Page 52 of I Just Want to be Yours

Ignoring my comment, Margot tilts her head. “You didn’t mention anything about becoming so . . . popular.”

“Because it’s nothing.” Why would I tell her a good chunk of our fans have noticed me and it’s not for my music? Why make her worry for no reason? Girls was one of the things included in her holy trinity of rock and roll, and I’m pretty sure she’s less concerned about drinking and drugs.

“I wouldn’t say it’snothing.” Mya chimes in as she gets back to work. “He’s not allowed to hang out here with me anymore. He was becoming too much ofa distraction.”

“Oh, no.” The words come out bubbled with laughter as Margot eyes me with mock pity.

“You.” I point a finger at her. “Don’t start.”

She grins and leans across the table to kiss me. It’s a short kiss. A sweet kiss. But damn if it doesn’t make me want more.

“I talked to Dave about heading out early after our set.”

Mya shimmies. “For the big date!”

I glare at her. How am I supposed to leave Margot alone with this girl for the better part of an hour?

“A date?” Margot asks, not bothering to mask her interest.

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

She blinks. “I don’t think we’ve ever been on a date.” She opens her mouth to say more but shakes her head instead. Shifting her feet, she finally asks, “Like a real one?”

What is she talking about? We’ve been on lots of dates. We’ve been seeing each other for months. But as I try to think of a time I’ve taken Margot out on a traditional date, I come up empty. How have we never done that? How have I never looked at this gorgeous girl and told her I’ll pick her up at eight—or whatever the hell people say when they plan dates?

Mya pretends to refold one of the shirts on the table, but I can feel her eyes watching Margot and me closely.

Fuck, I want to apologize. I want to tell her right here that from now on we can go on as many dates as she wants. Wherever. Whenever.

But all I can do is swallow. “Yeah,” I say with a nod. “A real one.”

Margot smiles, but it isn’t the open grin I’ve come to love. It’s a sweet, small one that doesn’t hide the appraising pinch of her brows.

She’s looking at me like I just suggested we hop on a train and ride across the country. Who knew trying to be a good boyfriend would be so out of character for me?

Mya breaks whatever silent conversation Margot and I are failing to have. “Well, doors are about to open, Lover Boy. And you’re too pretty for the public.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I wave her off but keep my attention on Margot. “You’re okay?”

Mya puts her arm around Margot’s shoulder. “She’s in good hands. Don’t you worry.”

“I’m fine,” Margot assures me, and I’m relieved to see a more genuine smile from her this time.

“I’ll come back here after the show. Just stay here with Mya,” I say as I walk backward toward the stage.

“Yes,” Margot says with a laugh. “I’ll be here.”

My smile naturally widens at the sound of her laugh, and she blows me a kiss.

“Shit,” I mutter before changing gears and jogging back up to her. Leaning over the table, I grip the back of her neck and pull her mouth to mine. It’s a slow kiss. It’s one that hopefully tells her I’m sorry for not being the type of boyfriend who takes her on dates. One that lets her know how glad I am that she’s here, and how much I’m looking forward to spending the night with her. When I break the kiss, I say, “I wanted the real thing.”

Margot laughs again and playfully pushes me away. “Get out of here,” she says with a grin.

My feet bounce against the floor as I back up again, feeling lighter than I did the first time. “Don’t talk shit, Mya!”

Mya wiggles her fingers in my direction. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Lover Boy.”

With a breath of laughter, I shake my head and turn toward the stage.

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