Page 33 of I Just Want to be Yours

“Because he’s paying us.”

I arch an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, what?”

Derek holds both hands in the air. “He’s paying for the space, and he wants it in next month’s issue. So, the bookstore story will have to wait.”

I grit my teeth, hating everything about this. That bookstoreneedsthe publicity, and I’m pretty sure this guy doesn’t. It’s probably just some vanity project for him—which is fine, but not when it takes away from a business struggling to thrive. My lips press together as I try to think things over. “The bookstore will be in the October issue?”

He nods. “Definitely.”

I’m still frustrated. We’re only a few days away from finalizing next month’s issue, so this is all last minute. I’ll have to send over interview questions and write a whole piece on this guy when I have school work piling up as it is. “Fine,” I finally say. “But the bookstore gets a center spread next month.”

Derek frowns. “Margot, you know we can’t?—”

I walk over to his desk and take one of the homemade donuts he brought. “A center spread, Derek.” I’m pushing it. I know I’m pushing it, but the faint smile pulling at his lips also tells me he doesn’t really mind.

“You’re killing me, you know that?”

“Thank you.” I take a bite of the donut. On my way out, I raise it above my head and call out, “Delicious as always!”

His low laughter behind me is all the confirmation I need that what I did was okay. My summer internship may have been the perfect way for me to feel comfortable around everyone, but I’m still technically their newest employee. I don’t think I’m in any position to bark orders at anyone, but it’s not me who’s being punished—it’s the bookstore. If I have to step on a few toes to get them the visibility they need, so be it.

The donut is raised to my mouth as I prepare to take another bite, but I freeze when I see Karah standing in the doorway of her office. “You’re looking pleased with yourself,” she says with a smug, knowing smile.

I shrug, not sure if I’m about to be praised or scolded for the way I handled that. “Small victories.”

She nods slowly, and as nice as she is, it’s still unnerving. “It certainly seems that way.”

I glance at my office door and wonder if I can be excused from this conversation. “Well,” I say, rocking back on my heels. “Lots of work to do.”

She shakes her head with a breath of laughter, and I duck into my office. I don’t think I take a full breath until I’m sitting in front of my computer again. My hands shake slightly as I reach for the mouse, but I feel good. I stood up for something I knew was right, and now all I have to do is interview some sleazy rich guy and email the bookstore to let them know they’ll be in the October issue with a full center spread instead.

My phone lights up on my desk in front of me, and I see anotification from the American Thieves Instagram account. It’s one of the few accounts I follow closely enough to set alerts for. I love seeing what Jackson’s doing—especially on the days he’s too busy to talk.

I swipe the screen open, and I’m met with a picture of the band wedged together on the couch of their RV, all holding up T-shirts for American Thieves. I notice Jackson first and smile. He’s sitting with the rest of the band with a grin that somehow looks bashful and radiant at the same time. It looks like someone gave him a hard time for not smiling enough right before the picture was taken, and they caught him mid-laugh.

My chest aches. I miss him. I miss him so much but seeing him like this makes it worth it. This is what he’s supposed to do. He’s radiant when he’s doing anything related to music, and as much as I’d love him to be sitting onmycouch instead, I’d never forgive myself.

I scan across the image, taking note of Dave, Marty, Brady . . . my heart stutters. Tilting my head, I focus on a girl sitting on the armrest of the tiny blue couch. She’s on the opposite end from Jackson. She’s pretty. And by the looks of her pink hair and casual pose, she’sfun.A feeling similar to panic rises within me, and I do my best to snuff it out. Jackson will be around a lot of new people while he’s on the road—Iknowthis. But he never mentioned a girl traveling in the RV with them . . . he never mentioned anyone other than his new manager.

I click on the caption and start scanning the words.

The crew is complete! Make sure you stop by and see Mya for all of your American Thieves merch! We’re coming for you next, Asheville!

The photo was posted minutes ago and already has close to one hundred likes. This is becoming the new normal for them. They’re getting more popular, and more people are starting to follow their journey.

Jackson said it was my article that made all this happen in the first place, which I find a little hard to believe. I thinkAmerican Thieves would have taken off with or without my help, but Jackson is always adamant I played a role in making his dreams come true. Maybe I did. Maybe it was my blog that put them in front of the right person.

My blog is the one thing I wish I left a little more time for in my new schedule. I still try to keep up with my posting schedule, but it’s been difficult. I’m not exactly giving myself time to find new things to write about either. What am I supposed to say?

Try this new restaurant! I haven’t eaten there, but the pictures on Google look great.

It doesn’t work that way. Even the photo American Thieves just posted has me itching to write something. The photo would make a great headlining image for a blog post, but I’m not there. I didn’t take it. I have no idea if someone actually had to make Jackson laugh right before snapping it.

I frown as I zoom in on the girl with pink hair, noticing her piercings and tattoos. She has a floral elbow piece, and even though I’ve never thought about getting a tattoo, I suddenly envy her. She looks like she fits in with his lifestyle, and part of me wishes I did, too.

19

jackson

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