Lover's Dance

“Alright, which one of you bitches took my duffle bag?”
I looked up from my packing before deciding to ignore Ethan’s outburst. I had one duffle bag and one rather large suitcase, both with nice floral patterns on it. I was in no need of Ethan’s duffle bag, and he knew it.
I continued to fold from the pile of the clothes I’d grabbed from the closet and thrown onto the bed, smiling to myself.
“What the hell are you so happy about?” Ethan demanded, waltzing into the room. I raised an eyebrow questioningly. “It’s because you did take my duffle bag, didn’t you?”
I grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him, laughing. “Go away, your duffle bag isn’t here.”
He dodged the pillow and laughed. He stopped and took a good look at me. “I just accused you of stealing and you’re smiling.” He smirked. “What’s his name?”
I had forgotten that Ethan had gone to bed before Josh had shown up at the door.
“Uhm-“ I blinked. “Josh. Josh Hutcherson.”
“Josh The Hunger Games Bridge to Teribithia Zathura Little Manhattan Hutcherson?”
My brows furrowed and I inspected Ethan closer. “Yes.”
“When did you meet him?”
“The after party,” I explained, smiling a little at the memory. “You were asleep when he picked me up for our date last night.”
Ethan smiled widely and applauded. “Nice work Summers. Nice work.”
I rolled my eyes and fought the urge to throw another pillow at him. “Go away Ethan, start packing.”
“But-“
“You’re duffle bag is probably under that pile of clothes you’ve created in the closet. Go.”
He laughed and reluctantly left, leaving me to finish packing.
I wouldn’t be lying if I said I didn’t exactly want to leave. This entire trip had been more than I could ever hope for. Sightseeing, shopping, movie premieres, after parties, Josh Hutcherson. I had to keep reminding myself that last one was real. Josh Hutcherson and I met. Josh Hutcherson and I talked for hours. Josh Hutcherson and I went on a date and Josh Hutcherson and I kissed.
And, really, what did Florida have that California didn’t? Hot weather, check. Tourists, check. Disney, check. I never really liked Florida anyways; I’d been trying to get out of that hell hole since high school. It just wasn’t worth it to pick up and move when I’m almost never home anyways, what with touring and all that.
“Guess who I just got off the phone with?”
I stopped folding the jeans in my hand and looked at Kayla, who’d ran in. “Who?”
“Amanda. She said we can get into the studio as soon as we get back!”
I yelled in surprise, dropping the jeans and throwing my arms in the air. “Seriously?”
“Seriously!”
I ran over and hugged her. “Yes!”
Casper’s Dance had released our first album almost a year ago, and had started writing our second one right after. It was time to get in the studio and start recording the highly anticipated sophomore album –which we’d yet to name. For a few weeks we’d been trying to find studio time, but our beautiful and amazing manager/tour manager, Amanda, has somehow gotten us in quicker than we thought.
“Have you told the guys yet?” I asked, pulling away. She nodded.
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear me shouting from my room, everyone ran in and thought I was having a heart attack; so I told them.”
“Oh.” I smiled shyly. “I guess I was really concentrated on packing, I didn’t hear you.”
“Or really concentrated on Josh,” she corrected slyly. I hit her shoulder, trying not to smile. I failed miserably.
“Yeah, shut up.”
“I didn’t hear you get back until pretty late last night,” She pointed out. “I’m assuming the date went well.”
I tried to answer but couldn’t wipe the smile off my face long enough to talk. She took that as a yes.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” She warned slyly, going for the door. I raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, gee thanks for the ‘do-whatever-you-want pass!”
Kayla flicked me off, laughing, before she was out the door. I rolled my eyes and went to finish packing.
I didn’t know how I was going to wipe this smile off my face. A weirdo in the airport smiling for no reason screams ‘please body check me, really. It’s just a little hard, I guess, when I can’t stop thinking about last night. Because, really, it was all so perfect. So, so perfect.

I’ve always liked airports. Something about them always pleased me. Maybe it was all the different people you saw. We’d just sat down to wait for our plane and just in the waiting area I saw a parents trying to control their unruly little boy, a teenager with gages and his iPod, a young man with a briefcase, and a girl around my age with a yellow sundress and her nose buried in a book. I could see a couple kissing goodbye, her eyes filled with tears as he set down his suitcase to embrace her. I turned to Matt and Jacob, who were having a discussion about snare drums, and Kayla, who was playing her DS, and wondered what we looked like to passerbys. Three guys in skinny jeans, a blonde playing her video games, and a redhead that had a stupid smile on her face. I don’t know if rock band exactly came to mind first.
“I’ll be back.” I said to everyone, standing up. I read the overhead signs until I found myself at the food court, walking over to the Subway. God, I love Subway. I got in line and waited to be served.
Quickly, I decided maybe I’d call Josh. We exchanged numbers when we’d first gotten in the car, not wanting another how-the-hell-do-I-find-you fiasco. I wasn’t normally one to call first, but I wasn’t one to blatantly smile at a guy someone across the room; look where that got me.
The phone rang three times, then four then five. Then seven, until finally I got his voicemail. I frowned, wishing he’d picked up. I shrugged it off; sure he’d probably call me back when he wasn’t busy.
I bought myself a meatball sub before quickly deciding I wanted some Starbucks and getting Kayla and I some vanilla frappachinos –that girl loved her some Starbucks, seriously. I made my way back to the others and stuffed my sub in my duffle for later and sipped on my drink, handing Kayla hers and sitting back down.
Josh had really nice eyes. And nice hair, and a nice smile, and a really nice jaw. How could you ignore the jaw, really?
It was hard to find anything wrong with Josh Hutcherson. And it was hard to stop thinking about him.
Now boarding flight 321 to Orlando, Florida.