Page 45 of Run For Me
I swipe through the photos and get a wider view. There’s a bunch of girls in the middle of a crowd, mostly shirtless and dancing. All of the people forming the circle around them have wide eyes, mouths open, mid-hooting and hollering, their hands and arms raised in the air, cheering the girls on.
It looks like a wild time. So not for me
“Some party,” I say, handing her phone back.
She shakes her head. “I was gone by the time this happened.” She shakes the phone, her tone telling me she’s tired of saying it. “I only ended up there in the first place because my roommate wanted to go. She was my ride to and from, so when her and her boyfriend got into a fight a half hour after being there, I didn’t have a choice but to leave.”
“So, your parents are pissed?”
“To say the least.”
“Do they really have a say in this, though? You’re old enough to be here. You’re on a scholarship. They can’t force you to go home or anything.”
She places her phone on the table. “Oh, I know that. I’m worried about them coming up here and making a scene. You don’t know what it’s like having a strict mama and papa from the south. She’ll show up here and make the Dean feel this small.” She holds her finger and thumb half an inch apart. “I’ll be the laughingstock of the school for years to come.”
“That really sucks, Amelia. I’m sorry.”
“I just worry I’m never going to fully be free from them, ya know? Like… what is it going to take to be my own person? Are they going to be breathing down my neck after I’m married with kids, too? I don’t even want to think about that. Ugh! I move across the country and somehow they’re still controlling my life. It’s terrible!”
“I wish I knew what to say. I don’t have that problem, so I don’t know what kind of advice to give.”
She frowns. “I’m sorry, Sailor. I wasn’t even thinking…” She’s referring to the fact I have no family to tell me what to do.
“It’s fine. I’m used to it at this point. But hey, if you ever need a place to hide, I’ve got my own house. The guest room is full of old boxes, but I think there’s a bed in there somewhere.” I shrug. Her frown slowly turns into a big smile.
“Thanks, Sailor. I’m so glad I met you.” She places her hand on top of mine, and I smile when it doesn’t feel weird, but instead reassuring.
The cook calls our number, and we go up to grab the food. Amelia brings the burgers back to the table as I get our drinks. We stay for an hour, eating our food and chatting about classes. I think of telling her about the stuff with Sam, but decide I’m not ready to get into all of that just yet. Amelia and I are building a good friendship, and I’m worried if I bring up all of this stuff, she’ll think I’m some kind of weird freak who can’t make friends in real life. Which isn’t all that wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Him
I’ve always known I was a little fucked in the head. I lack the normal amount of empathy and kindness that the average person has, but I’ve embraced that about myself. Makes it easy to handle bullshit—like the bullshit with my parents and clingy girls like Mindy.
But this… this takes the fucking cake.
It’s broad daylight, late afternoon, bordering evening time. After a bit of Google Earth stalking, I found my little dove doesn’t have close neighbors. None that should notice me breaking into her house, anyway—as long as I get in quickly, of course.
I parked my car down the block and walked over so no one would question the strange car in the driveway. It’s not that I don’t want her to know I’m here, I just don’t want her to know who I am. That will ruin all the fun. If someone goes to her with the details of my car, it’s only a few internet clicks away from finding out my name and everything else about me.
I pull the lock-picking kit from my pocket and hope this is as easy as I remember. I haven’t had to break into something in years. In fact, the last time I did was fucking hell. Probably why I’ve avoided doing it for so long. It takes only a minute or two and the door is swinging open.
“Jesus, Sailor. At least lock the damn deadbolt,” I mutter as I step in and swiftly close the door behind me. I’m grateful she didn’t lock it, but let’s be smart. She’s a single, young, smoking hot woman living alone. The girl should have a complete security system in her house. Of course, that was the first thing I checked for when driving by. Could be a good birthday present… But that’s still so far away. Christmas maybe? It’s something to think about.
I lock the door and look around, taking everything in. This is not what I was expecting to walk into. I know from reading her journal this house came from her grandparents, but I didn’t expect it to look like they still lived here. Crocheted blankets on the sofa, classic wicker end tables and matching coffee table. The counter tops are a garish yellow, and thankfully the cabinets are stained wood and not bubble-gum pink or puke green. The house is ready for a 70s sitcom set.
The dining table tucked in the far corner is also wicker with a glass piece over the top, place mats in front of each of the four chairs. There are a few plants hanging in front of the windows that are covered in sheer curtains. The pictures on the walls are reprints of famous paintings, even the classic dogs playing poker and The Last Supper—which is interesting because I know my little dove isn’t religious. She’s mentioned it more than once in that journal of hers, talking about how her grandmother always urged her to go to church. Something about finding God will help her through her tough times.
Looking around, I can tell you my little dove hates change. I bet none of this stuff has been moved since her grandparents put it there.
From the outside, you can tell the house is small, just one floor with an attic that’s full of old decorations and family heirlooms, I’m sure.
I make my way deeper and find a short hallway to the right. There are three doors, two on the left and one straight ahead. The door ahead is open and I get a small glimpse into the bedroom I assume is hers. My feet haven’t moved so quickly in years.
I’m hit with this intoxicating smell that can only belong to her. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, my dick already hardening in my pants. I take another deep breath, then let it out before opening my eyes, wishing I could bottle this up and take it with me.
I scan the room. Now this… this looks like it belongs to my little dove. It’s messy and chaotic. Clothes thrown all over, the bed sheets are tangled, and one of the bi-fold doors on the closet is off the track and about to fall off. I walk over to it and see the screw on the track needs to be tightened. Simple fix. I take the pocketknife from my back pocket, straighten out the door and tighten the screw as much as I can. Wouldn’t want an accident, little dove.
