Lovestruck Summer (13 page)

202 her, and I give her the fi nger as she drives away. I look back up at Russ’s door, wondering if he’s going to follow her, wondering what happened, what prompted the B-word. Vroom, vroom. Sebastian’s Vespa pulls up and he holds out a helmet for me. I walk down the steps to him and slip it over my impossible-to- mess-up hair, trying to wipe thoughts of Russ from my mind. Sebastian surprises me by driving down to Town Lake, near the Four Seasons where I sat with Russ just a couple of weeks ago. He parks the Vespa and opens up the seat where he has a small blanket folded up inside. “What’s this?”I ask. “You wanted to see the bats, right?”he asks. “Jade told me that you tried to go once but they didn’t fl y.”“Yeah,”I say, not wanting to think about being here with Russ . . . and now with Sebastian. “But aren’t we going to a show? I mean, we don’t want to miss what might be an incredible opening band that no one knows about yet and we need to get a spot up front

203 for Gloria Airlines and what if there’s a crowd already there and—”Sebastian stops my rambling with a well- timed kiss. “I thought you would want this,”he says when we break apart. “It’s my weak attempt at sunset romance.”“I appreciate it,”I say. “But I’d rather just go to the shows.”Sebastian shrugs and folds up the blanket, putting it back under the seat. “As you wish,”he says. And what I really wish is that I’d stop being so ridiculous and start appreciating the guy who’s right in front of me. The guy who’s trying to win me over and not pushing me aside. But for some reason, I can’t. Later that night, after Gloria Airlines and their opener, Crimson Sun, both perform dizzy- ingly great sets, Sebastian takes me back to the condo. I’m still humming the encore song, which was so full of emotion that, at the show, I leaned back on Sebastian and just swayed with him, like we’re really together. He gets off the Vespa and we walk to the front door holding hands. He tries to kiss me as I look for my keys, and though

204 I want to, I really want to, I just can’t do it here. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do it anywhere. “Let’s go inside,”I say, pulling the front of his T-shirt as we walk into the living room and fall onto the couch together. I laugh and he smoothes back my hair, kiss- ing my forehead and then moving to my cheeks and my lips, all the while pressing down on me as we sink into the cushions. It feels good to be close to him like this, and I will my mind to stop comparing his kisses, his shoulders, his hair to anyone else’s. “Wait,”I say, sitting up and searching for my iPod. I fi nd it and plug it into the stereo, turning the volume up as loud as I think I can without waking Penny. With the Walters on in the back- ground, I can drown out any thoughts of that country cowboy next door, and let myself go. In the morning, I hear Penny coming down the stairs. I open my eyes a crack and feel my shoulder wedged into the back cushions of the couch. Sebastian’s arm is flung across my waist, and our legs are tangled together. I rec- ognize there’s no way I’m going to escape this

205 position before Penny—“Morning, Quinn,”she says in a singsong voice. I grunt a hello but don’t lift my head. Sebastian doesn’t move. I hear Penny grab something from the kitchen and then she’s gone, probably to plan some lavish sorority event or devious Rush hazing. When she pulls the door shut, Sebastian opens one eye. “Hi,”he says sleepily. I sit up and realize that, although my jeans are unbuttoned, they’re still on. Same with Sebastian’s. I stand and head into the kitchen, zipping up and planning on making some sort of fruit bowl for us. Is this what you do following a boy sleepover, which is broken Parent Rule #3? You make someone breakfast? I haven’t dealt with the morning-after eti- quette, really, because, well, I lived with my mom and dad before this summer. Hookups usually ended while it was still dark. This feels weird. “Um, do you want some fruit?”I call to Sebastian, who’s yawning and stretching on the couch.

206 “Nah,”he says. “I should get going.”He grabs his keys from the coffee table and I walk him out. When he steps through the door I lean in to give him a kiss. It feels boyfriend-girlfriendy, and I like it. Then I stand there in my over- size T-shirt and bare feet, watching him zoom away. “Priscilla.”I hear Russ’s voice, gruffer than usual, and I turn to look in his direction. He’s standing in front of his condo wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and cargo shorts. His eyes are bloodshot—he looks like he hasn’t slept. “We need to talk,”he says.

