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Lola Nolan is a budding costume designer, and for her, the more outrageous, sparkly, and fun the outfit, the better. And everything is pretty perfect in her life. Lola and the Boy Next Door book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. Alternate Cove edition for ISBN Lola. Lola and the Boy Next Door - Perkins Stephanie - Download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online. Lola and the Boy Next Door - Perkins Stephanie.

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The Boy Next Door by Meg Cabot This is from the original web version that has appeared in the author's website. Meg Cabo. In this companion novel to Anna and the French Kiss, two teens discover that true love may be closer than they think For budding costume designer Lola. Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins. Dazzling, funny and addictive YA romance: the gorgeous follow-up to international bestseller, Anna and the.

Vowing to never wear the same outfit twice in a calendar year, her clothes are often somewhat eccentric but always an original. Her two dads hate her twenty-two year old on the verge of becoming a rockstar boyfriend, Max. Her birth mother is a fortune telling mess and the Bell twins, Cricket and Calliope, with whom Lola has a feud have just moved back in next door. Senior year is shaping up nicely Trying to navigate through family issues and wardrobe dilemmas, Lola is just trying to make it though. But Cricket keeps popping up all over the place.

Stephanie Perkins has not disappointed me yet! She has an older boyfriend, strict parents and a great best friend.

Her boyfriend Max is 22, in a band and totally cool. Her dads are strict, but caring and other than their strict dating rules, Lola doesn't mind. Lindsay is her best friend and can sense when something is up or guess how Lola is feeling almost immediately. Lola thinks she's happy with her life until her neighbours move back in.

Her neighbours left 2 years prior and they did not leave on good terms. Their return brings anxiety, curiosity, trouble and lot's of confusing feelings for Lola. I consider this book a contemporary but also a romance since the main plot line is about Lola's relationships. The writing in this book makes for a quirky, fun-loving read. And the thing is, she doesn't even need to try that hard!

Lola and the Boy Next Door

Perkins is an amazing writer; her work can be amazing, where tons of others just fail miserably. She doesn't need to develop extraordinary characters.

Anna didn't have anything special but she was adorable. Also, the love triangle was very badly achieved. From the first page, I think, Lola describes Max with the words "tattooed, 22 years old, rock star, pot-addicted, hated by the parents" I mean, hey, diabolizing much?

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And a five year difference isn't SUCH a big deal. No, it just isn't. St Clair's reaction was ridiculous. Seriously, grow the fuck up Lola. If you keep thinking he's too old to the point of screwing up your relationship, then you're definitely too young. You know what, I think that's precisely the problem actually. Lola felt too young. Like Perkins aimed the book at a younger audience. And if you could relate to Lola and to the way she dresses, then you're probably young, too.

You'll change your mind in a couple of years. And of course, there's the whole "reverse plot" that everyone spotted.

But the whole detective thing with her best friend and everything.. It really felt like she was still a young teenager, and that's not what I want to read. I personally like it better when the characters of the books I read are a bit older than me I suppose it makes me expect great adventures for the years to come or something like that..

But here, I felt like I'd borrowed a book from the middle school's library. And when Lola's acting like a stupid toddler.. And the title was also a bad choice. Yes, yes, it's cute and all the 13 year olds will love it but since you know that the title is "boy next door", it was so obviouuus. The more you read, the more Max is being described as an asshole - in case you didn't know you HAD to hate him and expect the fly Cricket to come and end up with Lola.

The whole goal of love triangles is that you ache NOT knowing what choice would be the best.. Here, we're just left waiting for Lola to open her eyes and stop acting like a lying kid. It's exhausting, really. There's another problem, which was SO irritating I wanted to throw the book away. Anna and Etienne. I adored them in their OWN book, here they're just this ridiculous idealized version of a perfect couple, and I found myself cringing whenever they were saying cheesy pseudo romantic bullshit.

I mean come on. Like, three months ago, Etienne was still with Ellie, doing his Spanish homework and whining like a baby that he didn't want to be alooone. So don't blame me for laughing out loud when he says oh-so-very-seriously "When you know, you know! Of course not. It's not his business. Max was furious.

He disappeared for a week, and Id already given up hope when he called. He said he was in love. I told him that hed have to meet Nathan and Andy. Parents make him edgyhis father is an alcoholic, his mother left when he was fivebut he agreed. And then the restrictions were placed upon us. And then last week, on my seventeenth birthday, I lost my virginity in his apartment.

My parents think we went to the zoo. Since then, weve slept together once more. And Im not an idiot about these things; I dont have romantic delusions. Ive read enough to know it takes a while for it to get good for girls. But I hope it gets better soon.

