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The third chapter of "I Love New York"! Can't wait to see the reactions this one provokes! Worked very hard on it, so enjoy. Devon has no problem getting himself into trouble. Thanks for reading!

~Peterpanics




"What the hell happened to you last night?" I mumbled, wiping the crust from my eyes and stretching. My purple-haired friend lay naked in her bed, the tiny jewel in her bellybutton twinkling in the early morning sun seeping in through the window. She smiled warmly as I slid into bed beside her, twirling a purple strand of her hair between my fingers.

"Oh, Devon, it was so wonderful. She was a gymnast, you know. She could do this thing with her leg and a nightstand that just-"

"LA LA LA LA LA. I'M NOT LISTENING." I joked loudly, letting Cassidee roll into my arms.

"When are you gonna get some ass, Devon? Its been three weeks since you showed up here, and I'm having to beg you to leave the apartment. Its New York City and your new in town! That's prime conditions! Your actually ALLOWED to whore yourself around and not get called a slut." She giggled, running her hands on my chest to play with the bar in my nipple.

"I don't know Cass... I mean, I could... and god knows I want to... but something is still holding me back." I said. She knew what that meant. I'd told her about my disaster back in California, and how I'd left a really odd relationship with Lucas to come to New York.

"So your saying you cant go out and enjoy yourself with New York's finest cock because you don't know if Lucas would let you?" she laughed. "You had sex with our summer camp counselor when we were fifteen. What has this guy done to you, Devon?"

I knew she was kidding, but she was right.

"Do you want to know what I think, Devon?" she asked, twirling my hair between her fingers. "I think you're afraid to sleep with anyone else. I think this Lucas guy has been the best you've ever had, and I think you're afraid no one else is going to make you come the way he does."

I stared into her blue eyes, wondering where she got her PhD. It was something I'd thought about, and more than once, admittedly, but not something I was going to admit to the naked lesbian tucked in my arms.

Lucas was it... Lucas was the first guy who had ever, ever made me orgasm in such spectacular ways. That was a lot to say of someone who'd lost his virginity at fourteen, and in case your wondering, I did indeed get laid at summer camp.

I bit my lip, the metal ring in it cold against my skin. "It doesn't matter now. Lucas is my past."

Cassidee grinned, her smile bright and sunny. "Then you promise me your going to start making an effort."

Before I could respond, Gavin burst in, fully clothed and ready to go. He stopped, absorbed the sight of Cassidee, naked and shameless, and me, only wearing the pokemon briefs I'd slept in the night before, knotted together in bed. He cocked his head. "There's something wrong with this picture."

Cassidee laughed, loud and bright, sitting up and peeling away from me. "We've decided to try and convert each other. Too bad Devon here can't get it hard for a girl. Maybe you should help him, Gav." She winked at Gavin, and he turned bright red and his jaw tensed.

Cassidee teased Gavin nonstop. For a girl who was only interested in vagina, she really pressured every guy around her to hook up with other guys. Maybe I needed to check my room for hidden cameras, Cassidee could be collecting scandalous videos of me jerking off and putting them on the web or something.

A half hour later, I was on the subway with Gavin, deep in conversation about the upcoming Giants game. I'd come to enjoy his company, and he'd come to enjoy learning all of my strange quirks. My toothbrush faces east. I fold my underwear. My leather pants get put on a hanger. I won't eat my food if it touches. I get nightmares if I don't have something glowing in my bedroom. I sleep with a domo plushie.

These were the things you share with a best friend, and it was fun sharing them with Gavin. Yes, he usually ridiculed me for them, but it was just fun to tell him. Cassidee knew me better than she knew herself, but Gavin was just learning. And it was new, and exciting.

"Yeah dude, the rams are going down." He said, and we both laughed. When it faded, he looked at me and grinned. It was boyish, and it was cute. With such intense features, his smile made them all soften with childlike innocence. "Soooo, I was talking to Cassidee last night and she thinks you need to come party NYC style. She's busy on an art deadline tonight, and you know how she gets when she's focused... so I was thinking... there's this rave in Jersey City. Moby is DJ'ing. Its going to be pretty sick, if your interested."

Cassi's words echoed around in my head. Gavin smiled hopefully, his dreads falling around to his waist.

"I'm always down to rave."

