The song jolted me back to being thirteen, to the first time I'd heard it.

It was a hot summer night. Leonie and I were slumped in the backseat of her older cousin's beat-up Jetta that to us seemed like the greatest car in the world because it was owned by a teenager, not a parent. I remember resting my hand out the window and the hot wind rushing through my splayed fingers as we drove back from the beach. Our hair was a wet tangle of salty strands and the faint scent of coconut ...