57. Jackson
57
jackson
This is the most unconventional Thanksgiving I’ve ever had, and considering last year my dad kicked me out of the house before we got the chance to eat, that’s saying something. It’s been a year since I almost kissed Margot in Emmet’s old bedroom. One year since I reached my breaking point and needed to know if she felt the same.
Now I’m sitting in an RV with four other guys and a girl with pink hair, eating Chinese food and talking about all the ways we need to prepare for the next tour. It’s crazy how much my life has changed in just one year. Last year, this was my dream, and now my dreams are about to get even bigger.
“Mya, how’s Jackson’s acoustic video doing?” Brian asks between bites of lo mein. There’s something about seeing him, still dressed in a fucking suit with his tie slung over his shoulder but eating Chinese takeout from the box, that makes me like him that much more.
He was pissed at me when I postponed our studio time, but after a few days of giving me the cold shoulder, he’s back to treating me the same as before. Maybe it’s a Thanksgiving miracle .
Mya pulls out her phone to refresh the latest stats. “Good. We’re almost up to one million views, and since I teased in the caption that the single would drop in the coming weeks, everyone is commenting and asking where they can preorder. I’m redirecting traffic there.”
Mya. Mya is my Thanksgiving miracle. I’m pretty sure if it weren’t for her showing Brian the benefits of dragging out the hype, he’d still be delivering death stares. He was able to work it out and found a few days early in the next tour when we can go in and record. For now, we’ll play the song live at shows, and Mya will keep posting about it online.
Brian smiles at her update. He gives a curt nod of his head. “Keep it up.”
“And how’s operation Margot going?” Dave asks in all seriousness.
“I wouldn’t call it an operation. I’m just going to show up.” I shrug. “Maybe there’s some hope if I can see her face-to-face. She did text me last weekend when she heard one of our songs while she was out, so that’s good.”
“Does she know you’re coming?”
I take in a breath and shake my head. “Nope. I mean, that was the original plan, but I haven’t told her I’ll still be there.”
Dave nods. “Would she stay if she knew you were?”
Resting my elbows on my knees, I clasp my hands in front of my mouth and shake my head. “I don’t think so.” It stings to admit it out loud, but deep down, I know that’s why I haven’t told her. Last weekend, she said she wasn’t doing great. I already knew through Matt, but it was nice to hear it coming from her. I told her I missed her, she told me she misses me, too. I asked her if I could text her sometimes, and at first, she said she’d like that, but then she followed it by saying she didn’t know if it was a good idea.
I get it, she’s torn. But as much as I think she’d want to see me, she’s always been a flight risk. She would be tempted to take the easy way out.
Dave’s smile is sympathetic, and he nods like he understands everything I’m not saying. Maybe he does. He gets Margot better than the other guys in the band.
Mya is on her phone again and doesn’t look up when she says, “I told him to bring her lots of flowers.”
Dave scoffs. “Don’t do that.”
Mya stops typing whatever post she was working on and looks up with wide eyes. “What is with you guys? I swear, you wouldn’t know what romance was if it slapped you in the face.”
Dave sets down his takeout and leans back, eyeing Mya with amusement. “I know plenty about romance.” Looking over at me, he adds, “Save the flowers for the good days. This isn’t about grand gestures. This is about you and Margot figuring out which direction to go next, and you have to do it as a team. No number of flowers will sway her. You wouldn’t want her to change her mind because of flowers, anyway.”
My lips form a tight smile behind my clasped hands. “No, I wouldn’t.” Thank God for Dave because Mya had me considering it. I’ve never given Margot flowers. Maybe I should have. Maybe that was one of the pieces missing for her. “I’m just going to show up. We’ll see if she’s even willing to talk to me.”
At the same time Dave and Mya both say, “She will be.”
I look back and forth between the two of them, but all I can do is take another bite of my food and hope they’re right.
Marty sees this as the perfect opportunity to bring up some girl he planned on hooking up with back home now that he’s made it big, and I lose interest. I don’t really see how a girl ignoring you until you’re successful gets you bragging points, but knowing him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was looking for revenge sex .
Pulling out my phone, I text Margot before I can talk myself out of it.
Jackson:
Happy Thanksgiving.
I’m surprised when the three dots appear right away.
Margot:
Happy Thanksgiving. Have you heard from your parents today?
I might not like talking about my parents, but the fact that she’s asking me a question to keep the conversation going makes it worth it.
Jackson:
I spoke to my mom earlier. Still no word from my dad.
Margot:
He’s an asshole.
Even though there’s nothing happy about that statement, the fact that she said it makes me smile. Before I can respond, a second text comes through.
Margot:
Sorry. I know he’s your dad. I probably don’t have any right to talk about him like that.
Jackson:
You can shit on my dad as much as you want if it means you’ll talk to me.
Margot:
Jackson.
Jackson:
Margot.
I know I’m edging too close to the line she’s drawn in the sand, but I don’t care. I want nothing more than to watch a fucking tsunami come and erase the line completely. I send another text before she decides to jump ship.
Jackson:
Are you in Indiana?
Margot:
How bad is it that I want to answer that question with “unfortunately?”
I flew in with Rae and Matt yesterday, and my mother is already making me question why I came here.
I’ve never met her mom, but I’ve picked up enough pieces along the way to know I don’t like her—and to know that she definitely wouldn’t like me.
Jackson:
If she’s trying to set you up with your ex again, tell her to back off.
Margot:
It’s eerie how you know things sometimes.
I nearly drop the phone. I wasn’t expecting to actually be right.
Jackson:
Seriously?
My heel bounces against the floor of the RV, and I suddenly don’t have an appetite.
Margot:
I think her exact words were “Chris is recently single, too. You two would have a lot in common.”
My breath gets caught in my lungs. She told her parents. There has to be some finality to it if she bothered telling her parents. She wouldn’t deal with the likely interrogation or make herself susceptible to her mom’s matchmaking if she thought we were getting back together.
The realization slows time, and all I can do is stare at her last text. I figured she would have lied to keep her parents off her back. It’s not like they’ve ever met me. She could have easily said we were fine. Kept it simple. But she told them we broke up?
She doesn’t tell her parents anything.
It feels like a bigger blow than it should. We did break up.
Another message comes in.
Margot:
I’m sorry. This is weird. For the record, I am definitely not reaching out to my ex.
Or anyone for that matter.
If only that was what had me worried. I know Margot doesn’t date easily. Other guys aren’t an issue—not yet anyway.
But she told her parents.
Jackson:
Don’t be sorry.
But your mom is an asshole.
Her next text includes a laughing emoji, and I feel a little better.
Margot:
She really is.
Jackson:
Do you still think of me?
I’m pushing my luck, but I have to know. Her response doesn’t come in right away this time. The three dots appear, then disappear, only to reappear and vanish again.
Jackson:
It’s just a question, Margot.
No dots appear for a moment, but then she sends another message.
Margot:
Honestly?
Jackson:
Yes.
There’s another pause before her next message, and every passing second has my heart beating harder.
Margot:
I’m trying to cut back.
I let out a small breath of laughter and look around, remembering I’m not alone. Luckily no one notices. They’re all fantasizing about this single taking off and making a music video for it. I think they’re getting ahead of themselves.
Staring down at the phone, all I can do is wonder how it will be when I see her in person. Will we pick up where we left off? Will she take back the choices she made and me along with them? There’s so much I want to say to her. So much I want to ask, but now isn’t the time. Not when I’m surrounded by the band and she’s in Indiana with her parents. My thumbs hover over the keypad, just out of reach of all they want to type. Eventually, I settle on just one word, but it somehow feels like enough.
Jackson:
Don’t.