8. Margot
8
margot
Matt and Rae stand in the doorway of Matt’s apartment like proud parents while Jackson hugs them goodbye. I watch from the outdoor hallway, patiently waiting, and I can’t believe the moment is already here.
Unless I go visit him while he’s on tour, the next time I see him will be December. I don’t think my brain can fully comprehend how many nights I’ll suddenly be spending alone.
When he came home in May, it felt like we had all the time in the world. It felt silly to talk about when he would inevitably leave again. August was far away, and we were happy. But now that the moment is here, I can’t help feeling like we’re unprepared—like we should have created some sort of well thought out action plan for our relationship.
“I’ll see you guys later,” Jackson says with another wave at Matt and Rae before he puts his arm around me. I smile at the contact and hope he can’t see the cracks forming behind it.
Neither of us says anything as we walk to his car in the parking lot. His stuff is already packed, and all that’s left is the backpack he has slung over his shoulder. My heart drums in my chest, and my feet feel heavy with each step. How did we get here? How is it already time to say goodbye?
I thought I’d be ready—more confident—more . . . something.
But all I can think about is how his new beginning feels like our ending. Jackson deserves to give music his full attention. He’s one of the most talented people I’ve ever known, and as much as I want to keep him to myself, it would be selfish to even ask. I’d snuff out the flame that burns inside of him, and I’d never forgive myself if that happened.
“Margot,” Jackson says, giving my shoulders a squeeze.
“Hmm?” Registering the concerned look on his face, I’m going to assume it’s not the first time he’s tried to get my attention. “Sorry,” I add, heat flaring in my cheeks.
I need to keep it together, just a little longer. Once he leaves, I can fall apart if I need to, but I can’t let him see.
“Are you sure you have everything?” I don’t know what else to say.
He lets go of me to put his backpack in the front seat, and despite the brutal August heat, I suddenly feel cold. “I think so.”
“And Dave doesn’t mind you leaving your car at his house?”
Jackson shakes his head. “Nope. That’s what all the guys are doing.”
“Okay,” I say, racking my brain for another follow up question.
Once he closes the car door, he turns to face me, and how good he looks shouldn’t be devastating, but it is. Because I’m going to miss every detail. I’m going to miss the way his hair always looks a little messy in the best way. I’m going to miss the spark of mischief behind those storm-like eyes. I’m going to miss the way his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he kisses me. I’m going to miss the way he makes me laugh, and blush, and feel so incredibly happy.
“Did you figure out your schedule for the fall semester?”
I blink and suck in a breath, bringing myself back to the present. With a nod, I let a faint smile come to my lips. I’m glad I’m not the only one delaying this situation with random questions. “Yeah. I’ll take classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and my internship is on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Busy week.”
I force a laugh. “Well, there isn’t much else I’ll be doing.” Immediately regretting what I’ve said, I fight the urge to grimace. If that doesn’t scream pathetic, I don’t know what does.
The corner of Jackson’s mouth quirks as he brings a thumb to my cheek. “You’ll still go out and have fun.”
“I know,” I say too quickly—even though it feels like a lie. I don’t want to go out without him. He’s the reason going out is fun. He’s the reason I want to let loose. Without him, it won’t be the same.
There’s a trace of worry behind his eyes, and I can’t take it. I can’t take him pitying me. Leaving is hard for him, but nothing is worse than being left.
“We’re both going to have lives while we’re not together,” I say with a little more conviction. “I’ll try not to get into too much trouble.”
He chuffs a laugh. “And if you do, call Matt.” He pulls me to him. “Hell, even if I were here, you’d have to call Matt because I’d be getting into trouble with you.”
My lips twist playfully. “You are a terrible influence.”
He gives me a peck on the lips. “You love it.”
I can’t fight my grin. “Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “I do.”
He smiles, but it fades too soon. Something in his expression turns serious as he brushes his thumb over my cheek. There’s something he’s not saying. I can feel the unsaid words hanging between us, and my mind betrays me, jumping back to the conversation I had with Rae. He wouldn’t say he loves me now, would he? Because I don’t want him to tell me he loves me just because he feels like he should —like he might as well get it over with now before he doesn’t see me for who knows how long.
If he ever says those three words to me, I want it to be because he wants to—because not saying it makes him feel like he’s going to explode. I want him to say it with absolute confidence, and I don’t want our weird timeline to add pressure to it.
I study his face and wonder if I love him. For so long, I fought my feelings for Jackson. I was afraid of how vulnerable he made me, and admitting I love him only intensifies that.
But I think I do.
I think I love him.
We’re both just looking at each other, his thumb absently tracing the line of my jaw as he rests his hand on the back of my neck.
His lips part, and I don’t know if he’s about to confess something or if he’s just taking a breath, but I kiss him before he has the chance to do either.
I kiss him before he potentially tells me he loves me for the wrong reasons.
And I kiss him deep enough to make him forget he was about to say anything at all.
His hands move to my hair, and he takes control of the kiss. Every time he moves his lips over mine, I can feel my mind settling as the chaos turns to calm.
Breaking the kiss, he leans his forehead against mine. “Visit me.”
“I’ll try.”
He shakes his head. “Margot, visit me. ”
I melt into him, my mind a blank slate. “Yeah. Okay.”
A light smile touches the corners of his mouth. He knows I can’t say no to him. Of course, I’ll visit him. There’s no way I’d make it to December. If I could afford it, I’d be going to every show. But I’ll settle for a single weekend.
I have to.