Falling in Time [GxG] IN PROGRESS

5

Rose swallowed heavily. She looked at herself in the mirror. Sweat glistened on her forehead. With a paper towel she dabbed at her temples, sighing.

She checked the time. Ten minutes until her next class.

The only nice thing about a cold wind was that it cooled down the flush on her cheeks. Rose opened a button on her coat and let the frigid air seep through her clothes. She evened her breaths, counting as each one went in and out, in and out. A hand sliding down her stomach―

Stop. Rose clenched her hands in fists, pushing the memory away. No, not a memory. A dream. It was a dream. It was not real.

The words flooded her mind and relaxed her a little. It was not real. It was not real. It was not real.

Rose should not let this dream change her life. People had weird dreams all the time. It did not mean it was a prophetic sign or some god sending her a message. Rhys was just trying to be funny.

How could she let it ruin her day so much? How could she let it ruin her relationship with Bo? Bo, the sweetest, gentlest, and most loving boy she had ever met.

She took out her phone and texted Bo before she could change her mind. Sorry about earlier. I wasn't feeling well. Still free tonight?

Bo replied immediately. Are you okay?

Then, I am always free for you.

Rose smiled. Bo texted again. I love you.

Her heart felt a little lighter as she walked into the cramped brick building squeezed between a café and an apartment building, the air inside stifling and hot. Rose shrugged out of her coat and entered the classroom.

The professor sat on the large desk in front of the room, his hands folded loosely in front of him. He had a shiny bald head with thin rectangular glasses on top of a long, sturdy body that jerked with surprising energy in every movement despite a limp in his left hip. A few other students were already sitting at their desks, weary faces staring blankly ahead.

"Good morning Rosemary," he said with a deep, reassuring voice that drawled confidently and a knowing twinkle in his eyes that made people think they were being let in on a juicy secret. His lectures felt that way too.

"Good morning Professor Beckman."

She settled into her seat, setting her notebook neatly on the desk, waiting for class to start. Even with how much reading he assigned, this class was one of her favorites.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, what a beautiful day to discuss stories," Professor Beckman said with a joking smile. He grew more serious, nodding in contemplation. "Stories. We like to tell stories. And we like to listen to them too. And read them. Watch them obsessively until ungodly hours. Or maybe that's just me?" This earned him a few amused huffs from the class. "Damn are they addicting. Stories, man. They are so integral to our lives. Why is that?" He peered around the room with that look in his eyes.

A girl in the back swiftly raised her hand. "To connect with people."

Someone in the front huddled in a hoodie said, "To escape people."

Professor Beckman grinned. "Good, good. Any more?"

"To make ourselves feel better," someone said, and everyone laughed.

"They make our reality seem more interesting."

"Or they help us forget our reality."

Rose tried to think of why she read fiction, why she loved Jane Austen and Virginia Woolf, why she devoured their writing, their words, the characters flush and nearly alive on the page, so close and so real she could reach out and touch them.