Page 33 of Run For Me
But for some reason, now, as I read through a page dated from a little over a year ago, something in my head clicks. Information that I’ve had, that’s been floating around in my brain, finally comes to the front, screaming at me.
My little dove has a boyfriend.
A boyfriend.
This piece of information was something I knew from the very beginning, one of the first things I’d read, in fact. And I’ve seen his name at least a hundred times while reading through thejournal. I could tell you their entire story. But what I can also tell you is that she does not love him, despite her claims.
Her words about him are forced and unrealistic—fairytale-esque. Like he’s the prince who is going to save her from the tower. Little does she know, princes are pussies. Princes don’t do anything for themselves; they don’t get their hands dirty. They’re cowards disguised with money and flashy bullshit.
The good thing about me is I’m not a prince. Not even close.
I’m the monster hiding under her bed, the one watching and waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and I’d love nothing more than to join her in that tower.
Fuck saving her. Let’s hide away together, spend our days fucking.
Sounds perfect.
I open the Surge app, the app that has somehow become the most used on my phone over the last week and click on her profile. She has twenty-one friends on here, which isn’t surprising considering this app isn’t all that popular—neither is the game it was made for. But that means it won’t be difficult to find this Sam person.
The list of profiles she’s friends with pops up in list form when I click on it. I do a quick scroll to get an idea of what I’m looking at, and right off the bat I eliminate six people who are female.
And I grin when I see a username that very well could be this boyfriend of hers.
SameoldSam
“Sam, Sam, Sam… How god damn creative.” I tsk.
I click on the name, and smirk when I see it isn’t private the way my little dove’s was. Not that there’s much on here that’s useful to me. It’s a bunch of posts about the game—Solar Surge, whatever the hell that is. I did a quick search on it the other day, but I’m not a gamer, so I didn’t care to look into it. As I lookaround Sam’s page, clicking on things, I find exactly what I’m looking for.
Three little initials with a heart beside it, in old-fashioned keyboard form and not the bright emoji ones they have today.
SBW <3
“Come on, Sam, what are you? Twelve?”
I stare at those perfect letters, and I picture adding them to my body, tattooing them somewhere to stay forever. Maybe even with a little heart beside it. Would she like that? Or would it be too much?
My phone rings and when I see my father’s name on the screen, I roll my eyes so hard it hurts.
“Yeah?”
“Your mother called the office again. Please remind her she is not to call the office. I refuse to get into trouble over this woman.”
I groan, running a hand down my face. “You know I don’t talk to her.” And he does know this, though he doesn’t know why. Which is why he continues to ignore the fact that I don’t want to talk to her. He thinks it’s just me being a rebellious child. It’s not. Not even fucking close. I have my reason for not talking to that backstabbing bitch, but hell if I’ll tell him.
“Well, maybe you should, so she’ll leave me the hell alone. I’m doing enough for that old bitch.”
“Why is that my problem? You’re a big boy. Go tell her off.”
“So are you. So start acting like one. Tell her to stop calling the god damn office!”
The call ends and I stare at the phone with a scowl. What a peach.
If she’s annoying my father, that’s his problem. Keep me the hell out of it. I’m not a fucking mediator.
The call clears and the screen I was looking at before comes back up, catching my attention and erasing everything else frommy mind. I stare at the initials, reading them over and over in my mind, saying them out loud, tasting them on my tongue. What could my little dove’s name be?
Campus won’t reopen until Monday, so I have no shot of snagging Pop’s laptop again, but maybe there is someone who can help me in the meanwhile.
