Page 35 of Run For Me
He moves by me and opens a door that leads down a set of stairs. I follow him and end up in a finished basement that looks like something the FBI would have, not a nerd who’s in hissecond year of college—especially a lame college like ours. If he weren’t so hard on luck, the guy could have made it into Brown or Harvard, but since his record is so fucked thanks to one night of giving into peer pressure—one that had nothing to do with me, thank you very much—his whole life is ruined.
Fuck peer pressure, kids. Fuck it hard, right in the ass. No lube.
Orville goes directly to his gaming chair and sits down in front of his computer that has three large screens and a shit ton of wires and little boxes with blinking lights. The dude could call Jupiter if he wanted to. I stand back and wait for him to finish whatever he’s doing, tapping away on the keyboard so the screens filled with codes I couldn’t understand if my life depended on it disappear.
When he turns to me, he asks, “What do you need?”
“Should be simple for you. I need a name.”
“A name?” He pushes those glasses up his nose again, sniffling.
I nod. “A student. I have initials and the color of her hair.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you messing with me?”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“This sounds weird, even for you.” He shakes his head. “Okay, give me the initials and the hair color,” he mocks. I ignore his tone and give him the information.
He does a few things on the computer. Clicking and typing. Seconds later, she is on the screen.
Those enticing lips pull me in so hard I can barely breathe. And what’s better? All her information is listed right there, on the left side of the screen.
Literally, all of it.
Name:Sailor Bell Whitman.
Birthdate: May 16
GPA: 3.4
It has information about the previous schools she’s attended. And it has her phone number. Well, that will come in handy. I look over the numbers, memorizing them immediately.
“Do you want her class schedule?”
The words ring in my ear, and this guy is kind of an idiot. He’s just going to hand over some poor girl’s entire class schedule to me, not knowing what I’m going to do with it?
“Damn right,” I tell him, taking a step closer as my gaze goes back to the photo of her, hating how blurry it is on the screen, even with the high-tech shit this nerd has.
As I’m leaving, he hands me her class schedule, along with a paper that has a name on it. This must be the girl he’s interested in.
“You better not be doing creepy shit down here, Orville. I’ll tell Daddy if I need to.”
“I’m not, I swear. I only got this because I was already in the system. Besides, you asked for the same thing.”
“I asked for a name, not a schedule. Don’t hand this shit out to anyone who asks. Guys are fucked up.”
“I know, I know.”
I glare at him for a moment before leaving, hoping to instill fear, and once I’m in my car, I memorize my little dove’s schedule.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sailor
It’s two weeks before I hear from Sam. I’m surprised when I open my app and it’s not JT, but Sam. I ignore the disappointment.
SameoldSam:Hey
