Page 15 of Run For Me (Until You’re Mine Duet #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Sailor

After my classes are done for the day, I find myself tired and wanting to go home to relax, but then I remember there is no relaxing at home because my home is no longer empty.

I feel the best when I’m alone and able to handle my surroundings the way I need. Sometimes I need quiet, sometimes I need music blasted so loudly my ears are ringing for an hour afterward. Having someone not allow me that comfort isn’t tolerated well. I get grumpy and irritable.

I trudge to the library in search of quiet. Being here will at least force me to get some homework done. I have two professors who have already assigned papers. How nice.

Last night, I was pep-talking myself about making things work with Sam, and I’m really, really trying. After this morning, I felt it would work. But throughout the day, small thoughts kept creeping in. Doubts. Curiosities. I just need more time to figure it out.

I walk through the library, looking for a spot for myself, and finally, after walking every which way, I come across a random chair set in a hidden back corner.

I have no idea what this is or why it’s so isolated, but I take advantage.

The area looks like it may be used to store things, or maybe just extra space they weren’t sure what to do with?

Either way, I’m grateful for it, especially since there isn’t a sign that says to keep away.

I plop down in the over-sized chair and pull out my phone and notes from class, remembering I need to get a new laptop for school.

I’d meant to do it before school started, but I ran out of time.

I could use the one I have, but I’d rather keep my personal computer at home.

All I need is to lose more personal stuff or accidentally send in something personal instead of schoolwork.

Using the notes app on my phone, I start a loose outline for the paper assigned in my social media class.

Yes, they have a social media class, which I thought would be important since that’s what a lot of my jobs are for—people looking for marketing images for social media platforms. Learning more about them can only help, right?

After an hour, my eyes burn and I’m exhausted. I just want to go home. Plus, I’m starving! I rest my head back and close my eyes, taking a moment to breathe before I finish this last bit of outline and pack my things up.

I feel myself drifting off to sleep, and I’m enjoying the relaxing bliss of it, until my skin crawls with the feeling of being watched.

I blink my eyes open, but there’s no one there.

I peer around the area but see no one. It’s just me back here, alone.

I could have sworn I felt someone staring…

Usually this sort of thing only happens when I’m home, thanks to whatever ghosts live in that house.

Yes, I believe in ghosts. Yes, I think there are some in my house.

But no, I don’t think it’s my parents or grandparents.

I’ve felt them there long before my father died.

I startle when my phone vibrates on my lap. It’s Sam calling, so I answer it but keep my voice low because we aren’t supposed to use phones in here.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby. Just wondering if you knew when you’d be home.”

His voice is booming, so I click the button to lower the volume.

“Uh…” I pull the phone from my ear, not realizing it was already almost six. “I’m leaving now, actually. I’ll be home in about twenty-five minutes.”

“Perfect. See you then.”

“Bye.”

I end the call and place my phone on my lap, taking one last look around but still finding no one. I need to get my shit together.

All day, every person I’ve made some kind of contact with, I suspected as the journal thief.

The red-headed boy in class who smiled at me when I walked up the stairs to my seat.

It’s him.

The tall, long-haired guy who bumped into me in the hall.

It’s him.

The guy who picked up my pencil when it rolled onto the floor.

It’s him.

If I don’t get a hold of this soon, I’m going to be deemed insane.

I grab my notebook and phone in one hand while picking up my messenger bag with the other to shove everything inside and quickly make my way through the stacks and to the exit.

Dinner is waiting for me when I get home, along with a smiling Sam.

“Hey, baby,” he greets, kissing my cheek. “I made Chicken Mozambique for dinner.”

I raise a brow. “You went shopping?” I definitely didn’t have any chicken here. Probably not whatever else he needed, either.

“I did. Got a few things.” He shrugs and pulls two plates from the cabinet. I walk over to the fridge and pull it open, my jaw dropping when I see how full it is.

“A few?” He shrugs and plates the food. “Sam, I hope you plan on eating this while you’re here, otherwise it’ll go bad after you leave.”

“I got plenty of things that’ll last. You should eat better anyway.”

This is something he’s been telling me for years. It’s not that I have a problem with eating healthy, or even better than what I am, I just don’t enjoy cooking.

“Come on. Let’s eat,” he tells me, walking over to the table with a plate in each hand.

As we eat, he asks me questions about my day. We talk about my classes and the work I have to do. I ask him what he did all day, and he tells me he went shopping, went for a run, did some gaming, and cooked dinner.

“Damn, I totally forgot I wanted to grab a laptop today.” I check the clock on the wall, and Sam’s head swings the same way.

“Looks like we have time. I can drive us. Just tell me where you want to go.”

“You don’t have to. I can go by myself.”

He frowns, letting out a sigh. “Sailor, what is going on with you?”

“Nothing.” The word comes out too quickly, and he gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe me.

I absolutely cannot tell him what is going on with me.

I can’t tell him about how I’ve been rethinking my feelings for him since he told me he moved out here, and even more so after he showed up.

I can’t tell him I’ve been convincing myself of all the reasons I should make this work because I don’t feel the way I did but I want to—that even sitting here with him over dinner is forced.

And I definitely can’t tell him about the journal thief—

“I’ve just had a weird day, is all.”

“Weird how?” His brow furrows.

“Just… I don’t know, the stuff with my journal.”

“You still haven’t found it?”

I shake my head.

He sighs, putting down his fork. “Okay, well, I can see how that would rattle you. It meant a lot to you, I get that, but you know I don’t just mean today.

You’ve been… I don’t know, distant? For a while now.

If something is going on, something with us, you can tell me.

” He places his hand on mine and I stare down at where he’s touching me.

No sparks. No tingles. No warmth.

Just itchy. Like the wool sweater my mother made me wear every Christmas. I hated it. And I don’t like this either.

“There’s not,” I say automatically, having no idea why I say it. He gave me the opportunity to tell him how I’m feeling. He started the conversation, I could have ended it, but I didn’t. Why the hell can’t I just tell him how I feel?

My phone dings from in my bag… one, two, three times in a row, all from Surge.

Sam’s eyes narrow slightly before he turns to glance toward the couch, where my bag is.

I busy myself with eating, making it seem like the phone going off was lost on me, even though it’s the complete opposite. My fingers are twitching to see what the journal thief has to say today.