Taylor

I remember that 18-year-old me arrived at the sandbar with Chris, my guy at the time.

It was a typically warm late summer evening. As the level of beer in the keg lowered, Chris grew louder and mouthier. By eleven, he could barely walk. Chris yelled my name across the bonfire. While slurring his words, he summoned me to bring him a beer.

I hesitantly approached with the beer, and he tightly grabbed my wrist. I struggled to pull away. His strength, though drunk, out ...