Page 134 of Tell Me I'm Enough

Neither of us moves at first, just smiling and enjoying the moment. His hands stay on my arms, and my fingers curl into his forearms without thinking.

The laughter fades, and we’re just left with the ocean rushing around us, completely indifferent to the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings running through my mind.

Mason clears his throat and steps back. “Again?”

I nod quickly. “Yeah. Again.”

* * *

I feel lighter than I have in weeks. I feel good. I feel…free.

Before coming on this trip, I blocked Tyler’s number, too overwhelmed by all the pleading he was doing to get me back.

I have to be able to move on and do whatever I need to do to process what he did to me—without him in my ear constantly trying to apologize for it.

Apparently, I’m not the only one getting blown up non-stop lately, though.

“Your dad still hasn’t stopped calling?” I ask Mason over the loud music playing through the beach house.

He shakes his head and then tucks his phone back in his pocket. “He can keep calling. I won’t be answering.”

He takes my hand, pulls me over to a table full of drinks, and pours two cups.

He downs them both back to back and then looks up at me, grinning. “Oh, did you want one?”

I look around the party, then back to him. “Iamat a party…and Ididjust get cheated on…and Iaman emotional wreck still…so, yeah, I’d like a drink, maybe five, please.”

He pours another one and hands it to me. “Drink up.”

I tip it back and drink it until the cup is dry.

I feel hands on my back and turn to see some of my Gamma sisters.

“Come dance with us, Simone!”

Mason salutes me. “Go have fun, pretty girl.”

I instantly get lost in it all—in the feeling of feeling nothing, in the music, in the way a place like this makes it easier to forget how shitty I feel about myself lately.

The song shifts, louder, faster, and suddenly someone’s hands are on my waist. I look behind me and see Mason. I smile at him as he guides me deeper into the crowd like he’s done it a thousand times at countless parties.

“This is our song!” I shout.

“I know,” he says, leaning down next to my ear.

We move easily together—too easily. Like our bodies have known each other in every single life they’ve existed in together, like we’ve always been friends.

Everyone around us is hyping us up, like they always do when we find a dance floor together.

I laugh, and Mason spins me without warning, making me stumble, and I catch myself on his chest as his hands steady me.

Tank appears out of nowhere, taking my hand. “I’m stealing your girl!” he shouts.

Mason laughs and tips his head at us.

I spin into Tank and dance with him. He’s huge—like Jolly Green Giant huge—thus the name Tank. It’s like dancing with a really muscular tree trunk. But he’s actually a really good dancer, just like Mason.

He leans down so I can hear him over the noise. “How are you doing?”