"I know how much you all enjoy Beethoven, so I'm assigning a three page composition, at least five minutes in length. It is to be on poker oyna my desk by Monday morning. Also, for the rest of our time here today, I'll be assigning each member of this class to another department. Yes, children, you'll no longer be under my watchful eyes twenty-four seven. We will be breaking up into the theater and dance departments, to help with musical aspects of the end of term performances. That is to say, you'll be responsible for the music in these performances, and not only will you receive your final marks on them, but your classmates within their own departments will as well. You fail, you all fail. Meet me at my desk as I call you." Professor Wrought smiled at us charmingly, the class sighing with the intense pressure upon us. He was aging, maybe in his late fifties, his hair grey and glasses thick. Still, there was something charismatic about him. He wore age well. His hands were long calloused from years of sharing music, and some say he was in attendance here at Juilliard before many of us were born. I didn't doubt that in the least.

Everything he said, he meant, and this was one of the things the composition students knew well. I'd only known this man almost a month, and he'd already insulted me, stripped me of all pride, beaten me to a bloody pulp with his words, and shit inside my soul with a certain amount of charm that no mortal human being could master. Yes sir, Professor Wrought was a musical god.

Upon our first meeting he made it clear that he hated me affectionately. That is to say, he enjoyed how much he disliked me. He disliked my hair and my clothes. He disliked the way I spoke and moved. He disliked my music theory and my opinions on Beethoven. He disliked me so much, in fact, that he began to like me.

How is this possible? How can one have so much hatred for another human being that they begin to like each other? Like I mentioned before, we are in the presence of a god.

He checked his watch, turned back to his desk and began rummaging through his notes. The class was small, as with all the classes. Today, only seven other students joined me. I'd chosen Music as my major, with an emphasis in composition, because I love writing music, even though I'm rubbish at it (something our dear professor wrought noted with passion) but more so because collaboration with other departments was allowed, encouraged even.

This assignment though, was a lot to swallow. Being responsible for our own work was intense enough, but incorporating it into someone else's art was entirely more difficult. This was made even more stressful by being an end of term performance, in the semester showcase, where the old coots in ties that sponsor this place and pay insane amounts of money for it come to observe its progress.

"Mr. Davis. Mr. Davis... Devon!" professor wrought shook me from my thoughts. "Care to join me for your project or would you like me to fail you now?"

I smiled sweetly as I could manage and walked to his desk. The only other pianist in the class, Anne Gretchen, was just leaving his desk, a copy of Macbeth in her hands.

"Am I being assigned to a play too?" I asked brightly, the thought of working with Gavin entering my mind.

"No way, hotshot. You've got more talent in your pinky finger than Anne has in her whole body. I assigned her that to ensure her an easy A. You, however, I want to see stretch potential."

"Gee, thanks." I mumbled under my breath. Sorry, Gavin, we'll work together sometime.

"I'm assigning you to the showcases main Ballet. The recital is estimated to be close to two hours long, so you'll be composing the main score." He handed me a single flyer, the words '"The Sweet Taste of Poison" a ballet by Juilliard dance company
' on it, marked with the time, place, and professor in charge of rehearsals. "You're expected to attend all rehearsals, and check in with me and your new director weekly to track your progress. You're out of my hands now, Mr. Davis. You will be living, eating, and breathing this project."

"I can't wait." I mumbled sarcastically, tucking the page in my messenger bag and walking from the room. It's funny how I didn't believe him. I should of, because the rest of the semester was going to be a roller coaster of up and downs, and it never would have started if he would've just assigned me to damn Macbeth.



"Fucking ass, Devon. Stop using my flat iron." Cassidee bitched, a streak of green paint across her left cheek. She was stomping out of her bathroom, and returning to the war zone that had taken over our living room. She'd pushed all the furniture out of the way and put a massive dropcloth down, and in the middle of it was her easel. Usually, she kept her art supplies locked safely away in her bedroom, but today she was working to meet a deadline, and she meant business.

She was always unusually bitchy when she worked. For one, she hated interruption of any kind, and for two, she felt like she needed to get everything creative locked in her head before they could escape. This canlı poker oyna meant that if Cassi was working, she was no longer my pixie-like, loving, adorable best friend. She was a fucking bear, and if you messed with her, she was going to claw your face off with her bare hands. Gotta love the creative process.

