Perfect Tunes - Emily Gould Page 0,30

no one talked much. Daisy didn’t eat with them; Dylan’s dad said she’d gone to bed early.

Dylan and Laura were supposed to sleep in separate rooms, but of course she snuck in to see him after she figured everyone else would be asleep. She crawled into his childhood single bed with its nubby flannel sheets and pressed her body against his, but he stayed on his side of the bed, looking away from her.

“Is that how she always is?”

“Could I make it any more clear that I don’t want to talk about it?”

“Okay, sorry, I thought it might help to be able to talk about it.”

“You don’t understand. That’s my mother.”

“I also have a mother. I know what it’s like to fight with your parents. You’ve never even asked me—”

“Well, we don’t know each other that well,” he said, and rolled away from her.

As angry as she was, she was still powerfully attracted to that turned back. He was so muscular and warm. She wanted to wrap her arms and legs around him and take long breaths of the smell of his neck and slightly greasy hair. So she did, but he just lay there, even as she brushed the sides of his body with her hands, dipping her fingertips below his waistband, gently testing the waters. When he finally rolled toward her, she felt overwhelmed with relief; she’d won. But there was no warmth in his face as he yanked up her T-shirt, pulled down her underwear, and without any indication that he enjoyed what he was doing, pressed into her. He kept his head turned to the side, his shoulder pressed into her face. When she made a sound, he pressed his shoulder down harder, so she stopped making noise.

In the bathroom afterward, after she peed to prevent herself from getting a UTI, she looked down at the swirls of snotty goop in the bowl. She walked back to bed, to the bedroom with Callie in it instead of the one with Dylan, and after assessing the depth of Callie’s slumber, she turned over on her stomach and rubbed out a quick orgasm.

4

Laura slipped into Bar Lafitte as quietly as she could at the beginning of her afternoon shift. The door was open, but she didn’t see anyone around, so she started doing the side work she and the other waitresses sometimes occupied themselves with so that they wouldn’t get too bored, stacking drink menus and wiping down tables and chairs with a damp bar rag. She allowed herself to zone out, polishing one tabletop till she could see her blurry reflection in its surface. It was a shock when Stefan’s voice called out her name from the top of the staircase where he typically sat at the table he called his “office.” Laura tensed, preparing for a lecture. After all, she hadn’t been at work for more than a week and hadn’t even bothered to call. For all she knew, she was about to get fired.

Instead, she found herself wrapped in a lingering and, thankfully, very platonic-feeling bear hug.

“I’m so happy to see you! I knew you were likely fine, but one couldn’t help but worry.” Stefan seemed almost to be on the verge of tears.

Alexis was just walking in the door at that moment, and she ran over to both of them and joined the hug. “Oh, Laura! Thank God you’re okay!”

This welcome was the opposite of what she’d anticipated, but it made sense. She was also thrilled to see her coworkers. It was a gross, sort of exploitative job, but the bartenders and waitresses there were the constants of her life. She hugged Stefan back and told them she’d missed him, sincerely.

The rest of the shift was manic and blissful because there was no time to think. She was becoming better at waiting tables. She felt the pleasure akin to that of learning how to speak a new language, making small mistakes and learning from them. She slapped down her tickets with a smile or a joke so that the bartenders would prioritize her orders and she could deliver drinks more quickly and endear herself to her customers. She got faster at making change, and her muscles learned the wrist-flick that eased credit cards through the slot in the machine on the first try, the exact pace to walk at so that the tray of drinks in her hand would sail and not wobble or slosh. Everyone she served said yes to another round. People