The Guide

Note to Readers: This is my Summer Lovin 2021 entry – please have fun and don’t forget to vote!

The Guide

“Hey, hey, hey guys! It’s Braaay-den! (insert hee haw sound) I know you’re all as sick of this COVID shit as I am, so I thought what better to do than take a challenge from one of my viewers? (hold up phone and read) ‘Hey Bray, for your next stunt, I wanna see you take Katie, that sweet honey of yours, and see if you can make her ass go “HEE HAW” somewhere up in buttfuck country!’ from ‘PinHerDown85.’ Well, you all know how much I love a good challenge, and who could say no to this ass? (have Katie bend over for camera and spank) Well, PinHerDown85, it just so happens that my little Katie has been dying to go back home and show me the beauty of nature, and it just so happens to be our first anniversary, too! So, next time, I’d like you all to join me for a big surprise on a Very Braden Special coming to you from the Rose Lake Cliffs. You don’t wanna miss it. Like and Subscribe before the event, and I will personally send every one of you a gif of the moment she gets the surprise of her life! Don’t miss it, guys! Until then, this is Braaay-den (insert hee haw sound) riding bareback into the great beyond.”

I waited anxiously for Braden to finish reading through the copy I had written for his latest vlog, thinking back to the day I arrived at his mansion. I had failed miserably at my dream of becoming a screenwriter in LA, but still couldn’t bear the thought of crawling back home without anything to show for it. I was homeless in LA (yet again) and at the point where even bankruptcy seemed like an unachievable financial goal, when I got called to interview for a job as a writer/assistant for a social media influencer. Braden Jennings, dazzling idol of trust fund perfection, lived in a mansion next to his parents’ more modest sprawling estate in a gated community called Hidden Hills.

I’d never actually been to a gated community before. I’d heard of them, of course, but I guess I was surprised to actually see a gate and a fence around a place where people live. I told the guard at the gate who I had come to see, but he didn’t have me on his list. Then, I called Braden to let him know that I was having trouble getting to the interview, but he didn’t pick up.

After a while, I began to panic and the guard looked over at me and asked me what it was worth to me to get through the gate. Call me an idiot, but where I come from, you don’t show up late for a job interview. I told him that I needed this job more than anything and if he could help me, it would literally save my life. So, the guard let me into his booth, and about 7 minutes later, I parked, wiped the tears, cum and mucus off my face, fixed my makeup, and walked up to the Braden Jennings mansion. When the door opened, the “guard” I had just blown was there filming my reaction.

Then, while giggling uncontrollably, Braden Jennings introduced me to the guard, a.k.a. his buddy Holt, and his videographer Cale. Then, he told me to write copy for an episode where a dumb blonde blows a gate guard to get to her job interview on time and then finds out it was just a prank. Being without other more appealing job prospects, like “live organ donor,” I wrote the copy. Then, Braden said they’d call me if they were interested and told me to make sure to “like and subscribe!”

Much to my surprise, a few days later, Braden actually did call me. If I’d bothered to look at the vlog he posted, I wouldn’t have been so surprised. The piece I wrote and guest-starred in drove his viewership through the roof. After that, Braden decided that he needed me and his lawyer sent me a contract that basically committed me to him in whatever capacity Braden wanted or needed for one year along with a non-disclosure agreement. As the year progressed, I discovered that “whatever capacity” included some things that ended up ruining my life. What can I say? Sometimes, the best you can do is survive.

“Why the fuck is your name in here?” Braden snapped, scrolling down the copy I’d written, “You trying to pinch my viewers? Get a fucking spin-off?”

I chewed on my lips and looked at the pool… the outdoor pool. There’s a pool in the atrium inside, but I was looking at the outdoor pool because it was further away from the spray-tanned, razor-cut, inflatable-pecs, winged-eyeliner, lavender-highlighted freak that the internet thought was my object of worship. The world of influencer-worshipping porn-addicts had eaten up the story of a dewy-eyed girl from the sticks being gratefully rescued from desperation by the rich naughty prankster.

“Get this in your head, Butterface. You are a thing! Your name is whatever position the viewers want me to fuck your ass in, got it? Clean it up. And you ever use this font again, and I will personally—”

“BRAY!” Holt yelled from the edit room, depriving me of the chance to hear what Braden would personally do to me if I used the “Chiller” font instead of “Calibri” again. Braden never did anything to anyone personally, usually having Holt do it for him, but he really got worked up about fonts, for some reason. The rule was: I was to use “Calibri” for the intro and close, but “Comic Sans” for the sex-talk. So, now you know what I’m dealing with. Would you believe that I used to write stories in “Garamond?” That was back when I still believed in Weinstein movies and true love.

“Dude, the money shot’s all fucked up again. We need her back in the trunk!” Holt yelled.

Of course, the money shot was fucked up. The money shots always got fucked up somehow because it meant that Holt got to film my reaction to having my asshole mistaken for a rear-facing gas tank again, pretending to feel sympathy for me the whole time. Oh, I wasn’t fooled, though. The only thing Holt felt while I was suffering was a need to rub his junk under the desk. Holt was a sadist, and not the fun kind.

Problem was, Holt didn’t want to just come out and say that he got off on hurting and humiliating me. He seemed to think that would make people think he was a bad person. No, instead he preferred to come up with scenarios wherein I would be humiliated and experience a wide range of pain and degradation before he (strategically standing in for Braden’s steroid-withered cock) would brutally fuck and cum on my ass. Then, I would write copy for Braden to rattle off around the carefully cropped and edited clips that would just barely get past the censors. Usually, it was a script that made Braden sound like he owned the universe, and that I was just an awe-struck girl that was so ever grateful even to be noticed by him.

Don’t worry, I’ll be killing myself soon.

Braden and Holt have been planning out the big trip to Rose Lake Cliffs for a while, keeping the plans secret from me because they want my reactions to be “fresh.” The last time they wanted a “fresh” reaction, I got a donkey punch from Holt and woke up in the hospital. So, you know, death really isn’t seeming so bad anymore. They probably thought up something horrific to have me submit to at the top of the cliff. I’m terrified of heights, so it wouldn’t have to be much to turn me into a mess. Maybe, if it’s bad enough, I’ll just close my eyes and jump… it only hurts when you stop falling, right?

