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It was 2 in the morning, and we were dancing around the kitchen while waiting for the cookies to bake. I had on basketball shorts and a sleeveless tee, and she wore a black over sized shirt with those little shorts she practically lived in. The socks on our feet made the dance party even better as we slid around the wood floors, laughing at each other and holding hands to steady ourselves. We used spoons covered in cookie batter as impromptu microphones as we loudly sang and shouted the lyrics together. When the song changed she started to jump around and water from her shower-damp hair flicked on to me. She looked up and beamed, her beautiful and mischievous eyes shining, and I smiled back, so wide my jaw hurt. We continued dancing early into the morning, sliding on the floors and laughing around the kitchen together. Nothing could ruin this moment, and I couldn’t have been happier. She spun around on her toes, smiling, and I sighed happily. At some point, the oven timer for the cookies went off somewhere in the background, and the night ended with us cuddled under a heap of blankets on the couch, keeping each other warm as the air conditioner blasted nearby. The now-empty plate of cookies sat on the coffee table, and the music still played softly from the kitchen.