“I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“I’ll come with,” Benny says.

“No,” I say quickly. “Hang with Rhett. I wanna explore a bit. I’m good.”

He nods. “Okay. If you need me …” He waves his cell phone.

I make it a point to smile like I’m having The Best Time Ever as I walk past Leila, even giving her a curt nod. I will not give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to me. Not again. Not here.

I walk from the edge of the cliff down to the base of the river, replaying scenes from Disney’s Hercules in my head. It’s a trick my therapist taught me for when I become too overwhelmed: choose a scene from an animated film and revisit it, pausing it to dissect and examine it and analyze all the moving parts until my heart rate steadies.

When I’m out of visual range, I slip my phone out of my pocket and dial Rae, the one person who knows my thorny past with Leila. Of course, she doesn’t pick up!

Resisting the urge to toss my phone into the water, I instead bend down to grab a large stick. I fling it into the fast-moving current and watch it bob and travel farther and farther away from me, blending in with the ripples. My eyes strain to follow it, but it moves too quickly. Once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.

I sit at the base of the river, kick off my sneakers, yank off my socks, and dip my toes into the cool water, letting the waves wash over me as they travel downstream. I focus on how the sun reflects off the ripples, and it appears as if millions of tiny gold specks dance upon the surface.

Someone behind me coughs. “Beautiful right now, isn’t it?”

I turn around and am face-to-face with a pair of hairy blond legs. My eyes travel upward past his sculpted calves and navy-blue basketball shorts to a lean, muscled torso, definitely a swimmer’s build, according to my periodic Google image searches of semi-naked Olympic swimmers. He has strawberry-blond stubble and messy, golden-blond hair that falls in front of his eyes. He uses his sweat to push his hair back and roughly tamps it down with a Red Sox baseball cap.

His cheeks are red from the heat. “Hey, I’m Jack … uh, Reid.” His voice is hearty and deep but jovial.

I try to stand to greet him properly.

He cuts me off. “Stay there,” he says, sitting down next to me. He takes off his running sneakers and tube socks and sticks his feet in the water. “I, uh, caught wind of your introduction.” He nods toward the general area where the rest of the group probably still lounges. “That friend of yours, she’s a trip.”

“Not friends, but yeah. She is.” I try not to sound too blunt, but I can’t help it.

His leg brushes against mine. “I prefer people who don’t beg for the spotlight or misgender folks.” He extends his hand. “Chase, right?”