Page 16 of Run For Me
You_Run_Ill_Chase: Just a little preview of what your journal does to me. Reconsider taking it away… or maybe it’s incentive to take me up on my offer?
My eyes dart from the text, back to the photo, the emotions rolling through me confusing as hell as I try to work out why my body is on fire. Why my panties are soaked and my nipples are hard.
“You almost done, baby?” I whip my head up, focusing on the door. My mouth goes dry.
What kind of mess have I gotten myself into?
Chapter Twelve
Sailor
I slide into bed after plugging my phone in and making sure it’s on silent mode. I do not want to be questioned by Sam about my phone going off in the middle of the night if the journal thief can’t find something better to do than harass me.
My bed feels strange, having someone else in it. I can’t remember the last time I shared a bed with someone. Around the time my father died, if I had to guess. My mother and I were close, latching on to one another to deal with the grief. I’d wake up in the morning to find her in bed with me. At some point, I just started going into her bed when it was time to sleep because it made us both feel better. It stopped after a while though, because she soon stopped going to bed at all. Staying up throughout the night and then sleeping all day…
Sam scoots closer, throwing his arm around my waist and pulling me to him. He’s warm and smells good, but this feels strange... it doesn’t feel right. It shouldn’t be awkward, right? When you’re with someone, it should be comfortable. Itshouldn’t feel like a million spiders crawling over your skin. It should be like a warm blanket. Safe. Not like I need to get away.
He nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck. “I love you, Sailor. I’m so glad to be here.”
My heart skips a beat, and I swallow hard. “I love you too, Sam.”
As the words leave my lips, I wonder… Do I mean them?
I’m pretty sure I do. I have feelings for Sam, but they aren’t the same feelings he has for me. The love we have for each other is not the same, and I don’t know how to tell him that. I don’t even know why it’s taken so long for me to figure it out. When did it change? Did it actually change, or has it always been this way? Why am I only realizing this now that he’s in my bed? Do I want to tell him?
I got myself into this position. I made choices that got us here. I can’t tell him I love him and want to be with him one day, but once he acts on it, change my mind. That is unfair and a really shitty thing to do. Especially after all he’s done for me over the years.
No, I can’t do that to Sam. I have to make this work. I have to. It’s the best thing for me. Sam will love me and take care of me. He knows me better than anyone and is okay with my awkwardness, and it’s probably why he hasn’t freaked out about me being so weird now.
He accepts me for who I am.
But does he?
Sam doesn’t know the real me. What would he think if he did?
What would he think if he was the one who had read my journal? Read all those things I wrote about the thoughts in my head… the dark sexual thoughts. Would he accept that too? Would he… do it? Or would he be disgusted by them? The same way I was for so long and still am on some days.
Sam’s breathing slowly turns into a soft snore, and I turn my head to look at him.
Sam is kind, giving, thoughtful, and sweet. He comes from an all-American family. Married parents with good jobs—his mother is a psychiatrist, and his father is a cop. They’re successful. They live comfortably. They go to church on holidays and have dinners for their friends. I can’t imagine him doing any of the things I’ve thought about, but maybe he would. Maybe he would try for me? I’ll never know if I don’t ask, but how does that come up in conversation?
It doesn’t. There is no way I could bring this up to him. You don’t just ask someone to choke you… or to play a game of cat and mouse that ends in sex. That is not normal.
I’m not normal.
But I need to be. I need to fit in; I need to grow up and stop being the awkward little potato. I’m an adult now, and I need to do adult things. It’s time to stop living in a fantasy world full of games and hiding away. I’m in college, and I have no one left to care for me, so I need to take care of myself.
“I love you,” I repeat to Sam, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.
I’m going to make this work. I’m going to try so hard because I have no other choice.
I sigh as I roll over, finding the bed empty. I sit up, wondering if it was all a dream. There is no sign of Sam in my room. Was it really a dream?
“Sam?” I call out, throwing the blankets off me, and the cool air kisses my skin, causing goosebumps. My bare feet press against the carpet, and I make my way into the living room tofind Sam in the kitchen, cooking something on the stove. So, not a dream then. Why am I disappointed? “What are you doing?”
He turns and smiles, placing down the spatula and walking toward me. He slides his hands around my waist and kisses me. “Making breakfast.”
“Wow…”
