Page 89 of Tell Me I'm Enough

Her eyes snap to mine, and the desperate need behind them for that to be true hurts.

I’m just being honest. There’s that thing about her—how she fills a room without trying, how she cares, how she shows up for everyone. You don’t get that with ‘easy.’

She’s quiet for a second after that. Then I watch as she keeps glancing at her phone beside her notebook, tapping the screen as it lights up blankly—no notifications.

After the third time she checks it, she huffs, irritated. “He hasn’t even answered any of my texts or calls in two days,” she admits.

“How does that make you feel?”

She gives a little fake laugh. “Like I’m annoying him. Like I’m…too much, or not enough to keep his attention. I don’t know. I’m fine, I guess. I just wish he would put in more effort so I wasn’t always questioning things lately.”

She changes the subject quickly.

Classic.

“It’s so cold in here,” she says, rubbing her arms.

I pull my hoodie over my head and toss it at her. “Here.”

She catches it against her chest. “Mason, no, I’m fine. I wasn’t—”

“Just put it on,” I say. “You’re actually shivering.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles as she pulls it on, drowning in it a little. It looks…cute.

She snuggles her hands into the front pocket and inhales. “Damn, why do you always smell so good? You’re a college frat boy…you’re supposed to smell—”

“Gross?” I laugh out.

She nods with a smile. “Thank goodness you don’t. There’s a big possibility I’ll be stealing this.”

I chuckle. “That’s okay. At least it’ll be in good hands.”

Her phone vibrates, lighting up.

For a moment, her face brightens, then drops a little.

“Just the Gamma group chat,” she tells me, holding up her phone.

“Girl drama?” I ask, teasingly.

She shakes her head. “No, Christmas Gala,” she groans. “I still don’t have anything to wear, and Lydia and Lani have been slammed with school, so I haven’t even been able to drag them out with me. I really didn’t want to have to find one alone.”

“I mean, if you just need someone to sit there and tell you a hundred times that the dress doesn’t make you look fat…I’ll go with you.”

She looks at me like she misheard.

“Really? You…Mason Sinclair…big bad jock…would go dress shopping with me?”

I smirk. “What are friends for if they can’t suck it up and look at the same dress in ten different colors, then tell you which one looks the best?”

She lights up. Like actually lights up.

“Okay,” she says, already closing her notebook. “Can we go…today? Are you free after this?”

“I’m always free for you, pretty girl.”

I see her trying to suppress a smile, but I wish she wouldn’t; it’s cute when she’s excited.