Unfortunately, when Holt and Braden make travel plans, they don’t pay attention to details at all and I usually need to figure things out on the fly. First missed detail: nobody had clothes that made sense outside of LA, and we were going to a part of Minnesota that was practically Canada. You might not think something like that matters in August, but it does. So, while the guys made jackasses of themselves in the duty-free shops of the Minneapolis airport, I bought them some less stupid clothes.

Next, we took a flight on a smaller plane up to Duluth, which apparently is a real place. I had actually lied about being from Minnesota to Braden, because I knew he would eventually bring me to whatever place he thought I was from so that the humiliation of doing stuff to me there would be that much more personal, and the reaction “fresh.” Now, I had to pretend I knew about Minnesota. So, Duluth — it’s a place. Who knew?

I followed Braden and the guys up to a man who was talking with an older couple at a Gunflint Skyways counter in the Duluth Airport, “Hey dude, I chartered a flight up to Lake Rose, you our ride?” Braden asked after knocking on the counter to get his attention.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said, looking over the group and settling his eyes briefly on me. My eyes flickered down to the floor out of habit. After all that was out on the internet about me, I didn’t like people looking at me anymore. Despite the never-ending chatter of Braden and his sycophants, I didn’t like leaving the mansion, even. I never knew if a stranger’s lingering look meant they had recognized me… and if someone recognized me, they were probably someone I didn’t want to know better. Eyes felt like judgmental microscopes to me, now.

“WHOA!! Get a load of the guy’s accent, dude! Pure Fargo! Man, the Cohen brothers weren’t kidding! Cale, get recording!” Braden said, launching into a description of the Duluth Airport in an exaggerated northern Minnesota accent.

With an effort, I lifted my eyes from the floor, meeting the eyes of the man behind the counter who watched what was going on and displayed no emotion whatsoever. It’s like he was made of stone. After killing all my emotions for nearly a year, I had to admire that. It wasn’t easy. There’s stoic and then there’s stonic. This guy was stonic. I hoped that I could convey enough of an apology to him for the existence of my companions with only my eyes, but there’s only so much you can do without going full Oedipus and just gouging them out in shame.

The older couple thanked the man and moved on, embarrassed by the scene Braden and the others were making, and the guy turned back to us. “Welcome to Gunflint Skyways, I’m Captain Craig Anderson, I’ll be your pilot up to Rose Lake. Is everyone here?” he asked, looking the group over again.

“Oh, dude! Dude! Tell me you got that!” Braden chortled to Holt, ignoring the pilot and explaining to his viewers what he had, as if the pilot’s accent made him unintelligible. The Captian’s face turned to stone again as he waited.

I pushed forward to talk to him. Over the past year, I had learned to endure some pretty humiliating things, but I still couldn’t bear to watch the idiots treat other people the way they did. Sometimes, I wonder if they did it on purpose because they knew it was one of the few nerves I had left.

“I’m sorry, Captain. I’m Katie Lund. Yes… yes, this group is going up to Rose Lake. I’m so sorry. I don’t know the plans they made, but I assume there’s a lodge or something… we were going up to the cliffs? I’m so sorry I don’t know more, but I can try to—” I fumbled, turning bright red as the Captain’s eyes looked from my face, to my tense shoulders, twisting legs, and eventually to my hands that were unconsciously clenched into tight fists at my stomach.

“You just apologized three times…” he said, still looking at me, the only movement or expression in his face being a slight frown of confusion.

“It… it won’t be enough, sir. I’m so, so sorry,” I said under my breath. The Captain’s mouth quirked almost imperceptibly, and for some reason I felt proud that I got that out of him. “Katie Lund, here you are. You’re going up to Rose Lake Lodge for two nights. Booked the whole place… guess you like your privacy. You’ve chartered a boat tomorrow, a hiking guide the next morning, and then another flight back here.”

“How… how do you know that, Captain?” I asked.

“It’s my lodge, my boat, and I will be your guide,” he replied, looking down at his computer with a slight smile. “We tend to multi-task up here,” he explained. “Call me Craig. And don’t worry… I’ll take care of you.”

“Oh… um… thank you, Craig,” I said, both horrified and reassured at the same time.

“You’re welcome, Katie,” he said, looking up into my eyes again, causing something to flip in my stomach. As he came around the counter and began picking up the guys’ bags and carrying them out to a small propeller plane with floaties on it, I realized that I had every confidence that Craig Anderson would take care of me… and that I would want to die the moment he ever discovered what I did for a living.

I rounded up the idiots in that bashful, hesitant tone that my contract required me to use in public or on camera. Braden’s viewers wouldn’t like it if I was ever seen out of character. When I got them out to the plane, that’s when the second detail they missed presented itself.

“Well, it looks like we’ll need two trips,” Craig said, assessing the load.

“The fuck you say? Google says this kind of plane seats four! We’re a group of four!” Braden bulled up full of internet knowledge, his muscle implants bulging in the undersized Golden Gophers sweatshirt I bought him that clashed with his lavender highlights.

I stepped forward to smooth things over again, but Braden shouldered me aside hard enough to make me lose my balance. I fell backward over my carry-on and landed on my butt on the tarmac, my teeth clacking together painfully. Cale and Holt cracked up, recording their view of me rubbing my ass as I got up.

This time, I couldn’t even raise my eyes to apologize to Craig. After all this time with the guys, it shouldn’t have bothered me, but it hurt to have Craig see how I allowed the guys to treat me, knowing he couldn’t possibly understand the reason why I allowed it. Craig had seen them treat me like a worthless thing and they had the money. I didn’t even qualify for a credit card. Soon enough, Craig would take their cue and treat me the same as the guys did. I’d seen it time and again in LA.

“I’ll stay,” I said quietly, brushing off my jeans. “Someone needs to fly the plane, right?” I asked. Braden started scoffing about locals taking advantage of tourists, so I deflected his attention to me before Craig heard too much of it. “Um, Bray, I spent all my cash on clothes for you and the guys and I’m going to need to eat here at the airport. Could you p-please—” I stammered.

Braden’s eyes sharpened as he made a gesture for Cale and Holt to get recording again. “Ohhh, Baby wants some of Daddy’s money again? Well, I think Daddy might have something for you down in his pocket—”

“Oh, right, I forgot. Excuse me,” Craig said, angling around Braden as if he didn’t even exist and ruining the shot, “Here are some food vouchers for you, and a pass to the pilot’s lounge in case you’d like to take a nap, Katie,” he said, handing me the folded vouchers, edges curled and still warm from being in his back pocket.

