Lovestruck Summer by Melissa Walker (the best motivational books TXT) 📗

off the bike and shake my hair out, seductively but distantly. I’m still upset that he didn’t call when he said he would. And that doesn’t make me a bachelor- ette, just someone who appreciates an honest guy. At our corner table, the over-iced waters have already left little pools of wetness. I push a napkin under my glass and concentrate on soaking it up. “I did this great show on Sunday,”says Sebastian excitedly. He starts to arrange the salt and pepper shakers on the edge of the table. “Let’s say this is the DJ booth and it’s, like, fi ve feet higher than the dance fl oor.”He moves his place mat to the center of the table to repre- sent the dance fl oor. “There were tons of people and it was like I was above them,”he says. “I was handing down musical knowledge.”“Cool,”I say, sipping my chilly water. When the server comes to take our order, Sebastian is in the middle of his “here’s what I played”rant, and he shoos her away with his hand without looking up.

97 “Sorry,”I say to her. “Can we have fi ve more minutes?”She smiles and walks back to the kitchen. Sebastian pauses his story, but he looks annoyed. “Are you mad or something?”he asks, sud- denly tuning into me. “You’re not even listening.”“You didn’t call,”I say. I believe in being direct about these things. “I texted you this morning,”he says. “You said ‘over the weekend,’”I remind him, feeling frustrated with myself for sound- ing like a nag. But really, when a person says he’ll call after a kiss like that, you expect him to call. I even considered opening Penny’s copy of He’s Just Not That Into You on Sunday night, but thankfully, I restrained myself. “I had shows,”says Sebastian. “I didn’t mean to let you down or anything.”I glance up and see his sexy dark hair fall over his eyes. He looks sorry. “It’s okay,”I say. “It’s not a big deal.”It isn’t, right? I’m just being needy. It must be the Tri-Pi vibes at the condo getting to me. I am cool, I am not going to be nitpicky about when he calls. So

98 I encourage him to go on. “Tell me more about your show,”I say. And he does. He shares the set list, the infl u- ences he considered mixing, the still-unreleased Long Armed Stapler album he worked on, how he spun Pauper Palace, the Flaming Squirrels, and Courtship in a gloriously underground compilation that fi nished off with “Love That Red”by Art Girls Gone Bad. After dinner, we hit an outdoor venue, where the band is set up next to a rickety picket fence, and we keep talking songs. Sebastian tells me that country music isn’t all bad—just mostly—and I tell him about the Top 40 world, which claims the lives of great indie bands all too often. “I hate hearing silly girls prattle on about how much they love one of my favorite under- ground bands after they hear one song on an epi- sode of some lame CW series,”I say. He nods in agreement. “Right on.”Sebastian hasn’t ever listened to Top 40, he says, and he doesn’t even own a TV. Which is probably why he doesn’t get it when I describe the girl in front of us as “someone you’d see on

99 The Bachelor.”But I don’t mind. I love listening to him, and this is the type of indie-music-nerd conversation I’ve dreamed of having with someone other than Raina. . . . With a hot guy, perhaps. And here he is. Right in front of me. When he hits the bathroom, though, I real- ize I’m humming to myself. Ugh! Why can’t I get “Can’t Help Falling in Love”out of my mind? I blame it on my lack of iron today—next time I’ll ask Sebastian to take me to a place that serves both steak and tofu. When he drops me off at home after mid- night, we share a long kiss, and I imagine how cool we must look, making out on a Vespa in the moonlight. Who cares what Russ said? I love this Euro bike. When I get inside, I sneak into the half bathroom and dial Raina. I don’t want to wake up Penny, because I remember that she has some crazy bonding excursion with soror- ity members—sorry, sisters—early tomorrow morning. A ropes course or a trust-fall trip or something like that. Is it bad that I only half listen to her? “Raina,”I loud-whisper. “Sebastian just left.”

100 “And?”she squeals excitedly, not unlike the girls on The Bachelor. “He’s brilliant,”I say. “He knows everything about music—tons of songs that I don’t even know yet but can’t wait to download—he took me to a fantastic outdoor show tonight by this band called The Page Jumpers, and he seems really into me.”“How are the kisses?”she asks, getting right down to business. “Still hot?”“Yes,”I say, thinking about the ten-minute make-out session we had outside the condo. “Too bad Miss Tiara would crowd my sleepover!”We both laugh. “It sounds so perfect, Quinn,”says Raina. “Is there anything remotely unper- fect about your summer?”“Just Penny’s sorority obsession,”I say. “Oh, and this neighbor cowboy-wannabe who thinks he’s really cool. He won’t stop calling me Priscilla.”“Drag,”says Raina. “But still, deal-able if you’ve got Sebastian to play with.”I laugh. “What’s going on there?”I ask, not wanting to be that self-involved friend. “I’m just stuck working at the movie theater

101 and wishing they’d change the ‘I Love 1983’CD,”says Raina. “Hey, that CD has Toto on it,”I say, half jokingly. “Don’t knock it!”“You’re right,”she says. “‘Africa’is a classic song. Oh, and there’s this new guy who started, but he’s nerd city. Nasal and slouchy and way into science fiction.”“Sounds like a dream,”I say. “You’re the one living the dream,”says Raina. “But I’ll be here when you get back to reality.”“Thanks,”I say. When we hang up, I crawl into bed and open my laptop. I feel like downloading some songs that Sebastian mentioned tonight.