"If you wanted to go swimming, Layla, you didn't have to drag me along," he said, his voice deceptively light, and he hung back a little, keeping his distance. A part of him wanted to just duck and run right there, having already worked out what he thought, at least, was her plan for the evening.

It's not that I'm afraid of water. I probably should be, all things considered, but I'm not. It's what it reminds me of that's terrifying, the sense of helplessness and futility that drove me to jump off that cliff in the first place, and revisiting those feelings -- revisiting that day -- strikes me as wholly unnecessary, like I'm asking for trouble. I won't deny that the view is gorgeous, but I can appreciate it just as well from afar.