Crushing on a hot guy? No problem.
Crushing on the hot exchange student living with you? Complicated.
Your crush trying to guess who your crush is? Problematic.
Put all that together? My life.

No one knows the torment and torture of living with a drool-worthy Italian exchange student like I do. Yes, it’s redundant. But I live with it day and night!
Elia Carbone smells exotic. Looks exotic. Speaks exoticly, and his smile—I can’t even look at it, much less talk about it.
Accepting I have a crush on him in hopes of moving on seems like the best course of action—until he starts riding the bus with me every day. As in, next to me. Sharing a bench. Inches between our legs.
And there are conversations.
I had no idea bus rides could be so . . . invigorating. No, electric. No, exhausting.
Now, we’re friends. Friends who flirt. Friends who try to guess each other’s crushes. He’s bent on finding out who mine is. If he finds out it’s him, my life is over.

No torture is worse than living with a girl you want to kiss who has a crush on someone else.
And America is great and all, but I can’t get comfortable here. My life and family is in Italy. For three months, I’ve successfully avoided having too much fun and getting too familiar with anyone.
But Scarlet McMann isn’t just anyone, and I can’t help having fun with her.
Scarlet is talented. She is funny. Her eyes are gorgeous, and her silvery hair—I can’t even look at it without staring.
But we’re friends. And she’s got a crush on some other idiot. It’s my new goal (borderline obsession) to find out who it is. Then maybe the only-friends thing will sink in. Or maybe I can talk her out of crushing on the guy.
If I can find out who it is, I think I can move on.

When your crush is foreign, home life feels anything but domestic.