Unbroken

I wonder if Emerson is among them, knocking back a beer with friends. Or worse, a girl.
    “Don’t make that face!” Lacey cries, “That face is banned tonight, you understand?”
    “It’s my face!” I protest weakly.
    “Yeah, and you look like you’re heading in to have Marta rip hot wax of your va-jay-jay.” Lacey retorts.
    I can’t help but giggle.
    “See? Better!” Lacey cheerleads. “Trust me, by the end of the night, I’ll have you forgetting this guy ever existed. Me, or tequila, anyway.”
    We reach the harbor and chain the bikes up against a railing. I look around. It’s early, but there’s already a huge crowd. Music is blasting loud, with food stalls and tables set up serving fresh shrimp and crabcakes. There’s a makeshift bar with beers and liquor, and the party continues all the way across the harbor: boats playing more music, lights strung up along the dock. I see locals, and unfamiliar faces; tourists and college kids, and families too. It’s a real party, and I can’t help but feel a small sense of anticipation.
    Then my eyes catch a face in the crowd: a dark-haired girl dressed in tiny cut-off shorts and a black bikini top. She’s draped over a skeevy-looking guy, doing shots. I freeze.
    “Fuck,” Lacey feels me tense up beside her. “Is he here?”
    I shake my head. “No. It’s just his sister.”
    I’m about to turn away when Brit’s eyes meet mine in the crowd. Her face goes dark. She shoves the guy aside and marches over towards us.
    I feel a flutter of nerves. I always got on fine with Brit—but that was before I skipped town, and broke her brother’s heart. The gangly teenager I knew back then has been replaced by this curvaceous girl with kohl- rimmed eyes and a nose-ring—and murder in her eyes.
    She reaches us, glaring.
    “What the fuck are you doing here?” Brit demands. Her voice is loud and accusing, and the people nearby turn to stare.
    I blush. “Hey, Brit, how’s it going?” I ask feebly, backing up.
    “Are you fucking kidding me?” Brit exclaims. “You’ve got some nerve, showing up here after what you did.”
    I blink, confused. What I did?
    Brit takes another step forward, getting up in my face, but before I can say a word, Lacey steps in front of me.
    “Woah there!” Lacey says. “Why don’t you back the fuck off?”
    Brit’s mouth drops open.
    “We’re just here for the party,” Lacey tells her, glaring. “So why don’t you run on back to lover-boy before he finds some other skank to fool around with.”
    She points to where Brit’s guy is hitting on some blonde girl, his eyes fixed to her chest while she pouts and twists her hair.
    Brit’s eyes flash with rage, and I can see her struggle between giving me a public takedown versus taking care of her own business. In the end, her guy wins.
    “Just stay away from Emerson, you hear me.” She points threateningly at me. Again, Lacey moves to block Brit’s rage.
    “That’s the plan, sweetheart. Go on, scoot.”
    With a final glare, Brit stalks away.
    I slowly exhale.
    “Wow,” Lacey turns back to me, grinning. “All these years, you’ve been so good and quiet… turns out, you kept all the drama right here.”
    “She didn’t used to be like that,” I protest quickly. “She was a cool kid. Into fashion design, and ponies.”
    “Yeah, well that’s not the kind of riding she does anymore.” Lacey snorts. Over by the water, Brit is yelling at the long-haired guy while the blonde smartly slips away.
    I turn back, still confused by Brit’s venom, but glad a public showdown has been avoided. “Thanks,” I tell Lacey. “For stepping in back there.”
    “I’ve always got your back.” Lacey promises. “And now it’s your turn to return the favor—as my wing-woman.” She nods over to the bar area, where a cluster of cute guys are waiting in line.
    I laugh, relieved. This at least I’ve got practice in. “Lead the way, lady.”
    We fill our plates with food, and then head on over to the bar. Lacey works her usual magic, fluttering her eyelashes and pressing in close, and like magic, a space opens up for us in the packed scrum.
    “You didn’t tell me this town was so full of cute,” Lacey drawls, checking out the scene. “But I guess you were otherwise occupied.”
    “Uh huh,” I murmur, distracted. I anxiously sweep the crowd, looking for Emerson’s familiar powerful build.
    “Earth to Juliet!” Lacey snaps her fingers. I turn back. “Come on,” she