Perfect Tunes - Emily Gould Page 0,22
on a real stage. He would finally understand that she wasn’t a subway busker. He would start to see her as an equal, a partner.
They woke up the morning after a late night, hungover as usual. There was a cool breeze blowing in through Dylan’s open window from the direction of the East River, bringing with it a briny smell that cut through the dirty laundry and ashtray fug of his bedroom. Laura rested her head on Dylan’s chest and traced his bicep tattoo, an outline of an anchor.
“What are you doing today?” she asked.
“Practice, write songs, meet up with everyone at Joe’s later,” he told her.
“What if we went to the beach instead?”
“What beach?”
“I don’t know, Coney Island? We could just get on the F and be at the beach in an hour. Summer’s almost over, and I haven’t been to the beach.”
“Is this a date?”
“Yes, this is an extremely romantic date,” Laura said, rolling her eyes at him. Being opposed to “dating” was one of Dylan’s things; he had drunkenly rambled something once about how the construct was artificial and oppressive. But he was malleable today for some reason and smoked a cigarette instead of a joint as she hurried around his apartment, throwing things into a tote bag: towels from the floor of the bathroom, a soda bottle refilled with water from the tap, an opened bag of pretzels. They were both pasty and would need sunscreen, but she could buy it on the way. Her black underwear would be fine as a bathing suit. She hustled them down the sidewalk toward the F so that Dylan wouldn’t have time to think better of the plan. They ate the pretzels on the way and looked out the window, sharing headphones attached to Dylan’s Discman, listening to Belle and Sebastian with their shoulders and hips pressed together. Her hand brushed his accidentally, and he reached out and grabbed it, which made Laura feel a stunning burst of happiness.
It was a perfect beach day, with a high, blindingly blue sky. Neither of them had brought sunglasses, so they bought novelty pairs with neon pink rims from a boardwalk vendor. When they passed a photo booth Dylan wordlessly grabbed her hand and pulled her into the darkness inside it, put money into the slot, and then ducked down out of the camera’s frame so that it would catch only her expression as he knelt between her legs for a few insane and unexpected seconds, then, grinning, stopped when their time in the booth was up and pulled her back out into the sunlight, reeling and dully aching with unsatisfied desire. They didn’t wait for the photos to come out. The beach was crowded and filthy, littered with trash and suntan-oil-glistening bodies of all kinds, from very large older people to impossibly wasp-waisted teenagers in tiny bright-colored swimsuits. Laura ran down the wide expanse of sand, dodging bodies on blankets all the way to the edge of the water, then stripped down to her bra and underwear. She coaxed Dylan into taking off his shirt, and they stood in the knee-deep surf where the waves were breaking. She reached down into the water and grabbed handfuls of it, using her hands as paddles to splash him so that he’d have to go in all the way.
The waves were wild and huge, and the water was a thick, soupy beer-bottle green. They dove and then floated, trying to ignore whatever brushed against them and hope that it was seaweed. Laura was a good swimmer; she’d always loved the water. “I’ll race you to that soda bottle that’s floating over there,” she said breathlessly after dipping down and then hurling her wet hair back away from her face.
“No, I can’t,” said Dylan. His deep voice wavered in a way she hadn’t heard before.
“Yeah, you can, come on, it’ll be fun. I’ll give you a head start.”
“I really can’t. I mean, I can’t swim,” he said quietly. He was tall enough that his feet touched the bottom where they were standing, even though Laura was treading water.
“Oh! Well, if you start to drown, I’ll save you. I’m very strong.”
Laura paddled over to where Dylan was standing and rubbed her mostly naked body against him. He felt so warm against the cool water. She ran her hands down the length of his long pale back, loving how it tapered down from his shoulders. He had the kind of body that would always look good, no