Her hair was tied up in an incredibly messy ponytail, her smock covering up most of her clothes.

"Damn it! Hurry up! I want you faggots out of my apartment! Your STIFILING my CREATIVIY! " she screamed, picking up her paintbrush and turning her back to me. She means well. Really.

I gave myself a quick once over in the mirror. My hair was messy as ever, my jeans were black and tight, a pair of lime green suspenders hanging from the back. My tank top was thin and white, (I didn't plan on it staying on all night) and three glowsticks hung from a string around my neck. I'd begun to rub the glow in the dark glitter gel I'd nicked from Cassidee's sock drawer over my chest when Gavin walked in.

His leather pants left little to the imagination, his tee shirt clinging to his lean frame, a florescent Alice in wonderland graphic pressed to the front. His wrists were decked in beaded bracelets and wristbands that promised to glow. His dark dreads were down from their usual band.

It took me a minute to realize that I'd been checking out my roommate who mayormaynotbe gay, and another minute to realize he'd been checking me out as well. We both looked down, blushing, avoiding eye contact.

"You ready to go?" he asked with a tiny smile, toying with the cap to the gel I'd returned to smearing across my chest.

"Yeah." I smiled back, turning to him. I smudged the leftover gel on my hands beneath his eye playfully. "Lets go."



"I'm really, really fucking drunk," I mumbled. I wasn't talking to anyone. I think I might've been talking to myself? I spoke it aloud. I think. Good god, Devon. Your not even fucking legal.

Bodies were everywhere. I was being pressed up against and people were touching parts of me I hadn't had touched in way too long. Walls of chests and tight stomachs surrounded me, all moving to the same heartbeat. I moved with them, warmth flooding throughout me. How long had we been here? Why the fuck did I care?

I don't know how long I'd been dancing. I know I was hot. My shirt was gone and I was thirsty. This was nice. I didn't want to leave the mess of people. I didn't want to lose this feeling. How long had it been since I didn't give a fuck? I liked not caring.

Someone handed me a drink, and I drank from it gratefully.

I'm really fucking drunk.

I'm really fucking drunk.

Just keep dancing.

Just keep dancing.

"Devon!" A voice floated above the wub-wub-wub of the music and the wall of bodies. "Devon!" I heard again. I just grinned. Come find me, mystery voice. Come find me, I'm hiding in this mess. I'm really fucking drunk. But this is so nice.

A hand closed around my wrist. I felt myself being pulled out of the mess, out of the chaos that I liked so much. I whined in protest. The hands all over me were gone. The music was still thudding in my chest, pounding, itching, begging to become a part of me. The lights burned in my retinas, swirling and dancing and shaking.

"Devon!" the voice said again. It was Gavin. Gavin was holding me. Gavin was pulling me away from the fun.

"Bitch." I whined as he dragged me through more people. "What a bitch." I don't think he heard me. I don't know if he heard me. I didn't care. I was noticing how toned his chest was. He'd lost his shirt too. He was slick with sweat, his strong arms pushing through the crowd as he pulled me behind him.

Then we were off the dance floor and he was still dragging me, and I didn't know why. We were outside and then in a taxi, all so fast I didn't know what we were doing. But I knew Gavin was there. And I knew he looked really, really fucking good.

"Gavin." I mumbled, finding his light eyes in the dark of the cab. I found his hands in the dark and slid them to my bare chest. "Gavin." I said again. I could hear him breathing, and it was loud in my ears. I pressed against him, and I realized it was nice how solid he felt. It was really, really nice. I knotted my hands in his dreads and pulled his face closer, and I was kissing him. It was good. His lips were soft and his breath was sweet with alcohol. His chest moved faster as his breathing picked up, and we were moving but I don't know how. Good. Good. Good. This is nice.

"You feel good." I whispered to him.

"I want you." He whispered back. "I've wanted you since I first met you."

I giggled uncontrollably and pulled him back to my mouth.

And I don't know how but he's in my bed and we're both really hard. His mouth is tracing the lines of my stomach and he's eyeing the growing bulge in my pants. It sent shivers up and down my back. I couldn't stand how much I wanted him to suck my cock.

"Please." I gasped.

And he does.

