Page 228 of Tell Me I'm Enough

Don’t make your pathetic obsession obvious, Simone.

But then—

“MASON SINCLAIR!”

The crowd erupts, and my attention goes to him instantly. He jogs out with his teammates, helmet in his hand, shouldersbroad under the pads, and everything stills. It’s like everything pauses, like my brain is watching a movie scene, only he’s in.

I almost stick out my tongue and gag—disgusted with myself.

Erik leans over toward Bash. “He’s back starting?”

Bash nods. “Yeah. Coach finally cleared him before the break.”

I try to ignore them as they continue to talk about him, about meeting up after the game is over. But my heart does that stupid, hopeful thing, thinking about getting to talk to him…getting to just see him.

I catch myself laughing at one point during the game when Lani yells, “OPEN YOUR EYES, NUMBER SIXTY-THREE!”

She gets so heated during games. It’s very entertaining.

I catch Erik glancing over at her and smiling like he’s proud, like maybe he had something to do with that fierceness inside her.

Lydia cheers when our defense gets a stop, and Bash lifts her off the ground for half a second like they’re in some stupid romance movie. She yelps as she smacks his chest, and he grins.

She deserves someone who looks at her like she’s not too much to handle. And Bash does. I can see it in his face. Not in a dramatic way. In a quiet way. In ayou’re my person, and I’m not going anywhereway.

It’s probably the safest kind of love there is. And it’s so unfair that it took Lydia almost dying to land in it.

I look back to the field just in time to see Mason cut across the middle, fast like a precise blade, and the quarterback hits him clean. He catches the ball as he goes down, and the crowd loses it. I lose it too, cheering until I realize just how hard I’m going and rein it in.

Lani side-eyes me. “Why’d you stop cheering?”

“Shut up,” I mutter as my face gets hot.

She shrugs like she doesn’t care, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

Lydia leans in. “He looks good out there tonight.”

I don’t answer.

Because yes—obviouslyhe does. He always does. That’s the problem.

He’s good at everything he does—even pretending.

The second half gets messy. It’s close for a while, but we eventually pull ahead, then the other team scores, and the crowd gets tense.

Mason makes another catch, but gets tackled pretty hard, dropping the ball.

My stomach turns, wanting to see him do well.

We end up winning by a last second touch down, and everyone goes crazy—hugging, screaming, and acting insane like this was the Super Bowl or something. School pride isnotsomething to be messed with.

Lydia throws her arms around Bash’s neck, laughing, and he spins her. She squeals, and it’s so girly it makes me giggle.

Erik looks to Lani—inviting her into his arms for a victory spin too.

She just glares at him.

I’m right in the middle, and I can feel the tension radiating off of both of them.