“I’m having trouble writing my vows,” I admit.

She props her elbow on the countertop as her eyebrows knit. “You guys are writing vows?

I nod. “It was Micha’s idea.”

Lila drums her fingernails on her knee. “Yeah, I assumed as much.” She pauses. “Why do you think you’re having such a hard time?”

“Because I’m not a writer,” I say. “And because… well, because I hate expressing my emotions to an empty room let alone to people.”

“Yeah, but we already kind of know how you feel about Micha, since you can’t keep your hands off him.” She inspects her reflection in the mirror on the back wall of the bar. “But I get the emotion part and not wanting to say it to anyone. Sometimes I hide what I feel, too.”

“Really?” I ask, raising my voice as the music gets louder. “It never seems like you do.”

She glares at some creepy guy with a ponytail who keeps grinning at her from across the bar. “Maybe it’s not that I hide what I’m feeling so much as I pretend to feel something else, but I’ve been trying to stop because it’s unhealthy.”

I know from experience that she’s right. “So how do you suggest I get over the not being a writer part?”

“You just put the pen to the paper and write, I guess.” She shrugs. “I’m sure something good will come out.”

I continue to try and figure out a better solution until the song switches to an upbeat tempo and Lila claps her hands together, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “I love this song,” she says. “Let’s take another shot and dance.”

“I’m only taking a shot if it’s Jäger,” I tell her.

She makes a gagging face. “Ewe, you’re so gross. I’ll just stick with tequila.”

She orders our drinks, and then we slam them back and head for the dance floor. We dance in the low lighting, making the occasional trip back to the bar for more shots until we’re hot, sweaty, exhausted, and ready to go home. I feel good, not just because I’m buzzed, but because I had fun, even though I’m scared of getting married, worried about writing vows.

As we push through the crowd, heading for the exit, we collect our jackets from the chair. We slip them on as we push out the door and the ice-cold air stings at my bare legs.

“Let’s run,” I tell Lila and she laughs as we take off, staggering and slipping in the ice as we run toward the Chevelle parked beneath the lamppost.

“Wait.” Lila suddenly slams to a stop when we’re almost to the car. She looks back at the club with a torn expression on her face. “Maybe we should go back inside where it’s warm and call the guys to come get us. We said we wouldn’t drive drunk.”

Through the sea of alcohol sloshing around in my head, I realize that we indeed shouldn’t be driving since everything looks a little distorted and standing seems complex. “Yeah, good idea.” I start to turn around to head back when a blue Camaro drives into the parking lot and parks between us and the door to the club, blocking our path.

“You have got to be shitting me,” I mutter as the window rolls down.

Mikey sticks his head out as a cloud of smoke rushes from the open window. The last time I saw him I was throwing a milkshake into his window and then he tried to chase us down. Knowing Mikey, I’m guessing he’s probably still holding a grudge.

“Ella, what’s wrong?” Lila asks tracking my line of sight as a smile creeps up on Mikey’s face. “Who is that?”

“Well, well, if it isn’t the town rebel.” He continues smiling as he opens his door and hops out. He’s about average height for a guy, which makes me in heels as tall as him, but my weight is no match for his. His black hair blends with the night, his nose is crooked, probably because someone clocked him, and he has a barbed-wire tattoo curving around his neck.

His boots stomp against the icy parking lot as he strides over to us with a smirk on his face. “So is that Gregory idiot with you, because I’ve been dying to kick his ass too for that shake stunt you two pulled.”

“What?” Lila asks way too loud and I shoot her a look over my shoulder, warning her to keep her mouth shut. Then I glance over at Mikey’s car, noting that there’s someone else in the passenger seat, a guy I think.

As Mikey slows to a stop in front of us, he measures Lila up with a sly look on his face. “Are you his girl or something?”

“Whose girl?” Lila plays dumb, shielding herself by stepping behind me. She’s scared, her erratic breathing showing through the fog.

Mikey looks her over for a little bit longer and then focuses on me. I don’t like how he’s looking at me, not like I’m Ella the girl who could hang tight with the guys, even if he didn’t like me. He’s looking at me like I’m a girl, because I’m dressed like one and I suddenly regret wearing the damn dress and fucking heels. “Ella, I know you’re not stupid,” he says, inching closer. “I know you know that around here people just don’t get away with throwing shakes in cars. They have to pay—things have to be even.”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “Just like I know that no one around here respects you.”

The muscles in his neck tighten as he steps into the light from the lamppost. I’m growing a little nervous. Even though Mikey has always tried to seem tough, it was all an act and most of us knew that he was a lot of talk. But this Mikey looks different than the one I used to know. More ragged, rough, intense, and less cowardly. His eyes are sunken in and red and I wonder if he’s gotten into drugs, but it doesn’t really surprise me if he has. It happens sometimes in this town.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Mikey cautions.

Lila captures my arm, her fingers trembling as she whispers, “Maybe I should call or text Micha and Ethan.”

I shake my head and hiss, “No way. Then they’ll just end up in a fight.”

Lila glances at Mikey. “I think we might end up in a fight if we don’t get them here,” she whispers nervously.

“No, we’re fine,” I reassure her, even though I’m not so sure myself. “Just go to the car and wait for me.” I turn around and target my eyes on Mikey, attempting to look tougher than I feel as Lila backs toward the Chevelle.

He cracks his knuckles and neck, like it proves he’s tough. “You think you can frighten me with a look?” He spans his arms out to the side at the empty parking lot. “You got no one around to protect your ass.”

That feisty, fighting girl that I keep shoved down inside pushes her way out and I step forward so we’re close. “And that’s okay.” I span my hands out to the side and glance around, mockingly imitating his move, ignoring the fact that I know things are going to get ugly. There’s nothing I can do about it. I could run, but then he’d just chase me. “Since I don’t see any threat around.”

A vein bulges in his neck and he starts to pace to the side while the other guy in the car climbs out. He’s tall and bulky with cropped hair and arms the size of my legs. I try to calculate how fast I can run to the car in heels, and if I make it to the car, can I drive fast enough to get away because I know he’s going to chase me down whether on foot or in a vehicle.

“Ah, now you’re not so cocky,” Mikey says with a smirk when I don’t respond. I hate to back down because it would mean living through hell for almost forever, since no one in Star Grove can seem to forget, but at the same time this isn’t my home. I might be here for holidays if that, so in the end, does it even matter?

Sucking in all of my stubbornness, I put my hands up and step back, putting distance between us. “Fine, you win,” I say through gritted teeth.

“No fucking way.” He counters my step back, narrowing the distances between us. “You insulted me and ruined the leather in my car. You don’t just walk away. The question is, how are you going to pay? I mean, I could just make you pay to get it reupholstered.” His eyes scroll up my body suggestively. “Although, there might be something else you can give me.”