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Or at least I hope she is.
The number appears again with a new message.
Unknown Number:
Yeah. Sorry it took so long to text you.
Quickly saving her as a contact, I lie back on Matt’s bed to answer.
Jackson:
It’s okay. Are you in Indiana?
Matt finishes the game and throws his headset down. “Damn it. We lost.” Glaring at me, he adds, “I wonder why.”
Looking over at him, I say, “Margot texted me.”
“No shit?” He turns to face me, resting his elbows on his knees. “What’d she say?”
“Hey.”
He frowns. “Hey, what?”
My eyes settle back on my phone screen I refuse to let go dark—like letting the phone lock might somehow sever the connection I have with her. “She just said ‘Hey.’” I can feel his eyes drilling into me, so I look back at him. “What?”
He drops his gaze. “I don’t know, man.” Looking up at me, he quickly adds, “Don’t get me wrong. She’s cool. I like Margot—I like her a lot.”
With a lift of my eyebrow, I ask, “But?”
He frowns, debating whether or not he should say anything. He will, though. I can always count on Matt to tell me his honest opinion. We’ve known each other too long not to be straight with each other. “But I don’t know if she’s right for you.”
I sit up, so I can give him my full attention. “Because?”
“Because you’re practically a rockstar, and this girl can’t seem to make up her mind. You should date someone who’s sure about you—as sure about you as you are about them.”
He’s right. I know he’s right, but I can’t help feeling like Margot is sure about her feelings for me . . . she’s just trying to fight them.
“Don’t take it the wrong way,” he adds when I don’t answer right away.
I force a breath of laughter. “I’m not taking anything the wrong way.” Getting to my feet, I add, “But you’re wrong.”
He frowns. “Where are you going?”
My phone vibrates in my hand, and it takes all my self-control not to drop this conversation to read whatever text I just got. “I should head home.”
The crease between his dark eyebrows deepens. “I can’t tell if you’re pissed.”
I shake my head. “Not pissed. Just tired. See you tomorrow?”
He watches me with untrusting eyes. “Sure . . .” Before I turn to leave, he blurts, “I do really like Margot. If I could see that she likes you as much as you like her, I’d be all for it.”
My mouth quirks. “She does. You just don’t know her like I do.”
Putting both hands up in the air, he says, “All right. Fine. Just know I’ve got your back, okay? Don’t let her play with your head.”
I walk to his bedroom door. “No one plays me.” I hope I’m right.
As soon as I’m in the hallway outside of Matt’s room, I look down at the phone and read the text as I walk through his house.