“Thank you,” I whispered, filling with warmth, and yet dreading the punishment that I knew the all-too-easily emasculated Braden would inflict on both of us for the kindness Craig had just shown me.

“Not to worry, Katie, I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. You’ll barely have time to miss me,” Craig said with a wink, as I saw Braden swell with silent anger behind him. I nodded and quickly looked down, quietly wondering what kind of death wish Craig had… and also hiding my smile before I could get my mouth under control again.

I watched them climb into the plane and waved as they taxied into position. Craig, now wearing reflective aviator sunglasses, was the only one who waved back. The others didn’t even notice. It looked like Braden was, yet again, giving his viewers the treat of seeing him talk about something. After they’d gone, I felt almost drunk with the thought of spending several hours without hearing Braden talk. With the first sense of relief I’d felt in a long time, I walked back inside the airport, found the pilot’s lounge, curled up in a recliner, and fell sleep.

“Katie… Katie Lund… time to wake up, sweetheart…” a voice called me out of my deep sleep. I didn’t want to go. I felt so warm and safe, rested even. Then, my mind digested that someone was saying my actual name instead of calling me something disgusting and I jerked awake. I was huddled in the fetal position in a recliner, my hands clenched into fists over my gut again. Disoriented, I looked at the sideways face of the man crouched down next to the chair, “Craig Anderson… Duluth Airport,” he said, reminding me when I frowned at him.

“No, I… I remember you. I just kinda konked out,” I yawned, looking around the lounge. “You’re back already?” I asked.

“Back, at last, actually,” he said, “The trip took a little longer than I thought. Have you eaten?” he asked, taking my hands to help me out of the chair.

“Um… no, I… I guess I just slept,” I said, yawning.

When I opened my eyes from the yawn, Craig had put his stone face on, looking at the palms of my hands that he kept holding after helping me up. My fingernails had dug deep red crescents into the flesh from being clenched into fists for hours. Self-conscious, I began to pull them back, but then he ran the ball of his thumb over them, rubbing gently. “I’ve got a nail clippers on my keyring,” he offered, “should clear this up,” he said, still brushing my skin with his.

I couldn’t seem to do anything but watch him touch my hands, staring at his tanned and roughened skin, bringing comfort to my own. My addled mind couldn’t seem to understand what was going on, that someone was purposely touching me so gently, and it took a while for me to answer him. “Um… thanks, that’s really nice of you. He needs me to keep them long, though… Braden. Says it looks too gay if my hands aren’t girly enough… ruins the close-ups,” I said, unthinkingly honest in my sleep haze. I wasn’t supposed to talk about what went into creating the look of things.

“Well, that’s… different,” Craig said, giving my hands a light squeeze. “Let’s get some food,” he said, picking up my carry-on and leading me out of the pilot’s lounge.

He brought me to the airport’s restaurant and we sat down together at the bar. “The burgers and fries here are pretty good. The onion rings are battered,” Craig said, not looking at the menu, which listed almost nothing my contract allowed me to eat. Still, I hadn’t eaten all day and knowing that nobody would be there to film or fat-shame me while I ate made me throw caution to the wind and I ordered everything he mentioned. “You like onion rings?” he asked after giving his order, impressed.

“Um… I don’t know. Never had them, but I figured you liked them…” I said, glancing over at him. He had a kind face that was all wrong for the camera, but I liked that about it. It made me trust him.

“Well, you got me on that. You gotta get the battered ones, see, because the others end up mostly being crumbs and oil, no real onion. Plus, then your shirt’s covered with stuff when you’re done and then your date’s looking at her phone…” he said, ruefully.

“You order a lot of onion rings on your dates, then?” I laughed.

“Sure, why not?” he asked, leaning over and brushing me with his shoulder.

“Well… you know, at the end of the date…you’d be all oniony when you bent down to her and…” I said, looking down at my lap, then glancing at him again.

“And…?” he asked, a hint of a smile playing around his lips. I looked at his lips longer than I should have. They were framed by a stubble that sparkled when they caught the dim lights of the bar. Unlike the rest of him, they looked like they were soft.

“Wh-when you kissed her… you guys kiss at the end of a date up here, right?” I said, biting on my lower lip.

“No…” he said, watching me chew my lip, “We tend to kiss all through the date up here, Katie,” he said, turning to take a sip of his iced tea, watching my reaction to what he said in the bar’s mirror. I couldn’t watch much of anything at that moment, being completely distracted by the thought of Craig giving me oniony kisses all through a date.

When I looked up, a plate of golden onion rings had appeared between us. I nudged it closer to him, as an invitation and he looked over the pile, chose one. I thought he’d just take a bite, but then he held it out to me, like I was a small animal he was tempting closer. With a grin, I leaned in and took a bite and moaned before I realized the sound had come out of me. It was hot, crisp and delicious. The onion inside was soft and juicy. I was in heaven. The problem was, when I leaned back to chew it, somehow the soft onion inside the crispy part followed me like a long piece of slippery cheese until the entire thing fell dangling down my chin from my oily lips. I made a distressed noise and covered my mouth, looking around, horrified at my messy eating.

Craig chuckled as he ate the onionless remainder of the batter ring in his hand, “Just do what comes natural, Katie,” he said, puckering his lips and making a kissing noise. Still covering my face, I leaned forward and sucked the long strip of soft onion into my mouth. “Now, you know why I like onion rings…” he said, his eyes watching me appreciatively.

Our conversation was easy throughout the meal, always about little things that we enjoyed. It was so strange, once I thought about it, because he never once asked about Braden and the guys, or what I was doing with them. Everyone always asked about Braden, or implied that I had to be either a gold digger, or a slut or a fool to be with him. I had forgotten how relaxing a normal conversation could be.

When my burger came, despite almost demolishing the plate of onion rings, I took it greedily and sank my teeth into it, moaning in happiness. Craig watched out of the side of his eye, looking like he was holding back a salty opinion. “What?” I asked, my mouth full of juicy contractually-forbidden beef.

“I said the burgers here were ‘pretty good’. You don’t have to lay it on so thick. They’re not *that* good,” he said, rolling his eyes shaking his head.

I put my burger down and wiped my mouth with my napkin, “You take that back. This is the best burger that I’ve had in my life. My mouth is in heaven,” I vowed, still chewing. Craig watched my mouth with an inscrutable look on his face, then leaned forward. I froze and held my oniony breath, wondering wildly if he was going for a kiss, but then he grabbed my freakin’ hamburger and took a bite! “HEY!” I yelled, “What the hell? That’s my burger!”

