’re writing, a suicide note, a love letter?”

“Ah,” He stopped me. “It’s a love letter and that’s all you’re going to know.”

“Who’s it for?” I asked as he buried it deeper in his pocket.

“Nobody special,” He rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I probably don’t even know the girl.” I explained.

“You’re right, you don’t know the girl.” I decided to leave it at that. Owen had still seemed as though he had a lot of pent up anger inside of him. I knew that one day, I’d find out what the note said, and who it was too. That day was just not now.

We managed to fill one box with Owen’s clothes. He left behind the clothes that he didn’t like or want. He told me, “They’ll donate it to charity eventually.” The second box was filled with things like Owen’s toiletries, an alarm clock, a porno, his favorite lamp, and a bunch of CDs and movies. The third box was all of his bed sheets.

As we headed towards the door, I’d noted that it was close to just after 10:30pm. The thing was I wasn’t even feeling tired. I’d traveled what seemed like all day to come to the city, I worked my entire time I was in the city, and yet, I was still ready to party. Too bad, there wasn’t an actual party.

Owen spoke once more to his mother before we left his apartment. Their exchange went something like:

“Alright mom, I’m on my way out.” He said, passing through the kitchen.

“Where are you going without giving your mom a kiss?” She shouted at him. Owen placed the box down on the ground and gave his mother a hug and kiss right in front of me. “Be safe out there,” She told him, rubbing his back.

“Feel free to come over sometime, won’t ya?”

When they pulled away from each other, his mother said, “I don’t know about that. W-why don’t you come here and visit me?”

“But mom, you haven’t even seen our new place yet. Don’t you want to make sure I’m not living near a druggie?”

“I trust your judgment.” She patted him on the shoulder.

“Whatever,” Owen said, walking away from his mother. Before he picked up his box, he asked if he could have some cab fare, which his mother gave him, and he was on his way.

As he was about to leave the room, his mother told him to “Be safe,” but he had no reply to her. Owen continued to walk, following me out of their apartment.

I’d been carrying the box with Owen’s clothes, he’d been carrying the box with his bed sheets, and his Butler had been carrying the toiletries. We rode the elevator down to the ground level with another elevator operator who was incredibly quite named Gonzo. When we got downstairs, we walked outside. Samuel the door attendant was still outside, but was now smoking a cigarette. He put it out immediately when he saw us. Owen didn’t pay any mind to him, but I waved and smiled.

Owen, the butler and I put the boxes on the sidewalk. Owen thanked the butler and gave him a tip. The butler went back into the building. The breeze outside had grown much colder than it was when we first arrived.

I took a deep breath, “Free at last, eh?” I smirked.

Owen turned around and said, “Like you wouldn’t believe it.” He turned back around, continuing to talk. “Now, I know you’ll rarely do this, because it’s expensive as s**t, but this is how you hail a cab.” He taught, walking partially into the road with his arm in the air, yelling, and “Taxi!”

A yellow cab pulled over into the parking space in front of the building. We popped the trunk, loaded up, and sat in the back of the cab, which smelled like rotten cheese and sweat. The cabdriver, a man in his forties with a graying mustache but no hair on his head, turned around and asked us, “Where to?”

Wow, this man was willing to take me all around the city.

“West 145^th and Broadway,” Owen told the driver.

“On it!” The driver told us. We were instantly thrown back into our seats as the cab took off. I pulled the seatbelt over my torso, just to be safe.

“You don’t have to wear your seatbelt,” Owen told me.

“Yes you do,” I gasped. “It’s the law.”

“The law doesn’t apply to taxis.”

“Yes it does!” The cab driver paid to mind to our conversation.

“I’ve never been pulled over, so you’re fine.” Owen unbuckled my seatbelt. I gave it and let the seatbelt roll back into place.

I spent about five blocks looking out my window. For as late as it was in the city, nobody had gone to sleep. Everybody was still awake, and carrying on. It was a Thursday, and the city hadn’t gone to sleep. I was amazed. When they say New York is the city that never sleeps, they mean it. I couldn’t help but admire the diversity. There were people of all colors of the racially filled rainbow around us. From some quick reading I did before I left home, New York is filled with over eight million people. Of those people, 89% of them are single, and living alone. As I watched the people on the streets, I wondered how many of them were of that 89%. Why is it that New York always has something to do, but you almost always have to feel alone?

“Are you still going to the Laundromat, tomorrow?” Owen asked me, interrupting my thought process.

“Of course I am, why?” I laughed.

“Well I need to do laundry too. Do you know of any Laundromats in the area?”

“I’ll just Google it, no big deal.”

“Good,” He smiled. “I need to wash my favorite jeans.”

“Favorite jeans?” I said with a surprised tone. “You have a favorite pair of jeans?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m wearing them right now.” He chuckled. “Why, don’t you?” In truth, the ‘favorite pair of jeans’ is something that every male has. It’s just something that guys don’t talk about, whether it be with their guy friends, girlfriends, or their self-conscious.

“Yeah,” I laughed, “Of course I do.” I was wearing mine right now.

“It’s not so weird anymore, is it?” He laughed, punching me lightly in the arm.

“It is what it is.” I laughed awkwardly. It was a tiny little thing, but talking about having a favorite pair of jeans made me feel odd. 

I continued to look out the window for the next five minutes, until Owen began to speak again, saying “I’m glad I have a friend like you.”

I turned around to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Not many people would come over and help pack up to move out of their parents place.” He reached over and patted my lap. “I just want to say thank you.”

“Oh, well, thanks.” I smiled.

“I feel like we’re going to get along just great.”

“I do too.” I took my fist and lightly punched his arm.

Owen had already been growing on me. In the six hours that I’d gotten to know the new Owen, I felt as though we’d grown close. He’d become the brother I’d never had. Minus the meaningless sex he’d had just hours ago, he was all right.

What a friend.

Author's Note

This story is so far unedited, so please excuse the fact that this is my first draft. I'm trying to decide whether or not to scrap this story. I really want to know what you loved about these first four chapters, as well as what you absolutely hated or what didn't make any sense to you. I'd appreciate all of your feedback! Thank you so much!

Reviews

[Jamie Cook]

“It’s a metro-card. My parents pay for my subway trips, and since I’m moving in with you, she wanted me to give you one. I’m not sure when it expires, but we’ll know when we can’t use the subway anymore!
ME: I have a metro card too :D For when I go to NYC Owen is indeedy useful for Dylan right now.

“But, what about the people exiting the train?”
ME: HA! Bulldoze through!

His sentence hit me like a gong after it’d been hit. “No!” I shouted.
ME: Oh jeez...XD He's not much for that humor I see

I’d find out what the note said, and who it was too. That day was just not now.
ME: DARN!!!!

Awwwwwe, that totally made up for the meaningless sex before. Well for me it did. I thought Owen was going to be some jerk, but nope he's cool. This was a good read, I love NEW YORK! I go there all the time for New York Broadway Dance Center, the Metropolitan area or for American Ballet Theatre. It's awesome there! So it was nice to realize there was etiquette in that area. Awesome job so far!!! :D I really have enjoyed it :D

[Cody]

The sex in the previous chapter wasn't meant to be meaningless. Aha. As the reader gets further into the book, we find that that woman has a name (Drea) and Dylan becomes friends with her as they meet at a club. :D
Would you say I captured the subway scene correctly? Ah. I've always wanted to go to New York but I haven't ever been. I've done a tremendous amount of research over the last few years!!! :D

[Jamie Cook]

Ooooh I see!!! :D AND YES!!!! You captured the subway scene so amazingly well!!!! :D Research is good, but yep been on so many it's all too true.