Page 8 of Before You
“JJ, I swear, I didn’t know you were roommates with Trent,” I say, resisting the urge to bite my nails.
“I was starting to think I’d imagined it all. There’s so much I want to tell you . . . to ask you.” JJ looks over at me again, ignoring the fact I brought up my boyfriend.
“You didn’t imagine it. It all happened.”I’ve wondered the same thing more than a few times.
I close my eyes to rest my head against the headrest, hoping it helps calm my stomach.
“Well, the sight of me has never made a girl want to vomit before,” JJ tries to joke, but I don’t have it in me to explain the confusion swirling around in my head right now.
“I think it’s something I must have eaten today,” I mumble.
“I hope you feel better,” he says, glancing over as if he’s checking in.
“Thanks for taking me home.”
When JJ doesn’t respond, I open my eyes to look over at him to see him silently laughing. “What?”
“Marley, I don’t know where your home is. I’m just driving in circles.”
Oh. Good point.
My cheeks flush, and despite everything, I can’t help laughing.
“I live in the Poppy Apartments off Main Street. Do you know where they are?” I ask, trying to remember what street they’re on, I only moved in yesterday.
He cracks a smile. “Yeah. I know where those are. It’s only a couple of minutes away.”
“Nice.” I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say.
JJ flips his radio on, and music begins playing quietly from the speakers. He still has a death grip on the steering wheel.
“Is there a reason you’re choking the steering wheel?” I ask, and JJ’s jaw clenches.
“Honestly?” I have a feeling whatever he’s going to say isn’t going to help make my brain any less confused, but I still want to hear it. JJ glances over at me, and I nod, telling him silently to continue. “I’m trying to respect you have a boyfriend by not touching you, and it’s a lot harder than you would think.”
“JJ—”
“Are you still playing guitar?” he asks, abruptly cutting me off.
I blink in surprise because I can’t believe he remembered after so long. Maybe I shouldn’t be, though.JJ learned Italian.
“Yeah, every day.” I’ve also written a couple songs about him, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Have you worked up the nerve to play for a crowd yet?”
Another thing JJ’s remembered: I have terrible anxiety about playing in front of others.
I smile at him, shaking my head. “Not yet.”
“Will you let me know when you do? I need to be prepared if I’m going to be your number one fan with signs, flowers, and random shit for you to sign.”
I laugh easily now, a snort escaping me, which only makes me laugh harder. “You sound like a stalker,” I struggle to say through my laughter, which results in JJ laughing with me.
“I guess it does sound like something a stalker would say,” he agrees, smiling widely enough his dimples are showing. “I promise I’m not a stalker.”
“I didn’t think so. If you are one, you’re not a very good one,” I say, noticing JJ pass my apartment building clearly labeledPoppy Apartments, instead of turning into the parking lot. “Um, JJ, you passed my building.”
“Oh, sorry. Guess we’ll have to go around the block again.” See, I would have thought he accidentally missed the turn if it wasn’t for the faint smirk JJ’s trying—and failing—to hide. “Are you in danger of puking?” he asks, looking over to check on me.
