Ros handed Jess the sunscreen and turned around. I could not do this. I could not spend all day watching this—watching them, Jess and Ros, be so much more than colleagues.

Unfortunately, I had agreed to drive.

Lovers’ Lagoon was crowded.

“I told you it was going to be a scene,” said Audrey, who we’d picked up on the way there.

Half of Lovesick Falls seemed like they had shown up to celebrate the Fourth of July at the lagoon. We had to park nearly a mile away thanks to the long line of cars that’d pulled over on the side of the road. There were five of us—Touchstone, me, Ros, Jess, and Audrey—but it felt like we had enough stuff for twice that many people: towels and the aforementioned sunscreen and a portable speaker, snacks that Audrey had brought in a big, blocky cooler, which, she said, included homemade limeade and seltzers to go with them. In my own tote bag I had my water, my requisite duct tape in case of an emergency, and A Tale of Two Cities, which I thought I might finally get a head start on, if I stopped obsessing over Ros and Jess for fifteen seconds.

And that was if I even made it to the lagoon. It was, in no uncertain terms, an intense vertical ascent to get to where we needed to go.

“Sorry,” Jess said to me. “I always forget it’s kind of a steep uphill.”

“It’s okay,” I said, determined not to let her see me sweat, which I was doing, quite a lot. Little kids and geriatrics alike darted past me, while I pulled over on the side of the trail to breathe deeply. I could get down with a spontaneous hike—I did wear shepherd boots, after all, and hiking had been suggested in our MODEST PROPOSAL—section II, a.i. But I would have liked some time to thoroughly blast myself with bug spray, locate my hat, maybe pack my signature blend of trail mix that went heavy on the M&M’s—dark chocolate and peanut—and light on the raisins.

But this was fine. It was totally fine.

“She’s fine,” affirmed Touchstone, and called down from the hill above me, “Rub some dirt in it, Celia!”

Ros, who had ditched me and Jess at the back so we could get to know each other, or whatever, and was at the front with Touchstone and Audrey, shot me a thumbs-up.

“You got this, Celia!” yelled Audrey.

Everyone on the trail turned to correctly identify me as Celia, the one who needed verbal and perhaps physical support. I know she meant well, but there was nothing more humiliating than being left behind and having it pointed out to you.

“Sorry,” Jess said again, apologizing this time for Audrey. “You know she’s actually a cheerleader at school?”