Page 68 of I Just Want to be Yours

You’d think I’d be used to having his undivided attention by now, but my thoughts still scramble. I’m breathless and wildly aware of how hard he is against me, but I manage to say, “We overslept.”

He blinks, his eyes clearing before he reaches for my phone, flipping it over to see the time. He stares at the screen a beat longer before letting out a groan and giving me a peck on the lips. “Okay. Let’s get you to the airport.”

My stomach sinks. It shouldn’t. That’s exactly what I needed him to say, but I’m left wishing he would have said something different. Jackson is my reckless streak. He’s the one I throw caution to the wind with. Maybe that’s why I let myself imagine what it would feel like to have him sayfuck itfor half a second. Maybe that’s why I secretly wish he wanted me to ignore my responsibilities, so I could be persuaded.

It’s ridiculous.

Trying to rid the feeling, I move from underneath him and start to gather my things. Jackson lies on the bed, staring at theceiling for a moment before he looks over at me. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk to the nightstand and unplug my phone charger.

“Margot.”

I look up, still leaning over.

“I need you to put on pants.” His eyes trail to my ass, and I’m suddenly aware of the position I’m in.

“Right. Sorry.” I huff a laugh and carry my clothes into the bathroom, leaving him to rub both hands over his face.

Shutting the door behind me, I stare at myself in the mirror and take a steadying breath. I should rush to get ready. I should be haphazardly throwing my things into a bag and scrambling to get out of here as fast as I can, but for whatever reason, I can’t make myself move faster. I just stand and look at myself in the mirror, realizing I haven’t really looked at myself in months. Physically, nothing has changed for the most part. My auburn hair is still long, my body still slender. But something behind my eyes makes me pause. I’ve changed—I’mstillchanging. I’m not sure how fast or slow, but everything I’ve done this past year has shaped me into a better version of myself. I’m more confident in who I am, I’m more sure of my actions, and I’m not as afraid as I used to be.

And he’s a huge part of that.

I hear Jackson rustling in the room and my gaze jumps to the door behind me in the reflection of the mirror. With one last glance at my own eyes shining back at me, I get dressed and gather my things. I can do this. I can go without seeing him again for months. I love being around him, but I can stand on my own two feet. I’m not the same girl I was when we met. I’m not weak. When I get home, I’m going to make a better effort to be more involved in my lifethere.Because I miss this version of me. I miss not feeling hollow.

41

jackson

We’re already backat JFK, and it feels like we were just here. Well, I guess we were. When I picked her up yesterday, the possibilities felt endless.

Now she’s anxiously looking over her shoulder at the line, and I know she needs to go. It took everything in me not to drag her back to that bed this morning, but she gets stressed about things like being late. And as much as I’d secretly love for her to miss her flight and stay longer, I can’t be the reason it happens.

“Okay,” she says, bringing her attention back to me. She takes a deep breath, her eyes searching mine. “I guess this is it.”

I nod. “Go. Don’t miss your flight.”

She frowns, and I somehow feel like I’ve said the wrong thing. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll um?—”

“December.”

She finally smiles. It’s a small one, and it fades quicker than I’d like, but she nods. “December.”

Kissing her, I want to memorize everything about this moment. The way she melts against me. The way she pushesup on her toes to kiss me deeper. The way I don’t want to let go.

When I force myself to pull away, I rest my forehead against hers. “Text me when you’re at the gate.”

“Okay.” Her voice comes out sounding more like a whisper, and I notice the way her delicate fingers grip the front of my jacket like it’s her lifeline—I try to commit that to memory, too.

“And text me when you land.”

She lets out a light laugh. “Okay.”

“Text me for anything. I don’t care if it’s early or late, or if you think I’m busy. Text me.”

She takes a small step back, and I think a piece of me goes with her. “I should go.” She points over her shoulder with her thumb.

“You should.”

But she doesn’t walk away. Her smile gets a little bigger, and she says, “December,” one more time before kissing me.

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