The beach is crowded. In February. We’re surrounded by people whose idea of a good time is taking an ice bath. Two guys, or maybe girls, wearing polar bear costumes give everyone high fives as they check in. There’s a huge medical station and a bunch of dudes who look like Navy SEALs meandering around in their dive suits. I imagine they’re supposed to make me feel safer, but safety isn’t really my top concern. I’m not so much worried about drowning as I am about FREEZING MY FREAKING BUTT OFF FOR NO APPARENT REASON.

Excuse me. For a good cause.

I head into the women’s changing tent and slip on my bathing suit. My legs are as white as the sand. Perhaps a shade lighter. Ugh. I huddle beside a heat fan for a few moments before going out to meet Chris.

The pecs. Oh, my. I haven’t seen them in months. And now he has abs, too. As in, sweeter-than-Dew, six-pack abs. Holy cow. He runs up and grabs my hand, and for a moment I’m too stunned to move.

“Come on,” he says. “The sooner we get in, the sooner we get out.”

First sensible thing the boy has said all week. We take off and splash in up to our thighs. That’s when I falter. I can’t go any farther. The water is beyond freezing.

“It’s not a Plunge until you plunge,” Chris shouts. He insists we go big or go home. Heads under.

I rub my arms. “Cold. Cold. Cold.”

“Come on, Lexi. You got this.” He dives into a wave.

I can’t do it. I want to, but I can’t. Every inch of my body is rebelling.

Chris surfaces about fifteen feet away and calls to me. “It’s not so bad once you’re in.”

We both laugh. I used to say that to him at the pool all the time. He hated it. He was such a skinny kid, and kind of awkward. Who knew he’d grow up to become this hot, sexy, Polar Plunging dude?

I take a deep breath—or as deep as my shivering body will allow—and dive into the next small wave. Holy cow. Freaking freezing.

That’s it. Time to get out. I look around for Chris and see that he’s already halfway to shore. Guess he had the same idea.

My legs plod slowly through the swirling water, despite the fact that my brain is shouting at them to hurry up. The air feels much, much colder now that I’m soaked, so I dip in up to my shoulders for “warmth.” All I can think about is that heat fan in the women’s changing tent. A wave knocks me back, and I try to regain my footing. As I struggle to propel my weakening legs forward, a group of about six middle-aged women holding hands rush toward me, squealing and laughing and blocking my way.

Suddenly I’m sinking. I can’t feel my calves. I try to will them to move, but they seem somehow disconnected from the rest of my body. The instruction sheet they gave us at check-in said not to stay in the water for more than five minutes without a wet suit. It hasn’t been that long, has it?

I look around for a diver, but can’t see past the gaggle of ladies splashing and screeching.

“Help. I need some help.” My teeth are chattering so hard, and my body is shaking so much, I’m not sure whether I’m actually shouting the words or just thinking them. Not that anyone could hear me over these women.

I wave at one of them, and she waves back. “Crazy, aren’t we?” She laughs and turns back to her friends.

Wonderful. I try to swim toward shore, but my arms are so cold and stiff, they can’t compete with the small breakers swirling around me.

I roll over to float on my back, but my legs are two dead weights pulling me down. I swallow a mouthful of saltwater, and that’s when panic sets in. I start to flail. Is it true that people go down three times before they drown? Did that count as my first time? Am I going to die at seventeen? Doing a stupid Polar Plunge? My parents will be so pissed. And I’ll never get to franchise the Boyfriend Whisperer. And I’ll never know what it’s like to kiss Chris. And—

A violent wave startles me. I’m being pulled out to my death at sea. Only it’s not a wave. It’s Chris, and he’s pulling me up onto the beach. The parts of me that aren’t completely frozen thrill at the harsh scratch of sand.

Chris wraps a towel around me, and a blanket. And himself. He rubs my cheeks with his hands. “Are you okay? Are you okay? Lexi, say something.”

My teeth won’t stop chattering, and my lips won’t form actual words.

“This was so stupid. What was I thinking? Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

I’ve never seen such fear in Chris’s eyes. He continues berating himself while feeling slowly returns to my extremities.

Finally, I speak. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

Relief washes over his face as he tries to help me stand. “Come on. We need to get you to the medical station.”

I shake my head. “We can’t do that. They’ll call our parents.” We’d get in so much trouble, especially Chris. His coach would no doubt bench him tonight, and he’d lose his chance to play in front of the scouts. My mouth isn’t quite able to articulate all that, so I simply say, “Coach Wallis will kill you.”

He shakes his head. “So? I don’t care.”

He should. This is his best chance of the year to impress the top teams in the region. “Let’s just hang here.” With your arms wrapped around me. I lean my face into his chest and close my eyes as he rubs my arms and back.

“Lexi, I shouldn’t have made you do this. I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay, seriously. It was fun. Or at least … different. And I’m fine.”

He tilts my face toward his. “You scared me half to death; you know that? Are you sure you don’t want to get checked out by the EMTs?”

I shake my head. “Not necessary.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“How can I make it up to you? Tell me. I’ll do anything.”

I rest my head on his chest. I can’t tell him what I really want, so I name the next best thing. “Hot chocolate.”