Outside, under the terrace balcony that acted as a roof, a girl was smoking with her leg bent, her foot resting against the wall. She was dark-skinned and wore cutoff jean shorts, a white sleeveless T-shirt, combat boots, and a lot of bracelets on both wrists; some of them shone, glittery like a little girl’s, and others were black plastic. Her hair was short and black. Gaspar thought she was beautiful like no other girl he had ever seen. He approached her unabashedly, attracted as if he were suffering from terrible heat and she were melting ice; he had to be fast, decisive.

“Is it open?” he asked, after saying hi.

From inside came a song that talked about skin flying all around. What weird lyrics, thought Gaspar. The lazy guitar seemed very fitting for that evening of humidity and rain.

“For now you can only drink beer at the bar, but there’s a poetry reading tonight. And a band is on after that.”

The girl looked at him curiously.

“I hadn’t seen this place before,” said Gaspar.

“It’s been here about a year, but we just painted it red so it would stand out. Are you in school?”

“The Normal two blocks from here. I’m behind. I’m a senior, but I’m eighteen already.”

“You repeated a grade.”

“No,” said Gaspar, and didn’t explain further.

She was older, he realized. Not much, a couple of years. She must be in college. He hadn’t been with many girls, a fact he was ashamed of and tried to hide. With Belén, an old classmate, he’d gone to the park and kissed her belly; it had tickled her, and when she moved and the smell from between her legs had reached him, he’d gotten a sudden and somewhat painful erection. He’d tried to lie on top of her and he kissed her behind the ear, but Belén got scared and he stopped immediately. I like you a lot, said Belén, but I don’t want to. He felt like his head was pounding, but since she was on the verge of tears, he told her no problem, and sorry, it’s just that you’re really pretty. Let’s go, I’ll walk you to the bus stop, okay? And she said yes and soon they were talking about something else, though Gaspar didn’t remember what because his erection was hurting and while they were waiting for the bus, he told her he was going to pee and he jacked off quickly and furiously behind a tree, before the curious gaze of a grimy white cat that blinked at him. When he returned, calmer now, Belén told him about her vacation at the Valley of the Moon and how the landscape had looked like Star Wars, and then the bus came. He hadn’t seen her again. He had slept with other girls after that, but every time it was both memorable and profoundly unsatisfactory; he was sure he should do something else, that it had to be more than just that desperate feeling of haste and joy and then the unease of not knowing if the girl had liked it, if what he did was okay, if he’d put the condom on right, if it was bad to fall sleep afterward, if he had to stop or if he was allowed to ask to go again, when to ask and when not to. He’d asked Vicky and she just said, “It’s so obvious, Gaspar.” How could it be so obvious if it was so difficult for him?