Dirty Rush by Taylor Bell Read Free Book Online

startlingly bright out.
    â€œThat’s why you’re not a women’s studies major and I am,” I told him.
    â€œTrue. You’re like the only women’s studies major in the history of this university who is being heavily recruited by a sorority.”
    â€œI’m not being recruited. It’s not a sports team.”
    â€œYou know what I’m saying.”
    â€œJonah, it was one night of stupid girly fun. I’m not gonna join, trust me.”
    â€œAlright, alright,” he said, throwing his arm around me. “See you tomorrow night at the meet?”
    â€œOf course, text me the info.”

4.
I’M JUST ADVOCATING FOR LESS DRAKE AND MORE TUPAC
    A fter lunch, I made my way over to the library to get some work done. The Chick-fil-A is situated smack in the middle of town where all the shops and restaurants are. Students affectionately call this the River. I guess because there’s a small creek that separates the town from the campus. It’s actually a really picturesque, quaint town, at least during the day, when drunk kids aren’t running rampant from bar to bar. Between the River and campus is the Hill, where you have all of the on-campus housing, including Lincoln Hall, where I live. Peacock Road, where all the sorority houses are, is on the opposite side of campus. The frats, however, are sprinkled throughout the residential streets by the River. CDU is a big school and it basically takes at least fifteen minutes to get anywhere.
    Once on campus, I made my way across the massive manicured lawn known as the Quad. I remember the first time I walked onto it, which must have been during a family visit. I thought that it looked eerily similar to the type of university where they film movies about college. Today was no different. There was a group of three boys, all sitting on their skateboards eating fat, overspilling burritos that I’m sure they’d picked up at the on-campus Chipotle, which was frustratingly close to the women’s studies building. “I’m just advocating for less Drake and more Tupac,” I heard one of them say as I walked past. The lawn was sprinkled with lone sleepers. Guys and girls just casually relaxing/reading, bags tucked under their heads as pillows.
    â€œHey, bitch!” I heard a blond girl yell.
    â€œEwwww, hiii . . .” said her brunette friend who was lying on a beach towel, in shorts and a bikini top. She was clearly joking and she started to laugh. Luckily I was standing behind them, so they couldn’t see me watch their drama unfold.
    â€œWhy is that funny?” asked the blonde.
    â€œOh my God, really? Chill. I’m obviously not serious. Jesus,” replied the brunette.
    â€œI literally say hi to you and you start laughing at me, it’s just fucking weird and rude.”
    â€œWell, maybe I’m weird and rude right now.”
    â€œOh okay, I’m gonna go. Enjoy your sunburn, whore.” The blonde started to walk away.
    â€œLove you too,” said the brunette.
    The blond girl then turned back and said, “Oh, I meant to tell you. Mom called and supposedly we’re doing Saint Barths this Christmas instead of Tahoe.”
    Oh my God. They’re sisters?
    â€œEw,” said the brunette.
    â€œI know,” agreed the blonde.
    Wow.
    I got on my way, passing by the Newman Fitness Center, where a group of meathead, gym-rat guys were crowded around the stairs comparing the size of their calves. One of them noticed me staring at them and cocked his head, which was gross. The entire front wall of Newman was made of glass so you could see kids working out from where I stood on the quad. I was staring right into the cardio room on the first floor.
    All of the ellipticals in the cardio room were occupied by the same girl in the same outfit. I mean, they were all the same type of girl in the same type of outfit. Their tank tops may have had different bold, neon Greek