“Yes. Reagan, hand me those high-waisted pants.”
While we’re putting the finishing touches on our outfits, I text Easton photos of how I look.
Easton:Hot damn you look sexy.
Maya:Thanks [heart emoji]
Easton:Where are you going for girls night?
Maya:Ohhh sorry. I can’t tell you.
Easton:Why not?
Maya:No boys allowed [wink emoji]
Easton:Fair. Let me know when you’re there and when you plan to leave so I know you’re safe? Have fun [heart emoji]
My teeth scrape my lip, but I can’t hold a smile back.
“Aww, look at her. She’s so in love,” Reagan teases. “Don’t even pretend you’re not texting your boyfriend. That’s the way your face looks every time you talk to him.”
My mouth pops open and I hold my phone against my chest. “I—Okay, fine. Easton said to have fun.”
“He’s so sweet,” Hana says.
Reagan smirks. “Did he also tell you that you look sexy in that dress?”
I catch her eye in the mirror while I apply a bold red lipstick. “Yes. Are we ready?”
“Yup. I’ll order our Uber,” Reagan says. “Let’s go shake our asses off until our feet go numb.”
“Hell yeah,” I say with a laugh.
The nightclub is in a neighboring town. It’s the only one nearby with a decent dancing space and a good DJ. It’s crowded and lively for a Thursday when we arrive.
“Okay, girls,” Reagan announces as we survey the room. “Let’s go break some hearts and make some damn good memories.”
She takes mine and Hana’s hands and leads us to the dance floor. We find an open spot to fill, moving to the music. I get into it, gliding my hands down my sides and winding my body.
Reagan holds up her phone and we all squeeze together to take selfies.
When the next song starts, Hana busts out some techniques that blow us away. Reagan and I become her hype girls and she draws a small crowd until the song is over. She grins and bows to the applause from people around us.
We move back into a tight circle for the three of us. A short girl with red hair almost trips when she passes our spot. Hana grabs her arm before she falls, pulling her into our dance circle.
“Thanks. Someone spilled a drink and I slipped,” she says.
“No problem. Oh, wait,” Hana says. “I know you, right? Do you go to Heston?”
“I do! I’m Corinne.”
“I’ve seen you around the arts buildings,” Hana says. “I’m studying dance.”
“Awesome. You girls go to Heston, too?” Corinne asks me and Reagan.
“Psych major with a minor in physical therapy,” I say.
“Music and production,” Reagan answers.
