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

chasing a cherry tomato around the bowl. “It was stupid to think South Park could replace Drew.”
    “Maybe it’s too soon to be looking to replace Drew,” Charlie offered carefully. “If you’re feeling like your sex appeal is on the fritz, maybe you need to get more practice in. South Park might have been a dork-wad, but talking to him did loosen you up. Baby steps.”
    “So what am I supposed to do, talk to someone new every day?” I grumbled. “File a report with the flirt police?”
    “Yes! Well, I mean, not quite,” Charlie said, sounding thoughtful. “You don’t have to file a report. But you should do that. One guy a day. For thirty days. You know, ‘thirty days hath September.’ It could be your September thing.”
    “That’s a lot of days,” Shelley pointed out.
    “And it’s September third. We’re already behind.” I was not liking the sound of this.
    “Whatever. It’s a good, round number,” she said. “Don’t get grouchy. You’re the one who feels ‘rusty,’ or whatever you were saying before.”
    “Does last night count?” I asked. I was intrigued, I have to admit.
    Charlie looked thoughtful. “Yes,” she decided, after a moment. “Because you were acting on a specific directive when you chatted up Kris.”
    “Yes, yes I was,” I agreed smugly. “One target down, twenty-nine to go.” I pulled my hair out of its dirty ponytailand efficiently wrapped it right back up again, trapping any stray hairs that had emerged during my vehement protest of this plan.
    “Target?” Charlie asked.
    “You know, like, ‘target practice.’ You pick a target, aim, fire. That’s me.” I explained.
    “I love it,” Shelley said, laughing. She furtively crammed a french fry into her mouth.
    Okay, so, so far, the most promising guy on campus—Gabe—wasn’t a target. Gabe was, hopefully, a friend, an editor, a mentor—albeit an extremely hot one. But he had Kyra. And I had to move on to flirtier pastures.
    Me? I may not have had a high tolerance for beer, or Greeks, or even adequately functioning feminine wiles, but I did have one thing going for me:
    As of that very moment, I had “target practice.”

Four
    9/6, 9:58 p.m.
    from: [email protected]
    to: [email protected], [email protected]
    re: Welcome
    … to the first official recap of my “target practice.” The good news is that I have been able to target as discussed, one new male a day. The bad news is that I believe my comp sci grade has already been compromised. Curious? Of course you are. Without further ado, then:
    (ahem)
    The Targets:
    •#1: Kris the Sigma Nu creep. (Remember,I met him after midnight, so technically that was Sunday, the first official day of “target practice.” Ha-ha.)
    •#2: The random boy standing behind me at the movies Monday night. I reviewed that new Bond flick for the
Chronicle,
remember? The one I e-mailed you both before it printed? That you promised you’d read and in fact
claim
to have “loved”?
    Right, I thought so.
    Anyway, I asked him where the restroom was. He pointed. To a huge sign marked LADIES, which was directly to my right.
    Embarrassing.
    •#3: Cute soccer-type perusing the “Local Authors” section at the bookstore on Tuesday.
    Me: “Oh, are you taking intro to child psych?”
    Target: “Huh?”
    Me: (gesturing to the books in his hand) “’Cause of how you’ve got the intro to child psych book in your hand.”
    Target: “No,
you’ve
got the intro to child psych book in your hand.
I’ve
got the criminology 101 book.”
    Which, to be honest, he did. It’s just I hadn’t had such a close look. But really,there’s no reason for such hostility. I mean, we’re all just trying to get along, right?
    Hmmph.
    •#4: My new comp sci cutie, whose name is Jesse. Built blond, caffeinated Jesse. Also known as the reason I may fail this class. I arrived late for class, you see—not particularly auspicious on the first day. I tried to slink as