Page 8 of Run For Me
This whole thing was thrown at me only two months ago. Before that, I had no sure plan to meet Sam. We’ve talked about doing so many things together, including sex, and I’m worried that will come up when we’re together, and I don’t know how to tell him that I’m not ready… after telling him for so long that it’s what I want. I don’t understand it myself, so how can I explain it to him?
Why did I spend so much time saying these things to Sam, if I didn’t mean them? I felt like I meant them when I said them, at least in the beginning. I care about Sam a lot. He’s my boyfriend and before that we were best friends. He’s the person I’ve turned to for everything. Even today, when I was panicking over my journal, he was the one I called. But the thought of seeing him in person, of him being in my house… it’s—I don’t know how to explain it. I just know it doesn’t feel right.
“How can you not be ready, Sailor? We’ve talked about this. For years.” He stresses the words, which makes me feel worse.
He’s right.
“I know, I just…” My words trail off as I stand there, jacket in hand, in front of the closet.
“Just think about it, okay? I gotta go,” he says.
He ends the call, not giving me the chance to respond.
With the heavy weight in my chest because of how Sam is acting over meeting, I throw on my jacket, grab my keys and bag, and get in the car to meet Amelia.
Chapter Six
Him
When I finally get into my apartment, I swing the door closed behind me and head straight to my room, tossing my bag onto the leather couch on my way. Having my own apartment, without a roommate, was a necessity when attending college. Thankfully, my father agreed—though he didn’t have much of a choice.
The journal is in my hand, and it’s been on my mind for hours. Literally, hours.
The girl who wrote in this journal is fascinating. Intriguing. I found myself reading through it every chance I got. Even if it was just a five-minute break, the book was open for me to read. At first, I was only interested in the good stuff, but then I got caught up in all the other things too. Like the fact every one of her family members has died, and she’s all alone. Shit luck.
Or that she has a boyfriend who she’s never met and who lives in Boston. Fucking Boston? That’s too far. How the hell do you keep a relationship going with someone you can’t fuck? There is no way I could handle that, and I can only imagine what kindof douche this guy is if he’s okay with it. If she hadn’t written about video chatting with him, I’d think she was being catfished. Everything I’ve read about this guy so far tells me he’s a major pussy with control issues. I can see it from a mile away. I hope she doesn’t plan on meeting this guy and taking things too far… wouldn’t want to regret losing your virginity to an idiot like Sam.
I lie on the bed and open the book to where I left the makeshift bookmark—a folded up piece of lined paper.
Sam brought up sex the other day. I wanted to write about it sooner, but I had to wait until today to do it. I only have so many pages in this book, so I’ve decided that only the thoughts still lingering in my head on Sundays will make it in here. I can’t waste space writing about things that don’t matter.
This, though… this deserves space.
Of course I told him I wanted to do it with him. He’s my best friend and I love him, but we aren’t even dating yet… Or is this his way of telling me that he wants to date me?
Boys are so confusing.
“Yes, love, boys are confusing. Men, however, are not.”
I flip through a few more pages, moving towards the end, wanting to find more entries about her wanting to be choked and chased and fucked raw. Now that is something I could get intoright now. I skim through and finally find one. It’s older than the one I read earlier.
The scariest thing happened today.
I was on the phone with Sam, and he started talking about sex again, telling me that he touched himself while thinking about me while he was in the shower. I’m so glad this happened on a Sunday or I would have broken my rule because there is no way I could keep this in. Anyway, he started talking about that, I think he was trying to turn me on or something, but it didn’t really work. What did turn me on though, was when I started thinking about taking a bath and being pushed under the water.
At first, I thought I was having a suicidal thought, but when I felt my private area tingle, I freaked out. What the hell was that about?
I groan and snap the book shut, tossing it aside. I glance down at the tent in my pants. Well, I may as well take care of it. Not like I have anything better to do. I grab the lube from the bedside table and squirt some into my hand before rubbing it all over my dick, slowly stroking and building the pleasure. My phone buzzes from beside me and I glance at it. It’s a photo from Mindy.
With my free hand, I reach for it and open the text as I slowly keep stroking, clicking on the photo to make it bigger. Mindy is standing in front of a full-length mirror, her tits out, making a kissy face. This bitch interrupted my jacking off for some basicbitch photo she probably sent to ten different dudes. I huff at my lack of excitement over it and frown when I see her text.
Mindy:You sure you don’t wanna hang out?
I consider it as I look at the photo again. Her tits are nice and full—thanks to all the money she put into them. Literally. Fake ones aren’t usually my thing, but hers don’t look so bad. Plus, I’m horny as hell, so maybe a little desperate. Not enough to go see her, though. Instead of typing out a text, I hit the phone button and bring it to my ear. She picks it up on the second ring.
“I can be ready in ten minutes.”
“Nah, stay right where you are,” I tell her.
