Page 122 of Tell Me I'm Enough

“Whoa,” I say. “Easy there.”

She hands it back like she didn’t just chug the thing. “What? I’m having fun.”

Sheishaving fun. But she’s also drinking faster than I’ve ever seen her drink before.

I look away for a second, talking to one of the girls nearby, and when I look back, Simone is up on top of one of the couches with another girl, hands in the air, dancing.

Did I mention she’s wearing heels?

I shake my head and walk closer, just in case, not wanting her to bust her ass.

I grab a cup from the lineup of drinks someone just put on the coffee table and take a sip. This is starting to feel like one of those nights I may or may not remember in the morning.

Another one of the Gamma girls hops up there with them, and they’re all dancing like they’re on a stage somewhere instead of on top of my fraternity living room couch—screaming lyrics, spilling their drinks everywhere, and having the time of their lives.

I laugh despite myself.

Then Tank walks by again.

“Tank!” Simone yells.

He stops, already grinning.

“Put me on your shoulders!”

Before I can stop it from happening, she’s climbing him like a ladder, cup raised in the air that she stole from one of the girls, singing at the top of her lungs.

Tank stumbles. Badly.

I drop my drink and rush forward just as he loses his footing, grabbing Simone around the waist before she eats shit.

“Okay,” I say, breathlessly. “Show’s over.”

She laughs, arms still around my neck as I set her down. “You’re no fun.”

“You almost face planted,” I tell her. “I’m sure that would have beenrealfun.”

“I did not,” she slurs.

I steer her towards the kitchen, my hand on her back. “Water. Now.”

When we’re in the kitchen, she trips a little and catches herself with her hands on my chest.

Everything goes quiet.

She looks up at me, eyes glazed, lips parted, breath warm against my face.

Her fingers curl into my shirt.

“Mason,” she whispers.

Fuck.

“Don’t,” I say quietly, but she doesn’t hear it—or pretends not to.

“Kiss me.”

My stomach drops.