Page 117 of Tell Me I'm Enough

“We’re gonna have a ‘Yes Day.’”

“What’s that?”

“A little taste of my childhood,” he says, smiling, and I see this pride behind it I’ve never seen before. “It’s something my mom used to do with me when I was having a hard time. She’dgive me the entire day to do whatever I wanted, and she had to say yes, no matter how crazy or ridiculous my requests were.”

I can’t help but laugh as I wipe the rest of my tears away. “WhateverI wanna do?”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

“I don’t think you know the trouble you’re signing up for, Sinclair.”

“Trouble is my middle name, pretty girl. I’m always down for a good time, especially with you.”

We sit there talking until it gets so late that I end up passing out in his bed while he sleeps on the floor—fully clothed, of course.

No boxers like I was picturing.

31

Mason

I’ve been up for an hour while Simone is still peacefully sleeping in my bed.

I hate how much I like her there.

No sir. Pack that bullshit back up.

As cute as she looks, I’m getting a little impatient. I want her to have a fun day today and get her mood back up from yesterday’s shit-show. Plus, I’m taking her to a party tonight, so I want her to have enough time to do whatever she wants before then.

I pull a chair out from the desk in my room and set it in front of the bed, sitting on it backwards as I take my phone out and connect it to the Bluetooth speaker near the head of my bed. I press play, and “Kickstart My Heart” by Motley Crue rings out at max volume.

Simone shoots up, scared shitless, hands braced behind her on the bed as she sits up.

I smile at her while playing the air guitar.

“Mason! What the fuck?”

“What? Not your taste?” I look around and grab my phone again, scrolling for another choice.

I finally find something else and hit play.

“9 to 5” by Dolly Parton fills the room as Simone just glares at me from the bed.

I get up, pushing back the chair dramatically, and grab the covers off of her as I sing. She deadpans at me, trying so hard not to laugh as I run around the room, finding my bag and keys, acting out the song as it plays.

I look over at her, and she’s still trying to keep a straight face. “No? Still not doing it for you?”

I grab my phone again and find the song on my playlist that I know will make her crack.

As soon as the song starts to play, I snap my arm in the air as I sing it.

“I have one thing to say, Simone. You. Better. Work!”

That does it. She almost chokes laughing.

“Mason! Please don’teverdo that again.”

I look at her, offended. “Am I not fabulous enough to embody the great RuPaul?”