Page 62 of Tell Me I'm Enough

She gives me the most judgmental face, and just as I’m about to dig my spoon into her ice cream, she snatches it away.

“Hey,” I play pout.

She takes her spoon and gets a scoop out for herself.

We pull up at a red light right before she puts it in her mouth, and I grab her wrist, pulling it towards me. I take the bite, and she just stares at me, appalled.

“You just ate my bite!” she yells.

“And it was good,” I tell her with my mouth still full.

“You licked my spoon!”

The light turns green, and I turn my attention back to the road, still grinning. “Good thing I don’t have any cooties.”

She rolls her eyes. “How can you be sure? I’veheardabout howyouparty.”

I give her a mock-offended look with my hand over my chest. “Excuse me for having a good time in college.”

“Yeah, well, I’d prefer not to take those good times home withme,” she says, wiping off the spoon with her shirt.

Back at the Gamma house, all of us boys have been put to work, slaving away in the kitchen—mixing batter, rolling out balls of cookie dough, and trying not to eat all the ingredients before they make it into the oven.

Chase and Tank are messing with some of the girls when all of a sudden, flour is being thrown everywhere. There’s laughing and yelling tangling together in the large space.

I see Simone out of the corner of my eye with two eggs in her hands.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” I warn.

She bites the inside of her cheek, smiling before she lets the intrusive thoughts win and hurls one at me and one at Tank. Two more girls behind them grab more eggs, and we’re defenseless as they keep throwing them. I try to duck under the counter, but one of the girls sneaks around and gets me from the back.

My shirt is now covered in egg yolk.

I stand up and call a truce, looking around at the destroyed kitchen.

Simone laughs. “Looks like you just added clean-up duty to your list, boys.”

I shake my head and grab the back of my shirt, peeling it off and tossing it at her. She catches it on instinct and then drops it in disgust. “Mason! Ew!”

A couple of the girls start whistling and clapping, shouting that they want a show.

Within a matter of minutes, someone has music playing, and Tank, Tanner, Chase, and I are all shirtless on top of the kitchen Island, dancing to Pony by Ginuwine.

Tank grabs one of the girls, lifting her up on the counter and grinding on her. She squeals under him and definitely doesnotkeep her hands to herself.

“Off!” Kimberly says, smacking my calf. “Off my sanitary surfaces!”

I hop down off the counter and start dancing on her, trying to get her to loosen up a little.

“You’re all devolving,” she says while now laughing. “The rest of you get down and help me salvage what’s not ruined.”

Everything moved easily after that—music still playing, insults being thrown between the guys and girls, smells that make every childhood memory show up uninvited.

When the images of my mom and me in the kitchen, singing and baking together, pop up, I try to distract myself enough not to let them drown me.

I wipe down the counters while Simone loads a tray into the top oven, and when she reaches up to grab something from the cabinet, I watch as the hem of her shirt lifts.

I can’t help but stare for a second before looking away, not wanting to be a creep.