The kissing is fantastic, so Im sure itll happen. Except today I cant concentrate on his lips. Ive waited for them all afternoon, but now that theyre here, Im distracted. Bells ring in the distance from the pagoda? Theyre back. There were three of them this morning, Calliope and her parents.

No sign of Calliopes siblings. Not that Id mind seeing Aleck. But the other one. Im startled. Max is looking at me. When did we stop kissing? Where are you? My eye muscles twitch. Im sorry, I was thinking about work.

He doesnt believe me. This is the problem of having lied to your boyfriend in the past. He sighs with frustration, stands, and puts one hand inside his pocket. I know hes fiddling with his lighter.

Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins | Books

Im sorry, I say again. Forget it. He glances at the clock on his phone. Its time to go, anyway. The drive to the Royal Civic Center 16 is quiet, apart from the Clash blasting through his stereo. Max is ticked, and I feel guilty. Call me later? I ask. He nods as he pulls away, but I know Im still in trouble.

As if I needed another reason to hate the Bells. She does this with an alarming frequency. The theater is in a betweenfilms nighttime lull, and Im using the opportunity to scrub the buttery popcorn feeling from my arm hair.

Try this. She hands me a baby wipe. It works better than a napkin. I accept it with genuine thanks. Despite her neuroticisms, Anna is my favorite coworker. Shes a little older than me, very pretty, and she just started film school. She has a cheerful smilea slight gap between her front teethand a thick, singular stripe of platinum in her dark brown hair. Its a nice touch. Plus, she always wears this necklace with a glass bead shaped like a banana. I admire someone with a signature accessory.

Where in the bloody hell did that come from? Or more precisely, on top of the counter, where her ridiculously attractive, English-accented boyfriend is perched. Hes the other thing I like about Anna. Wherever she goes, he follows. He nods toward the baby wipe. What else are you carrying in your pockets? Dust rags?

Furniture polish? Watch it, she says. Or Ill scrub your arms, tienne.


He grins. As long as you do it in private. Anna is the only person who calls him by his first name. The rest of us call him by his last, St. Im not sure why. Its just one of those things. They moved here recently, but they met last year in Paris, where they went to high school. Id kill to go to school in Paris, especially if there are guys like tienne St.

Clair there. Not that Id cheat on Max. Im just saying. Clair has gorgeous brown eyes and mussed artist hair. Though hes on the short side for my taste, several inches shorter than his girlfriend.

He attends college at Berkeley, but despite his unemployment, he spends as much time here at the theater as he does across the bay. And because hes beautiful and cocky and confident, everyone loves him. It only took a matter of hours before hed weaseled his way into all of the employee areas without a single complaint by management. That kind of charisma is impressive.

But it doesnt mean I want to hear about their private scrubbings. My shift ends in a half hour. Please wait until Ive vacated the premises before elaborating upon this conversation. Anna smiles at St. Lolas just jealous. Shes having Max problems again. She glances at me, and her smile turns wry. Whatd I tell you about musicians?

That bad boy type will only break your heart. Theyre only bad because theyre lame, St. Clair mutters. He pins the button to his own outfit, this fabulous black peacoat that makes him look very European, indeed. Just because, once upon a time, you guys had issues with someone, I say, doesnt mean I do. Max and I are fine. Dontdont do that. I shake my head at St. Youre ruining a perfectly good coat.

Sorry, did you want it? It might balance out your collection. He gestures at my own maroon vest. In between the required Royal Theater buttons, I have several sparkly vintage brooches.

Only one manager has complained so far, but as I politely explained to him, my jewelry only attracts more attention to his advertisements. So I won that argument. And thankfully no one has said anything about the vest itself, which Ive taken in so that its actually fitted and semiflattering. You know. For a polyester vest. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Hold that thought, I tell St. Its a text from Lindsey Lim: u wont believe who i saw jogging in the park. Anna rushes forward to catch me, but Im not falling.

Am I falling? Her hand is on my arm, holding me upright. What happened, whats the matter? Surely Lindsey saw Calliope. Calliope was the one exercising in the park, as a part of her training. Of course it was Calliope! I shove the other possibility down, deep and hard, but it springs right back. This parasite growing inside of me. It never disappears, no matter how many times I tell myself to forget it. Its the past, and no one can change the past. But it grows all the same.

Because as terrible as it is to think about Calliope Bell, its nothing compared to the pain that overwhelms me whenever I think about her twin. Theyll be seniors this year. Which means that despite the no-show this morning, theres no reason why her twin wouldnt be here. The best I can hope for is some kind of delay. I need that time to prepare myself.