Craig looked at me as he chewed my burger slowly, his face challenging me and gloating at the same time. I growled and took my burger out of his hand before he could eat more of it. “So… you can stand up for yourself,” he said, nodding with quiet approval.

“Well, yeah, when it matters!” I argued, “this is a good burger!”

Craig looked at me inscrutably again, as if he couldn’t figure me out. “It’s… okay…” he said, dubious about the burger, and ignored my snort of derision. Then, after checking around for any wait staff, he leaned in, murmuring in my ear, “Mine are better… I’ll make you one at the lodge…”

I turned my head just enough to see him out of the side of my eye, still leaning close to my face. “Really?” I asked. He nodded, his eyes full of juicy and meaty promise. I wondered what he would do if I leaned just a couple inches closer and kissed him. I wanted to, but before I had the courage to act on my burst of madness, the waitress handed us the bill, which Craig slid away from me, and the moment was gone.

“Come on. Time’s a wasting. Let’s fly,” he said, taking my hand after throwing a handful of food vouchers and a tip on top of the bill.

The sun was just beginning its descent into evening, casting a lazy golden glow over the sky as he walked me to his plane and opened the door. “Um… where do I…” I said, wondering where I was supposed to put my foot to climb in, or even where I was supposed to sit. Suddenly, I was being lifted by the waist and settled into the seat next to the pilot’s. “Oh… okay, then,” I said, nodding, as he buckled the seatbelt around me.

After putting my carry-on into the small cargo space, Craig practically bounced into the plane, buckling himself into the pilot’s seat. Even with his aviator glasses on, I could see his face was all lit up. It was hard not to laugh at his excitement, but my sense of terror at what was coming tempered me. My hands had begun to clench into fists at my stomach again, and I closed my eyes, trying to picture being somewhere safe. “Hmm… flying or heights?” Craig asked.

“H-heights,” I said, looking over at him, my picture of being alone on a beach just not doing it anymore.

“Well, you’re in luck. Prop planes don’t go nearly as high as jets… and don’t worry, I’ll only make you fly a little,” he said.

“What?” My shriek, however, was muted by the sound of the plane’s engine coming to life and Craig’s evil laughter. After talking with the tower a bit, he taxied onto the runway, and before I knew it, we were airborne.

Up we went, the Sawtooth Mountains growing smaller under us, the sprawling landscape a sea of wooded green. The sky’s gold had warmed to a rosy orange glow in the overcast clouds, reflected beautifully in the lakes below. I pressed myself against all the windows I could reach, despite my fears, unwilling to miss the slightest bit of the beauty around me. “What’s on your side, though?” I complained, trying to see over him, but unable to do it without unbuckling myself.

In response, Craig grinned and the plane suddenly tilted to the left, giving me a full view of what was on his side of the plane because we were actually sideways in the air! Being the only sensible one in the aircraft, I screamed, and grabbed onto his shoulder. Then, he just laughed and righted the plane again. “Did you do that with Braden and the others?” I asked, still clinging to him and trying to stop shaking.

“Oh no… too much turbulence for that. Yeah, I’m afraid they had a pretty rough ride. It’s as if we hit every rough patch of air the plane could find on the way there. Had to hose the plane out and everything. They were doubling up on the Dramamine, last time I saw them,” he replied.

“Do you think we’ll have it that bad?” I asked, leaning closer, comforted by his warm solid body.

Craig looked over at me a touch longer than felt casual, then returned his eyes to the sky. “No… I don’t think so. I can’t imagine anything but smooth skies with you, Katie,” he said, his reflective glasses showing only the horizon. “Not that I mind you climbing on me like a teenager in a backseat,” he added with a smirk. I scoffed and slapped his shoulder, returning to my seat in a huff, Craig’s grin only stretching wider.

The skies were true to Craig’s word and I was spellbound by the beauty of the setting sun kissing the tops of the lush trees below. “It’s all so beautiful,” I murmured, wondering how it would feel to see this kind of beauty every day. Did people just get used to it, or did it move them every time?

“It really is…” Craig replied, his tone making me look back at him, but his reflective glasses were showing only the sunset. “So, are you ready?” he asked, brightening.

“For what?” I asked, still pressing against the window to see below.

Instead of responding, Craig took my hand in his and guided it to the plane-steering thingy in front of me. “What? NO! NO! No, no, no, no, n—” I said, cutting short when he took his own hands off the plane’s thingy on his side and held his hands in the air. With a squeak of alarm, I took the steering thingy in front of me in my hands and whimpered.

“It’s okay… just hold it steady, like this,” he said, covering my hands with his and holding the thingy still.

“Please! Please, Craig! I don’t wanna die holding this thingy!” I yelled.

“Yoke,” he clarified.

“Oh, well that just makes it all better! By all means, let me die holding this yoke!”

“You’re doing great, Katie. And you’re not gonna die. The plane wants to fly if you’re going fast enough. I’ve got the speed, you’re just controlling where it goes. Hold the yoke steady and we’ll just cruise along…” he said.

“But… but… what if I make a mistake? What if I screw up? What if I’m just a little bit off and then we get lost and everything goes wrong and then—”

“I’m right here, Katie… I know where we’re going, and I know how to fix it if we’re off course. So, unless you’re planning on kicking me out of the plane, we’re going to be landing at Rose Lake in just about 12 minutes,” he said, checking a display next to him.

“You sure I’m not gonna die?” I asked, my hands clenched in a death grip on the yoke.

“You planning on kicking me out of the plane?” Craig asked in reply.

“How do I get your door open?” I asked, too scared to take my eyes off the horizon to make sure we were flying perfectly parallel to see Craig’s reaction, but I smiled despite my fears when I heard his low chuckle.

After a few minutes of flying the plane, I drew a long breath and released it, feeling myself relax a little. It was incredible. I almost wished there was more time to keep going. Without even thinking about our imminent deaths, I turned and looked at Craig, just happy and grateful to be there. He had taken his sunglasses off, no longer needing them in the fading light, and was watching me with a soft look. “So, are you gonna teach me to land this baby, or do we keep going all night, too?” I asked.

“I’ll do the landing, tonight, but if we had more light and gas, I’d probably show you. You’re good,” he said, taking his yoke and pulling it into position. “I like seeing what flying does to people… what they look like when you give them a little control.”

