Page 107 of I Just Want to be Yours

Once we reach Dave, he moves out of the way so we can step down. Mya pops a hand on her hip, and stares at the hotel like she might be able to spot Marty from here. “Have you called him?”

I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “Yeah, because I sort of have a plane to catch.”

Dave looks down at his phone, checking the time. “I’ve been calling him almost nonstop for twenty minutes.” He lets out a sigh before pressing dial and holding the phone to his ear.

A twinge of panic ignites in the pit of my stomach, and I do my best to try to dismiss it. I’m sure Marty will get here in time. He’s never gone completely missing. He’ll show up with a cocky grin, wearing last night’s clothes, and we’ll all give him shit for almost making us late.

It will be fine.

Dave keeps calling. Brady checks all the common areas of the hotel. Brian practically bullies the front desk staff with interrogating questions. And Mya has resorted to knocking on guest’sdoors, even though I’m pretty sure the staff specifically told her not to do that.

And I’m by the fucking RV in case he decides to show up like he was supposed to thirty minutes ago. I’ve been pacing for the last ten minutes because sitting still has proven to be impossible. Pulling out my phone for what feels like the millionth time, I try to calculate how fucked I am.

If he shows up soon, I might still make my flight. I run a hand through my hair and get back to pacing. Part of me wants to text Margot to let her know I might be late, but then I remember she doesn’t even think I’m coming.

“We got him!” I hear Dave’s voice yell from a distance.

My head snaps up to find everyone headed my way with a tattered Marty in front. He looks like he just woke up. Dave keeps pushing him forward every few steps like he’s a prisoner of war, and it’s nice to see I’m not the only one frustrated.

I jump back into the RV to make room for the rest of them. There’s loud arguing as soon as they’re all inside, and it takes me a moment to make out what everyone’s saying in the chaos.

Dave yells for Brady to drive us to the airport.

Brian lectures Marty on answering his goddamn phone when he or Dave—or anyone in the band—calls him.

Mya rattles on about what a selfish, desperate, lonely, pathetic motherfucker he is.

And Marty spews a string of insincere apologies that sound more like he’s just trying to get everyone off his back.

I don’t say a word. I can’t. All I can do is look at the time and hope by some miracle I still make my flight. That I’m still able to see Margot tonight. That she’ll even talk to me once I get there. That all of this will be worth it.

Everything calms down once we’re on the highway. The yelling stops. The chaos settles. Mya comes over and tries to talk to me, but I’m only half listening. All I can do is look outthe window and count the mile markers. Every time Brady lets off the gas, I look ahead for a possible traffic jam or an accident up ahead. I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking stressed.

“You’ll make it,” Mya says, sensing what I’m thinking.

I shoot a glare in Marty’s direction. “I better.”

He looks at me, his eyes widening to feign innocence, but it just makes him look stupid. “Hey! I said I was sorry.”

“Shut the fuck up, Marty,” Dave calls from somewhere in the back of the RV.

My knee bounces, and I hug my backpack to my chest. Why do we have to live in an RV? The van might have sucked in a lot of ways, but at least it could weave in and out of traffic if we needed it to.

I wish it got easier to breathe once we pulled off the highway, but then we were in city traffic. I held my breath until we turned into the airport. I could barely breathe as I said goodbye to everyone and jumped down from the RV just to run into the airport entrance. My chest was tight the entire time I had to stand in line for security. And every time TSA looked at my boarding pass and said, “Better hurry,” or “You’re cutting it close,” my nerves only wound tighter.

As soon as I was in the clear, I ran to my gate with my backpack slung over my shoulder and my guitar case in hand. I have no idea if people told me to slow down, or if I was getting looks from other travelers. I didn’t care. All I cared about was getting to her.

But the gate was empty.

And now, as I sit with nothing but vacant chairs around me, I know one thing for sure. I definitely won’t get to Margot in time.

60

margot

I’ve beena wreck all afternoon. How ready do you bother getting for something you’re determined isn’t a date? How much effort is too much? Will he read into something he shouldn’t? Does my mascara say I’m putting myself out there for the taking or does it just look like mascara?

Rae and Matt left a little while ago, so I’ve been alone with my spiraling thoughts. I’m afraid of seeing Jackson, but the thought of him coming here to find me gone isn’t exactly better. I’m sure he won’t come. He’ll probably either stay with the band or go to Matt’s parents’ house. That’s what I would do if I were him. It’s what makes sense. Plus, if he were coming here still, he’d tell me. Wouldn’t he?

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