Page 70 of Just Don't Call Me Yours

I don’t even know what compelled me to come tonight. I was about to go to Matt’s lacrosse game with Rae but changed my mind at the last minute. Going with her didn’t feel right—especially knowing Jackson would be here without Matt or anyone else for support. I never thought I’d turn down time with Rae for time with Jackson. I also never thought I’d drive to downtown Tampa alone to watch a guy in an alternative rock band . . . yet, here we are.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, suddenly not so sure I should be here. Jackson and I aren’t together. What if he doesn’t want me here? It’s not like he actually invited me. He asked if I was coming, and when I told him I wasn’t, he didn’t push the topic further.

Oh, my God. He didn’t even try to talk me into it.

I glance toward the door, wondering if I can leave without him ever seeing me, when the lead singer puts a standing mic in front of Jackson. He nods to the audience, giving them a small wave. Then he starts to sing, and all my racing thoughts stop.

His voice makes me pause, and a few women around me look like they’re in danger of getting drool on the floor. His singing voice has grit to it. It doesn’t pass over you, it catches and wraps around you until it’s the only thing you can focus on. It’s deep and rough, and . . . it’s hot. It’s really hot.

I can’t believe how natural he looks on stage in front of all these people. If I were up there, I’d be shaking. Jackson keeps his composure as he plays and sings, his voice never wavering. It’s like standing up there doesn’t faze him in the slightest. I guess that’s what people mean when they say someone’s a natural at something. Jackson is not only a natural when it comes to music, but he’s a natural when it comes to performing, too.

The song ends, and I’ve almost been in a trance. Blinking a few times, I bring my attention back to the lead singer as he holds an outstretched arm toward Jackson. “Ladies and gentlemen, Jackson Phillips!”

The crowd cheers, and Jackson shakes his head with a smile pulling at his lips, bewildered that so many people are clapping for him.

I’m clapping for him.

“And I’m Dave Lutz!” Dave says, “And we’ve got Mr. Marty Brewer on bass.” The other guitarist plays a few chords before falling back into an even tempo. “And on the drums, we have my lifelong friend, Brady!”

The drummer goes into a short drum solo, and Dave adds, “We just want to thank you all for coming out here tonight! We’ve got one more for you guys!”

The band kicks things up with one of their more popular upbeat hits, and even though Jackson didn’t look nervous before he sang, he’s looser now. He smiles more easily at the other guys in the band, even laughing when they give him an encouraging nod.

He’s beautiful like this.

Seeing him this way, completely in his element, brings out the best parts of him. It warms my heart and leaves an ache in my chest at the same time because seeing him this way has me second-guessing everything.

Maybe it’s not just sex.

Maybe a small part of me has feelings for him that go beyond the physical.

Maybe I’m starting to fall for Jackson Philips.

Just a little bit.

The song ends, and some of the crowd starts to clear. Some people stay behind, though, either grabbing drinks or hanging around to speak with the band.

And that’s when I realize Jackson has quite the fan club—most of the members being women. Some of them look like middle-aged women, but others are young—young and gorgeous. My chest tightens when he smiles at a stunning blonde who looks to be about our age. Her tight, teal mini dress accentuates all her curves—each one more desirable than the last. He nods to whatever she’s saying, agreeing with enthusiasm, and my heart plummets.

I know it’s irrational, but the longer she talks to him, the more I’m convinced she is the worst.

I could walk over there. I could interrupt, but I’m frozen in place. There’s an empty high-top next to me now that the couple sitting there has left, and I slowly take a seat on one of the high-backed chairs, my eyes never leaving him.

No wonder he said he doesn’t want a relationship. With the amount of attention he’s getting after just one show, I can’t imagine why he’d want to commit to one person. He could easily take home the blonde he’s still smiling at and do whatever he wants with her. I can tell by the way she touches his arm and the way she plays with her hair as she listens to him talk.

She’s probably really nice.

She’s definitely nicer to him than I am.

I consider sneaking out and making a run for my car again when he looks past the blonde in front of him, and those piercing eyes catch me. Everything inside me screams to look away, but I can’t. His stare pins me in place. He only briefly looks back at the girl to excuse himself before he locks on me again.

My heart pounds in my chest as he cuts across the room, and when he reaches me, he glances around. “Are Rae and Matt here?”

I shake my head.

He studies me. “You came here alone?”

I nod.

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