Page 53 of Just Don't Call Me Yours

“Sometimes,” he says with a shrug as he walks around me and stops in front of Matt’s door.

He read my blog? Is that why he wanted to kiss me? Because of what I wrote? I swallow at the thought as every word I’ve written over these past few months flashes in my mind, and I try to sift through it all in a matter of seconds. Still feeling dazed, I ask, “How do you even know about it?”

He gives me a sideways glance. “It’s not a secret blog, Margot.” When I don’t stop staring at him, he adds, “Izzy mentioned it.”

Of course, she did. Izzy interacts with almost all of my posts—even if it’s usually just a comment with a row of hearts. “I didn’t reject you,” I finally say. “I just didn’t realize you liked me.”

He blinks. “I don’t,” he says defensively, but then he shakes his head like it doesn’t matter. “Not like that, anyway. Look, consider it a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.”

I frown. I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered. “But you said it wasn’t the first time you’ve thought about me that way.”

His mouth opens, but he changes his mind about whatever he was about to say. “I’m going to knock on their door now.” He raises his fist and lightly knocks on the bedroom door where our two best friends are still sleeping.

Matt groans. “Go away!”

“Fat chance,” Jackson says, making sure to keep his voice low. “Are you two decent? Because we’re coming in.”

With that, Jackson opens the door and walks in like he’s done it a million times. Rae is already out of bed and unplugging her phone charger while Matt makes his bed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy our age actually make his bed, and I have to admit, I’m impressed.

“Can I wash my face and change before we head downstairs?” Rae asks the guys once she gets her makeup bag.

“Me too,” I chime in, perhaps a little too quickly. Rae looks up at me with a quizzical look. “What? You think you’re the only one who needs to wash your face?”

She just shrugs. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Jackson’s eyes snag on mine just long enough for my body heat to warm. He’s probably wondering if I’ll tell Rae what happened last night.

But nothing happened.

So, why does it feel like last night changed everything?

When Rae and I are in the hallway, she looks at my empty hands. “Don’t you need to get your stuff?”

“Oh, right,” I say with a laugh. Ducking into the room, I lean my head against the wall and take a deep breath. I need to get a grip. Not wanting to take too long, I grab my overnight bag and meet Rae in the bathroom.

She’s bent over one of the sinks as she washes her face. The oak cabinets look like they’re from the 90s, but the room is spotless. Some tiles look slightly crooked in areas, and I wonder if Janet and Drew put it in themselves when they first moved in.

It’s crazy to think Matt and Jackson grew up within these walls. I imagine two young boys making a mess of this bathroom with water guns they aren’t supposed to use inside. Maybe Janet once kept superhero Band-Aids in these drawers for when one of them inevitably got hurt. Even though Jackson didn’t live here, I can still see how this house—these people—shaped him.

My heart aches.

I should have kissed him last night. Fear of regret is what kept me from doing it, but now that I’ve done nothing, I regret that, too. At least if I kissed him, I wouldn’t be standing here, wondering what would have happened if I had. I wouldn’t feel the need to stare at his mouth every time he speaks, studying the curve of his upper lip. If I had just kissed him, I wouldn’t be clouded with hypotheticals right now.

“Are you okay?” Rae asks as she dries her face with a towel. I’m still standing in the doorway holding my makeup bag.

I can’t bring myself to look at her. She’ll know how busy my mind is with a single glance, and I can’t put my chaotic thoughts about Jackson into words. Plus, I don’t know where he stands. If I tell Rae anything, and then Jackson ignores me, I’ll look even more pathetic than I already feel. I nod and walk over to the second sink, setting my bag on the bathroom counter. Reaching for the faucet, I wait for the water to warm, but I can still feel her eyes on me.

“Was Jackson a jerk to you last night or something?”

“No!” I say, but my response only makes the line between her brows deepen. “No,” I say again, this time keeping my voice in check. “Surprisingly, he wasn’t.”

She’s still scrutinizing me with a side-long glance, but I splash water on my face and keep my eyes closed as I rub the soap into my skin.

Rae may not be able to read me as well as Jackson, but I’ve never been able to keep a secret from her. Is this even a secret, though? The logical part of my brain wants to answer that question with a no, but something inside me is dying to tell her. I’m dying to know what she’d think. Would she encourage it? Or would she tell me it’s a terrible idea and beg me not to see her boyfriend’s roommate as anything other than just that?

I don’t think I’m ready to know.

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