Page 7 of Run For Me (Until You’re Mine Duet #1)

Chapter Seven

Sailor

Rico’s is pretty empty, which makes it easy to be here. I hate being in loud, crowded places. It’ll be nice to chat with Amelia without so many distractions—I get distracted easily.

“So, did you live in Georgia your whole life?” I ask, taking a sip of my Shirley Temple. I use the straw to poke one of the cherries—I asked for extra because they’re the best part—and pop it into my mouth.

“Up until two weeks ago.” She shrugs, picking up her taco and taking a bite. She moans as her eyes close, and she places the taco into the basket and reaches for a napkin to wipe her mouth. “This is so good, Sailor, oh my god.”

“I’m glad you like it. Tacos are a staple food for me. I eat them at least once a week.”

“I can see why.” She picks up her taco again and takes a huge bite. I can’t help but laugh.

“So, what made you move all the way out here? Aren’t there schools closer?”

She nods vigorously, her glasses sliding down her nose. She pushes them up and swallows.

“There sure are, but I needed to get away from home. My mother is the captain of helicopter parents, even at my age.” She rolls her eyes, reaching for her soda and taking a sip. “How are your parents?”

The question catches me off guard, even though I should have seen it coming. I stare blankly for a moment before I shake out of it. “My parents are dead.”

“Oh, my—I’m so sorry. So, you live with grandparents? Aunt or uncle?”

I shake my head, reaching for my drink, hoping the chill will get rid of the knots forming in my stomach. “It’s just me.”

She waves her hand at me. “You don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry I’m so nosey.”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “My dad died when I was thirteen, my mom about two years ago, and my grandparents a year ago.”

The look on her face is the reason I don’t tell people about my life. They look at me with such pity, like I’m a poor thing that now needs to be treated as so.

“Sailor—”

“Please don’t look at me like that. I swear I’m fine. I mean, it’s hard sometimes, but I’ve got a lot of good things going for me, and not to sound too harsh, but I don’t need anyone feeling bad for me.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not that. I mean, I do feel bad, but only because it’s sad, Sailor. That’s just a lot, but I don’t think any less of you.”

I give her a small smile. “Thanks. It’s not something I like to talk about.”

She perks up, wiping the sad look off her face and replacing it with a bright smile.

“So, let’s talk about something else! You have a boyfriend?”

The question should make me happy. Thinking of Sam should put a smile on my face. I should be proud to talk about him. But it doesn’t, and I’m not. All it does is put a sour taste in my mouth.

“No,” I answer. “No boyfriend here.”

Yep, I’m the worst girlfriend ever, but there is no way I can tread the online-boyfriend conversation after just explaining my family situation, so for now, Sam stays a secret.

And speaking of Sam, my phone dings with a notification from Surge, and assuming it’s him, I don’t bother checking it. I’m not home to jump on the game right now, so there’s no point in talking to him. Besides, I told him I was going out, so I don’t know why he’s bothering me.

“Me either,” Amelia says, sinking into her chair. “My parents would never allow it. Though, I snuck out of the house successfully a few times to go to parties and hooked up with a few guys, so I wasn’t a total loser.”

I force a smile, knowing I made the right decision not to tell her about Sam. She’d definitely think I was weird if I explained I have a boyfriend who I’ve never met and I’m a virgin. Yeah, no thanks.

“Parties aren’t really my thing.”

Amelia shrugs. “I like them sometimes. School is important, so it’ll always come first for me, but I won’t pass up an invitation if I have the time. Do you live on campus?”

I shake my head and pick at the nachos in front of me. “No, I live in my grandparents’ old house, about twenty minutes from here.”

“Look at you, all fancy and shit.” Her Georgian accent really comes out when she says it.

I huff out a laugh and bite into a nacho chip that is now soggy. Still tastes good though. I’ve eaten worse, that’s for sure.

We spend the next forty-five minutes chatting and finishing our food.

When we’re getting ready to leave, I realize how much I like Amelia.

Sure, there are a few things I kept from her, and we don’t like all the same things, but she’s nice and we have some stuff in common.

I think she’s excited to be free and away from the prison her family seemed to make their home, and maybe once she gets used to it, that steam will run out.

“Hey, let me give you a ride,” I say, looking out the window to see the sun fully set.

“Nah, it’s like six minutes.”

“But it’s dark. You never know…”

She raises a brow as she puts her jacket on. “Okay, fine.”

I drop her off in front of her dorm a few minutes later.

“Thanks for the ride, Sailor!” she calls from outside of the car.

“No problem! I had fun. Have a good night,” I call back.

“Text me tomorrow?”

I nod. “Will do!”

She shuts the door, and I watch as she walks up the steps, only turning away when I see she’s safely inside the building.

I pick up my phone to put on my GPS—I know how to get home, but I always use the GPS so my phone can learn my habits and give me the quickest way to where I’m going.

You never know when there will be traffic or an accident.

When I unlock my phone, I see the notification from Surge and decide to check it quickly before I leave.

It isn’t a message from Sam like I thought it was. It’s a friend request from a new profile—I know that because their username is in bright red, which indicates a profile less than seventy-two hours old.

But that’s not what catches my attention. It’s the username.

You_Run_Ill_Chase

All the air leaves my lungs as I stare at the letters. I blink and then blink again, hoping they’ll rearrange themselves on the screen and form the words they really are. There is no way in all the universe someone with a username like that is reaching out to me. Unless…

No. This could not be the person who has my journal.

How would they have found me? There is nothing in there that says it’s me, not specifically anyway.

And even if it did, how would they find my Surge profile?

How would they even know I like the game?

Solar Surge is not a popular game, and the fan app is even less popular.

It has to be spam, or a weird coincidence. This is just my anxiety.

Still, my curiosity gets the best of me, and I hit the green accept button, which then leads to an alert of the message they sent.

Surge takes precautions to protect their users, and one of those precautions is by only allowing friends to message one another.

Messages pend until the request is approved.

With trembling fingers, I tap on the message icon and my inbox pops open.

The new username is right on top, in bold letters, telling me it’s unopened.

Sam’s sits right below. My thumb hovers over the new message, ready to tap it, when someone honks their horn behind me and I startle so badly the phone flies from my hand and hits the floor with a thud.

I let out a squeak and my heart threatens to pound out of my chest.

“Jesus!” I scream, staring in the rear-view mirror. I take a deep breath and release it before putting the car in drive and moving forward. Honestly, I hadn’t realized I was blocking the whole through-way. I thought it was wide enough for another car to fit.

Instead of driving off, I pull into an empty parking spot, pick up my phone from the floor and click open the message. There is no way my anxiety will let me get home without reading this.

You_Run_Ill_Chase : Come out, come out, wherever you are, little dove.

I stare at the words for so long—minutes, hours, I don’t know—reading them over and over. When I finally pull my eyes away, I catch the clock. Twenty minutes have passed. I need to get home. I close the app, open my GPS, and head home. When I pull into the driveway, I don’t even remember the drive.