Free Fare Forward by Wendy Dubow Polins Page A

cannot tear myself away from his hypnotic gaze.
    "I'm
so
sorry to disturb you." I finally find words and attempt to gather up my things with a grace that I never did possess, dropping books and papers.
    He watches, but doesn't say anything.
    "I'm so late, I don't know what happened, there must have been a mistake on my printout." I wave the useless piece of paper in the air. "I'm usually in Avery Hall, the architecture building, I mean, most of the time so—well you know, I don't get over to this side of campus that often, anymore, since I'm not an undergraduate and I was taking an elective, sure that I had an English class in this room."
    I try to balance everything I am holding and look futilely at the schedule in my hands. Stay calm, make sense. I know that I am not, so I stop talking and look up at him.
    "Sorry again, for interrupting, I mean, bothering you."
    And then it happens.
    I am practically knocked over by it. The powerful combination of the pressure in my head and the vision—what I see. I realize that I've seen his face before. It's his eyes I recognize most, their color, and also the feeling of what it's like to be near him. It's crazy but I seem to know who he is— from a dream—a definite recurring vision I have seen many times before.
    It's
him.
    He is everywhere in my memory and in my mind. I try desperately to separate what I know is real from what is not, push away the vision and stay in the present, standing in this room with him. Not in my head. But it is overwhelming—the images come one after another. I see it all so clearly.
    We are together, under a star-filled sky, walking on a flat-topped mountain in the desert, in a cave, in an ancient garden, and many other images and sensations that come at me too quickly to stop. What is it? A memory, an experience, a dream? I feel the heat of torches, the thunder of a cheering crowd, the chill of a desert night, and the feeling of him close to me. His lips and breath—on my neck, throat, the inside of my—
    "Oh my God" I gasp.
    The force is so powerful that I start to back slowly away from him. I don't know what else to do, so I turn and run out of the room, away from everything as quickly as possible. I descend the steps two at a time as I try to concentrate, desperately trying to clear my mind. I can't think clearly as the intensity of the moment and the exchange with him has overwhelmed my normal sense of control. As I emerge from the building, I try to understand what has just happened. I am even angrier with myself for running away and letting my vision overtake me.
    I
knew
him from somewhere; he was in the very room I was looking for. I could feel a crazy sense of unexplained excitement. More than that, however, there was something unforgettable about the way he had looked at me and how it made me feel.
    Ridiculous, Gabriella.
    All the same, I knew that something incredible had just happened.

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14
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    I COULDN'T GET HIM out of my mind. The unexpected encounter with the mysterious stranger stayed with me. There was something about him, different—yet incredibly familiar. I was surprised at how just thinking about him made me feel: uncomfortable, off balance, electrified. I let myself move cautiously into the dark place in my heart—the one I never really dared to look into—and allowed the unexpected feelings to wash over me. The sensation of being near him, I wanted to hold on to the way it felt.
    The phone rings loudly and breaks my reverie. It's Emily.
    "Gabriella, are you getting ready for tonight? You know we can't be late and—"
    "Em, it's only four thirty in the afternoon, the awards ceremony doesn't start until eight. We'll have plenty of time. I need to go do something."
    "Can't it wait? What is so important?"
    "I need to find a book, an out-of-print text. I thought I saw it at the little bookstore down Amsterdam. It's suggested reading and I want to find it."
    "Suggested reading? Please, Gabriella. Can't you just stick to what's