Releasing my yoke and wiggling the blood back into my fingers again, I looked over at him, wishing we had more time to spend alone together. “How… did I look?” I asked, haltingly.

“Excited… proud…funny…” he said, looking at the gauges and slowing the plane to descend before looking over at me. “You were beautiful, Katie,” he said.

“Oh…” I said, dumbstruck by how such a simple thing like being told I was beautiful, when the words were spoken by someone who looked at me the way Craig did, could penetrate me so deeply.

Craig brought the plane in, gliding over the lake until the floats just barely touched the water and we slowed almost to a stop, keeping the propeller going until he brought the plane next to a dock. He got out, helped me from the plane and handed me my carry-on.

Looking out over the water from the end of the dock, it felt like I was sailing over the surface, instead of standing still. An illusion the waves created, making it seem like the world had become magic, when in reality I would sink like a stone if I went walking out on the surface. It was time to go back to my fucked-up reality.

“I’ll show you up to your room, if you’re ready,” Craig said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Um… why don’t you just tell me the way. We’ve put you through enough today,” I said quietly, my life settling back on my shoulders. I took his hand before he led me up to the lodge, “This… tonight… it was really wonderful. Everything about it. Thank you so much. Especially for making me fly… I never would have done it if you hadn’t made me, and I’m so glad you did. Thanks,” I said, squeezing his hand, but no longer able to look at him directly. “And will you please let me apologize to you again for… them?” I asked.

“No,” he said, squeezing my hand back. “Besides, I probably just caused them more trouble than you realize. There’s no telling what will happen once someone gets a feel for the yoke. Your room’s up the stairs and first door on the right. They’ll probably be out all night from the Dramamine, but just let me know if you need anything. I’m on the first floor, next to the office. Boat tour tomorrow starts at 9am, after breakfast,” he said, pointing to a nearby boat with an outboard motor.

“You’re taking us out on the lake in a boat?” I asked.

“That’s the plan,” he said, his hand moving from my shoulder to the small of my back, rubbing gently.

“You’re planning to spend hours trapped in a 5 by 15 foot space—”

“Sixteen, actually. They say size doesn’t matter, but…”

“—with these guys. I… I’m so sorry, Craig. Please, please… I’m so sor—” my begging suddenly cut off when he leaned in and kissed me, his arm pulling me closer as my hands spread across his chest. I was completely unable to focus on anything but the feel of his lips tasting me, and the movement of his chest against me as he breathed. Then, before I could even think, we parted and the kiss ended as quickly as it began. “I’m sorry…” I said, feeling his breath against my lips.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked.

“I just kissed you,” he said.

“You’re sorry you kissed me?” I asked.

“Not really,” he breathed, “I’m sorry.”

“Craig, I… you need to know, I’m not a good kind of person,” I said.

“I know, you ate all the onion rings.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you fed most of them to me. That’s on you, too.”

“I know. Katie, I’m not a good person, either. I shouldn’t have kissed you. You’re… not mine… and I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I’m not yours, too. You…” I said, choking up, “you make me feel like a better person than I am.”

“That’s not possible,” he said, running the back of his fingers down my cheek.

“Yes it is, you just don’t understand yet. You’ll see… and it will change things for you. So, please remember that I’m sorry about whatever happens tomorrow,” I said, resting my forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about tomorrow, too, Katie.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to be kissing you again, then, too.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling goosebumps go down my body, “If I were a better person, I… I wouldn’t be looking forward to that,” I whispered, going up on my toes and kissing his cheek. I disentangled myself from him reluctantly, still holding his hand, ill at ease with a world that didn’t have us joined like puzzle pieces. Everything around me felt alien, except for the force that kept pulling me back toward him. “Goodnight, Craig,” I said, finally releasing his hand and walking away down the dock. He was going to find me disgusting soon, and the thought nearly killed me. I hoped he would remember this moment, as well.

“Goodnight, Katie,” I heard him murmur as the bumping wheels of my carry-on tolled every plank that took me further away from him.

*** *** ***

The first rays of sunlight coming through the trees snuck through the crack between the curtains and the floor and into my eyes. From the snoring, it sounded like Braden and the guys were still sleeping off the Dramamine on California time. The bed that had been reserved for me was covered with their baggage and equipment, and rather than risk the consequences of waking them, I had taken the pillow and a spare blanket and made myself a space on the floor next to the balcony’s sliding door. The carpeting smelled exactly as you might expect after years of the place being used by people who came in to sleep after a day of fishing, and then scaling and gutting their catches.

Barefoot, I crept through the crap the guys had left everywhere on the floor, and snuck out the door in the loose oversized flannel shirt I had slept in. I wanted to see the lake in the morning, to cling to one last bit of the magic that had happened at the end of the dock, last night.

The screen door on the main floor squeaked as I opened it to escape, and I was careful to close it without a bang. Most screen doors, you can just tell, are waiting to announce their presence to the sleeping world. The grass was wet with dew, as well as the gravel lining the path down to the dock. The rocks cut into my shoe-tender feet, but I didn’t care. It was an honest pain, one that didn’t shame me.

The lake lapped gently at the shoreline, creating ripples that went back and meet the lazy morning waves. The planks were cool on my bare feet, poking deeper the gravel rocks that had attached themselves to my soles. I rubbed the pebbles off on my leg and padded to the very end of the dock, sitting cross-legged where I could see nothing but the lake water.

Birds were beginning to announce which part of the lake was theirs to each other. A beautiful pair of black and white birds that swam like ducks slowly crossed the lake a dozen yards away, giving off haunting warbling calls. The place was so peaceful that I could feel it bringing life into me. It made you stop thinking and actually feel things. It would be the perfect place to write… if only I hadn’t ruined my life.

Why had I ever tried to be a screenwriter? Such a useless thing, to write wistful stories and hope that they would touch someone with the power to make them matter. If I hadn’t chased that silly dream, I wouldn’t be trapped, now. Of course, if I hadn’t chased that dream, I wouldn’t have met Craig.

The lake magic happened again, and it was like I was floating along the top of the water, like one of those birds with the eerie calls. Soft rolling footsteps announced the presence of someone walking toward me on the dock. It definitely wasn’t Braden, or one of the guys, the discipline of walking softly not really being a skill they had needed or bothered to cultivate. “How do you take your coffee?” Craig’s voice asked quietly, crouching behind me as he wrapping an old, pilled blanket around my shoulders.

