Tyler laughed and took a step closer to her. “Look, Cassie doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re here. Come on.” This time she let him take her hand as he walked her over to a couple other groups of people. As he introduced her to everyone, most of them smiled and a few said hello, but for the most part, they went right back to their conversations, talking too loudly about touchdowns and fumbles, late-night parties and drunken brawls.

When they walked away from a particularly loud tangle of boys, she tugged him down so she could whisper in his ear. “These are your friends?”

He exhaled a puff of air from his nose. “They’re guys I play football with, but . . .” He shrugged. Then he tipped his head toward a small group gathered on a rock at the base of the tree where the rope swing hung. He pulled gently on her hand and led her to the group. “These are my real friends.” As he introduced her to each one—five guys and a couple girls—they all smiled at her, and she knew right away they were different. The tightness drained out of her neck and shoulders.

“Maya, what kind of music do you like?” One of the guys, Thomas, picked up his phone and scrolled.

“Uh, do you have any Beatles?”

“What self-respecting music man wouldn’t have any Beatles?” Thomas tapped the screen and the funky intro to “Come Together” poured from a tiny speaker sitting on a higher rock behind them.

Tyler chuckled. “Thomas thinks he’s a rock star.”

“I am a rock star, man.” Thomas shoved his sunglasses up to the top of his head. His floppy hair and goofy grin took away from any rock star persona he hoped to achieve, but Maya liked him anyway. “You should come hear my band play sometime,” he said to Maya.

“What’s the name of your band?”

“Right now we’re Black Light Mailbox, but that’s—” He stopped when everyone else laughed. “What? It’s a rad name. People will remember it.” Someone threw a flip-flop at him, and he grabbed it and threw it back. “You’re right. It’s terrible. We’ve got to come up with something else.”

Tyler spread out a beach towel and gestured for her to sit. She lowered herself down and he sat next to her. For the next hour the conversation flowed like calm river water, and she was relieved to know all his friends weren’t like Cassie. The whole time they were sitting, Cassie alternated between squealing from the rope swing and soaring into the water, and sunbathing on the sandy beach, on her stomach, with the back of her bikini top unfastened.

Later, Tyler pulled chicken salad sandwiches from the cooler in the back of his truck.

“Dude, did your mom make them?” Thomas grabbed a wax paper–wrapped sandwich. “I could eat five of these.”

“His mom makes the best chicken salad in Sugar Bend.” The girl next to her, Melissa, handed Maya a sandwich and a napkin. “I like your bathing suit, by the way.”