Page 42 of Tell Me I'm Enough

I push myself through as many reps as I can, wanting to feel the burn. On the last one, my arms shake. The bar stalls and the whole world hangs there with it. Chase pulls the bar up, and the rack catches, making a loud clank as it falls into place.

I sit up, and the room spins for a second. The blood rushes in my ears, and sweat falls into my eyes. I wipe my face with my shirt and then grab my water before going back for another set.

We end the training day by going over film. The dark room is filled with all the guys from the team, and Coach goes over plays from the season we just finished out. He pauses, rewinds, pauses, rewinds, going over every perfect play we had during the season and every sloppy play twice as much.

The praises feel like a high I’m always trying to chase, and the criticism feels like every insecurity I have put under a magnifying glass.

I have such a weird love-hate relationship with football. On one hand, I don’t care about any of this…I’m not trying to gowhere these guys are trying to go. On the other hand, I know what football gives me; I know the connections, the respect, and the release it brings. I can appreciate it for what it is, and not hate it like I do with most everything else I’m forced into in my life.

When I get into my dorm for the night, the day finally settles and gets quiet…too quiet. It’s nice having a dorm to myself, but it’s also really fucking lonely sometimes. I want more out of life, I want more out of college, and I want morerealconnections with people. I’m not built to be alone or be some puppet doll, happy to be controlled and maneuvered however everyone else wants as long as they throw money at any of the actual problems to cover them up.

I just want to find something that makes mefeelagain.

13

Mason

Summers used to mean no responsibilities. They used to be full of late-night drives, road trips, surfing, and anything to pass the time until school started again.

Now I’m stuck in a suit and rolling my eyes at least ten times a day at the other kiss-ass interns I’m stuck around at my dad’s firm from sunup to sundown, working like a dog for a company I don’t even like.

I despise the ownership.

And I hate that I probably come off as the asshole, entitled CEO’s son, but I actually couldn’t care less what any of these people think about me. I won’t see them for the rest of the year, and most of them won’t make it past this internship to even be back next summer.

I spend most of my time here stuck shadowing brokers, building spreadsheets, and pretending to care about property portfolios.

The one positive is that I don’t have to see my dad most days. That was one of the things I feared the most with this internship—that I would be stuck around him all summer.

Luckily, he still spends most of his time traveling, and when he’s home, he’s usually just out schmoozing rich men into investing in his company.

Although hehasbeen back home this week and has been popping into the office for the past few days, making my life hell, it’s not normally like that.

There are no more late-night parties, just late nights like tonight, where I’m stuck staring out of a floor-to-ceiling window when I should be paying attention to the screen in front of me.

At least I’m getting to see the twins. I wake up and take them to camp every morning—because I can’t stand when they have a driver take them, and every night when I come home and tug off my tie and jacket, they’re right there, greeting me with smiles because I’m the only one who pays them attention in this family.

I’m still staring out at the night sky when Brooke walks over to my desk. Most of the employees are gone since all the grunt work is left for us to do.

She sits up on the desk, pulling my attention over to her. I take the pen out of my mouth, and my hands move to her thighs as she pulls my chair closer to position me between her legs.

Brooke is another one of the summer interns here at the firm. Her dad also works with my dad and is pretty high up in the company. She was born into this life just like I was. The thing is, she wants to be here. She loves the real estate game.

We’re alike in a lot of ways—both grew up in private schools, both love to be the center of attention, neither of us cares what other people think, we’re both pretty strong-willed, and we both love talking shit about the other interns together. We’re also different in a lot of ways—she likes her family, loves her parents,loves this career, and loves Florida. Those are things I can’t relate to.

She’s easy to talk to, though, and I don’t mind the attention. We’re not dating…but we’re notnotdating. I don’t know what it is, but it feels like a good way to pass the time while I’m here.

She went from talking shit and grilling me when I first got here to coming on to me when we would get stuck working on late-night assignments together. I started to take her out after work, and we’d just find anything to do that would make us feel like normal kids who weren’t stuck in an adult world that we were forced into.

It’s been nice to have someone to talk to when I don’t want to go home at the end of the day—even if there’s no spark.

She looks around the office and then bends down to kiss me. I can feel the need behind her kiss. I wish I felt it, too.

I don’t like thinking about that, though. I don’t like going down the rabbit hole of wondering what’s wrong with me. What is it about me that can attract a girl, but once I get my hands on them, there’s nothing. Was it Delilah who broke me? Was it Jackie? Was it my dad? Fuck…is it my dead mom? Do I have mommy issues?Anddaddy issues?

Shit.

I slide my hands down to Brooke’s knees and squeeze a little before her hands find mine, guiding them back up her thighs. She’s wearing a skirt, a blazer…and by the peepshow she’s giving, I assume no underwear.