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

more comfortable in a skirt or—”“I’m fi ne,”I say, wondering how I’m ever going to make it through dinner with Miss Tri-Pi

23 Chatterbox and Russ the wannabe cowboy. “Are you sure?”Chrissy asks. “Because I could loan you a sundress or something. I’ve got a bunch next door.”“Oh, you live next door?”I ask. “We both do,”says Russ. “We share the condo to the left of Penny’s as you walk out the door. Which means our walls touch yours.”Is he trying to be weird? “Uh . . . cool,”I say. “They’ve been roommates forever but they haven’t hooked up since freshman year,”says Penny, grabbing her car keys and opening the front door. “Cool,”I say again, not sure why Penny thinks I care about that information. “Yup,”says Russ, holding open the door for me as the hot air hits my face and makes me want to run back inside. “We’re right there in case you need anything.”“Great,”I say, folding my arms across my chest. I follow Penny and Chrissy out to the car. This is going to be a long night.

24 * * * The place where we go, Shady Grove, is pretty great. We have to wait a few minutes for an outdoor table under this big tree (a pecan tree, Russ tells me), and there are hanging lights and wagon wheels and potted plants and the buzz of laughter all around. When we sit down, I see there’s a huge menu, but I zero in on the tortilla fried catfish. “There’s a girl who knows how to order,”says Russ when I tell the waiter what I want. I give Russ an unamused smile, hoping to discourage further conversation. I get off the hook for a while as Chrissy starts rambling about the trip she’s going to take to Hawaii in the winter, and how she hopes the girls who rush Tri-Pi next year aren’t “just in it for the glory.”She and Penny have a serious back-and-forth about that while I try not to look incredulous. This is so not my scene. After a few minutes, Russ brings the spot- light back to me. “So, Priscilla, what’s a Carolina girl doing this far west in the summertime?”he asks.

25 I have the urge to stab my fork into his big dumb hand. But it’s not worth it to get into a “My name is Quinn!”fi ght with him—I prob- ably won’t see him again after tonight. At least, not if I can help it. “I’m interning at Amalgam Records,”I say, pleased with myself for having such a badass answer. “Sweet, really?!”he says, his eyes lighting up. “Man, I’ve wanted to hang out at that place ever since I moved to Austin. How did you land that?”“It was, uh, this really complicated pro- cess,”I say, reaching for my iced tea and taking a big swig in the hopes that Chatty Chrissy will start talking about something else and distract everyone. Gulp, gulp. They’re all still looking at me expectantly. “Yeah, you know,”I continue. “It has to do with grades and my experience in the music scene in North Carolina and all that.”“That’s super fun!”says Chrissy, leaning in on her elbows so the Tri-Pi lettering on her T-shirt is practically bouncing off the table.

26 “Are they paying you?”“No,”I say. “It’s kind of like a volunteer thing. But, you know, highly selective volun- teering.”“That’s cool,”says Russ. “When do you start?”“Monday?”I say unconvincingly. I think I’m starting on Monday. It’s not like I’ve had any confi rmation since that middle-of-the-night phone commitment. But it seemed like a solid internship offer, right? “You don’t sound very sure,”says Russ, leaning back as the waiter puts his meat loaf plate in front of him. Who orders meat loaf anyway? That’s like what you beg your mom not to make for dinner. Yuck. I give Russ an exasperated look. “I’m sure,”I say. “Monday.”I’m starting to sweat and I real- ize that it’s very possible I’ll come home with pit stains on my favorite Walters concert tee, which puts me in an even worse mood. “You don’t like to smile very much, do you, Priscilla?”Russ asks rhetorically, shak- ing his head and chuckling as he looks down at his messy plate.

27 “Not at some people,”I say testily, digging into my fi sh. “You look about as mean as that catfi sh probably used to,”says Russ, still grinning. He catches my eye for a moment and I sup- press a chuckle—I have to give him props for a pretty good insult, but I’m not going to laugh out loud at my own expense. By the end of dinner, Russ has slung pre- cisely three more barbs my way, two of them witty enough to make me crack a smile. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was fl irting with me. He is undeniably hot in that generic kind of way—great body, huge smile, fl ashing dimples, and those deep blue eyes—but he’s such a frat boy. I could never fall for someone like that. And besides, he’s infuriating to talk to. Just as we’re leaving, a band starts setting up outside. “It’s Southern Cuz,”says Chrissy excitedly, pausing by the exit. “Just like Priscilla and Penny . . . cousins from Dixie.”Russ grins. “We should stay.”We stand there for another minute while the band plugs in and tunes up, but when the fi rst

28 strains of the opening song start, I know I have to leave. I tug on Penny’s arm. “I hate country music,”I whisper through clenched teeth. “What?”she asks, clapping her hands to the beat and hardly turning around. “I hate country music!”I shout, way too loudly. The back half of the restaurant turns to scowl at me. I look over at Russ and he’s nodding at me knowingly, like that bit of information doesn’t surprise him. “What?”I ask. “I just don’t like it.”“Maybe you don’t know enough about it,”he says, challenging me. “Come on, ladies, let’s get Priscilla here home so she can tune out the world with