Page 65 of Songs of Summer

When Matt looked at Maggie’s sleeping face, he saw a beautiful combination of two people who were nothing alike. Her mouth and her coloring were like Bea’s. They shared the same olive-toned skin, and her wavy chocolate-brown hair was a looser version of Bea’s curls. But her long legs, sharp nose, and unreal eyes came right from Chase Logan’s DNA.

The car behind him honked its horn impatiently. Matt blushed, realizing the possibly creepy reason for his delay, and drove off.

During the hour-long drive to Manhattan, he organized their day in his mind. The bakery where Renee and Jake’swedding cake was waiting for pickup was located on the Upper East Side, while the Japanese listening room he wanted to show her was way downtown. It was one of the coolest new concepts in music he’d seen in years.the next karaokewas the headline he’d given his article on the subject. He was psyched for Maggie to experience it firsthand, stoked for her to bring the concept to her space in Ohio.

He hoped that he and Maggie would keep in touch. He hadn’t made a new friend whom he had felt such an immediate connection with in a long time. It seemed as if he had known her for much longer than a few days. And nights. For strangers, they had certainly spent a lot of time together.

Matt broke his no-touching rule again, gently nudging her when the skyline appeared in the distance. She barely took in the sight of the city, though not for lack of trying. It was adorable how she propped herself up, holding on to the door with one hand and the middle console with the other before resting her head back on the window and shutting her eyes again. She would have to look backward on the way home.

He purposefully chose the 59th Street Bridge to enter Manhattan, cueing up his Spotify to the song of the same name—he loved adding his own soundtrack to life. He had recently heard Paul Simon tell Stephen Colbert that he loathed singing the song, specifically the line that said, “Life I love you, all is groovy.” Matt got it—it was quite the corny line—but to him, that was part of its charm. He wondered if Maggie would roll her eyes or sing along, lowering the windows and cranking up the stereo to bring her to. The moment she heard the first notes, she perked up and harmonized with Simon & Garfunkel, leaning out the window to lap up the Manhattan skyline like an excited puppy.

By the time they got to the other side, they were both loving life and feeling groovy.

“We can park in the garage near my apartment and walk through Washington Square Park to the restaurant. Sound good?” Matt asked.

“Sounds wonderful,” Maggie replied. “Do most people have a car in the city?”

“Not really. I use it a lot for work. It’s more affordable to park at the airport than to take a cab, and I drive to local shows in Long Island and Asbury Park, plus a lot of college towns—you know, for the indie stuff.”

“Love that! I’d love to hear who you’re listening to.”

“I’ll share my latest Spotify playlist with you.”

“I’ll send you mine too. I carry some great local musicians. I get pitched all the time.”

“Same. How do you decide who to buy for the shop?”

“I’m not great at saying no. I have a special section in the store for local indie groups, and I usually sell them on consignment. You?”

“I’m a sucker too. I always think I’m going to discover the next Bruce Springsteen. You know, this guy I know at the beach was the first to write about him in the press.”

“No way. You know the guy fromCrawdaddymagazine? I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t believe you knowCrawdaddymagazine.”

It was rare to be with someone outside of work who considered his trove of useless music trivia interesting.

“Of course I do. I literally grew up in a record store. I used to cover my textbooks with their magazine covers. Not the original ones, the reincarnated version, but still.”

“The other kids must have thought you were so cool.”

“More like so weird. But I didn’t care—I always had Jason.”

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and reminded himself again that Maggie was not available. Even though it hadn’t felt that way last night when he was comforting her on the beach.

Matt circled around the Plaza Hotel, pointing out Central Park to the north and his favorite movie theater, The Paris, to the south, before heading down Fifth Avenue to the sounds of Leonard Bernstein conductingRhapsody in Blue. Maggie’s head was flipping right to left as he pointed out the guidebook-worthy sights. He worried she’d get whiplash.

There was Tiffany’s on the left.

Rockefeller Center on the right.

St Patrick’s.

The New York Public Library.

The Chrysler Building.

The Empire State.

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