Page 48 of Just Don't Call Me Yours

Knowing she went out of her way to listen to more of my band’s music makes my palms sweat, and my eyes betray me, dipping to her mouth for a fraction of a second. I spot the tiny freckle on her bottom lip and my tongue wets my own before I can stop it. “You listened to more of our music?”

Her cheeks turn pink, and her eyes dart to the comforter she’s sitting on. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. I know you, and you’re in a band. Of course, I listened to their music.”

Her words hit me right in the chest. “Well, considering my own parents choose not to acknowledge what I’m doing, it’s . . . surprising.” I said it without thinking because it’s true. But the way Margot’s eyes soften makes me wish I could take it back.

“Are you serious?” she asks, and her defensive tone catches me off guard.

I nod.

She frowns. “Is that why you came here today? Because you had a fight with your parents about the band?”

With a tilt of my head, I give her my full attention. “What makes you think that?”

She shrugs, smoothing her hand over the bedding. “Well, I don’t see your guitar . . . you’re never without it. And then you showed up here . . .” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. You just didn’t seem like yourself.”

No wonder she’s been looking at me all day. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone pay this much attention to me—or care enough to try to figure out what I’m going through. Maybe Matt, but even he’s easy to reassure that I’m fine.

Remembering to speak, I say, “Yeah, my dad can be a prick.”

Margot hugs her knees to her chest. “I’m sorry.”

I scratch the back of my head. “Thanks.”

“For the record, he should cut you some slack.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You think?”

She smiles. It’s a small, sweet lift of her lips that makes her look more innocent than I know she is. “Yeah. You’re doing it all. The band and school. It can’t be easy.” Her eyes lock on mine. “You’re doing great. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

I could tell her I won’t be juggling those two things for long, but hearing her say that felt really fucking good, and I don’t want to ruin it.

“You said you guys have a new album out soon?” she asks.

All I can do is nod.

“I’m sure it will feel more rewarding once you’re actually on the recorded album, but it’s still something to be proud of.” She smiles. “Being in a band at all is cool enough.”

Other than Matt, no one has made me feel like any of this is something to celebrate. If she keeps this going it’s going to be fucking hard to want her less. I swallow, determined to push down everything I’m feeling.

She waves her hand. “Hello? Earth to Jackson?” I blink, but even when I open my mouth, no words come out. Rolling her eyes, she gets under the covers with a huff. “If you didn’t want to talk, you could have just said so.” She goes to reach for the bedside table lamp. “I don’t exactly want to be here with you, but at least I’m trying.”

“Why?” I ask before her hand can pull the tiny chain.

She looks over her shoulder at me, dropping her arm. “What?”

“Why are you trying?” I clarify.

Our eyes lock, and a tinge of pink touches her cheeks before she looks away from me again, lying on her side. “I don’t know.”

She blushed.

Why would she blush if she hates me?

The answer is that she wouldn’t.

“Hey.” Reaching for her, I gently put my hand on her arm.

Her entire body stills under my touch, but I let my hand linger to see if she pulls away.

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