Rebecca, I swear I tried. Happy holidays!
Marius was crouched behind a fire hydrant, hoping his face wouldn't be visible. He cringed as the blonde-haired girl he had been looking at turned his way, and he pulled his coat over his head.
"Why don't you just ask her for her number?" Courfeyrac had asked him. "Probably wouldn't be too strange for New York, anyway."
Marius had responded with a wave of his hand and a confident, "I'll figure out a way."
Only now would he admit that Courfeyrac had a point. It was much better than constantly being on the run, sneaking glances when he could. He wouldn't call it stalking, necessarily (since that was entirely illegal and below him); he preferred the term gathering up his courage. Plus, he assured himself, if he had been following her so closely to the point of being stalking, she would have noticed at this point and called the police. All he was doing was timing his coffee breaks with her shifts (never mind how he found out her shifts).
He took a breath and twisted his feet to face forward so he could stand. As he peeked out from behind the fire hydrant, a splash of water flew before his eyes. A taxi squeaked to a stop as he stood, doused in streetwater.