For morning Reflection, everyone gathered on the wooden bleachers to face the rising sun. Birds chirped, blue sky peeked through the treetops. While Gary spoke softly about positive intentions and what the day would bring, nine pairs of feet plus Tiffany’s trudged in. At seven-ten, they were the final cabin to arrive, which meant Tiffany would spend her morning cleaning up half-eaten food and used napkins. I couldn’t muster any sympathy. She knew the rules.

“Each morning, we’ll sing a special song to begin the day,” Gary said. “I discovered it earlier this year and thought—that song has a great message. You might’ve heard it on the radio. ‘Shine’ by Collective Soul is about the quest for guidance and acceptance. It has religious undertones, but you can sing it however it makes sense to you. But first, I want each cabin to come together and decide what they’re grateful for on this beautiful morning. The counselors will share it with the group.”

We huddled with the girls, who looked as energized and excited as they had getting on the bus the morning before.

“What are we grateful for?” Hannah asked.

“That we don’t have to clean up our mess today,” Bettina said.

“You’re grateful for Bobby Newman,” one of the girls teased.

Hannah and I looked at each other. “Let’s try for something a little deeper,” I said. “Any ideas, Hannah?”

“How about if we’re grateful for each other?” Hannah asked. “Friendship.”

“Three Musketeers,” Katie added. “It’s my favorite candy.”

“Friendship it is,” Hannah said.

Gary called everyone’s attention back to the front. “Friendship” came up three times before Manning’s turn. “We’re grateful for a lot of things,” he said, scanning the faces of the boys in his cabin. “But today, we’d like to say our thanks for the release of Mortal Kombat II last month. As a cabin, we agree that this is one of the best things to happen this year so far.”

Everyone stayed silent until Gary burst into laughter. “All right. That’s a new one. Videogames. I like it. Who wants to go next? Cabin four?”

I glanced at Hannah, who nodded and mouthed, Candy.

I sighed. “Cabin four is grateful for . . . Three Musketeers bars.” The girls cheered. “And,” I added when they’d calmed down, “having someone to share them with.”

Gary clapped. “Good one, cabin four.”

As it turned out, despite a morning of good intentions, large breakfasts, and lots of laughter, everything came crashing down when I checked our schedule for the day. Right off the bat, we were headed for danger—horseback riding. It wasn’t even my fear that bothered me. It was that I’d miss out on sharing an activity with the girls.

As a group, we walked from the dining hall through dirt and dead grass toward the stables. “Look, there’s Bobby Newman,” Katie squealed, pointing. I spotted a couple more boys from Manning’s cabin. Then his co-counselor Kirk. Like a trail of breadcrumbs, my eyes followed until they landed on Manning as he helped a camper up onto a saddle.

“We’re paired with them today?” I asked Hannah.

“Looks like it.”

Now, hanging back at the stable was even worse. I’d not only be missing out on quality time with the girls, but with Manning as well.

“Want me to stay behind with you?” Hannah asked. “I’m sure Manning and the instructors can handle it.”

I turned and squinted at the stables. The horses were beautiful . . . and enormous. If possible, they seemed even bigger than the year before. A small part of me wanted to be brave just so I wouldn’t miss this time with Manning.

“It’s okay,” I told Hannah. “The girls will want you there.”

One of the handlers came out of the stable in cowboy boots. He waved at the girls. “Who wants to ride a horse?” They screamed and took off running toward him. For a moment, he looked terrified, but quickly recovered. “Okay, okay. Slow down. You don’t want to spook the poor things.”

“You or the horses?” Hannah teased.

Manning looked up at the commotion. Once he’d secured his camper, he came over to us. “I’ve never ridden a horse. Believe that?”

That he’d never climbed on the back of a wild animal and expected it do what he said? Yes, I believed that. What sane person would? I bit my thumbnail. “Me, neither.”

“It’ll be a first for us both, then. Come on.”

