Lovestruck Summer by Melissa Walker (best management books of all time txt) 📕

By early evening, I have my “bed”all set up and my duffel bag unpacked. Penny cleared a drawer for me in a chest that sits in the living room, and I took over a shelf in the small stor- age closet under the stairs. My cousin also made space in Miss Tiara’s closet for any dresses I brought. When I told her all I had were T-shirts, jeans, and one jean skirt in case we went out to a nice dinner sometime, she gasped. Then she immediately got out some fabric scissors and insisted that I make at least one of my four pairs of jeans into cutoffs. I protested, but she grabbed me by the sleeve and marched me over to the deck door, sliding it open and gesturing wildly with her pink nails. “Quinn! It is just too hot out there for you to be running around in full-leg pants!”

18 After a blast of heat, I had to agree. But when she tried to BeDazzle the hems of my new cut- offs with pink-and-purple rhinestones, I put my foot down. There’s a large, overstuffed chair in the corner of the living room right next to the stereo. It’s pink with yellow fl owers on it, and it’s a little fussy, but it has a great footrest. After I fi nish unpacking, I settle into it with my iPod and listen to the Walters. As I’m drifting off into a state of music- induced bliss, I feel a rapid vibration and open my eyes to see Penny rushing down the stairs in a blur of pastel. She opens the front door and there’s a blond girl in a Tri-Pi T-shirt, the purple letters stretched over her ginormous boobs. I briefl y wonder if this is the recently surgeried friend, and then I see a guy standing behind her. He has curly reddish-brown hair and he’s actually wearing a checked shirt that’s tucked into his jeans with a big belt buckle. I smirk. This guy is like a walking cowboy poster. I glance down at his feet and am surprised that he’s wear- ing Converse and not spur-studded boots.

19 He and Penny are saying hello, and then he turns to face me just as the song on my iPod changes to my favorite slow track. It’s the one that I want to be “our song.”Well, not mine and this cowboy guy’s, of course, although as he walks over to me, his smile grows and I spot two dimples on the sides of his tanned cheeks. He looks incredibly tall from this angle . . . and there’s one curl that hangs in the middle of his forehead . . . and, wow, can anyone’s eyes really be that blue? “Quinn!”I hear Penny shouting through my musical haze. “Quinn!”I press STOP and stand up, realizing that I’ve just been staring at Mr. Cowboy while he’s been trying to shake my hand. I stumble over the footrest but try to play it off as I reach out for what I’m sure is going to be a brutish shake. “I’m Quinn,”I say. “Call me Russ,”he says, taking my hand gently and kissing it. Whoa. Do people really do that outside of the movies? Weird. He looks over at Penny. “I thought you told me her name was Priscilla,”he says.

20 I glare at my cousin. She knows how much I don’t like that name. “She goes by Quinn,”says Penny, ignoring my death stare. “Pleasure to meet you, Priscilla,”says Russ, grinning back at me. I’ve known the guy fi ve seconds and he’s already trying to annoy me—and succeeding. He may be cute, but that doesn’t mean I need to humor him. I give him a tight-lipped smile. “I’m Chrissy,”says boob-girl, rushing over and giving me a fi erce hug. I must look taken aback, because then she says, “I’m a hugger! But I know some people aren’t. Sorry—did I just totally weird you out?”“No,”I lie. “It’s okay.”“Quinn is an indie-rock girl,”says Penny, like that inane label explains something about why I might shirk a stranger’s hug. “Oh, what are you listening to?”asks Russ, reaching down for my iPod. I snatch it up before he can get it. “My favor- ite band,”I say. “They’re called the Walters, but I doubt you’d know them.”

21 “They’re from Austin,”says Russ. “Of course I know them!”Oh, right. Well, just because they’re local doesn’t mean he really listens to them. “Let me guess,”continues Russ, “your favor- ite album is Look for It.”I blanch a little. He’s right. Russ laughs. “It’s okay—when I was your age that was my favorite one too.”“I’m eighteen,”I say, annoyed. “That was my guess,”he says. “Well, how old are you?”I ask. He can’t be more than nineteen. “I’m twenty,”he says. “And there’s a big dif- ference, Miss Priscilla.”“Don’t antagonize my cousin!”shouts Penny. Miss Tiara bounds down the stairs to join us. “Mr. T!”shouts Russ. “What’s up, man?”“Russ, I’ve told you she likes to be called Miss Tiara,”hisses Penny. “I’m sorry, PP, but that dog is a boy, and I know you’re committed to torturing him with necklaces and frilly dresses, but I’m not going

22 to participate.”Russ winks at me. “PP?”I ask, not sure I want to know. “Party Penny!”shouts Chrissy. “It’s Penny’s nickname. And now since she’s Tri-Pi President, we might call her PPP!”“Why not just make it PPPPPP for Pi Pi Pi President Party Penny?”I ask with a slight sneer. “That’s kind of a mouthful,”says Chrissy, not catching my sarcasm. I look over at Russ and he’s gazing at me intently, like he’s trying to fi gure out something about me. It’s a little disquieting. “I’m starving,”says Penny. “Quinn, we’re taking you out to dinner.”“What kind of food do you like?”asks Chrissy, barreling ahead before I can answer her question. “Let’s go to Shady Grove. Hopefully we can get an outdoor table. Do you maybe wanna change out of your jeans? You might get hot. It’s cooler at night, but I still think you’d be