Ava's POV
I should’ve run.
Should’ve told someone—Mom, Dad, anyone.
Should’ve locked myself in the cabin and pretended the last two nights never happened.
Instead I went to the boathouse at dusk like a good girl.
The sky was turning that bruised purple-orange color, sun bleeding into the lake in long streaks of fire. Cicadas screamed in the trees. The air smelled thick—pine, algae, the faint char of last night’s bonfire still clinging to everything. My flip-flops slapped against the wooden path down to the water. Each step made my thighs rub together—still slick from Tyler’s c*m this morning, even after I’d showered twice. I could feel it every time I walked: warm, sticky reminder leaking out of me, soaking the thin cotton of my panties.
The boathouse door was cracked.
Low l
