The Vampire Book of the Month Club by Rusty Fischer Read Free Book Online

it were designed especially for him. For all I know, it could have been.
    The problem with a place like Nightshade Academy is there are no average-looking people to commiserate with. Seriously, people think my life is glamorous because of the books, but at the end of the day, I’m just another mousy bookworm tapping away at the keys behind the scenes while Abby and Wyatt are in front of the camera, smiling and seducing people all over the world.
    There are very few people here who aren’t traffic-stoppingly beautiful. Even the do-nothing celebs like Bianca and her minions are gorgeous, as if their genes know they’re rich and respond accordingly.
    You walk through the halls, and it’s like you’ve just shown up at an audition for America’s Top Model . You meander through the cafeteria line with a few bowls of mac and cheese, and the anorexics all look at you like you’re feeding on live cats or something!
    â€œYou wouldn’t understand,” I hear myself grumbling.
    â€œTry me,” Wyatt says, giving me his best I’m listening smile.
    As usual, I fall for it.
    As usual, he doesn’t let me down.
    Here’s the thing about Wyatt: beautiful as he is, I would still crush hard on him even if he looked like Elmer Fudd, because he’s just a solid, righteous dude. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just become your friend but literally wedges his way into your life. He just shows up, expecting to be charming and actually being charming. Like popping into the dorm suite unannounced, no knocking, just, “Hey, ladies, here I am!” Or the way he texts you all day long with funny stories about classmates or teachers, or the way he remembers your birthday—OK, four days late despite about half a dozen social media alerts, but still—with half-price coconut Easter eggs because your birthday is April 12 and you can’t be mad at him, ever, because who else remembers coconut is your favorite?
    Even Abby mixes it up and always gets me crème eggs, which are just gross, but I have to eat them anyway because she’s so proud she thinks she’s remembered my favorite.
    Is it any wonder I’ve been secretly in love with the guy since, like, the first day I met him?
    It was right after new student orientation, and I’d just come from my counselor’s office, loaded down with paperwork and rule books and the keys to my suite. I was already a freshman transplanted from my little Florida surf town, intimidated by this famous school that accepts only “exceptional boys and girls”—exceptionally beautiful boys and girls, from what I’d just seen walking across campus. And so what do I find when I step off the elevator on my very first day at Nightshade Academy but a dark-haired god asleep on the floor outside his dorm suite door.
    And why is he passed out two doors from mine?
    Only because he left his keys at some supermodel’s house (of course) the night before and is locked out.
    He was still in his party clothes that morning: tight gray jeans and a black shirt unbuttoned to his navel, and although I’d never even met my future roommate, Abby, I let him sleep it off on our (old) couch.
    When she finally got up and saw him lying there, she rolled her eyes and warned, “Don’t fall in love with him, Nora. He’s the nicest guy who’ll ever break your heart.”
    She’d been right, of course, but not too right to fall in love with him herself. It didn’t last long, and it’s not something any of us talk about much anymore, but the brief romance between my two BFFs is the elephant in every room—even if I’m the only one who still feels its crushing weight every time I see their knowing glances from across the room.
    Now we both call him our best friend, even though we’d each agree to marry him—or fight to the death trying—if he ever even got close to bending on one knee.
    For any