I turned and smiled up at him, the morning light making his freshly-shaved face glow. The smell of his shaving cream lingered in the air, reminding me piercingly of my father. “Um… kinda sweet and really creamy?”

“That figures,” he said, tucking my hair back behind my ear, then rubbing my back gently. “Be right back,” he said, standing and silently returning through the trees to the lodge.

Minutes later, he returned with two cups and handed me one before settling down next to me and dangling his feet off the dock.

“This is hot chocolate…” I said laughing, after taking a sip.

“Yeah, well, I have a theory that people who like their coffee sweet and creamy really just want some hot chocolate,” he said, grinning as he watched me wrap my hands around the warm cup and greedily drink more.

“How do you take yours, then?” I asked, leaning over and looking into his cup.

“Today?” he asked, leaning toward me, “with you.” He kissed my forehead, and I allowed myself to feel his lips on my skin for only two seconds before I ducked my head and glanced anxiously back at the lodge. “Sorry,” he said, smirking.

“You’re not sorry.”

“I’m not sorry. How am I supposed to think about coffee when you’re sitting in front of me looking adorable with bed head and a hot chocolate moustache? Get rid of that thing before I kiss it off.”

Giggling, I rubbed my upper lip and presented myself to him again, “Better?” I asked.

Craig took my chin in his hand and tilted my head from side to side, then just stared for a long moment, “Perf—”

“HEY BEAVER! MORNING WOOD! CHOP CHOP!” Braden yelled, standing on the balcony with an erection in his boxer briefs.

I cringed and tried to pull back, to scramble away from the incriminating scene, but Craig held me there and just brushed his thumb along the lower lashes of my eye. “Got it,” he said stone-faced, looking at the nothing on his thumb as if he’d been helping me get something out of my eye.

“Thanks,” I said, looking away from his face as I teared up and blinked a little. “Excuse me,” I murmured, and ran back to the lodge.

Ninety-seven minutes later after fulfilling several contractual duties for the guys, I went out onto the balcony for the fifth time and modeled another bikini, shivering in the cool morning air. “Ugh, no! What did you even bring that one for, idiot? Black is for the yacht!” Braden yelled, looking at me through his phone to check the look. “Did you fucking eat something? What the hell? You look like a pregnant manatee! Your belly’s bulging out and that thing’s cutting into your ass in back! Fuck, you’re useless! Take it off, do a bronzer on your fat ass, put on a robe and get out here! We’re losing the light!”

After spraying my naked body down, I threw on the light silk robe that wouldn’t rub away the body foundation and ran down to the dock where Craig was helping Cale load equipment into the boat, a vague look of confusion on his face. I knew the day wouldn’t improve his understanding.

Holt was spraying Braden down to his hips until he looked a shiny dark brownish orange, his perfectly sculpted pec and ab implants glistening in the sunlight. His arms were real, though they weren’t as strong as they looked. Braden didn’t care if his arms were strong, as long as they looked right.

Craig looked at me shivering on the shoreline as he walked back up to the lodge, and he did a slight doubletake. He probably hadn’t recognized me. Most people don’t realize how much of a difference photo makeup can make.

When he returned, he brought with him a pile of blankets and towels, putting them into a storage bin at the back of the boat. Then, he took a green spray can of Deep Woods Off out of the bin and began spraying it all over his body and for some reason it made me giggle, when juxtaposed against Braden’s primping.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at, Fatass. Get on the boat,” Braden said, taking my upper arm, and scrutinizing my face. I knew what was bothering him, but I hoped he wouldn’t say anything about it. Of course, that wasn’t likely.

From the back of the boat, Craig took my hand and helped me in, frowning with concern at the light silk robe I wore. “Stay low and in the middle, keep balanced, and walk lightly,” he told me quietly. I nodded, and did as he said, moving to the bow of the boat because I had an idea of the kind of shots Braden wanted.

Next Braden and Holt tromped into the boat, heedless of the instructions Craig repeated quietly with each of them, wobbling precariously at the sides until the boat stabilized. Finally, Cale stepped in, a little more carefully, but with all the equipment and people inside by that time, the boat was a little tipsy, so I understood why.

Craig took us out onto the lake, showing us views, and telling us about the natural development of the land. I tried to listen, but being in the front of the boat with nothing but a thin layer of silk between me and the slight wind created as we glided over the water, had me huddled with my back to the beautiful view and shivering miserably. Even more troubling, Braden was staring at my face again, scowling.

“Holt, you asshole, look at it!” Braden yelled randomly, interrupting Craig’s description of the local wildlife. “Next time you drill her ass, take your fucking Timberlands off! I can still see the print your boot made on the face! We can’t use the other side either, because of the carpet burn!”

Holt argued back that the carpet stunk like fish and there was no way he’d be taking his boots off because he’d probably catch ringworm or something. I turned away from everyone and looked out of the boat from the bow, the cold wind now filling up my thin robe like a sail, making it billow out around my body. I didn’t care. I could block out the pain and the cold, but I was pretty sure seeing Craig’s face at that moment would end me.

We cruised until Braden found the place he wanted. Holt took out the light reflector and angled it at my back. I loosed the belt of my robe and took my arms out of the sleeves, keeping it covering me as best I could as I turned and draped myself over the end of the boat, the cold metal pressing into my breasts, while Cale and Braden decided how they wanted my ass to look. Honestly, my ass made up about 90% of the content of Braden’s online presence at this point.

“What? What’s that for?” I heard Braden ask behind me, as I looked down into the clear lake water.

“Something for her to lie on. The metal’s cold… and she’s not dressed for the weather,” I heard Craig say.

Braden cackled and repeated what he said. “Dude, that’s brilliant! I’m gonna have you say that again when we’re recording, okay? ‘She’s not dressed for the weather….'” Then, Cale explained in an undertone that I couldn’t have a blanket under me because it would make the shot less “raw,” if they couldn’t see my bare skin pressed against metal.

Braden knelt down behind me to check the look, then I heard him sigh. “Get the tape, she’s flabbing to the sides again. Get ’em together! I want it perky, like tits!” I felt hands squash my cheeks together until they made the proper cleavage and then heard the ripping sound of painter’s tape and sighed with relief. Once, they had used duct tape to keep my cheeks together, and removing it ripped off hairs and skin.

I trailed my hand in the water below as I waited, cold and clear. Most lakes weren’t cold this time of year, but Rose Lake was perpetually and dangerously cold because of its depth. I pictured myself slipping off the bow into the water and sinking down into the dark depths. From the side of the boat, I noticed Craig watching my face through the water’s reflection. I closed my eyes. Craig made me feel things, and anything I started feeling now, would hurt.

