Page 122 of I Just Want to be Yours

I text Dave and Margot once I’ve boarded my flight. It all feels unreal. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she’s willing to put certain parts of her life on hold . . . forme.My own parents can’t even manage to call and check in, but Margot can quit her job and move across the country to live with me on a bus. It doesn’t compute. I don’t know how I got so lucky for her to want me that much, but I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for everything she does.

Five hours later, I touch down in California. Between the back-to-back days of heavy travel and a sleepless night with Margot, I passed out for a couple of hours on the flight. I needed it.

I turn my phone off airplane mode, and a series of texts from Matt come in all at once.

Matt:

DUDE.

Margot is going on tour with you?

I knew you wanted her back, but I wasn’t expecting you to basically ask her to move in with you.

I’m kind of bummed you didn’t ask me.

I’d go on tour.

Maybe don’t tell Rae I said that.

Anyway, happy for you. I’m glad she came around.

It’s impossible to read the messages without the corner of my mouth lifting. I didn’t even think of it as asking her to movein with me. I mean, I practically lived with her over the summer anyway, so it’s not like we haven’t done that. But with Margot, the steps we take never really feel like official steps. We’re always just adapting to whatever our situation offers us, and right now, it’s her coming on the road with me.

Usually, Matt saying something like that would make me panic—especially if it’s something he hasn’t done yet. He and Rae are perfect. They’re two of the most compatible people I’ve ever seen. No one who sees them together can deny what they have. Ifhehasn’t asked Rae to move in with him yet, what business do I have doing it?

But I don’t feel any of that right now. I like the sound of Margot moving in with me. Even if it’s just onto an oversized bus with four other guys and Mya. Even if it means we won’t even share a bed because the bunks are too small. Even if it means Mya might steal her away from me to help with all her design projects. None of it diminishes the fact that she’ll be there.

I sent Matt back a quick text and ask him how Grandma Lois and the rest of the family are before tapping on the group chat for the band.

Jackson:

Just landed.

Marty:

That was today?

I roll my eyes. I hate when he tries to be funny.

Dave:

Almost there. See you in a few minutes.

I didn’t check a bag, so I step around the crowd waiting for their luggage and head for a vacant bench near the front where I can keep an eye out for the RV.

I send Margot a text letting her know I landed like I said I would.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice says from somewhere behind me.

I look over my shoulder to find two girls about my age practically huddled together like they’re not sure which one should approach me first.

One of the girls with short blonde hair raises her hand in a sort of wave, and I assume she’s the one who spoke first. “Sorry, but um . . . are you Jackson Phillips?”

I don’t think it will ever not feel weird to have a stranger already know my name. Turning to face them, I say, “Yeah, I am. What’s up?”

She looks at her friend with big eyes, and it makes me think her friend doubted it was me. The other girl has brown hair with blonde at the ends, and she definitely looks like she’s stopped breathing at this point.

The blonde speaks again. “We’re both huge fans. I mean, especially Amy.” She nudges her friend who still looks very much in shock. “She’s listened to all your stuff on repeat for months.”

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