Run Away With Me

Chapter 12: Be careful.

The moment I set foot on the metal of the train platform, Goosebumps make permanent home on my skin. Little bumps of nerves bundling up and informing me that something isn't right.

My neck burns.

There are eyes on me, countless. Watching me, dissecting me, placing me on the operation table and I don't think I will survive. They zero in on me from all directions and I can't pinpoint at least one without looking suspicious.

Jamaica pushes me to the side with his small hands, complaining that I'm in the way. As I turn to look at him, I take the chance to scour the place. Random people fill my gaze, supposedly normal, yet there are more than ten hiding between the indiscernible.

Orla exits next, eyes going around the bustling crowd before she finds us by a pillar.

"What's wrong?" she asks and I use her to search the other side of the station, "motion sickness?" she mocks and I force on a smile to humor her. She rolls her eyes and leans against the pillar.

Can they see me, can they see how panicked I am even though I put my mask on, can they see inside my head, can they see how uncomfortable they make me?

I convince myself they can. I need to get out of this place as soon as possible.

I let my eyes roam the place and it lands on the messy black hair that sticks above other people's heads. When he breaks through the crowd he halts for a fraction of a second.

The area under his eye twitches.

He stalks towards me and takes my wrist, pulling me along until the night air blows in our faces. I hear Orla and Jamaica's confused grunts, but Nao ignores them and speed walks down the street.
Speed walking turns to jogging, jogging turns to running and running turns to sprinting.

We run across the entirety of the city, reaching the farthest bus stop from the station.

When he stops I'm panting my tongue out, sweat pouring down my forehead. With all the elaborate twists and turns Nao's been dragging me through, I'm not surprised I'm on the point of hyperventilating, but it's worth it since I don't feel the prickling on the back of my neck anymore.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" Orla pants. Jamaica looks like he's about to welcome death with cheesecake and tea, eyes cursing us for making him do this exercise without further notice.

"There were people watching us," Nao says and spares me a knowing glance. He knows that they were focused on me. Why they were on me and how he knows that, only the gods may know.

I push my hand into his, relaxing when he grips it. Orla notices the interaction and crosses her arms, even though she looks like she wants to double over and die.

"I didn't feel anything."

"Blame your incompetence," Nao says, looking away.

My eyes go wide at the jab, mouth hanging open as my eyes dart to and from the poker-faced Nao and Orla, who wants nothing more than to hide her face deep underground.

I stare at the dark skinned woman from behind Nao and close my mouth, placing two fingers on it.

"He did not," I mouth, shocked that he has such snark.

Orla turns away and looks at the board with the arrival times on, muttering how we will need to wait for another twenty minutes before the bus arrives. After that she takes an interest in Jamaica to try and mask her embarrassment.

"Wow, you're something." To shut Orla up with three words is a feat all on its own and should be celebrated. "Clap, clap." Nao shrugs and looks down the road.