Page 46 of I Just Want to be Yours

His mouth is on the girl’s neck, and I just know he’ll leave a mark. He’s devouring her, and the movement of his hand under her shirt suggests he’s rolling and pinching her nipple with as much enthusiasm. His other hand—the one I didn’t pay attention to before—is slipped into the front of her unzipped jeans. It’s hard to see with the way his body covers hers, but there’s no mistaking it now. I have no idea how I missed it the first time.

Mya’s right. The girl is close. She looks like she’s telling him what to do. It only takes a few more moments for her eyes to roll back. Marty covers her mouth with his and hardly waits for her to come down from her high before he pulls her toward the bathrooms.

“Don’t look so horrified.” Mya laughs. She’s been watching me. “You’re a rockstar. That’s what rockstars do.”

With a shake of my head, I say, “The only horrifying thing about that is the fact that it’s Marty.”

“Fair,” she says as she grabs an item for a customer, handing it to them and taking their payment. Over her shoulder she adds, “By the looks of this line, you could have your fair share of fun, too.”

The pull between my brows quickly turns to surprise when I see the line she’s talking about. Close to two dozen women stand with their friends in front of the merch table. “What the hell . . .”

Mya multitasks, accommodating the next customer as she talks to me. “Notice how they’re not looking at the merchandise? They’re looking atyou.” She laughs. “That girl must have told her friends the hot guitarist from American Thieves was hanging out near the table. Looks like word got around.”

I blink, taking in the scene in front of me with fresh eyes. She’s right. The girls are giggling and pointing at me as they talk to their friends. My eyes wander to the girl with short black hair at the very front of the table as Mya hands her a keychain. She’s already looking my way, and when our eyes meet, her cheeks flare and she drops her gaze to the ground.

What the hell is going on?

26

margot

Rae eyesmy small duffle suspiciously. “You’re sure you have everything?”

I nod and set it next to our front door. “I’ve only had multiple weeks to make multiple lists of everything I’ll need.” Even though I never lost the first list, making repeat lists of things to pack made me feel like I was getting closer to this day. It helped me feel like I was at least doing something to prep for the trip I wanted to go on so badly. I probably have at least a dozen in my notebook by now. All decorated with the same items in different orders.

She’s still eyeing my bag like it might belong to Mary Poppins, so I laugh. “I’m only gone for a day. You’re literally picking me up tomorrow.”

Lifting her eyes from the bag to me, she gives me a faint smile. “Excited to see him?”

Just the indirect mention ofhimhas my toes curling in my Timberlands. “You have no idea.” The words rush out of me like a secret I’ve been holding for far too long.

“Nervous?” she asks before quickly adding, “Not that you should be. It’s just been a while since you’ve seen him.”

Resting my arms over the back of one of our kitchen barstools, I pick absently at the sleeve of my sweater that’s too warm for Florida but will give me an added layer when I land in New York. “Yes.”

I am nervous. I hate that I am. I want to see Jackson more than anything, but a small part of me can’t help wondering if things will be different. What if we don’t have that same spark we had this summer? What if we can’t find things to talk about after being apart for so long? What if he’s realized he needs to be single while he’s on tour?

Okay, that last one might be a stretch. I don’t think he’d actually break up with me, but what if I’m wrong? What if he wants to do it in person, so he’s just been nice enough to keep me content until he can see me face to face?

“You’re spiraling.”

My eyes jump to meet Rae’s, and I give a tiny nod.

Sympathy coats her features. “Don’t.” Walking over to me, she takes both my hands, stopping me from fidgeting with my sleeve. “Helovesyou, Margot.” I open my mouth to correct her, but she cuts me off. “And I don’t care if he hasn’t said it yet. I know he loves you, and you should know it, too.”

My lips twist. I want to contradict her. I want to lay out all the times hecouldhave told me if that were the case, but relaxing my shoulders, I just say a quiet, “Thank you.”

She gives my hands a squeeze before letting go to grab her keys off the counter. With a shrug and a coy smile, she says, “And if he doesn’t, I’m sure Braden wouldn’t mind having a shot.”

“Rae!”

Laughter bursts from my best friend. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

Rubbing my arm, I grimace. “I might have noticed.”

“It’s bad.”

I wince, rubbing my palm over my forehead. “Is it?”

---