2. Margot
2
margot
“Matt has our tickets, right?” I ask Rae as I adjust my high-waisted shorts and crop-top. She and I have been getting ready in our apartment for most of the morning. We’ll be at the festival all day, and I’m buzzing to see Jackson on stage again. It’s crazy to think I haven’t seen him perform since the show in Chicago. The guys have mostly been working in the studio while he’s been here, making music for the next album, but this music festival is their one show here at home before they’re back on tour again.
For five months.
I freeze as I stare at myself in the mirror. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around him being gone for that long. He’s become a huge part of my everyday life, and I’m not ready for that to change.
“Yeah, he and Braden will meet us outside whenever we’re ready.” Rae walks over to share the mirror and adds another touch of mascara before she steps back and checks herself out. She looks incredible. Her blonde hair is curled, she has a cute bohemian headband, and she’s wearing shorts like mine. Paired with her long flowing sleeves, she looks like she could rival Stevie Nicks. “What time does Jackson go on?”
I step back from the mirror, finally content with my look. “He said we should be at the side of the stage around 1:30 so he can make sure we’re front and center before they play at two o’clock. He’ll join us after his set.”
“I can’t believe your boyfriend is in a band,” she says with a laugh and a shake of her head.
A smile stretches across my lips. “I can’t believe my boyfriend is Jackson.” When we first started dating while he was on tour, it was a little challenging, but not nearly as much as I thought. Maybe his bandmates being older is a good thing. They don’t get too wild, and Jackson usually made a point to text me every night. But having him here feels like a wonderful alternate universe. We’ve been good—better than good. There’s nothing like waking up and going to bed with your favorite person, and that’s what he’s become.
Grabbing her stuff, Rae chuckles. “Well, yeah. That, too.”
She texts Matt to let him know we’re ready, and by the time we make it out the front door, both guys are standing there, waiting for us.
Seeing Matt and Braden wearing khaki shorts and polo shirts doesn’t exactly scream music festival or rock concert, but I don’t think that’s ever been their style, anyway.
“Holy shit,” Matt says as he takes in his girlfriend. I can’t blame him.
“You have our tickets, right?” Rae asks.
Matt rolls his eyes. “Yes, I have our tickets.”
My mouth quirks. They’re both used to being the responsible friend. Rae has always kept an eye out for me, and Matt has always kept track of Jackson.
Matt reaches for his back pocket and pulls out the four tickets Jackson gave us. Stuffing them back into his pocket he says, “Now can I appreciate how my girlfriend looks? Because . . .” His eyes trail down her before finishing his sentence. “Damn.”
Rae shakes her head, keeping her lips tight to hide her smile. “Margot looks ‘damn,’ too.”
Matt’s eyes never leave hers. “It’s not my job to tell Margot how good she looks.” His eyes quickly jump to me, so he can add, “No offense, Margot.”
I laugh, loving how much he adores her. “None taken.”
“Well, as someone who isn’t dating either of you, you both look ‘damn,’” Braden says.
When my eyes meet his, I grin in appreciation. I like Braden. He’s a lot like Matt, who I adore, so it’s easy to be around him. Really, Matt couldn’t have asked for a better roommate. He might be lifelong best friends with Jackson, but he and Braden have more in common. And one thing’s for sure, his apartment is much cleaner with Braden living there than his dorm ever was with Jackson.
Rae gives Braden a smile, too. “Thanks.”
Matt nods toward the parking lot behind us. “Let’s go watch Jackson shred it up.” He starts playing air guitar, and Rae and I shake our heads.
“Do people really say that? ‘Shred it up?’” She narrows her eyes at him playfully.
He pauses for only a second. “Of course they do. I just did, didn’t I?”
Looking over at me, Rae sighs. “He’s going to want to join a band again after this, isn’t he?”
With a lingering smile on my lips, my eyes jump back to Matt who’s still walking backward and playing air guitar for us. Leaning in closer to Rae, I say, “Even if he does, I think you’re safe.”
Matt points at me, but somehow still manages to hold his invisible guitar with one hand. “I heard that, Margot. ”
Rae calls back to him. “She would know. Her boyfriend is a real rock star.”
My stomach flutters in excited anticipation at the sound of her words. She’s right. Jackson isn’t just some guy in a band anymore. American Thieves might not have headlined yet, but they’re on track for it. With the tour they just finished in the spring, and now the other tour that starts at the end of summer, people are going to know American Thieves.
And Jackson thinks it all started with my blog.
That article has become my favorite thing I’ve written. It’s pinned at the top of my site, and I still get hits on it every day. I haven’t written about the band since then. My nerves were too all over the place to write about the Chicago show, but maybe today will give me new inspiration.
They couldn’t have picked a more perfect day for a music festival. The sun warms my skin, but the heat isn’t overbearing. The air moves with an unusual breeze for this time of year, and the sky is the brightest blue with scattered white clouds. Everything about the scene in front of me feels picturesque, like when you’re remembering the past through rose-tinted glasses, but I’ve never felt more present.
Three stages make up the festival—a main stage and two smaller ones. As we walk through the rows of vendors selling everything from snacks to light-up bracelets, Rae and I have our arms linked while the guys follow.
Jackson said they’re the second band to play at one of the smaller stages, and from here, it looks like the first band doesn’t have much of an audience. It’s mostly people cutting through, or groups of friends collected in front of the show randomly. A small group of people stand at the very front of the stage, singing along to every word as the band wraps up their set. The sight makes me smile.
“There he is,” Rae says in my ear as she leans in close.
I stop scanning the scene to search near the side of the stage where Jackson casually leans against the bottom, and even though I just saw him this morning, a grin blossoms across my face. Sometimes I wonder if he knows how good he looks. Maybe that’s part of the appeal—how effortless it is for him. His jeans and black T-shirt are probably something I’ve seen him wear countless times, but it doesn’t matter. My boyfriend is really fucking hot.
I beam at him, and his smile widens. Letting go of Rae, I run up to him, and he laughs as he catches me in his arms.
“Excited for the show?” he asks as he smooths my hair back, letting his hand linger against my cheek.
“That must be it.”
Letting out a breath of laughter, he presses a kiss to my forehead before turning to our friends. “I’m glad the tickets worked.”
Matt cocks an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning upward. “Was there a chance they wouldn’t?”
Jackson shrugs. “I don’t know. The guy looked offended when I asked for them. We’re one of the smallest bands here—he had definitely never heard of American Thieves.”
Matt shakes his head disapprovingly. “He’s never heard of you? And he calls himself a professional?”
Jackson stares at his friend with a halfcocked smirk. He shakes his head and mutters, “Fuck off.”
Clapping a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, Matt grins.
Rae’s eyes skip to the stage in front of us before falling back on Jackson. “So, can we meet the band?” she asks with a pleading smile. “This is so cool,” she adds with a laugh.
Jackson stares at her for a moment like he’s trying to figure out if she’s joking .
“She’s serious,” I say as Dave catches sight of me. His shoulder-length blond hair is tied up in a bun today, and he has a little more of a beard than the last time I saw him. He points excitedly and drops what he was doing to hop down from the stage.
“Look who it is!” he says as he pulls me from Jackson to wrap me in a bear hug. “You brought my favorite redhead!”
“Meet the band, Rae,” I say with a laugh.