Hannah followed, but I stayed where I was. Horses on the ground didn’t frighten me—it was the thought of getting on and letting go. What stopped the horse from doing whatever the hell it wanted? What if it suddenly had some kind of psychotic break? I’d never broken a bone, and I didn’t want to start today.

The handler came out with a shiny, black horse, scanned the crowd, and started toward me. “You’re going to ride Betsy Junior,” he said.

I looked around to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else. “Me?”

“She’s a little on the wild side, but she’s not as bad as her mom. Better if a counselor takes her.”

I tried to back away, but my feet were suddenly made of lead. Betsy Junior had black eyes and didn’t blink, as if she were trying to send me a message—touch me and I’ll buck you into a tree. She neighed, a sinister laugh. “I can’t,” I said. I was too young to die. I’d never even been kissed or learned how to drive. “I’m going to sit this one out.”

“What’s wrong?” Manning asked from behind me, and I jumped. Where had he come from?

“I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“She’s scared,” the handler said. “I see it in her eyes. The horse gets the same look when I bring her around all these kids.”

I gulped. “I’ll stay here and wait for you guys.”

“You sure?” the instructor asked. “You could ride with me.”

I’d only just met the guy. He might do this for a living, but what did that even mean? He could’ve been hired yesterday. Maybe he’d been an insurance salesman who’d gotten laid off and had decided owning a pair of cowboy boots qualified him for this job. “I’m sure.”

“Suit yourself. Looks like Betsy Junior’s safe another day.” He led her back to the stable.

I turned and found Manning looking at me as if he were waiting for something. “What?” I asked.

“You know what.”

“No I don’t.”

“You got out of the Ferris wheel, but not this one. I’m going to make you get on a horse.”

“But—”

“Ride with me.”

My breath caught in my throat. But that would mean being pressed up against him for an hour. An entire hour. I’d probably faint—and fall off the horse. And get trampled. “But you just said you’ve never done it.”

“That guy gave me a quick lesson. I’m a natural sportsman.” He smiled crookedly. “I’ve got this, Lake.”

“It’s okay. I really don’t even want to.”

With the sun high in the sky, his dark eyes were nearly black. “You told me you weren’t afraid to get dirty.”

“It’s not that. What if the horse goes crazy and bucks me off?”

“Then you’ll fall, and we’ll get you up and dust you off.”

“What if I break something?”

“What if? You tell me.”

I opened my mouth. I’d expected him to tell me that wouldn’t happen. That he’d protect me. If I fell off, I might hurt myself and have to go to the infirmary, maybe even the hospital. But that was true for all the girls and boys around me. Which meant now, it wasn’t just about riding a horse. It was about proving what I could handle. How much hurt I could take and keep going. “Okay,” I said without an ounce of confidence. “I’ll ride with you.”

“Today,” he said. “And next time, you’ll do it yourself.”

I didn’t believe I could, but he didn’t need to know that. I nodded. “Which horse?”

“Betsy Senior. Come on.”

My knees nearly gave out. Of course Manning’s first time on a horse would be on the wildest one. I supposed if I was going to ride a Betsy at all, it might as well be with Manning. I followed him.

He tested the stirrup with his boot. “Put your foot in and get on.”

I looked down and back up at him. “On the horse?”

“Trust me, Birdy.” He gathered the reins. “I just did this with my own campers and a couple of yours.”

My heart slowed a little hearing his nickname for me. As soon as I stuck my tennis shoe in the stirrup, Manning lifted me onto the horse by my waist. “Christ, Lake,” he said, adjusting my foot in the stirrup. His head came all the way to my shoulder. “You weigh the same as a ten-year-old.”

It wasn’t true, but it probably felt that way to Manning, who could lift a horse without a struggle.

Okay, maybe not a horse. But he was strong.

Manning turned to walk away, and panic gripped me. I reached out and grabbed the first thing I could, nearly toppling over as I latched onto his t-shirt. “Where are you going?”

