“Are you really carrying me right now, or am I hallucinating and you’ve wrapped me up in one of those mummy blankets and I’m being pulled behind you in a wagon?”

Zarar looks down at me. “I’m really carrying you.”

I close my eyes for a moment. “It’s kinda hot, but I don’t like it.”

“Do you think you can walk to Terry’s?” He comes to a stop and lowers me feet first.

“Yes,” I say resiliently as he sets me down.

Immediately my knees buckle. Zarar’s arm loops around my back.

“Has gravity doubled or is that just me?”

Zarar tilts his head to meet my gaze. “As far as I can gauge, gravity has remained constant.”

“That’s cool, good for gravity.” I lean into him heavily as I drag one foot in front of the other. He smells like the lake and the forest.

My head feels like it’s split above my eyebrow. “So, real talk, Zarar, how many women have you dropped your pamphlets in front of during your stint as fishing instructor?”

Zarar stops walking and takes a hasty step away. I list sideways, unable to stay upright sans human support wall.

“Well, it was nice knowing you,” I inform him as I droop down to a knee.

A second later I’m up again, his hand supporting my torso. “Sorry! You took me off guard, I don’t— How do you—? Did you see me with that Kelly girl on the trail?”

I pat his pec with my free hand, a lazy grin slipping up my cheek. “Jenga. And it all comes down.” I snort. “Relax, man. I did not, but I wish I did. Is that like, your signature move? Take a little tumble, give a graceful peek at the guns on the way up? Has it worked? Because it’s terrible. I need to know how many times you’ve succeeded.”

“It’s not a move,” he states defensively as we start to hobble forward again. “It’s hard to explain. I have this idea in my head, and this summer I’ve been trying to make it into a reality.”

We’re surrounded by green now. The newly risen sun has dialed up the saturation big time. Can’t appreciate it because pain is overwhelming. “Do tell,” I grind out. “Distract me, young sir.”

“I’m older than you.”

“How do you know?”

“How old are you?”

I glare up at him. “How dare you ask that of a lady.”

“I’m twenty-three,” he shares.

I nod. “Twenty.”