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

in a pool, ever since I fi gured out that the last person in is always the one who gets teased and splashed the most. Russ follows me to the wall. “I know you a little, Priscilla,”he says, grabbing the side ladder. “A very little,”I say. “Just because you insist on using my real fi rst name doesn’t mean you know me.”Russ climbs up the ladder and sits on the edge of the pool next to where I’m holding the side. “I know you like The Walters, you’re obsessed with your iPod, you’re a creature of shade, and

113 you’re into skinny-ass DJs,”says Russ with a self-satisfi ed smile. “What do you know about me?”I push off from the side and swim out in front of him, turning to face him. “I know that you’re cocky about your car and your muscles, you’re a complete frat boy, you think you’re really smart and mature, you procrastinate like crazy with your work, you’re irresponsible about sunscreen, and you like burgers.”“I don’t think I’m so smart,”says Russ, his half smile giving away that he does too! “Wanna race?”I ask. “What’d you say?”says Russ, standing up. “You heard me,”I say. “Go!”I start swimming my ass off to the other side of the spring, which is a good hundred feet at least, and I can hear Russ splash in behind me and start booking it. He beats me by a solid three seconds, despite my head start, but I’m laughing and out of breath when I reach the wall. I’m glad he didn’t let me win. “Okay,”says Russ, who seems irritatingly unfazed by our burst of physical activity. “Tell me more about yourself.”

114 “I can’t just start telling you things,”I say, breathing hard. “I don’t know what to say.”“Tell me one thing, right now, that I don’t know about you,”he says. “I like strawberry milk shakes better than chocolate or vanilla,”I say. Then I duck under the water and smooth down my hair. “I prefer coffee milk shakes,”Russ says when I surface. “Fall is my favorite season,”I say. “Especially where my grandpa lives in Connecticut, when the leaves turn into fl ames of color.”“I like bluebonnets in the spring down here,”Russ counters. “The best barbecue in Carolina is at Allen and Son,”I say. “Here, it’s a place called Iron Works,”says Russ. “I love the way American cheese melts,”I say. “It’s superior to all other cheeses in any dish that calls for melting.”“I sometimes prefer Swiss,”says Russ. “I like the sharp bite.”He winks at me. I roll my eyes and continue. “I once knew this girl who worked at my

115 movie theater who went to New York and became a famous model,”I say. “I once got to play guitar while Daniel Johnston sang,”he says. “No way!”I gasp. “Yes way,”he says. “He was at this caféwhere I was hanging out and strumming, and he just came up and sang a little while I leaned back and played. It was very cool.”“That’s amazing,”I say. “Better than my model story.”“It’s not a competition,”says Russ, splash- ing me. “Keep going.”“My favorite book-to-movie adaptation is The Last Picture Show,”I say, trying to sound smart and fi lm-knowledgeable by referencing this old seventies movie, set in small-town Texas. “Cybill Shepherd rules,”he says, showing that he knows the movie too. I laugh, and Russ cocks his head sideways at me. “You know, when you smile I just want to kiss you,”he says. My eyes widen in surprise and I hurriedly turn around, swimming for the other side.

116 Russ laughs. “Are we racing again?!”he shouts after me. But I don’t answer, I just free- style like my life depends on it. I hightail it out of the spring and back up to land, afraid to look at Russ. How weird of him to say that to me! I’m half mad and half scared and half—I don’t know—confused. That’s three halves, but you get what I’m saying. Just as I lay down and put on my iPod to calm my emotions, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I pull out an earbud and look up to see Russ lean- ing over me. “I’m sorry I said that,”he says, “about the kiss.”“Okay,”I say, not sure how to respond. “I meant it,”he says softly, his face hovering just inches above mine. He pauses for a moment there and I stare up at his big blue eyes. Two beats later, he pulls back, sits up, and says, “But I’m sorry I said it.”I force my lips into a tight grin as I sit up on my elbows. “It’s okay,”I say. “No big deal.”He looks over his right shoulder at me, studying my face. “It’s just that I’m kind of with someone

117 already this summer,”I say. I did not think I’d have to be having this conversation with a Texas frat cowboy. Can’t he see how different we are? “The skinny-ass DJ,”says Russ. “Sebastian,”I say. “Whatever,”he says, shrugging, and then he stands up and heads back to the water. I feel bad, but what am I supposed to tell him? An hour later, I’m sitting in the shade under the tree, safely on my towel, when Russ comes back out of the water after more major lap swim- mage. He smiles brightly, looking totally over everything. “You ready?”he asks. “For what?”I ask. “The bats!”he says, shaking his head out so droplets of water rain down on me. “Huh?”I ask. I’m really not in the mood for baseball in this heat. Russ shakes his head, laughing. “Priscilla, you have a lot left to see in Austin that your one-track DJ isn’t going to show you,”he says. “Let’s go.”When Russ parks the truck in the parking lot of the Four Seasons Hotel, I give him a skeptical

118 eye. He grabs an old umbrella out of the back cab, confusing me further. The sky is crystal clear. “Trust me,”he says. We walk into the hotel, and I feel sheepish in my wet-spotted T-shirt and shorts, but Russ just strolls through as