Page 123 of Tell Me I'm Enough

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss a girl as badly as I want to kiss Simone right now.

But she’s not mine to kiss.

And we’rejustfriends. I can’t lose her as a friend over some dumb drunken moment.

“You have a boyfriend,” I whisper.

She looks annoyed, like she already knows that. “Yeah. And he’s probably kissing someone else right now. Or worse…fucking them.”

That hits harder than it should, and makes me angry.

I don’t want to kiss her like this, though. I can’t. I don’t want to be the mistake she wakes up hating herself for.

I tighten my grip on her arms. “You don’t want that.”

She frowns. “I do.”

“No,” I say, firmer now. “You don’t. And you’d hate yourself tomorrow if I did it. That’s not you. You’re too loyal, no matter what. You’d regret it. I promise.”

Her face changes. Like something snaps back into place. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I—”

“Hey,” I cut in. “Don’t apologize.”

She keeps going anyway. “I’m sorry. Fuck. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s just, everything…everything with Tyler is screwing with my head. I’ve never felt like this before. Andoh my goodness, you’re myfriendMason…I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t want to use you like that.”

I hate this.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. “You’re just hurting.”

She shakes her head, tears fighting to break free. “I feel so pathetic.”

“You’re not.”

“I am,” she insists. “I’m desperately holding onto someone who doesn’t even want me anymore.”

I guide her to a nearby room and sit her on the couch. “Stay here.”

I grab a bottle of water and bring it back to her.

“You don’t deserve to feel like this, Sim,” I tell her quietly. “But maybe…maybe you need to talk to him. Like, actually talk. Find out what’s going on.”

She laughs bitterly. “I already know what’s going on. I’m too boring, too safe, and he…he just wants something else, something…better.”

“First of all, none of that is true,” I say, “and second of all, that’s not the only explanation for all of this.”

She sighs and leans back, lifting her feet onto my lap without even thinking about it.

I pull them up instinctively.

“Ugh, why do girls wear heels to parties?” she groans. “My feet hurt so fucking badly.”

I laugh and slide her shoes off. “Because y’all enjoy suffering.”

She sighs in relief. “Bless you.”

As we sit there, I try to think of any way to distract her.

“Truth or dare?”