I text Lindsey back with a simple question mark. Please, please, please, I beg the universe. Please be Calliope. Is it Max? Anna asks. Your parents? Oh God, its that guy we kicked out of the theater yesterday, isnt it? That crazy guy with the giant phone and the bucket of chicken!

How did he find your numb Its not the guy. But I cant explain. Not now, not this. Everythings fine. Anna and St. Clair swap identical disbelieving glances. Its Betsy. My dog. Andy says shes acting sick, but Im sure its prob My phone vibrates again, and I nearly drop it in my frantic attempt to read the new text: calliope.

Clair asks. I look up at my friends. I give them a relieved smile. False alarm. She just threw up a shoe. A shoe? Dude, Anna says. You scared me. Do you need to go home? We can handle closing if you need to go, St. Clair adds. As if he works here. No doubt he just wants me to leave so that he can tongue his girlfriend.

I stride away, toward the popcorn machine, embarrassed to have made a public display. Betsys fine. But thanks, I add as my cell vibrates again. I saw her this morning. I was gonna call after work. You didnt see. Lindsey Lim fancies herself a detective. Hence, Ned. She tried to nickname me Bess, Nancys flirty, shop-happy friend, but I wasnt pleased with that, because Bess is always telling Nancy the situation is too dangerous, and she should give up.

What kind of friend says that? And Im definitely not George, Nancys other best friend, because George is an athletic tomboy with a pug nose. George would never wear a Marie Antoinette dresseven with platform combat bootsto her winter formal. Which left Ned Nickerson, Nancys boyfriend. Ned is actually useful and often assists Nancy during life-threatening situations. I can get down with that. Even if he is a guy. I picture Lindsey parked in front of her computer. No doubt she went directly to the figure-skating fansites, and thats how she knows about the new coach.

Though I wouldnt put it past her to have walked up to Calliope herself. Lindsey isnt easily intimidated, which is why shell make a great investigator someday. Shes rational, straightforward, and unflinchingly honest. In this sense, we balance each other out. Weve been best friends since, well.

When I entered kindergarten, and they realized it was no longer cool to hang out with the neighbor girl who only spent half days at school. But that part of our history isnt as harsh as it sounds. Because soon I met Lindsey, and we discovered our mutual passions for roly-poly bugs, sea-green crayons, and those Little Debbies shaped like Christmas trees.

Instant friendship. And later, when our classmates began teasing me for wearing tutus or ruby slippers, Lindsey was the one who growled back, Shove it, fartbreath. Im very loyal to her. I wonder if shell find out anything about the other Bell? Clair says. I turn around to find him and Anna giving me another weird look. You said something about a bell. Anna cocks her head. Are you sure youre okay?

Youve been really distracted tonight. Im great! How many times will I have to lie today? I volunteer to clean the fourth-floor bathrooms to stop incriminating myself, but later, when Andy shows up to take me homemy parents dont like me riding the bus late at nighthe eyes me with the same concern. You okay, Loladoodle?

I throw my purse at the floorboard. Why does everyone keep asking me that? Maybe because you look like. Andy pauses, his expression shifting to barely masked hope. Did you and Max break up?

He shrugs, but his Adams apple bobs in his throat, a dead giveaway that he feels guilty for asking. Maybe theres hope for Max and my parents after all. Or, at least, Max and Andy. Andy is always the first to soften in difficult situations. Which, by the way, doesnt make him the woman. Nothing annoys me more than someone assuming one of my dads is lessthan-dad.

Yeah, Andy bakes for a living. And he stayed at home to raise me. And hes decent at talking about feelings. But he also fixes electrical sockets, unclogs kitchen pipes, squashes cockroaches, and changes flat tires.

Lola and the Boy Next Door - Perkins Stephanie

And Nathan may be the resident disciplinarian and a tough lawyer for the ACLU, but he also decorates our house with antiques and gets teary during sitcom weddings. So neither is the woman. Theyre both gay men. Besides, its not like all women fit into those stereotypes either. Is it. Andys voice is tentative.

He knows if it is about them, I wont talk. Its nothing, Dad. It was just a long day. We ride home in silence. Im shivering as I climb out of the car, but its not because of the temperature drop.

I stare at the lavender Victorian. At the bedroom window across from my own. Theres no light on. The cold gripping my heart loosens, but it doesnt let go. I have to see inside that room. Adrenaline surges through me, and I jolt up the stairs, into the house, and up another flight of stairs.

