Page 27 of Just Don't Call Me Yours

He looks up from his laptop. “Sorry. I told Rae we could get dinner soon.” Shifting his attention back to the screen, he types away at the keys. “Want to come?”

I shake my head even though my stomach is starting to feel empty. I like Rae, and I like Matt, but for whatever reason, I don’t like being around the two of them alone. It feels off balance, the restaurant booth always ends up feeling more like a seesaw with two people on one side, and I end up floating in limbo until it’s over. “Nah. I’ll get my ass up and go get some food eventually.” We’ve been too lazy to walk to the dining hall and get any real food today. I’ve been getting by on an untoasted bagel and a microwave cup of noodles.

Like clockwork, the door across the hall opens, and Rae steps out. Looking past her, I scan the room for Margot. I catch a glimpse of her sitting at her desk on her laptop, her fingers hacking at the keys like she’s writing a damn novel.

I stare until the door shuts, and I straighten, bringing my attention back to Rae.

“Want to come with us, Jackson? I think we’re getting fajitas.”

I cock an eyebrow. “From where?”

Matt sighs. “Don’t ask. You already know.” He gets to his feet, putting his hand on the small of Rae’s back as he moves her out the door.

I let out a low laugh. “Have fun at Chili’s.”

Even as Rae is being pushed forward, she looks over her shoulder at me. “Want us to bring you back something?”

“No. Thanks, though,” I say absently, my eyes still stuck on the shut door with Margot behind it.

“See you later, man,” Matt says over his shoulder.

I give a weak nod, but the two have already rounded the corner, their voices softening as they make their way down the hall.

With the last string tightened, I should focus on tuning my guitar, but my hands lay relaxed. Matt and Rae may have left, but I still can’t stop staring at Margot’s door.

I wonder what she’s doing.

Did she eat?

I blink, shaking off the thought. Looking at my guitar, I force my hands to play. My fingers pick at the strings on autopilot, but my head isn’t in it. My eyes betray me and glance at her door again.

She’s probably writing about something in that blog she has. Izzy told me the name of it, but I can’t remember what it’s called. Maybe I’ll ask Izzy next time I see her.

This is bullshit.

I shouldn’t be thinking about Margot. Setting down my guitar, I carefully lean it up against the side of my desk. I slip on my shoes and head toward the door. I need to get out of this room. My hand runs through my hair, and I turn to lock the door.

There’s no reason for me to pause and look at Margot’s door before walking down the hall.

So why do I do it?

19

margot

Showered and ready, I grab my keys from my desk. My Monday morning English class starts soon, so I grab my bag and head toward the door. Turning the lock, I hear a second set of keys doing the same thing behind me.

Looking over my shoulder, I see Jackson standing with his guitar case leaning up against the wall as he locks the door.

“Uh, what are you doing?” I ask.

He stares at me like there might be something wrong with me before answering, “Going to class.”

Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I look at the time. “But you never leave this early.”

“So?”

“So,” I say as we start walking in the same direction to the class we share. “It’s weird.”

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