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"That's a nice way to say I don't have taste."
She laughs. "Well, you're helping me find what I like. Maybe I can help you find what you like too."
"I've never had a proper gin and tonic."
"No."
"Is it that surprising?"
"It's such an iconic drink," she says. "But it's not really at college parties."
"You go to many?"
"Some," she says. "Especially my freshman year." She stops at the light. The last one before the big stretch of nothing before Abbot-Kinney. "I didn't feel that connection everyone else seemed to feel."
"They weren't playing your music?"
"You heard me and Luna?"
"Enough," I say.
"I didn't have the heart to tell her I kinda like The Beach Boys."
"You are from surf city."
"That's Huntington Beach."
"Exactly," I say.
"Damn. That was good." She laughs. "It's more my dad. He got into American culture for a while. All those artists from the sixties. Action movies. Baseball. Only the baseball stuck, but I still have these happy memories of my parents dancing toI Get Around. They, uh, they're not as happy now."
"I'm sorry."
"We, uh, we should go to the party," she says. "For an hour or so."
"Make out in the backyard?"
"I'm okay with that," she says. "I have to admit something."
"Yeah?"
"I thought about you last night." She blushes. "When I touched myself."
"I tried not to—"
"Think of me?"
"Fuck myself. I like to wait."
"How long?"
"As long as I can."
"Days?"
I nod. "But I didn't make it. I was too excited. Had to take the edge off this morning."
"The edge—Oh. Do guys really do that?"
