Windswept

1 - Sam

Sam

New York, United States

When I closed my eyes, a picture flashed in my mind like a memory. It had appeared to me multiple times by now, but I'd never actually been there. A gray sky with a cliff, an ocean crashing below. Sometimes the sun was shining, sometimes not. Sometimes it seemed so real I could almost feel the breeze in my hair. Like if I only took a step forward, I could be there.

The roar of the subway brought me back to reality, to the echoes of people talking and someone playing music around the corner. I had roughly two minutes before my train would arrive. A few people were waiting along the platform beside me, but it was too early for the evening rush-hour crowd. Perfect for me—I hated being stuck in an overcrowded subway car.

The brisk October air sent shivers up my arms, and I pulled my beanie on to keep my hair in place, which was relatively short and always got in my eyes. I had decided to try bangs a month ago . . . never again.

I pulled my black earbuds from my bag and stuffed them in my ears, wanting to drown out the sounds of the trains and people, but I didn't usually listen to anything. I just liked having them in so people who preferred small talk wouldn't talk to me, and I had an excuse to pretend like I couldn't hear them and ignore them if I had to.

I closed my eyes and pictured the cliffs again, imagining myself there.

A rush of wind wafted past, and I opened my eyes to find train windows flashing by. The doors slid open once the train had stopped. A few people stepped out, and I made my way into the nearly empty subway car to find a seat. It lurched forward as I took one near the door. I put my backpack on my lap and then pulled my beanie off because it was always uncomfortably warm in the cars.

I was about to start browsing on my phone when I noticed the person across from me, three seats down. He was looking the other way, absently fingering a messenger bag on his lap and staring at something in the empty corner. A dark jacket covered his gray hoodie, and the hood was pulled up over his head. I glanced at his shoes, which were a well-worn pair of Vans, because it's what I do—I look at people's shoes.

I felt odd staring at a complete stranger, but I couldn't help it. I'll be honest: he was really, really good-looking, as Derek Zoolander would say. Pieces of dark hair poked out of his hood—the same color as his eyebrows and lashes. Which then brought my gaze to his eyes, which—wow. He also had a great jaw and a neck I couldn't help but notice.

I didn't think even the cutest boy in my school was as good-looking as he was.

If Nella were here, I'd be texting her a GIF of a girl fanning herself.

A man walked by and I blinked away my focus. I looked down at my phone again and willed myself not to look up. A few popular girls in school had posted about a trip they took at the end of summer, and instead of examining their faces, I kept zooming in on the scenery—mountains, rivers, sometimes a skyline of an old European city. Just more places for my future to-visit list.

My eyes trailed to my left again, and my heart thumped when I saw that he was now staring at me. Not staring but looking. And on the subway, there was a big difference between the two.

His dark eyes held no aggression, and they certainly weren't hostile, unlike some people's on the subway. Having grown up in the area, I was already a subway pro, but I still had pepper spray for emergencies, and I never went anywhere without it.

Since staring at strangers was an awkward thing to do, I looked away, steadying my heart. I felt his eyes on me, but when I stole a glance, he was staring off in another direction.