Page 5 of Run For Me (Until You’re Mine Duet #1)

Chapter Five

Sailor

Unknown: Hey, it’s Amelia.

I stare at my phone for a long time, trying to figure out who Amelia is. Then the memory of the bathroom pops into my head, and I realize I never got her name. Wow, I really am so awkward—and rude! I text her back the moment it hits me.

Me: Hey! I’m glad you texted. Sorry about earlier.

Amelia: Don’t be sorry! I’m sorry if I was being weird. I really can’t control what I say sometimes.

I laugh, understanding the weird part. Maybe this won’t be so bad. I was just thinking that I needed a friend.

Me: I have no idea what that’s like. I’m awkward in a completely different way. LOL

Amelia: I’m totally fine with that. Opposites attract, right? Besides, we definitely met in a bathroom, so that seems fitting, doesn’t it?

Me: It kind of does, yeah.

Amelia: So about hanging out. Are you free tonight?

I glance at the half pound of ground beef sitting on the counter, defrosting.

I wasn’t going to do anything tonight besides make myself dinner and watch a movie. Alone, like normal. Maybe I’d video chat with Sam to talk about my day, even though after the conversation we had earlier, he’s the last person I want to talk to. He really knows how to get under my skin.

I go back and forth with what to say to her.

I don’t want to lie or avoid her for no reason.

Part of going back to school was to socialize and make friends.

I could have taken these classes online, but it’s not good to isolate myself so much.

Words I’ve heard my entire life, and don’t fully believe, but respect nonetheless.

I promised myself I would start fresh and do better.

My family always accepted me for who I am.

The awkward little potato, they’d call me, and then we’d laugh about it, but I know they wanted more for me.

They didn’t want me to be the awkward little potato; they wanted me to be comfortable in my own skin.

I don’t know how to do that, but I’ll never know if I don’t try new things.

Me: Yes, I’m free. Want to grab dinner?

Amelia: That would be great! What are you thinking?

Me: What’s your favorite?

Amelia: Surprise me! Anything will be good. I haven’t been out to eat since I’ve been here, and my Mama firmly believed in home-cooked meals.

Wow, that’s surprising but also sweet. I eat out way more than I should. Mostly because I don’t enjoy cooking for one person.

What sounds good for dinner? Hmm… I was going to make tacos, so we could do Mexican.

Me: Meet me at Rico’s for six? It’s on Seventh St. About a five-minute walk from campus.

Amelia: Perfect! See you then!

I get up to put the ground beef in the fridge.

I’ll use it tomorrow and make burgers. When I get back to the couch, I pull up the campus page on my phone and log in.

There is a community forum that I navigate to.

I type out a post about my lost journal, but right before I submit it, I decide against it.

I really want to find my journal, but if I put it out there that it’s me who is missing it, and whoever finds it actually reads it—oh my god, I can’t even think of what would happen. It has me dizzy.

Of course, it’s possible they won’t find those entries, since they’re from months ago, but it could happen. Anything could happen. They could be reading the entire thing like some sort of twisted autobiography.

I close out of the page and toss my phone away. I can’t post anything about it missing. I’ll check more lost and found bins tomorrow, and maybe even pop into the offices to see if someone turned it in there. Maybe I overlooked it in class, and it’s stuck between the seat or under it.

I need to stop obsessing over it. Worrying about this isn’t going to change anything. It’s only going to make me feel worse and potentially drive me crazy.

The clock on the wall tells me it’s just about five, so I’ll have to leave in thirty minutes to get to the restaurant on time.

The house I live in, the one my grandparents left to me when they died, is a twenty-minute drive from campus.

A lot of people have told me how lucky I am that everyone left me so much when they died.

The house, the car, the money… and I am grateful for all they’ve done for me, but I’d rather have them.

Time spent with them was always more important to me than objects.

Going through the most important years of my life without them hasn’t been easy.

Having a place to live, a car to get around in, and so much money I don’t know what to do with has helped.

It gave me somewhere to start. I don’t know what would have happened if I had nothing.

I wasn’t old enough to go into a home, and I have no other family to turn to.

It’s possible I’d have ended up on the street, and that thought scares the hell out of me.

My phone dings with a text, and I grab it from the end of the couch. My first thought is that Amelia is canceling our plans. It isn’t Amelia though, it’s Sam. I find myself happy over that, and I guess I’m looking forward to hanging out with someone. Who knew?

Sam: Can you talk?

Me: Yes.

My phone rings a moment later.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey, baby. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just hanging out. I’m going out to dinner with someone I met today.”

“Oh? What’s her name?”

I frown. The way he worded his sentence rubs me the wrong way. Why would he assume it’s a female? I mean, Amelia is a female, but why would Sam assume that? I could have guy friends. Instead of making a big deal about it, I just answer the question. Then I go on to tell him where we’re going.

“Have you thought about what I said?” he asks as soon as there’s a break in the conversation.

“About what?”

I get up to gather my stuff, and I grab a thick jacket from the hallway closet since the weather is getting colder, especially at night.

“About me coming to see you this weekend.”

I pause, the jacket in my hand. “Sam, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” he asks, sounding frustrated.

I guess I can’t blame him for feeling that way. There isn’t a good enough reason I can give him. I can’t tell him the truth.

“I’m not ready,” I say. Which is the closest thing to the truth he’s going to get.

This whole thing was thrown at me only two months ago.

Before that, I had no sure plan to meet Sam.

We’ve talked about doing so many things together, including sex, and I’m worried that will come up when we’re together, and I don’t know how to tell him that I’m not ready…

after telling him for so long that it’s what I want.

I don’t understand it myself, so how can I explain it to him?

Why did I spend so much time saying these things to Sam, if I didn’t mean them?

I felt like I meant them when I said them, at least in the beginning.

I care about Sam a lot. He’s my boyfriend and before that we were best friends.

He’s the person I’ve turned to for everything.

Even today, when I was panicking over my journal, he was the one I called.

But the thought of seeing him in person, of him being in my house…

it’s—I don’t know how to explain it. I just know it doesn’t feel right.

“How can you not be ready, Sailor? We’ve talked about this. For years.” He stresses the words, which makes me feel worse.

He’s right.

“I know, I just…” My words trail off as I stand there, jacket in hand, in front of the closet.

“Just think about it, okay? I gotta go,” he says.

He ends the call, not giving me the chance to respond.

With the heavy weight in my chest because of how Sam is acting over meeting, I throw on my jacket, grab my keys and bag, and get in the car to meet Amelia.