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Nathan calls after me. No hug for your dear old pop? Andy talks to him in a low voice. Now that Im at my bedroom door, Im afraid to go in. Which is absurd. Im a brave person. Why should one window scare me? But I pause to make sure Nathan isnt coming up. Whatever waits for me on the other side, I dont want interruptions. He isnt coming. Andy must have told him to leave me alone.

I open my door with false confidence. I reach for the light switch but change my mind and decide to enter Lindsey Lim style.

I creep forward in the shadows. The rows of pastel houses in this city are so close that the other window, the one that lines up perfectly with my own, is mere feet away. I peer through the darkness and search for habitation. There arent any curtains on the window. I squint, but as far as I can tell, the bedroom is. Theres nothing in there. I look to the right, into Calliopes room. I look down, into their kitchen. I look straight ahead again. No twin. My entire body exhales. I flick on my light and then my stereoMaxs band, of courseand turn it up.

I sling off my ballet slippers, tossing them onto the shoe mountain that blocks my closet, and yank off my wig. I shake out my real hair and throw down my work vest. The stupid shortsleeved, collared shirt they make me wear and the ugly boring black pants follow the vest to the floor. My red silk Chinese pajama bottoms come back on, and I add the matching top. I feel like myself again. I glance at the empty window. Oh, yes. I definitely feel like myself again. Amphetamine blasts from my speakers, and I dance over to my phone.

Ill call Lindsey first. And then Max, so that I can apologize for being such a space case at the Tea Garden. Maybe hes even free tomorrow morning. I dont have to work until two, so we could go to brunch on our own terms. Or maybe we could say were going to brunch, but we can really go to his apartment. My eyes close, and I jump and thrash to the pounding drums. I spin in circles and laugh and throw my body.

Maxs voice is pissed off. His lyrics taunt. The energy of his guitar builds and builds, and the bass thrums through me like blood. I am invincible. And then I open my eyes. Cricket Bell grins.

Hi, Lola. Literally sitting in it. His butt is on the windowsill, and his legsimpossibly long and slenderare dangling against the side of his house, two stories above the ground.

And his hands are folded in his lap as if spying on his unsuspecting female neighbor was the most natural thing in the world. I stare, helpless and dumbfounded, and he bursts into laughter. His body rocks with it, and he throws back his head and claps his hands. Cricket Bell laughs at me. And claps. I called your name. He tries to stop smiling, but his mouth only opens wider with delight.

I can practically count his teeth. I called it a dozen times, but your music was too loud, so I was waiting it out. Youre a good dancer. Mortification strips me of the ability to engage in intelligent conversation.

Im sorry. His grin hasnt disappeared, but he visibly squirms. I only wanted to say hello. He swings his legs back inside of his bedroom in one fluid motion. Theres a lightness to the way he lands on his feet, a certain grace, thats instantly recognizable. It washes me in a familiar aching shame. And then he stretches, and Im stunned anew.

Cricket, youre. Which is, quite possibly, the stupidest thing I could say to him. Cricket Bell was always taller than most boys, but in the last two years, hes added half a foot. At least. His slender bodyonce skinny and awkward, despite his graceful movementshas also changed.

Hes filled out, though just slightly. The edge has been removed. But pointing out that someone is tall is like pointing out the weather when its raining. Both obvious and irritating. Its the hair, he says with a straight face. Gravity has always been my nemesis. And his dark hair is tall. Its floppy, but. Im not sure how its possible without serious quantities of mousse or gel, but even when he was a kid, Crickets hair stood straight up.

It gives him the air of a mad scientist, which actually isnt that far off. His hair is one of the things I always liked about him.

Until I didnt like him at all, that is. He waits for me to reply, and when I dont, he clears his throat. But youre taller, too. I mean, its been a long time. So obviously you are. We take each other in. My mind spins as it tries to connect the Cricket of the present with the Cricket of the past.

Hes grown up and grown into his body, but its still him. The same boy I fell in love with in the ninth grade.

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My feelings had been building since our childhood, but that year, the year he turned sixteen, was the year everything changed. I blame it on his pants. Cricket Bell had always been. And he was cute, and he was intelligent, and he was older, and it was only natural that I would develop feelings for him. But the day everything fell into place was the same day I discovered that hed become interested in his appearance. Not in an egotistical way.

Simply in a maybe baggy shorts and giant sneakers arent the most attractive look for a guy like me way. So he started wearing these pants. Nice pants. Not hipster pants or preppy pants or anything like that, just pants that said he cared about pants. They were chosen to fit his frame. Some plain, some pinstriped to further elongate his height.