Page 37 of Easton

Raising a brow, I throw out, “We could go somewhere if you want. You know, to expend all this excess energy.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s getting kind of late. I think most places are closed or are closing.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I agree.

I’m actually glad she doesn’t want to leave the house. I don’t even really know what I was going to suggest. Go to a bar, a club? That’s really not our scene.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Claire says. “It’s something we used to do in the past. But it might sound silly now. I don’t know. Then again…” She shrugs. “Maybe it’s nottoosilly.”

My curiosity is piqued, as I have no clue what she may be thinking.

Twisting to face her more fully, I ask, “What’s your idea?”

Smiling brightly, she says, “I think we should put on some music and dance.”

“Dance?” I question.

“Yes, dance.”

Suddenly, in a whoosh of memories, it all comes back to me. Claire and I used to listen to music and dance like wild fools. It was the most fun ever back then.

Maybe it could be again?

Now I’m smiling, and Claire says, “You remember, don’t you?”

I nod. “I do.”

“So, what do you think?”

I hold out my hand. “Hell yeah, girl. I love it. Let’s dance.”

Easton and I dance and dance and dance. Oh, do we dance—to new stuff, eighties tunes, nineties grunge, and a bunch of songs we used to rock out to ten years ago.

Finally, exhausted and hot, even though I lost the hoodie a while ago, leaving me in a thin T-shirt and leggings, I plop down on the sofa.

Slouching down till my head’s resting on the back, I declare, “That’s it. I’m done. I think I’ve burned off ten thousand calories in the past couple hours.”

Laughing, Easton lowers the volume on the portable speaker we’ve been using and sits down next to me, slouching in the same way.

Again, though, that damn throw pillow is between us.

How did it even get back up here anyway?

Oh yeah, we almost tripped over it when we started jamming, and I tossed it onto the sofa.

“If you burned ten thousand,” he says, “I think I did twenty.”

I nod. “Probably. Your air guitar was pretty wild, especially when you jumped up on the coffee table.”

“Hey,” he replies, shrugging, “you got to give the masses a good show.”

I laugh, as it was almost like we were putting on a concert. Once we moved the coffee table and two chairs out of the way, we had a lot of room to work with for our performances.

And we had a bunch of song choices.

We connected Easton’s iPhone to the speaker first. And when we ran out of tunes we liked on his, we synced mine.

“That was a lot of fun,” I say softly.

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