Page 56 of Run For Me (Until You’re Mine Duet #1)

Chapter Fifty-Six

Sailor

I stare at Jaxon’s text, trying to figure out how to respond.

JT: Where do you want to meet?

It’s something we’ve talked about before, only under different circumstances.

Though he didn’t say, I know what he means.

When we meet this time, it will be without the mask.

It will be me finding out who he is. It will be…

more. We’ve been working our way to this point for a while.

It feels like forever and not any time at all.

Me: Before we get to that, we should discuss something else.

JT: I said nothing had to change.

Me: But what if I want it to?

JT: I told you that you can stop this whenever you want.

Me: I don’t want it to stop.

I should have added that I want more to the end, but I’m not that brave.

Jaxon is smart, and I think he’ll understand what I’m saying without saying it.

At least, I hope he does. The thought is terrifying, and I’m afraid I’m ruining this entire thing by allowing my feelings to get in the way, but I guess there is nothing I can do about it now.

JT: Tell me what you want.

I frown at my phone. I’m sure it’s not that he doesn’t know what I’m saying, it’s that he wants me to say it. He wants it to come from me.

Me: I want us to be together—officially.

Once it’s sent, my stomach drops, and I think I’m going to throw up. I trust Jaxon, but getting comfortable with him with stuff like this is going to take time. It’s much easier to give him my body than it is to give my heart, my soul, and all the other pieces that make up me.

My phone buzzes and I grab it.

JT: I’ve already told you that you’re mine, and I’m yours.

JT: What more do you need?

Me: I need to hear it outside of sex.

The words are sent before I have a moment to think. I hadn’t known that’s what this was until he asked, and my fingertips flew across the keyboard. But as I stare at my response, I know it’s true.

Everything he’s said has been in the heat of the moment. Right before we have sex or during. I hear people say things like that, but once the high wears off, they change their mind. I need to know it’s for real.

JT: Tell me where you want to meet so I can say it to your face.

My jaw drops, and after staring at my phone for a ridiculous amount of time, I look up and around my room. I could invite him here, but that seems awkward as hell. We’ve been here together but inviting him over to just hang out seems so… boring. What would we do?

And that thought has me worried about something else.

What if we have nothing in common? What if we do this whole thing and nothing works out? What if we realize we hate each other? What if I lose the anonymity of him and I’m no longer interested? Am I that fucked up?

Don’t think that way, Sailor.

Okay, not thinking that way…

I go through all the places I know, which aren’t many. Going out is relatively new to me. Only since meeting Amelia, really. But there is one place that stands out in my mind.

Me: Black Velvet?

JT: I’ll be there in an hour.

An hour? Shit!

I scramble out of bed, dropping my phone and running to the bathroom.

I scrub my face, brush my teeth, and put dry shampoo in my hair before brushing it and throwing it half up.

The pink is fading, and I need to touch it up, but there’s no time for that now.

I wish I had more time to take a shower, but I can’t risk him getting there first.

It takes me twenty minutes to find something to wear. Even though he’s seen me a hundred times by now, I still feel like I need to look perfect for this moment. Like I need to show off. It makes no sense. As I get into my car and start to drive, it all sinks in—how much this will change things.

I’m going to meet him. I’m going to see his face.

I nearly throw up when I pull up in the cafe parking lot. When I get to my feet, I’m dizzy and I’m grateful for the cool air.

The cafe is dark inside, with dim lighting. Records and framed band posters cover the midnight blue walls. “Interstate Love Song” by Stone Temple Pilots plays over the speakers, and I glance at the menu that has grunge album themed drinks.

Amelia and I came here a few times, and I love the atmosphere. It’s the sort of place I could spend more time in, and I probably should. A place like this is where I could make friends, find people I have things in common with.

Caffeine is a bad idea. The last thing I need is something to make me more jittery, but if I sit down, it’ll be weird having nothing. So I get in line and look over the menu.

“Hey, what can I get you?” the barista asks. He has blue spikey hair and a nose ring. He’s tall, with a fitted faded Melvins shirt.

“I’ll take an iced dirty chai, please,” I say, pulling my card from my pocket. It’s a chai latte with a “dirty” punch of espresso and two pumps of brown sugar syrup.