He stopped in his tracks, mostly because I had him in a death grip. When he saw me lopsided in the saddle, he laughed. “You know animals can sense fear, right?”

He wasn’t helping. “That’s a myth.”

“Is it?” He engulfed my fisted hand with his, but didn’t pull me off. “I was just going to make sure everyone got on, but if you think you need me more . . .”

I did. I needed him. Why didn’t I get to be selfish every now and then like everyone else? He would stay if I asked him to. Most of the girls had ridden horses before, some had even taken lessons. But I hadn’t come here to be with Manning—I’d come for them. I loosened my fist, and he held my hand until I’d righted myself on the horse.

“Two minutes,” he said. “If she moves, pull on the reins and say ‘whoa.’”

Manning checked in with each of his boys and my girls, too. The way he made eye contact with each one and listened to whatever they said made me wonder why my dad wasn’t like this with me when I got scared. He would’ve just told me to get on and quit whining. Did Manning get that from his dad? Where was Mr. Sutter? What did he do for a living? How often did Manning see him? After he’d shut down my questions about his sister, I wasn’t sure I could ask. But if Manning had become the man he was because of his dad, I wanted to meet and thank him.

Betsy Senior neighed and took a few steps, jolting me back to reality. I tugged on the reins.

Manning looked over and mouthed, Whoa.

“Whoa,” I said. Betsy stamped a hoof and settled.

It took longer than two minutes, but Manning returned once it was time to go. “You want to drive?”

“No. Will you? Please.”

He scratched his chin. “I didn’t think this through. You might need to get off so I can get on first. Can you do it?”

If it meant I wouldn’t have to be in charge of this thing, then yes. He helped me down, hoisted himself onto the horse, and jerked his head for me to get on again. Tentatively, I put my foot in the stirrup again. I had no way of pulling myself up, so Manning offered his elbow. I used it to slide onto the saddle behind him.

“See?” he said. “You’re a natural. “Ready?”

But now, what was I supposed to do with my hands? His nearness robbed me of everything from sense to speech. His camp t-shirt, still creased, smelled like plastic and a hint of sweat.

“You might want to hold on,” he said.

There was only one way to hold on. He was asking me to put my arms around him—just like that? As if it wasn’t something I’d dreamed of a hundred times? It was impossible that he wouldn’t instantly know the depth of my feelings just by this simple hug. He’d feel the pounding of my heart against his back. My hairline began to sweat. I ached to do it, but I seriously couldn’t bring myself to move an inch. I was scared stiff.

“I’m okay,” I said.

“Suit yourself.” Manning clucked his tongue, squeezed Betsy’s sides with his feet, and she jolted forward. I seized onto his t-shirt to keep from falling. He pulled back on the reins, laughing. “Whoa, Betsy. Whoa,” he said. She steadied into a walk. “It might take a few tries.”

My hands might as well be on him now. I had the fabric of his shirt in two fists, and if I released it, I might fall. Probably. It was likely. I didn’t want to fall. I didn’t want to let go of Manning when I finally had him. I eased my grip and slowly, with appreciation for every detail, slid my arms around his middle. I clasped my hands together and scooted closer, my inner thighs pressing against his legs. My pulse beat everywhere, especially the places we touched. And I felt his, too. I couldn’t tell if the fast, rhythmic ba-boom against my palms was just the robust heartbeat of a healthy man or if he was feeling as euphoric and turned on and nervous as I was.

As everyone started down the path, Manning and I pulled up the rear while one handler took the lead. Hannah and the other instructor rode alongside the kids.

Manning cleared his throat and asked over his shoulder, “Are you comfortable?”

My chest was mashed against him, my butt awkwardly pushed out to keep just a little distance between us so he wouldn’t think I was trying to get too cozy. Worst of all, I couldn’t see over him since he was so tall, and I didn’t know where to put my face. It didn’t matter. I sighed. “Yes.”

“Did you fall off a horse as a kid or something?”

