RAYS FOR DAYS

"Meg, really?" I whine as she pulls my hand.

"Uh, yea really." She nods.

"Def really. You're home for two weeks. That's it. We get you every day so just accept it now." Trix flings a vibrant sheet of red over her shoulder. I've always loved her mermaid hair.

"You two I'm fine with," I say, shaking my head. "It's everyone else I'm worried about."

"They're your friends too, Emmy." Meg's face almost looks hurt when she looks at me.

"I know. I know. But the bar, really? Too many old memories." I crease my eyebrows together.

"Ya, great ones," Trix says, rolling her eyes at me. She pulls me by my other hand.

"Not all great ones," I mumble.

The memories come to mind now –the good and the bad. The summer nights spent taking the boat out, docking at the bar, dancing, and trying to sneak beers. All pre-21 of course. Some nights we stayed out until dawn, when we'd walk on the spongy sand under the pier and I'd wear his jersey as a cover-up. Then there were the fights –the long walks spent not so much hand-in-hand but shouting at each other, arguing over bullshit.

"Quit bitching." Meg pulls her hair into a topknot.

"Please and thank you," Trix nods.

I walk between them, each one guiding me by a separate arm. I know they mean well, but it still feels a little like I'm being lead to my death. To my demise. To him.

I don't want to see him.

When I left the bonfire, dragging drunk Trix home, I decided I was over it all. So he didn't come find me. Like he was ever gonna. Trix was right again: I am better than this.

But here we are. Here we go. I walk out onto the deck of the seaside bar, the lanterns strung up above twinkling in the dusky sky. It smells like fish, like fried food and low tide. My wedges flop against the wood planks as I make my way to their table.

"Aren't you guys cute?" Travis says, looking at the three of us holding hands.

"Cute? We had to haul her ass here," Meg answers, dropping my hand. Trix continues to hold my other hand, lugging me around the table to the two empty seats next to Alex.

Brooks's eyes follow me to the seat and watch me as I sit. I feel them burning my skin. I don't look up.

"Hi," he says.

"Hey guys," I say to the group. Can't address him directly. He doesn't deserve that.

"Hey, beer?" Alex pulls two bottles from the bucket on the table.

"Sure," Trix says.

"No thanks," I shake my head. If I'm going to sit here I'll need something stronger than beer.

The waitress comes up to me and asks for my drink order. I get some tropical rum runner concoction with at least four different types of rum and liquor.

It's sort of weird to see everyone in the semi-daylight. They all look different from last night, different without the orange glow of fire on their faces. It's the moment right after sundown. It's still bright but with no sun casting shadows. Great natural lighting to see how everyone's aged.

Aged in the best sense of the word. Aged like fine wine. Trix and Meg are even more beautiful –no longer hot teenagers with too much make up and straightened hair ('09, am I right?), but instead naturally confident women, nurturing and adult but still beautiful. The boys –men –are even better. Fuck, do guys age well.

No awkward skin blemishes or cracking voices, no more patchy adolescent facial hair. Instead they're sexy as shit. Nate with his constant 5 o'clock shadow and perfect model jaw, Alex with his light brown curls, green eyes and tan lifeguard skin, Travis and his dark chocolaty eyes, hooded on his face, decorated with metal rings. Brooks –fuck. Put the best of all three others together and still it's no comparison for him.

He actually oozes sex.

Our laughter is drowned by the sounds of boats starting and pulling out of slips, the waves lapping against the dock. Diesel is in the air. It hovers. I feel the moment like it would have been 10 years ago –how it was 10 years ago –summer before senior year.

I'd be sitting next to Brooks. His hands would be on my knees, my thighs, my hair. I'd be laughing with him and kissing his face. Everyone would hate our PDA, but they'd be used to it too. Expect nothing less from us. Basically, we'd be Trix and Trav right now.

When the band started up, we'd be the first ones to go dance. We'd be slightly buzzed not from the beer bucket or rum runners but from the vodka we sneak out of my parents' house concealed in water bottles. But that's not now. I don't know those people anymore. Now it's just water in water bottles.

"So Em, what's up?" Alex asks, looking sideways. "Does Jersey suck like you remember it?"

"Sure does," I grin. "The people too."

"All of us?" Nate frowns, laughing.

"Some more than others." I shrug and can't keep my eyes from looking up at Brooks.

He's looking down, examining his beer label with his cool composure, but a smirk plays on his lips. UGH.

"Well it's good to have you back. You too Brooks. Man it's been what? Years since we've all been together at once," Alex says. I watch him swig his beer, head tilted back. Is he even aware?

"Yea," I say, shifting in my seat.

"Sure," Brooks says at the same time.

"Like nothing's changed at all," Nate says, clapping Alex's shoulder.

"It's all very exciting, we know," Travis exaggerates, laughing. I glance at him and I swear I see him nod at me. His eyes nod at me at least.

So Travis knows. This doesn't bother me, because I've always liked Travis. We've always had a strong friendship bond. Even after nine years, that's got to count for something. I mean, we did kiss once.

This is manageable. Maybe.

I'm just about to relax when a group of girls walks onto the deck. Brooks stands from the table and walks across the planks. He wraps his hands around some petite chick with dirty-blonde hair. Her push-up red bikini says she's trying too hard. But evidently, men *Brooks* appreciate the effort. 

I try to focus on the beer bucket. I try to focus on Trix. Literally on anything else. They can't come over here.

I hear laughing and can't help but look over. Brooks is running his fingers through his hair. All three girls are looking at him like he's some celebrity or prize. Low key the way I look at him.

Alex hands out more beers. Appetizers arrive. Brooks is still standing with the new trio.

"Man he's been back like two days and look at him go. Little shit gets whoever he wants." Alex curses.

"Alex," Travis says, almost warningly.

I tense up, praying no one will look at me. I'm sure the jealously looks great on my face.

Trix catches my eye and shakes her head. I roll my eyes.
"What? I'm just saying," Alex shrugs.

"Think they graduated under us. Pretty shit taste for Brooks if you ask me," Meg says coolly. Praise, Meg.

"They seem friendly enough to me," Alex shrugs.

"Ah, but everyone seems friendly to you, Alex," Nate says, nudging him.

I force a laugh with everyone else. But as my eyes wander back across the deck, back to Brooks, laughing is the last thing I want to do.

He makes me sick.

This day will be added to the bad memory category.