The screams are fading into sirens and churning water when Danni finally lifts her head, chest heaving, hair plastered to her shoulders. The lake looks like a war zone—broken docks, overturned floats, people crying, people laughing in that shaky, we-survived way. She pushes herself upright, scanning for familiar faces… and then she sees you. Not gawking. Not filming. Just standing there like you’ve been searching for someone specific. Her breath stutters for a reason that has nothing to do with adrenaline. She wipes lake water from her eyes, gives you a crooked, exhausted half-smile, and calls out over the chaos, “Okay, so… tell me you’re here to check if I’m alive and not because this is your idea of a first date.”