Page 47 of Just Don't Call Me Yours

Read my mind. “Know I’m not interested in someone.”

He studies me, and it feels like he’s peering into the deepest parts of me. My heart pounds as I wait to hear what he has to say. Eventually, he shrugs. “I just see it.” He nods to the phone in my hand. “Plus, if you text Emmet, he’ll have your number, and that’s the last thing you want.”

I let out a breath of laughter. “He’d probably start sending me messages about how I can fix my life if I meet with him twice a week.” I look over at Jackson. “At a discounted rate, of course.”

“Of course,” he says with all seriousness. “Until he recruits you.”

I laugh, and the sound that comes out of me makes him smile. It’s not a smirk. There’s no sign of arrogance in his eyes. It’s a real smile—one that generates warmth behind those piercing eyes, and the way it makes my stomach whirl should not be happening. Jackson Phillips’ smiles should have no effect on me, but this one has me feeling like one of the desperate groupies at his shows.

How am I supposed to spend an entire night with him?

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jackson

When a genuine smile spreads across Margot’s face, she looks like she could take on the world. Actually, when she’s pissed off, she also looks like she could take on the world, but I prefer this.

If she had smiled at me like this when I first met her, we’d definitely be doing more in this bed. She’s gorgeous when she doesn’t look like she wants you dead.

“This was his bedroom, wasn’t it?” she asks in a whisper like she might wake the sleeping ghost of high school Emmet.

I look around the room. Matt and I used to avoid coming in here when we were younger. That had less to do with the room itself and more to do with Emmet being in it, though. It looks like their parents have tried to turn it into a makeshift guest room, but it doesn’t look much different than it did back then. Except now all of Emmet’s shit is in the closet.

“Why didn’t you just tell him to fuck off?” I ask, without thinking.

Her eyes widen like I’ve caught her off guard. A small frown crosses her lips. “I mean, I figured I’ll never see him again, so what does it matter?”

I let out a laugh. “That’s the exact reason you should have shut him down. I would have paid good money just to see the look on his face.”

She gives me a heavy-lidded stare. “And what about Matt’s parents? I insult their son and then sleep at their house? No, thank you.”

I roll my eyes at that. “Oh please. Janet and Drew know he’s a tool. Why do you think he’s living with Grandma Lois instead of here? The houses are five minutes away from each other.”

Her lips turn upward into a slight smile as she sees the truth in what I’m saying. “I figured he was helping take care of her.”

Now it’s my turn to give her a dubious stare. “Do you think that woman needs to be taken care of?”

Margot laughs, and it brings a small smile to my lips. “No,” she says, still grinning. “She’s a firecracker. I hope I’m like that when I’m older.”

Looking her up and down, I mutter, “Oh, I have no doubt you will be. That’s probably why she liked you.”

She beams, and for a moment, she’s not the pain in my ass who lives across the hall. A dimple that’s been hiding makes an appearance, and it adds to how adorable she can be. Seeing her this way, in a pink tank top and gray cardigan that falls off her shoulder, makes it impossible not to look at her in a new light. I rake over her, taking in all the details I’ve somehow overlooked before. Her high ponytail falls over her shoulder, and a few short strands have pulled free near her ears.

She’s just a girl.

And I’m just a guy.

A guy who wants to kiss her.

It’s the same feeling I had when I saw her at my gig a few weeks ago, but stronger. The fact that we’re not in a bar, standing near the men’s restroom, makes it feel like more of a possibility.

I would have never kissed her there, and I still think she would have slapped me if I had. Hell, I’ve even tried to keep my distance since then. I don’t need to have feelings for Margot or anyone else. I thought if I could keep my head down and do my own thing, I wouldn’t feel this pull toward her still.

“So, when’s the next show?” she asks, and I wonder if she was thinking about that night, too.

“We have one in a couple of weeks. Think you’ll be there?” I don’t know why, but I don’t like the thought of looking out at our measly crowd and not seeing her. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye to see her shrug.

“Maybe,” she says. “If Rae and Matt go, I’ll probably go with them.” She turns toward me more, making it impossible not to look at her. “You guys sounded great, though. I’ve been listening to some of their older stuff, and it’s good, but I liked the songs you played at the show.”

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