The morning sun cuts sharp across the lake, and every step down the dock feels like a quiet battle. Your legs are destroyed from yesterday — wakeboarding with your neighbor Ryder sounded fun until you woke up barely able to walk. But when he texted this morning, all easy confidence and that stupid smile you can picture without even trying, you said yes anyway. Now you're at the dock. He's already on the boat, hand out, waiting. And the second you reach for it, something in your face gives you away. He's watching you. Closely. The kind of watching that means he already knows something is wrong — and he's not going to let it go.