207 Chapter 18 I have the urge to march inside and slam the door, but I’m also curious. Russ hasn’t spoken to me since Friday night, and Katie’s tear-streaked foundation face made me wonder . . . did he break up with her? Not that I care, because after last night I am defi nitely with with Sebastian. “Okay,”I say, deciding to go the completely apathetic route. He steps down to the sidewalk and walks up to my door. “Can we go inside?”he asks. “Oh, is this going to be a long talk?”I ask, folding my arms across my chest. “Please?”he asks. And because I’m committed to my not-car- ing stance, I shrug and turn around, letting him

208 walk into the condo behind me. The couch is a tangle of pillows-and-blan- ket, which I’m glad he sees. I walk straight back to the kitchen and perch on one of the bar stools by the island. It feels less friendly than sharing a seat at the table or on the mussed couch. “Listen,”says Russ, leaning across the island and looking down while he talks. “I know you must be mad at me right now.”“Not really,”I say. I grab an apple and take a bite out of it nonchalantly, like, Who cares what you’re saying because I’m enjoying this delicious apple for breakfast and my day is going to be lovely and you have no effect on it. “I can tell you are,”says Russ, glancing up at my face. I feel a fl icker of a frown cross my lips, but I try hard to shift it into a smile. “I’m okay,”I say. Then I jump up and go to the fridge to pour myself some orange juice, just in case I can’t control my facial muscles if he keeps talking. “Well, you should be mad as hell,”he says. “I know I would be.”I pause at the open refrigerator door for a

209 second, but then I regain my balance and take out the orange juice. I grab a glass from the cab- inet and pour slowly, with my back to Russ. “I’m fi ne,”I say. “If that’s true, then I’m glad,”says Russ. “Because I feel like shit.”“Is that because you broke up with your girlfriend?”I ask, and I can’t help the fl ash in my eyes when I turn around to face him. “We were already broken up,”he says. “I just fi nalized it.”I stay silent. I want to ask him, What the eff happened? We were kissing! I was melting into you! But instead I crunch into my apple again. “Katie was gone for a month,”says Russ. “And before she left, she ended things. Four weeks ago, if you’d asked me what I’d give for a chance to get back with her, I would have said anything. I’d give anything.”This is really not what I want to be hear- ing. I stand up and walk over to the sink, slowly pouring out my orange juice. I can’t eat an apple and have orange juice—mixing fruits is weird. It was just a prop, and now I’m getting rid of it. Because I’m about to ask Russ to leave anyway.

210 I’m not a late-night-radio love DJ who wants to listen to his romantic problems. “But then I met you,”he says. I stare out the window over the sink. Beyond the deck, there’s a squirrel climbing on Penny’s bird feeder, making it swing wildly back and forth. “And you thought I’d be a fun distraction while Katie was away,”I say, still watching the to-and-fro of the bird feeder. “You know that’s not it,”says Russ. “For a girl with such a high opinion of herself, you’ve got a real insecure side. I like you, Priscilla.”I whirl around to face him. “So that’s why you walked away with Katie the second you heard her voice?”I ask. He looks down at the island, staring at the candy jar like there’s an adequate response in there, between the red Twizzlers and the purple Nerds packs. A good ten seconds pass. If he’s not going to argue with me anymore, it’s going to be a lot easier to let him go. But then he starts talking again. “It wasn’t like that,”he says. “We had stuff

Lovestruck Summer

211 to discuss. When she left at the beginning of the summer, I was really angry. Things are okay now—they’re more clear. Katie and I are over. For real.”“Is that why she was crying outside your door last night?”I ask. “Are you trying to make this as painful as possible?”asks Russ. “No,”I say. “I don’t think this needs to be painful at all. At least not for me, because I’m not involved. And I don’t even know why you’re telling me any of this—it’s between you and Katie, whatever your relationship is.”Russ bangs his hand on the island, and I jump. “Damn, Priscilla,”he says. “I’m telling you it’s over with her. And if you’d shut up for a minute I’d be able to tell you it’s because of you.”I stare at the candy jar now, my eyes riv- eted to the peppermint swirls and the miniature Krackel bars for a nanosecond, the time it takes for me to regain my footing and remember that I don’t care. “Spare me,”I say. I’m not strong enough when I say it—even I can hear the noncommittal

212 tone I’m using. I mean for it to end the conver- sation, to shut him up. But it doesn’t. “Priscilla,”Russ says, his voice pleading. “You’re different, and fun, and unlike any girl I’ve ever met. I thought I’d never laugh so hard as when we talked. You’re smart as a whip and stubborn as a mule!”And then he’s smiling at me with those big dimples, blue eyes twinkling like he thinks he’s got this one in the bag, that I’m about to run over and kiss him with relief and joy. He has ditched the ex-girlfriend for good! He has chosen me! But the timing is wrong. This isn’t our moment. Past where Russ sits I can see the rum- pled blankets from Sebastian’s night here. “I appreciate it,”I say. “It’s nice that you were so . . . impressed by my whip-and-mule- like qualities.”Russ looks confused. “And I’m glad it helped clear things up with Katie too,”I continue. “I mean, closure is always good, right?”I give him a friend smile, resisting the urge to pat him on the shoulder. That would be overkill. He still doesn’t say anything.

