Page 53 of Tell Me I'm Enough

She places the box down and looks over her shoulder at me. “Yeah? Did they not tell you who you were paired up with?”

I rub the back of my neck. “I didn’t really look at the envelope. They just told me I’d be at the dunk tank and that was enough info for me.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

I raise a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” she says, pulling some of the banners out, “that you’re exactly the kind of guy who would throw out instructions, saying you don’t need them, you’ll figure it out, and then act surprised when the crap falls apart.”

I smirk at her. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Am I wrong?” she asks.

“I don’t really know. I’ve actually never built anything before.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Why do the assholes always come from money? Is it the entitlement?”

“Why do you assume I come from money?”

She tilts her head and glares at me. “I can smell it from a mile away. All assholes do.”

I place my hand over my heart, pretending to be hurt. “I’m not actually an asshole, you know?”

She scoffs. “You could have fooled me on the night of the mixer.”

“Fair.”

“That’s it? No apology? No excuses?”

I shrug, enjoying messing with her. “Come on, we’re running out of time to set up.”

She just rolls her eyes and lets it go, falling into step beside me and doing whatever I ask her to do. She starts unpacking the box, pulling out hand-painted signs, towels, and a cash box.

I point toward the corner of the booth. “Those can go there. The donation jar, too. We’ll have people line up from this side, and toss the balls from that chalk line.”

She just nods, not pushing back on me bossing her around.

I think I like her feisty side more.

I nudge her arm. “You know, you don’t have to take all of this so seriously. You can smile a little and have some fun.”

“One of us needs to take it seriously,” she shoots back, not even looking up at me, and I don’t know why it makes me smile.

“Hey,” I say, “I’m about to spend the next six hours getting dunked into an ice bath. That’s enough dedication on my part.”

She glances up at me. “Dedication or deserved punishment?”

“Maybe both.”

She shakes her head, but there’s a small smile she’s trying to hide.

By the time we’ve got the tank filled and the banners hung, the field is buzzing with people. Booths are open, music’splaying, and everyone’s out in their Greek shirts pretending to care about philanthropy while really just trying to out-socialize each other.

Simone is standing beside me, and I can smell her perfume every time she moves. It’s sweet and floral and light…like her.

I keep joking around with her just to keep her talking to me. I don’t really know why. She’s just fun to mess with…and to be around. I’m kind of mad at myself for being such a dick the other week to her. She’s nice.

She looks over at me after I joke with her about them just wanting to see me in a wet T-shirt and get a look at all the goods. “What happened to the guy from the mixer?” she asks suspiciously. “You know, the one who thought he was too good to talk to the fresh meat?”