Page 40 of I Just Want to be Yours

Our conversation lingers in the back of my mind. How could he think he disappoints me? And Matt? The guy is his biggest cheerleader. By the end of the call, I think he knew it was all in his head, but I can’t help wondering how long he’s felt that way.

I thought I would have heard from him by morning, but as I squint at the screen, my eyes still heavy with sleep, there are no new messages. Jackson may not have texted me last night, but a notification for American Thieves stares back at me. I unlock my phone and tap on it.

My heart sinks in my chest as soon as the picture loads. It looks like they posted it after the show. A large group of people stand backstage. It’s the members of the headlining band and everyone on the American Thieves crew.

My eyes immediately jump to where Jackson stands in the photo. Sweat glistens on his skin making the ends of his haircurl at his neck. One of his arms is around Brady and the other around Mya. The sight feels like a blow to the chest, and there suddenly isn’t enough air in the room. Sitting up, I zoom in, noticing where her hand rests around his waist and the way his arm casually falls over her shoulder as they stand side by side.

And even though it’s stupid—so incredibly stupid—I have to fight the sinking feeling in my gut. The longer I look at the photo, the harder it is to keep it at bay. My jealousy isn’t warranted. I know it isn’t. But it’sloud.It’s screaming at me, taunting me, and a harmless picture has put a heavy strain on my heart in a matter of minutes.

A tear slides down my cheek, and I curse as I wipe it away.

I wonder if I’d still feel like this if he had texted me? Maybe it’s hitting me harder because I haven’t heard from him. Maybe hearing from him—knowing he’s thinking of me—would have made me see this picture for exactly what it is.

A backstage photo with the band.

He told me I’d like her, and maybe I would, but all I can think about iswhyhe thinks I’d like her. Is it because he likes her, too?

How much?

This is ridiculous. Turning my phone over, I leave it on the bed and head into the kitchen. As I round the corner, I see someone standing in front of my open refrigerator, and my legs lock. My heart stops, and for a fraction of a second, I let myself imagine how it would feel to have Jackson surprise me like this.

I know it’s not him. The sandy blonde hair poking out above the fridge door tells me it’s Braden, but for one fleeting moment I let myself pretend. Hope soars into my chest only to come crashing down because I can remember so clearly when itwasJackson here in the mornings, and the ache that feeling knocks into my chest is enough to steal the air from my lungs.My eyes burn with the threat of fresh tears, and I frantically try to blink them away when Braden pulls back to look at me around the fridge door. “Hey. Sorry if I woke you. We’re out of milk, and Matt said—” He pauses and slowly shuts the fridge. “Hey, are you okay?”

I quickly wipe the corner of my eye with the back of my hand to stop anything from falling. “Yeah,” I say with my best smile. “Sorry. I just woke up.”

He nods but doesn’t take his eyes off me, and his frown deepens. “Did something happen?”

God, why does he have to sound so genuine? Just the fact that he cares threatens to bring new tears to the surface. “No, of course not.” I wave him off and walk to the Keurig, so I can turn my back to him without making it obvious. As I reach overhead for a mug, there’s no sound of him opening the fridge again, and I can feel him studying me. Doing my best to sound upbeat, I ask, “Think we’ll all order pizza tonight since it’s Friday?”

Only then does the refrigerator open again, and I let out a breath as I relax my shoulders. “Probably not. I think Matt and Rae are going out tonight.”

“Oh.” I meant to say it happily, but even I hear the sulkiness in my voice. My schedule doesn’t match up with Rae’s lately, and I miss her. It’s bad enough that Jackson is gone, but if I have to stay in this apartment alone with my thoughts, I might lose it. I know she’s not busy on purpose. If anything, I’m the busy one. I’m gone all day, and when I come home at night, I usually don’t have the energy to do anything. She and Matt are allowed to make plans for a Friday night. It’s exactly what they should do.

“Yeah,” Braden says behind me. He finally gets the milk and starts walking toward the door. “I’ll bring this back later.”

Looking over at him, I flash him a small smile. “Keep it.”We share almost everything, anyway. Sometimes it feels like we should have just rented a place that could fit all of us.

He gives me a wave without saying more, and I wait for the front door to open and close. As soon as I’m alone again, I choke back a sob like that performance just took everything out of me. I hate feeling fake. It’s never been something I’m good at, but the last thing I want to do is talk to Braden about anything.

That, and the quiet of the apartment feels like a punishment. How lonely and pathetic must I be if just the sheer absence of noise is enough to tip me over the edge?

With my coffee in hand, I wipe my traitorous eyes and head back into my bedroom to start getting ready for work. I’m hoping Mr. Richie Rich has emailed me back his responses to my interview questions. The sooner I can get that article finished, the sooner I can pour my heart and soul into the two-page spread for the bookstore.

My phone lights up on my bed, and I walk over. Setting my coffee down on my dresser, I tuck one leg under me as I sit and get my phone off the blanket.

Jackson:

Remind me to never drink Patron again.

I should be happy, but all I can think about is the fact that he was drunk while he was hanging out with another girl, and I’m back to spiraling. Does he think she’s pretty? I’m sure he does. He’d be crazy not to. Cute button nose, pink hair pulled back in short French braids, trendy overalls and tattoos . . . that’s what she looked like last night, anyway.

Swallowing the burning questions bubbling inside of me, I type a response.

Margot:

Rough night?

Those three dots appear, and his response comes sooner than I thought it would.

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