30 Guys in 30 Days by Micol Ostow Read Free Book Online

would-be sisters—invited her. You know, to check out the scene.” I shuddered involuntarily. “It’s fun,” I said, a shade too enthusiastically, feeling a wave of loyalty to Charlie. “I mean, I didn’t have any cool concerts to review tonight, anyway,” I said.
    “Yeah,” Gabe agreed. “You should come down to the paper tomorrow. I’ve gota bunch of new stuff in. That is, if you want to write again.”
    “I definitely do. I mean, I will. I mean—” I stopped myself. “What about you, anyway?” I asked. “What are
you
doing here? I thought you hated the Greek scene.”
    I gave him a quick once-over. He did look vaguely out of place in this setting. His hair was hat-free and carefully mussed (there was definitely some “product” action going on, I decided), and he wore a tight ringer T-shirt that said, VIRGINIA IS FOR LOVERS. His cords were frayed, and his Pumas were two-toned.
    He was the anti-Drew, and I loved it.
    “‘Hate’ is a strong word, Claudia,” he said, breaking me out of my reverie. He pointed at his shirt. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
    Mmmm, I hope so,
I thought. I straightened, trying to banish all inappropriate thought from my mind. “Uh-huh!” I said brightly.
    He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s Kyra’s scene. You know, she was, like, a legacy. So she’s Greek. And I’m the moral support.”
    The words hit me like a punch in the stomach. He was here for Kyra. He was her moral support. He wasn’t mine. He wasn’t even on the market.
    “There she is!” Gabe said, busting into my big, deep thoughts.
    He doesn’t have to sound so freakin’ pleased about it,
I thought sullenly.
    But yes, there she was. She wore a sleeveless printed top that on anyone else would have looked like Grandma’s curtains. Her jeans were soft, faded, and stain-free. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head in a style that would have taken me hours to perfect, but for Kyra, I’m sure, was effortless. She probably slept with her hair that way. She was talking to another girl, someone equally casual and good-looking and, from my vantage point, it felt as though I were watching the scene unfold on-screen. It was a movie, and Kyra was the star. But of course, it wasn’t
really
a movie. It was my life. Kyra was the star of the movie of my life? When had that happened? It was so unfair.
    He grabbed at my wrist. “Come on, let’s go say hi. She’ll be glad that you’re here.”
    I had no idea why Gabe thought that Kyra and I were destined to be fast friends. The girl was friendly to all, including stray animals, and therefore she’d always be pleasant to me. I mean, I’m sure I wasn’t the first chick to crush on her guy, and even if I were, she obviously didn’t have any reason to feel threatened. But that didn’t mean we needed to be bosom buddies, braid each other’s hair, and tell secrets at frat parties. Especially on a night like this, when I was already feeling flattened. No way was I going over there to watch Gabe fawn all over his Answer Goddess.
    I was out of there.
    Anyhoo, that’s my story. But no sense in dwelling. Gabe can’t possibly be the last living sex god, can he?
    Can he?
    —xx
    “I can’t believe you just went home,” Charlie said.
    It was the evening after the frat party and we were sitting in the dining hall picking at dinner and rehashing the events ofthe previous night. Or, rather, I was listlessly picking away. Charlie was wolfing down her sandwich with gusto. Shelley, who was eating with us, was frowning into her salad. The tomatoes weren’t looking very promising.
    Charlie swatted at my hand as I reached for another fry.
    “Hey!” I protested.
    “I’m hungry. There are plenty more fries over at the steam table.”
    I shook my head. “Not gonna happen.” I sunk lower into my seat and zipped up the front of my hoodie. “Tired.”
    She nodded. “Well, you had a long night,” she agreed. “And with a sad ending.”
    I stabbed my fork toward my salad,