“Great choice,” the guy comments as he writes it on the cup and then punches it into the computer screen. I swipe my card when he tells me to, and I move down to the end and wait for my drink.

Each time I’ve been here before, it’s been busier than right now. But it’s later in the day. I keep looking over my shoulder, worried Jaxon is going to walk in at an awkward time, like when I’m taking a sip. I’d choke when I get a look at him.

“Here you go,” the barista says, sliding the drink my way.

“Thank you.”

I grab a straw and hurry to a table toward the back. I punch the straw through the hole and take a quick sip. It’s the best one I’ve had from here so far.

“Possum Kingdom” by the Toadies starts up, and I pull out my phone to make sure Jaxon didn’t cancel. There are no texts on my phone, but I swipe through notifications to clear them. I’m just finishing deleting my spam emails when I feel it.

Feel him. My heart skips a beat and my mouth goes dry. I blink a few times, keeping my gaze on my phone but so badly wanting to look at him.

I feel him watching me and know without a doubt he’s there. So before I can get too in my head about it, I look up.

Everything around me fades. Everything but him.

He’s here, standing right in front of me. No mask. No helmet. Just him.

And his gorgeous face.

Short cropped hair. Piercing blue eyes.

He stands there in a black thermal that clings to his body the way I want to.

The curve of his biceps stands out, and I think of the times I held onto them.

His shoulders are wide, chest defined, down to his narrow waist. I shouldn’t think about his dick, but even from here, I can make out the bulge in his jeans.

I know this is him without him having to say a damn word. It’s the way he looks at me, with such intensity that I want to crawl into a hole and hide. Yet, at the same time, all I want to do is stay here and let him look at me like this all day. Forever.

I’ve never felt so seen.

He smirks. Those perfect, full and soft lips of his quirk up on one side, and I just about die. My heart skips, my chest tightens, my brain misfires. Seizure. Stroke. Heart attack. All of it.

Why did I think I could do this? Why did I think this would work out?

“Can I sit down?” he asks.

Those words coming out of that mouth… good lord, if this works out, will I ever get over acting like this?

All I can do is nod.

He takes the few steps toward the table, then pulls out the chair across from me and sits down. He leans forward, resting his thick forearms on the table, that smirk still on his lips. His eyes shine with mischief and humor.

Jaxon is the kind of guy that knows he’s hot. He’s the kind of guy who gets a woman with the snap of his fingers. He’s the kind of guy that I should not get involved with. Too late, I guess. Because I am so involved.

I should say something, but I can’t get my mouth to work. Hell, my brain is hardly working. All I can do is think in words, though mostly it’s just one with a handful of synonyms. Hot. Sexy. Gorgeous. I can’t even string together a sentence. Out of my league is the closest I get to that.

“Are you disappointed?” he asks, a perfectly shaped dark brow raising.

It’s what brings my attention to the tattoo beside it, and then I catch a glimpse of the one along the side of his head.

“You were outside of the library,” is what I say.

“Many times,” he adds.

I smile, ducking my head for a moment before bringing my gaze back to his. “I mean, it was you that I bumped into.”

His smile widens. “Guilty.”

“I’m not sure I’ll get used to this,” I say, grabbing my chai and taking a sip.

I don’t miss the way his gaze goes to my lips as I do, and when I pull away and lick them, his gaze stays.

He blinks, then flicks his eyes back to mine. “You didn’t answer my question.” My eyes narrow. “About being disappointed.”

I huff out a laugh. “Whatever the opposite of disappointed is, that’s what I am.” He grins, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “But I’m sure you expected that.”

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“Oh, come on. You know you’re hot.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “But all that matters is what you think.”

My cheeks burn and I duck my head again, but this time he reaches across the small table and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“I like when you look at me,” he says with such intensity. “I like that I can look at you like this now, with nothing in the way. I like that I can see you seeing me, that you like what you’re looking at.”

“I do,” I say, the words coming out a whisper.

His thumb brushes across my skin, and I suck in a breath.

How can someone be so damn hot?

He hums a sound of approval. “Now’s when I tell you that I meant what I said.” My stomach floods with warmth. “You’re mine. I’m yours. Nothing changes now that you’ve seen my face.”