Page 4 of Run For Me (Until You’re Mine Duet #1)

Chapter Four

Sailor

I burst into the bathroom and find the nearest stall, run inside, then lock it with trembling fingers. I sit on the toilet, place my hands flat on my thighs, close my eyes, and breathe. Long, deep breaths go in, and I let them out slowly.

I do this over and over and over again, until my hands stop shaking and my chest stops hurting. I pull my phone from my bag, the bag I’ve checked over a hundred times to make sure I haven’t overlooked it—I haven’t. It’s not in there.

My journal is gone.

I have forty-five minutes before my next class, so I gather my things and make my way outside. The sky, like most days, is overcast and threatening rain. Normally, I like the rain. Right now? I like nothing.

I click the picture of a smiling Sam that’s on my home screen, and when it pulls up his info, I press the call button. It rings three times before he answers.

“Hey, baby,” he says cheerily.

“I lost my journal,” I blurt out as I walk further onto the quad that has groups of students all over. Everyone around me seems so happy, and me… I’m having the worst day of my life.

“What? How?”

I shake my head as I keep walking, tears threatening to spill. “I don’t know, but it’s gone. It must have fallen out of my bag.”

“Did you retrace your steps?”

“Yes. I’ve only had two classes so far, and it’s in neither. I’ve checked already.”

“Did you check lost and found?”

Damn…

I stop, looking back at the buildings. “No, I didn’t think to do that.”

“Okay,” he says in a calm voice. “Go to the lost and found and check there, but it’s possible someone hasn’t turned it in yet. It hasn’t been long, Sailor. You can check back tomorrow, too.”

“I can’t go that long without it, Sam. I’ve never gone that long…”

“Baby, listen to me.” I nod and keep walking. “I know how important the journal is to you because of your mom, but losing it doesn’t mean you love her any less.” I stop dead in my tracks. What did he just say? “I know you’re attached to it because of her, but—”

“What are you saying?”

I’m terrified someone will find it and read it, and then know the crazy things that go on in my head! This has nothing to do with my attachment to the damn book or my mother.

He sighs. “I’m just saying I know you keep things from your parents and grandparents because they’re gone, and you want them with you still.”

“As most people do,” I snap, feeling defensive over this now.

“Hey, I’m not saying anything is wrong with that, Sailor. I’m just trying to make you feel better.”

My bottom lip trembles and I glance around at the hundreds of students hanging with their friends, completely oblivious to what I’m going through.

For the first time in a long time, I wish I had a friend that was close by.

I could use a hug right now. My god, I don’t even remember the last time I hugged someone.

“Yeah,” I say as I hold back tears. “Thanks for that. I have to get to class.”

I end the call and shove the phone into my pocket, then turn and head back inside.

I walk to the building where my last two classes were and walk up and down the hallway, trying to find a lost and found.

Finally, at the end of one random hallway, I spot a beat-up cardboard box with Lost and Found written in thick, faded black marker.

I dig through it, finding one pink glove, a few hats, some notebooks, a ridiculous amount of pencils—like someone would come back for a pencil—and a red thong that completely grosses me out when I accidentally touch it.

Disgusting.

I pull my hand back and shake my head, continuing to browse the halls for any other luxury lost and found boxes. I find none. I should check the other buildings, but I don’t have time. Walking to them will make me late for class.

With my hands trembling all over again, I make my way to my next class, that inner voice that never shuts up shouting at me to go home because I can’t get through the day without my journal. At the same time, Sam’s words ring through my head.

“…losing it doesn’t mean you love her any less.”

Why would he say that? Of course it doesn’t mean I love her any less; losing it was an accident!

It’s not like I threw it away; I just misplaced it.

My need to find it has everything to do with not wanting someone to read it, and maybe a little bit of superstition.

I always have these four special things with me: the notebook, bag, necklace, and shoelaces.

They’re charms that help me get through the day.

They make me feel better, more at ease, and there is nothing wrong with that. There isn’t!

Why the hell would Sam say that?

As I make my way to class, I pass another Lost and Found box. This one is an old blue recycling bin, and it has a sign taped to it made from lined notebook paper, with bright red pen scratched over numerous times with the Lost and Found title.

This time, when I go through it, I use a pencil I find, not wanting to touch another pair of dirty underwear. Thankfully, this one doesn’t have any undergarments, but it also doesn’t have my journal.

With a sigh, I head up the flight of stairs. I find a seat in the back, at the end of the row.

Class goes by and I barely hear a word. Thankfully, the professor is only instructing how the semester will go and what the expectations are.

He even lets us leave fifteen minutes early, which helps me get to my next class that is on the opposite end of campus.

It’s my last class of the day—and the longest.

As I make my way through the building, passing student after student, I can’t help but wonder if they’re laughing at me after having read my journal and found out who I am.

Will I come into school tomorrow and find photocopies of the pages hung up all over the place?

Will I find pictures of myself being depicted in the way I described in the journal?

My deepest, darkest secrets are out in the world for anyone to see, read, and share.

My chest tightens all over again, and I have to take another bathroom break to splash water on my face before I can continue on.

“Hey, are you okay?” A soft, small voice sounds behind me, and I turn to find a girl about my height. She looks about my age too, big round glasses, short brown hair, and a round face.

“Yeah…” I say before grabbing a few paper towels to dry my face.

“Are you new to the area? Being away from home can be hard.” She moves up to the sink beside me and turns the faucets on.

“No, I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“Oh? Maybe you can show me around sometime then.” She brings her hand under the automatic soap dispenser, but frowns when it dispenses nothing. She pulls her hand away and tries again. Still nothing. She looks around and doesn’t find another, so she sighs and rinses her hands.

My muscles tense over her need to talk. I’ve never been a talker; I’m extremely awkward. I know this about myself and have accepted it—if accepting it means avoiding people.

“Sure,” I say, forcing a smile as I finish wiping my hands. I have no intention of talking to this girl again, so I turn to leave, and when I’m halfway to the door, she speaks.

“Can I have your name? Maybe your number?” I stop, my hands clenching by my sides. “I’m sorry if I’m being weird, but I moved here from Georgia, and I know absolutely no one. It’s kind of scary. Besides, I’ve been told my whole life I don’t understand boundaries, so...”

The fact she can admit that out loud to a perfect stranger has me turning all the way around to face her.

I let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, of course.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She tilts her head to the side, studying me. Like maybe she can see through me and into my head and know what I’m thinking. The thought has me cringing.

“Just having a bad day.”

“I have those all the time,” she says with a small laugh, pulling out her phone. She unlocks it and opens up her contacts, creating a new one before handing it over. I type in my name and number, then hand it back. She glances down at it.

“Sailor? Is that your real name?”

“It is.”

“Because of the show?”

I smile and shake my head. I get that question often.

“No, my parents met on a boat and just thought it was cute.”

“That is super cute!” she says, locking her phone and putting it into her pocket. She smiles brightly, and it’s adorable.

“Thanks… uhm, text me later and we can chat, okay?” I say.

“That would be so great. Thank you.”

I leave the bathroom, my mood a little lighter. That is until I sit down and once again get lost in my thoughts about how someone could be reading about me wanting to be hunted down and forced to have sex with them…