“Why don’t you want me to do this?” I ask, feeling the cold water travel down my throat. “You seem to love it out here.” “I do. You don’t, and it’s not fun to watch you torture yourself. The worst part is, if you weren’t determined to make adventure your personality, I think you’d like it in small doses—a way to drift out of your comfort zone. Instead, you’re so angry that you’re uncomfortable. This could be a nice day with one of your best friends and the hottest man I’ve ever seen—like, he’s currently holding a branch, defecating, behind us, and I still haven’t ruled him out as a sexual
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