LUCE KISSED ME at about six o’clock, without warning. We looked at each other and she leaned down to take my face in her hands. The beach disappeared; there was nothing but her lips. I lost myself in them. I didn’t know what to do, so I tried a few movements that did not match hers. Gradually I got the hang of it. It developed like music; our solos combined. It was a long kiss, and to me it felt like a rebirth, like an immense door opening up in the sky. Afterward, it was just the two of us, but it was like we spread ourselves over the beach so our joy could flow between the bodies on the paths like sunlight. I loved this beach. I played volleyball. I took off my T-shirt and walked around bare-chested, without waving my arms to cover up my skinniness, without thinking at all, melting into the crowd as if it were water. A plane flew overhead with a banner advertising Fanta, and that made me want a drink. I called out to a soda vendor and bought a can of Fanta to share with Luce. I had become part of the system; I was making the most of it, like the others. The smell of donuts and the noise of Jet Skis no longer sickened me. The heat wasn’t oppressive; it intoxicated me, made me sweat with pleasure. Luce and I went swimming. The waves cut us down, knocked us over. The lifeguard whistled and yelled at me several times. I laughed. I couldn’t feel the sun on my head anymore or the sea that was stronger than I was. I listened to the music and recognized a song: Vamos a la playa… A mí me gusta bailar… Sounds of fiesta… When at last my tiredness made everything spin, Luce dragged me back to the towels. I kissed her, then she started reading under the sun umbrella, the shade tracing a delicate line on her legs again. I lay in the sun to tan my body, which now wanted to dance with the others.

“Luce, you coming?” said a boy on his way past.

“No, thanks!”

No, thanks! I couldn’t stop smiling. Everything that wasn’t me was like water off a duck’s back.

“How old are you, Leo? You look young.”

“Seventeen.”

“One year younger than me, then. And apart from Alma, do you have any other brothers or sisters?”

“I’ve got a brother. He’s fifteen.”

“Does he look like you?”

“Not at all.”

“Is he good-looking?”

“I don’t know… I’ve never thought about it…”

I frowned, which must have made me look stupid, because she laughed. What did she want from me? She came closer.

“I don’t know anything about you. Like… what was the best day of your life?”

“Probably the day my parents gave me Bubble. My dog.”

“Would you sell Bubble for a lot of money?”

“Never.”

“Is there anything that really disgusts you?”

“Um… inequality, maybe.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Inequality is really bad. You’ll be old enough to vote at the next election… Will you?”

“No.”

“Why not? Because you don’t understand enough about it?”

“No, because I don’t feel like it.”

“What do you feel like doing?”

“I don’t know…”

“What do you want, deep down?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know.”

I was embarrassed. That amused her.

“It’s okay if you don’t know. Anyway, maybe you’re only interested in your music at the moment.”

“Thanks.”

“So what kind of music do you listen to?”

“A bit of everything…”

“I always want to slap people who say that.”

“Sorry. I like… classical music.”

“I don’t know much classical music, but I love Chopin.”

“Chopin isn’t really classical music, technically speaking,” I corrected her, blushing. “It’s more like romantic music.”

She smiled and tilted her head apologetically. I wanted her to keep asking me questions.

“Okay, so I like romantic music, then. What else would you recommend? Something that goes well with the moment.”

I thought about it while looking out at the beach. Melodies collided in my mind and I felt good. I felt I belonged here as much as anyone else.

“Maybe the prelude to Lohengrin, by Wagner.”

“I’m going to listen to that right now.”

She took out her earbuds and her phone and looked it up on YouTube. I went into a panic at the idea that she wouldn’t choose a good version, that her earbuds wouldn’t do justice to the sound, especially here, that she would be disappointed. I wanted to tell her not to listen to it, but I forced myself to stay quiet. I didn’t want to ruin the moment. After finding the music, she lay on her back, hands over her ears, eyes closed. I was alone. Luce was listening to the prelude to Lohengrin on my beach of suffering, which was now my beach of bliss. I couldn’t believe it. The piece lasted about nine minutes, sometimes longer—it depended on the conductor. Would she listen to the whole thing? I hoped she would wait until the forty-sixth bar. I knew she wouldn’t open her eyes right away, so I watched her without fear for a long time, and as she listened, I followed the music on her face and on the beach. It felt as though all of us were held in suspense, Luce and me and the others, as if we were one gigantic body lying on the sand, waiting for something to happen. Had Luce reacted to the forty-sixth bar? I heard the strings quiver and I couldn’t hold it back any longer. Hot tears filled my eyes, blurring everything. The joy came to a head, and everything slid downward into peace, into silence. Luce sat up. I heard the sound of waves and shouting again.

“Not bad at all. Thanks.”

“Thank you for taking the time to listen to it.”

“Why did you choose that piece of music?”

“I don’t know… It just seemed obvious.”

“When you talk about music, your eyes change. It’s like everything’s better.”

I didn’t know what else to say. A pleasant tightness squeezed my heart, prevented me from speaking. I looked at her. I thought she was fantastic—that was the word that came to mind: fantastic. But I knew nothing about her. I had answered her questions and she had listened to me. I wanted to ask her things, too, but she beat me to it.

“You’re not happy at this campsite, are you, Leonard?”

“I’m happy right now.”

“Let’s take a photo, then!”

Without waiting, she lifted up her phone and took a selfie, arms outstretched to get us both in the frame. She showed it to me, and I realized that I would never forget our faces, no matter what happened afterward: Luce looking away, her face pensive, and me smiling shyly. She lay down and closed her eyes.

“Luce? Actually, my parents have decided to stay one more day. I’m not leaving until tomorrow morning.”

“That’s cool. Let’s sleep a bit now. And you should lie in the shade.”

I tried to sleep, because she wanted me to.

I wished there were more music. A long time had passed since dawn: the sun had crossed the sky and was already drifting toward the sea; soon it would disappear behind it, taking with it all those frustrated desires, those caresses never given, those words never spoken. Around us, people continued to laugh and run. The tide was rising. We had to hurry to be happy. I remembered a book that my parents used to read to me when I was a child, La Chèvre de Monsieur Seguin, about a brave little goat who fought hard to drive back a wolf during the night. I had heard the story many times—I knew exactly how it ended—but I would always hope: “From time to time, the stars danced in the clear sky and the goat thought: ‘Oh, if only I can hold out until dawn…’ ” I remembered each word, and the sadness returned with them. With my eyes closed, I could no longer feel the sunlight; I could imagine that it was another time of day, that we were somewhere else, and that nothing was dead.