213 “Listen, Russ,”I say. “I’m sorry that I kissed you last week. It was stupid. I’ll take full respon- sibility for my complete lack of judgment.”“But didn’t you want . . .”he starts. And for the fi rst time, I see that he’s unsure of what he’s saying. He’s almost stuttering. “I mean, didn’t you feel something?”I take another bite of apple to keep myself from blurting out Yes, you moron! I felt EVERYTHING. But what I really say is: “Sure. I felt a little tipsy.”I say this with my mouth full, which allows me to control my expression as I lie. I’m a bad liar, but food props help. “I mean, it was just a kiss.”I walk over to the trash can and throw out the core, wiping my hands on my shirt after it’s gone. When I turn back to him, I hear a sigh on his lips. He looks sadder than Katie did yester- day, even with those streaks all down her pow- dery face. He stands up to leave, walking over to the sliding glass door, ready to exit through the back. He opens it halfway. I’m standing by the sink, concentrating on picking apple bits out of my fi n- gernails, but I can feel him turn to face me.

214 “It was more than a kiss to me,”says Russ. “Just so you know.”Then he leaves and closes the door behind him. I wait a couple minutes, frozen, examining my fi ngernails. When I’m sure he’s gone, I walk into the living room and press PLAY on the iPod, letting it shuffl e to any song it chooses. Then I fl op down on the couch with my head buried in a pillow. I hate crying out loud.

215 Chapter 19 By the time Penny gets home, I’m banging around the kitchen. I’ve dried my tears from this morning—I will not let Russ ruin my summer! I’m making chocolate chip cookies, which is the only homemaker-y thing my mom ever did with me when I was little. There’s something very calming about measuring oil, sifting flour, and dropping little spoon-sized plops of dough onto a baking sheet. It’s a cathartic ritual, and I’m primed for some catharsis. Maybe I’ll even bring some cookies to Sebastian later. I wonder if he would think that was weird. “Ooh, chocolate chip!”says my cousin, clapping her hands together and perching on the island stool. “What brought out your inner Donna Reed?”“Nothing,”I say, watching Miss Tiara jump

216 into her lap. I have the dog dressed in an apron that matches the pink-checked one I’m wearing. It’s Penny’s, of course, and I almost can’t believe I actually dressed up the dog, but I think we look cute together, in a make-me-wanna-puke and I’d-never-let-anyone-see-me-in-this kind of way. “Okay, so good goss,”says Penny, leaning across the island and pinching a bit of dough and chips between her fi ngers. I slap her hand quickly as I await her “goss.”“Russ broke up with Katie,”she says in a whisper, raising her eyebrows expectantly, and ignoring my slap. “I know,”I say, turning around to put batch number one in the oven. “Well, aren’t you happy?”she asks. I set the baking timer for eleven minutes and face my cousin. “Why would I be?”“Uh . . . because you guys kissed last week- end and then when you thought he was back together with Katie you practically melded to the couch in deep depression, which was only alleviated by my genius romance-crisis plan involving Sex and the City.”Penny leans over for

217 another swipe of cookie dough and I snag the bowl before she can get to it. “That was before last night,”I say. “Sebastian and I are together now for real.”Penny pouts and I put the bowl down again, within her reach. “Besides,”I continue. “I was just confused and lonely. Russ isn’t my type.”“Ooh, if I hear you say that one more time, I’m going to scream!”says Penny. “You are completely blind, Quinn!”After one last pinch of dough, she stomps off, up the stairs to her room. Miss Tiara aban- dons her sous-chef duties and follows Penny. Traitor. I pick up my phone and text Sebastian, making sure we’re on for Friday night at Dirty’s. I’ll bring him cookies and hopefully we can have another sleepover. That should prove to everyone that I’m with him, and that I’m not supposed to be with Russ. Right? The next two weeks go by in a blur. Things have picked up at Amalgam as Rick plans for the big

218 summer festival in August. Jade has been on the phone arranging travel for a lot of the bands, so I’m handling all her normal intern duties, like sending out press kits and prioritizing demos for Rick to listen to. I’m going into the office almost every day. Between work and nights out with Sebastian (he liked the cookies), I haven’t had a chance to breathe—let alone think about Russ. And that has been a good thing. When I call Raina to check in for our fi rst off-line catch-up in almost three weeks, she has news of her own. She’s dating a new theater employee named Eddie. “Isn’t that kind of a dog’s name?”I ask. “More like a rock star name,”she says. “Okay, okay, so what’s he like?”I ask. “Wait! Is this that big nerd you told me about earlier this summer? The one who’s way into science fi ction?”“Yeah . . .”she starts. “But he’s growing on me!”“Really?”I ask skeptically. “Yes!”says Raina, and I can hear her smil- ing. “He wears skater shorts and has lots of pins on his vest to make it individualized. And he’s a