Page 310 of Tell Me I'm Enough

“Not possible.”

“They’re everywhere. They’re all over campus. I don’t know any of the girls you’ve been with before, and I don’t know how many of them are probably better options than me.”

He studies me for a moment, searching for what words he can give me. “Okay,” he says, nodding like we’re really doing this. “Let me finally be transparent with you then. Let me tell you who I’ve been with.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I want to know. I don’t think I could handle knowing that, or having to see them and picture you with them—”

“Simone,” he says, stopping me.

I stop, trying not to let those images appear in my head, and look at him.

“The first girl I had ever been with was when I was sixteen. She slept with me as a dare in school with a bunch of other kids…and I knew nothing about it. It was humiliating.”

My heart sinks thinking about baby Mason being used like that.

“The second girl I ever slept with,” he continues, “was a girl I dated my senior year of high school, who cheated on me on our graduation day at a party.”

I hate both girls. Wish I could punch them in the face for hurting him like that.

“The third,” he continues. “Andlastgirl I ever slept with….was you.”

I stop, tilting my head at him. “Huh?”

“I’ve only ever been with three people. And quite honestly, only one of them ever really mattered. Only one of them ever truly and wholly had my heart.”

The world goes a little still.

“Why did you let me and everyone else just think you were some typical college boy who slept around with everyone?”

He shrugs. “It was just easier that way.”

“Easier?” I repeat, a little angry.

He nods, eyes dropping to his hands. “People already think I’m a certain kind of guy. The guy who doesn’t care. The guy who sleeps around. The guy who’s fun and reckless and doesn’t take anything seriously.”

I stare at him, like I’m really seeing him for the first time.

“And you just…let them?” I ask softly.

‘Yeah,” he says, nodding, almost disappointed in himself for it.

“Why?”

Mason’s lips press together, and then he looks at the ground. “Because it keeps the bar low,” he says quietly. “So when Ido stupid things and mess up, nobody’s surprised. Nobody’s expecting better of me.”

That sentence is so sad I can barely breathe around it.

“Mason…” I whisper.

He swallows. “I didn’t want you to expect better either.”

The words hit me like a slap, making me stiffen.

“What?” I whisper.

He looks down quickly, like he regrets how he said it. “No.” He shakes his head. “Not because I didn’t want you to. Because I was scared you would, and then I’d disappoint you anyway.”

In this moment, everything suddenly starts to make a little more sense—the partying, the self-sabotage, the way he always makes a joke right before something gets too real.