“Okay, this is a whole Titanic thing. I’m standing behind her, going at her ass, and spread my arms for the money shot, got it? We practice a few times, then go live. You got signal, Cale?”

“5G, we’re good.”

A selfie stick drifted past my head, and I felt Braden stand behind me, moving his hips as if he was fucking my ass. “Fuck baby, yeah! You love it don’t you? You love daddy’s hot cock in your ass… you ready? OHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” he yelled, a little too much like Michael Jackson who sounded like he never had a real orgasm. “How was it?” Braden asked, turning to Cale.

“It’d be better with her head in the shot, if you ask me. Kinda necro-looking right now,”

“Yeah, well thanks to Holt, the face is fucked up. Arch your back and lean down further,” Braden ordered, slapping my ass.

My hair was dipping into the water, now, my teeth were chattering and my shivering shook the boat slightly. I gripped the side of the boat for balance, arched my back, and leaned down further. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, fuck yeah that’s it,” Cale said.

“Wait a sec, I got an idea,” I heard Holt say, my muscles tensed in anticipation because Holt’s ideas always, always hurt. Then, icy water was sprinkled all over my back, running down my body in rivulets of cold agony, and I squealed in misery until I got a hold of myself and tried to control my shaking so they could get the shot.

Then, Braden was standing, holding my hips again, and I was so grateful for the warmth of his hands, that it made me hate myself. “Okay! Let’s go! Uh, uh, uh take it you little cockslut! Nnnnh, fuck yeah, that’s right!”

I felt him speed up and stroke harder, his hips slapping against my taped ass and making it jiggle. Cale was zoomed in on the ass jiggle for a moment, then he was zooming back out for Braden’s big cumshot, when I saw Craig’s reflected face in the water. Once again, it was set like a stone, but then, I noticed he was mouthing something, what was it? Then, my mind cleared and I realized what words his lips were forming… “Hold on.” Without even thinking about it, I gripped the boat for dear life.

Then Braden slammed himself against my ass, flung out his arms, and shouted “I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD!!!”

Right then, there must have been some waves or something, because the boat suddenly wobbled sharply and then Cale and Braden, who really shouldn’t have been standing in the boat, fell over the side, right into the icy cold lake.

Almost unable to move, I fell back into the boat and pulled my robe over me as Craig moved the craft closer to the guys, and Holt scrambled to haul them back into the boat. The shock of cold made both of them gasp upon entering the lake, filling their lungs with water. So, Cale and Leo DiCaprio spent the rest of the way to the dock coughing, while huddled and shivering under the blankets Craig had offered me earlier. If I was capable of thinking anymore, I would almost have felt bad for them. Almost.

Craig brought us back to the dock, tied the boat and climbed out. Ignoring the guys, he reached down help me out first, but my body was shutting down and I couldn’t make myself stand or even reach up. Then, I felt his hands under my armpits and he easily lifted me out, straightening from a squat. “Whoa… dude doesn’t skip leg day,” Cale said admiringly through his chattering teeth, before Braden hissed at him to shut up.

“Pit’s over there,” Craig said, scooping me up under the knees and carrying me down the dock. “Go gather some wood and make a fire if you want to warm up.”

I leaned my head against Craig’s shoulder, not even wondering where he was taking me. The cold was no longer something I could block out, it was inside me. I found myself sobbing quietly, hopeless that I would ever feel anything again. I didn’t even feel humiliated anymore, I couldn’t think enough to even get that done. I was naked, shivering, and useless.

He put me down on some wood slats in a small dark room, the only light coming from the open doorway. I heard the clicking twist of a dial, then his hands were rubbing my arms and legs, trying to stretch me out rather than let me curl up and die like I wanted to. “Stay here, I’ll be right back. Little bit of hypothermia. Don’t lock the door, okay?” he said, brushing my wet hair away from my face and searching my eyes.

The door closed and left me in darkness. A hissing sound came from a dark corner nearby and I wondered what it was… probably snakes, demons, something like that. Creatures crawling out of the warm pit of hell to feast on the delicious stupid girl. At least it was warm…

“Open up, Katie. Put this under your tongue for me,” a voice said, waking me.

“Mmmphuckoff,” I politely suggested, but my pest was undaunted.

“I would, but you can’t have this hot chocolate until I take your temperature. Guess I’ll have to drink it myself…” the voice sighed regretfully.

“Gimme,” I grunted, blindly thrusting my hand out and colliding with a sturdy shoulder. Instead of hot chocolate, a thermometer was put into my hand. I considered repeating my earlier suggestion, but instead I put the thermometer under my tongue. I fell asleep for what felt like a day, but then I woke up when the thermometer beeped, and it was only 30 seconds later.

“Hey, you’re up to 96.4 degrees,” Craig said, sounding pleased. I wondered vaguely how could he possibly sound pleased after what he’d seen today?

I opened my eyes, ready to ask him the question, when I saw him take a sip from my freakin’ hot chocolate! “Hey! Mine!” I growled.

“Just the foam,” he said dismissively.

“Foam’s the best part,” I said, taking the cup from him. “Where am I?” I asked, sitting up weakly.

“Sauna,” he replied. “I needed to warm you up quick.”

“The guys?” I asked.

“They were pretty cold after the lake, so I told them to gather some wood and build a fire. That was a few hours ago, though. I should probably check on their progress.”

“They don’t know about the sauna, do they?” I asked.

“Mighta forgotten to mention it,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. “You needed it more than they did. You were… exposed longer,” he said, his smile fading.

“I’m sorry…” I said, looking away. “I should have said something, prepared you better. I just… I liked you. Liked being the person you thought I was. I liked not having to explain what a failure I was, not to someone that touched me and looked at me the way you do… the way you did, I mean.”

Craig took my hot chocolate and put it down next to him on the bench. Then, he pulled me down into his arms and sat me down on his lap. He was shirtless and warm, and I began to resent the jeans he was wearing. “Katie, how would you even know how I’m looking at you? You’ve barely met my eyes since this morning.”

“Can you blame me? You saw what I am. You saw what I let them do to me… and Braden, he’s huge, he’s everywhere. Even if it’s all faked, the world thinks I’m nothing but a piece of arm candy that lets her disgusting rich boyfriend do whatever he wants. Even if I could get away from him, for the rest of my life, there’s nowhere I could go to get away from it. My life is ruined, and I did it to myself. After this, I can’t be a writer… I can’t be anything.”