“No. I never even got on one.”

“So this is like the Ferris wheel?” he asked. “It’s not really a height thing.”

“No. My friend had a treehouse growing up and I went in there sometimes. I get on the roof at home.”

“The roof?”

“From my room. I can climb out the window.”

“Hmm.” His hum vibrated my body. “So it must be things that move. Not being able to control what could happen. Have you ever been on a plane?”

Those were worst of all. Talk about having no control. You could die a million different ways on a plane and most of it wouldn’t be instant. If it started to fall out of the sky, you’d have to sit there, knowing you were going to die. Just waiting. I shuddered. “I had to as a kid when we took vacations. I didn’t have a choice. I think I cried through my entire first flight and after that, my parents just gave me something.”

“That surprises me,” he said. “I know you’re brave.”

Me, brave? I wasn’t so sure. “Why do you think that?”

“Just little things. Like when we went to that party before the fair, and Tiffany pressured you to go in. You said no when most teenagers would’ve done the opposite.”

“That wasn’t bravery,” I said. “I just don’t like those things—drinking, flirting, acting stupid because they think it’s cute or funny.”

“A lot of people don’t like those things, but they do them anyway. Because people make them think it’s cool. They back down. They’re the cowards.” Manning placed his hand over mine as I held on. My throat went dry, my body tingling in places I didn’t know could tingle. “Take the reins a minute,” he said.

“I can’t even see.” That was a lie. I saw Manning, and Manning was all I saw.

“You don’t need to, because I can.” He removed my hand to place a rein in it, then did the same with the other. “There you go. You’re a pro.”

I wasn’t doing a single thing but holding the reins. He could’ve been steering me into the lake, and I’d have no idea. For some reason, it was important to him that I do this on my own.

“Hey, Jake,” Manning called out. “Mike. Stop screwing around. This isn’t a videogame. These are real animals.”

“Sorry, Manning,” a couple boys said.

“You’re good with them. I can tell they look up to you.” My back started to ache from keeping some distance between us. “Do you want kids?”

He took the reins again. “Not really. No. Not right now.”

I had nowhere to put my hands. “I do, one day.”

“You’re still a kid yourself.”

“Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I’m a kid.” I wrapped my arms around him again, this time pulling myself forward until we were snug, hardly any space left between us. “And I’m getting older every day.”

He straightened up, and I rested my cheek against his back, closing my eyes, inhaling the scent of the pine trees around us. We rocked together with the steady bump-and-grind of the horse’s hooves on the dirt path. The fresh morning air kept me cool, even while my body warmed where we touched. My jeans caught on his, but his t-shirt was soft under my bare arms. Based on what I’d heard from kids at school, this was the way I imagined it felt to be drunk or high, to reach a level of happiness and bliss that could only be achieved with help. Arms, chest, cheek. My entire self pressed against Manning’s solid body—that was my drug of choice.

Was sixteen too young to fall in love? I might’ve thought so before Manning. Could he love me back, a man seven years older? I was sure if he did, he’d never admit it. But I would wait for him. Even I understood that for a while, ours ages mattered. There was no right now for us. Eighteen was a lifetime away. That was two more whole school years, another long summer. It was millions of breaths that would inevitably catch in my throat around him and thousands of pages read across so many books and hundreds of long, sun-soaked California days. But the wait would be, without a doubt, worth it.

The horse slowed. I opened my eyes but didn’t lift my head. We were at the lake now. A couple cabins were canoeing. Because she was as familiar to me as my own reflection, but also because she was yelling across the water at some of her girls, my gaze went straight to Tiffany.

Her canoe rocked, and for a second, I thought she might fall in. She grabbed the edges, steadied herself, and sat. Her campers pointed at the parade of horses, waving to us. Tiffany shielded her eyes.

I turned my head away, resting my other cheek against Manning’s back as I tightened my hold on him. Tiffany didn’t know what she had, what she could have.

As much as it frustrated me, I was thankful for that.