I internet casino woke up to the sound of water running. Somewhere, water was running. I groaned as the throbbing pain in the back of my skull spread all over my body, settling in my stomach. I felt like someone had thrown a brick at my head. I glanced around to see I was in my bed, my sheets were covered in glitter and random bits of clothing.

The rave.

The booze.

Gavin.

Gavin gave me some pretty unbelievable head.

I followed the sound of water to my bathroom, where I caught a flash of dark dreads. I turned to the mirror. I could use a shower too. I had some pretty bad bedhead, and bits of glitter still clung to my body.

"Morning Gav." I mumbled, groping for my toothbrush.

"Its three in the afternoon."

"Its morning somewhere."

He poked his head out from behind the shower curtain, flashing me a smile. "On a scale of one to ten, how hungover are you?" he asked.

"eleven." I managed through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"There's some aspirin in the medicine cabinet. By the way... that thing... last night... that never happened." He smiled, his pretty teeth shining.

"Hm? I dunno what your talking about. We came home, you brought me a sprite, and we both went to sleep in our respective beds."

"Exactly."

I shrugged, and offered him a small smile. "If you're planning on bringing any other guys a sprite, you might want to look into a tongue piercing." I teased.

"I dunno what your talking about." He grinned, and winked at me, and suddenly he was just Gavin, and I was just Devon, and nothing was different. And he hadn't given me really good tongue. And he was back to pretending to be straight, and I was back to being a homebody.

And I liked it that way.

"Where the fuck is building C?" I muttered to myself, looking for the dance studio. I'd call it luck but others might call it fate, when three women ranging in size hurried past me, all wearing leotards. "Wait!" I called. The three froze, and turned to me. "Are you going to building C?"

"You don't look like a dancer." One scoffed.

Bitch, please. "I'm not."

"Then why do you need to go to the dance department?" the second sneered.

Why do you need to know? "I'm your composer."

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry we gave you a hard time. Just follow us." The third said sweetly.

Building C was only a short walk away, and when we reached the entrance, the girls were already whispering. I tried to scoot past them, but they'd blocked the door.

"So, I was wondering if um..." the second girl, with almond shaped brown eyes and short blonde hair, was giggling quietly to herself. "Do you think, maybe we could go out for coffee or something sometime?"

I tried to smile. "Um, thank you, but I don't date women."

She looked shocked for half a second, then recovered and masked the burn of rejection with a smile. She turned to her two other friends and giggled. "Kayden is going to flip." She whispered.

Kayden?

The dancer that had been twirling through my dreams?

That Kayden?

I didn't have time to really think over it, because the blonde had looped her arm through mine and began to drag me into the room. Good fucking god. I was going to be her new gay best friend. I knew it. I was just like a good handbag.

I clutched my messenger bag to my chest as we walked in. The room was huge, extending out them length of a full gym in both directions. The floors were hardwood and the back wall was a mirror, making the massive amount of dancers in the room look even more intimidating. There was a piano and a boom box off in one corner, and I walked over to it, quickly hiding behind its keys. The three girls followed, like puppies.

"I'm Molly." The blonde said, smiling in a very uncomfortable way.

"I'm Daisy," said the second girl, who had long brown hair to her waist and dark eyes.

"And I'm Vera." Said the last one, who had black hair and straight bangs, with thin eyes that hinted at an Asian bloodline.

"I'm Devon." I mumbled, pulling my binder from my bag and laying it out across the piano.

Daisy opened her mouth to say something when the room suddenly fell silent. The three girls silently waved goodbye and took their places on the bar across the room. I felt awkward and out of place.

He walked in slowly, tossing his gym bag in the corner, eyeing each of the dancers as he passed. He was even more gorgeous than I remembered, His dark hair was loose and soft, each layer framing his face. His jaw was sharp and the lines of his face perfect, those big hazel eyes sweeping over each body. I wanted them to sweep over me. I wanted to know what that felt like.

He was wearing a tank top and a pair of grey gym shorts, his white socks sliding across the hardwood. The tattoo I'd noticed before was clear now, an intricate and detailed tribal design, which started on his shoulder blade and wound around his bicep and down his side, disappearing beneath his shirt. I imagined it covered most of his left side to his waist. It fit his body so well I was almost jealous. His chest was broad and his muscles firm, not bulky, but smooth and sexy. I wanted to reach out and touch him.
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