Page 45 of Tell Me I'm Enough

She lifts her head to look at me. “I would have never taken you for a play-it-safe kinda guy.”

That makes me chuckle. “Yeah, you and everyone else.”

“Well, I’ll be here next summer if you change your mind. You know, if nobody snags me up first,” she teases.

We kiss again. It’s soft and slow and…sad. It feels like I’m failing as a guy, like I’m saying goodbye to yet another opportunity to have felt something for someone else, another strike confirmingI’mthe problem.

When I leave, the air outside feels hot and heavier than before. I walk to my car, sit in the driver’s seat, and just stare at the steering wheel for a while.

I’m surrounded by everything people are supposed to want—money, comfort, success, girls who throw themselves at you. And yet, I’ve never felt more hollow. I don’t want any of it.

When I get home, the twins are asleep on the couch, both curled up under a blanket. The TV’s still on, playing some cartoon they must’ve fallen asleep to because no one seemed to care enough to put them to bed.

I sit between them and pull the blanket over my legs, too.

Easton stirs, opens one eye, and mumbles, “You home, Mase?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m home.”

He smiles, half-asleep, and rests his head on my arm.

For the first time all day, something in me feels like it’s still beating.

I brush his dirty blonde hair back and stare up at the ceiling.

I wonder if this…just being here, loving them…is the only thing that’ll ever make me feel whole.

14

Mason

SOPHOMORE YEAR OF COLLEGE

Rush week is even more annoying when you’re not rushing yourself.

Okay, I take that back. It’s kinda fun watching the fresh meat squirm and beg for their place here. But it also sucks, because the anniversary of my mother’s death always falls at the end of rush week, today specifically.

The loud chaos I would normally welcome is something I want nothing to do with right now. I’d much rather be alone.

The Sigma Chi house normally looks like what you’d expect a frat house to look like—half decorated, half destroyed, lights strung up randomly inside, and red solo cups hidden in every corner still there from before summer break. But tonight they’ve cleaned her up pretty nicely since it’s the night of the mixer for new pledges.

I walk downstairs from my room in the Sig house that I moved into this year, and see that people are already starting to set up.

Granted, it is 7 PM, but hey, I didn’t have any classes today, and I’m feeling pretty fucked mentally, so I’ve been hiding in my room up until I was finally forced to get my ass out of bed and come help.

Every year, no matter what I do, it hits like clockwork. I wake up feeling heavy and angry for no reason, like someone pressed pause on everything inside me.

I’ve been trying to distract myself with rush all week—running events, drinking, playing the fun frat guy everyone enjoys being around. But underneath, I’ve just been waiting for this day to hurry up and come and then be over.

I head out into the front yard, where I’m being forced to string lights across the patio with Chase, Ryan, and Tank.

Chase is balancing a half-full beer while trying to put up a banner, Ryan’s carrying a stack of tablecloths, and Tank’s…well, Tank’s just being Tank, carrying the vibes and nothing else with his lazy ass.

Ryan’s girlfriend, Ava—a Gamma chair—comes up to him, kisses him, and tells him she needs him to come with her to pick up the kegs.

Ryan groans. “Now?”

“Now,” she tells him, smiling sweetly, and he sets the stuff in his hands down to follow her.