Free Lovestruck Summer by Melissa Walker

of all,”I say, picking up my coffee mug for another sip, “I have no idea what ‘Barton Springs’means. And second, I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”I’m not the poolside type—and I burn really easily. “Borrow one from Penny,”he says, unde- terred. “You will love this spot. It’s an old natu- ral spring and it’s constantly sixty-eight degrees, so it feels warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Plus, you get to lie out on a hill of mowed grass instead of sand. Somehow I don’t think you’re a sandy-beach girl.”“You got that right,”I say, not moving.
    105 “Come on, Priscilla!”he says, leaning down and resting his head on the back of the couch sideways to give me puppy-dog eyes. “It’ll be fun. You can bring your iPod and tune me out if you want.”I smile. Swimming in cool water does sound nice. I haven’t dealt with this much heat since summer camp fi ve years ago, when I was a coun- selor in training at a sailing camp on the Neuse River in North Carolina. We had an insane heat wave and everyone had to sleep with, like, four fans pointed at them just to endure it. The only relief was swimming in the pondlike pool—it was packed every day. But that water did feel good. There’s something about splashing around on hundred-degree days. “Give me three minutes,”I say, standing and heading upstairs to Penny’s room. Miss Tiara eyes me suspiciously as I poke through my cousin’s drawers. I fi nd six—yes, six—teensy bikinis, but nothing with a remotely reasonable amount of coverage. I choose an orange-and-white polka-dot suit with a ruffl e around the bottom. It’s the one with the most fabric. When I put it on, Miss Tiara growls.
    106 “I don’t have another option, picky priss!”I whisper at her. I pull on my jean shorts and Sixty3 tee over the suit. This will have to do. I grab a towel from the bathroom and meet Russ downstairs, making sure to pick up my iPod. I offer to drive but he just looks at my yellow Festiva in the parking lot and laughs. “Let’s take the truck,”he says. “If you want to waste gas . . .”I say, annoyed. “I’m all for saving face by losing gas,”he says, opening the passenger-side door for me. “If anyone I know is at the Springs, I cannot be seen climbing out of that clown car.”I step into the truck and feel the hot and squishy vinyl seat, so I put down my towel to sit on. I don’t need my thighs to get stuck in their own sweat. Russ shuts the door behind me. I give him a hmph and roll down the truck window. I wish one of our cars, at least, had AC. By the time we get to Barton Springs, I’m drip- ping with sweat and I realize that in the rush to fi nd a slightly modest bathing suit, I forgot to protect my pasty white skin.
    Lovestruck Summer

    107 “Do you have any sunblock?”I ask Russ as we pull into a parking spot. He hops out and grabs a giant canvas bag from the back bed. On top of his towel is a bottle of Coppertone that looks like it’s twenty years old. I eye it warily. “It’s all I got, Priscilla,”he says. “Take it or leave it.”He’s waving the bottle in front of me teas- ingly. I snatch it. “Nice snag,”he says, closing his eyes and turning his face toward the sun. “Me, I’m gonna get a little tan today.”I look at Russ’s face. His strong jawline moves up and down as he chews a piece of gum, and his rust-colored hair is getting longer, I notice. It’s curling over his ear a little and almost touching the back of his plaid collar. He cut off the arms of the shirt, and the tan on his biceps looks golden enough to me. “Ready?”he asks, clapping his hands together. I’m a little startled to see him snap his eyes open and look at me looking at him. Did he know
    108 I was looking at him? I mean, obviously he knew I was looking, but did he know I was looking look- ing? I have really dark aviator sunglasses on, so he probably can’t tell where my eyes are, right? “You should really wear sunblock,”I say