“You can be a writer here, Katie. Help me out, turnover the rooms, and bring some more people in here. Stay with me. I’ll make you cheeseburgers and hot chocolate. You want away from all that, this is about as away as it gets,” he said, squeezing me against him.

Uncomfortably, I pushed myself away from his warm body and looked at him. “Craig… I’ve only known you for a day. Do you realize if I did what you said, I’d be completely helpless and dependent on you? I’d trap myself in a place where you can’t even get signal half the time? Somewhere I can’t even get away from because I can’t fly a plane? I’ve already ruined my life because I made myself helpless to someone who used it against me in every possible way. I can’t do that again,” I said, pushing myself off his lap and wrapping a towel around myself.

Craig rose, taking my shoulders, “Katie, you know I’m not like that. You know how you feel. I see the way you look at me. You can’t tell me that this place isn’t perfect for you… that there is nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy. Just believe a little, Katie. Just a little. Listen to your heart and give the good guy a chance, for once,” he said, looking down into my eyes, willing me to forget everything I’d learned in life.

“What good is a heart to a woman?” I asked bitterly, “My heart told me not to give up on being a writer, and look where I am now. Hearts tell you to take risks, and then when it goes bad, they’re too broken to help. You probably are a good guy, Craig… you might even be a great guy… but I’m too old to believe in heroes, and I might just be better off using my head from now on,” I said, pulling out of his arms and walking back to the lodge.

After I changed into dry clothes, I went outside again and sat near the fire pit. The guys had given up on building a fire in favor of smoking weed and throwing out ideas for future episodes, so I tossed aside the wet rotting logs they tried to burn and crumpled up some paper into a pile and put small twigs around it. Soon, I had a cute little fire going and a sense of accomplishment that I hadn’t had for quite a while. Then, Braden stood up and pissed on it while the guys laughed and recorded, which really struck me as a metaphor I could use… if I was ever going to be a writer.

If I was ever going to be a writer? What the hell? I was a writer! I just didn’t feel like a writer because I wrote inane prattle for a rich trust fund brat so he wouldn’t need to bother thinking things up for himself! And I only did that because I’d given up on what I loved… because I’d stopped using my heart. What the fuck was I doing with my life? I had to go find Craig.

I jumped up and ran back to the sauna, but it was empty. So, then, I thought: Craig was normal. What do normal people do after they sauna? If they’re not hypothermic, they freakin’ shower because they’re sweaty. Then, I kinda got excited because the thought of a sweaty, naked Craig was pretty damn good.

So, I ran inside and looked for where his door might be. He said he was next to the office after we kissed last night, so I went there first. No Craig, but there were pictures… frames of him with people holding giant fish and huge grins, him carrying a kid on his shoulders that was pointing at something in the distance like a commander yelling “charge!!!” Then, there was a younger photo of him wearing dress blues with a white hat and belt… he’d been a Marine, and damn if that uniform didn’t make you want to fuck yourself a Marine.

Then, I heard the shower! Following the sound and scent of my prey, I went through a door and past a small kitchenette where Craig probably made the coffee for the people who weren’t me because he knew I preferred hot chocolate, goddammit! He probably made the cheeseburgers there, too! What the fuck was wrong with me?

Then, I walked through the open bathroom door and whisked back the plain, off-white shower curtain that had moldy black spots near the floor. “What?” he asked, all big and naked, glaring as if I was being obnoxious by interrupting his shower. Unfortunately for Craig, by this time I’d built up a head of steam and I didn’t have a lot of experience in letting it off productively.

“I hate this shower curtain!” I yelled. “It’s boring and it doesn’t match the white tiles and you gotta spray some bleach water on it because that stuff at the bottom is gross!” Then, Craig turned off the water in slow motion, and belatedly I realized, with a plummeting sensation, that I had barged into a big, naked man’s bathroom and yelled at him about something stupid. That was really one of those things you should think through before you commit to it.

“And?” he said, stepping closer to me with a rather unforgiving look on his face.

“And? And what kind of a jackass are you for not arguing with me? For not helping me see that it wasn’t such a leap of faith to stay here? You could teach me to fly that plane in a fucking day, probably! You could give me some numbers of other people who could fly me out of here if you turn into a psycho! Hell! You’re a goddamn Marine! You could teach me that thing where you kill someone with your thumb!” I yelled, showing him my lethal thumb weapon.

“Oh, for God’s sake! We don’t kill people with our thumbs! Marines are not killing machines! We’re actually trained to have some discipline and make sound decisions under combat conditions. And I didn’t argue with you because I’m a goddamn gentleman and when a woman says ‘no,’ you’re supposed to listen,” he said, calming his tone, but not his intensity.

“But… but, what are you supposed to do when she’s wrong?” I choked. Craig glared at me and wiped the water from his face, looking furious. He had every right to be. I’d just chosen to be suicidal with an abusive idiot rather than show him even a little trust. A guy like Craig shouldn’t have to prove he’s not an asshole. Feeling hopeless and idiotic, I turned and ran out of the room sobbing.

Being a distressed busty blonde, I tried to go running through the woods at night somewhere where I’d be disemboweled by some evil entity that had been resurrected by something the guys chanted while high on weed, but I guess the horror movies don’t quite give you the straight story on things like that. Instead, there were decent paths to follow, probably because going anywhere through the undergrowth was not fun at all. So, I chose a path and took off running until the trail disappeared rather suddenly and I almost fell off a small cliff into the lake. Having decided earlier that cold water was not a good way to die, I skidded to a halt, backed up a few paces against a good-sized fallen tree and hung onto it for dear life, just to be sure I wouldn’t be falling into the lake accidentally.

It turns out I was a really slow runner, or Craig was a really fast one, because he couldn’t have been behind me much longer than it took to pull on a pair of jeans. “Katie!” he yelled, running up to the edge, his eyes skimming the water frantically.

“Not dead…” I panted, raising my hand to be counted for attendance, still clinging to the big fallen tree.

“This path can kill you! I put up fucking signs!”

“Dark… no flashlight… upset…”

Craig cursed and flung himself down next to me and pulled me up into his lap as he checked me for injuries, “Are you still cold?” he asked, noticing I was shaking. I shook my head. The running had warmed me up. My body just didn’t like being almost dead, and I held onto him more desperately than I’d clung to the log.