Read Online 30 Guys in 30 Days by Micol Ostow - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Micol Ostow
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arrived.
The party was in full swing. Suddenly the doors were open to the remainder of the campus and, specifically, members of the opposite sex. Meanwhile, I was buzzed, I was cute, and I was in a damn good mood.
Watching the boys pile into the house, I vowed to myself that I would seize on the opportunity to re-enact the Dave scenario (minus internal bruising) with the first hottie I saw. You know, walk over strike up a conversation, maybe make a joke or two … and, sure enough, ten seconds later and not a moment too soon, he materialized. Tall. Blond. Hotness a cool 9.8 on the kiss-a-bility scale.
Bingo. Target #6.
I thought about bumping into him accidentally/on purpose, since the bumping thing had worked so well with Dave. Or spilling coffee on him, as I had with Jesse. But those incidents had been unplanned; and aspremeditated efforts, both of those techniques struck me as desperate and awkward, the moves of a rank amateur. And I was past that stage, wasn’t I?
Wasn’t I?
I decided I was. In which case, the idea of asking him for the time, or which way to the bathroom, seemed equally immature and unappealing. No, I was going to have to go for the gold. And, judging from the fact that he was fast turning to make his way to the kitchen, I was going to have to do it quickly.
I sidled on up to him as surreptitiously as I could, given that he was six feet three to my cool five feet four. “Hey,” I said, beaming at him for all I was worth. I tried to toss my hair like Charlie, before remembering that my hair was up in a ponytail. “Hey,” I repeated, slightly running out of steam. I took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I’m Claudia.”
Cutie of the evening smiled at me. “Hi, Claudia,” he said. “I’m Zach.”
I wracked my brain for something clever to say, but my brain, dulled by onetoo many Cosmopolitans, did not want to help me out. “Aren’t you in my comp sci 5 class?” I asked, knowing he wasn’t. Okay, not my finest work, but a solid effort, nonetheless.
He bought it, though. He shook his head, grinning. “Actually, Claudia, I’m an engineer. So I placed out of those requirements.”
So, no remedial math for you. Check.
“But, uh, hey—I could tutor you, if you want. If you’re, you know, having a hard time.”
Well, hello there, Mr. Tutor-man.
I was feeling pretty proud of myself for a minute there. All I really needed was a cute cashmere tank and a little Cosmo-induced come-hither chutzpah and suddenly I was a flirt machine. Wasn’t an offer to tutor practically as good as a date?
I decided it was. “Yeah, I would totally love that. Hartridge
hates
me,” I purred.
Purred!
I was purring! It was the fuzzy knit wool against my skin, I was sure.
“Nah, he’s just grouchy,” Zach insisted. “Besides, if we can get your grades up, it really doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, right?”
“Sure, whatever,” I cooed, lowering my eyelids in what I hoped were bedroom eyes.
“So what else are you taking this semester, Claudia?” Zach asked, leaning in close to me and lowering his voice.
“Mass media and the popular culture,” I said.
“Cool. Watching television for credit.”
“Exactly,” I said.
“I can help you with that homework too,” he offered. “My television is just down the street.”
Oh.
“CLAUDIA!”
I spun to see Charlie standing up from her chaise lounge, hands rooted firmly on hips in a superhero’s pose. A supremely pissed-off superhero.
I flashed another blinding smile at my new hottie and hurried over to Charlie. Once I was within three feet of her, she grabbed at my wrist and pulled me aside, fuming. “Are you
insane?”
she stage-whispered.
“No,” I said hotly, “Are
you?”
“Claudia, that is Zach Masters. He’s president of the Inter-Greek Council!” she said, still with the fake-lowered voice.
“Um, okay, then. Still not seeing the reason for the hissy fit.”
Charlie smirked at me. I realized it was the first time
The party was in full swing. Suddenly the doors were open to the remainder of the campus and, specifically, members of the opposite sex. Meanwhile, I was buzzed, I was cute, and I was in a damn good mood.
Watching the boys pile into the house, I vowed to myself that I would seize on the opportunity to re-enact the Dave scenario (minus internal bruising) with the first hottie I saw. You know, walk over strike up a conversation, maybe make a joke or two … and, sure enough, ten seconds later and not a moment too soon, he materialized. Tall. Blond. Hotness a cool 9.8 on the kiss-a-bility scale.
Bingo. Target #6.
I thought about bumping into him accidentally/on purpose, since the bumping thing had worked so well with Dave. Or spilling coffee on him, as I had with Jesse. But those incidents had been unplanned; and aspremeditated efforts, both of those techniques struck me as desperate and awkward, the moves of a rank amateur. And I was past that stage, wasn’t I?
Wasn’t I?
I decided I was. In which case, the idea of asking him for the time, or which way to the bathroom, seemed equally immature and unappealing. No, I was going to have to go for the gold. And, judging from the fact that he was fast turning to make his way to the kitchen, I was going to have to do it quickly.
I sidled on up to him as surreptitiously as I could, given that he was six feet three to my cool five feet four. “Hey,” I said, beaming at him for all I was worth. I tried to toss my hair like Charlie, before remembering that my hair was up in a ponytail. “Hey,” I repeated, slightly running out of steam. I took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I’m Claudia.”
Cutie of the evening smiled at me. “Hi, Claudia,” he said. “I’m Zach.”
I wracked my brain for something clever to say, but my brain, dulled by onetoo many Cosmopolitans, did not want to help me out. “Aren’t you in my comp sci 5 class?” I asked, knowing he wasn’t. Okay, not my finest work, but a solid effort, nonetheless.
He bought it, though. He shook his head, grinning. “Actually, Claudia, I’m an engineer. So I placed out of those requirements.”
So, no remedial math for you. Check.
“But, uh, hey—I could tutor you, if you want. If you’re, you know, having a hard time.”
Well, hello there, Mr. Tutor-man.
I was feeling pretty proud of myself for a minute there. All I really needed was a cute cashmere tank and a little Cosmo-induced come-hither chutzpah and suddenly I was a flirt machine. Wasn’t an offer to tutor practically as good as a date?
I decided it was. “Yeah, I would totally love that. Hartridge
hates
me,” I purred.
Purred!
I was purring! It was the fuzzy knit wool against my skin, I was sure.
“Nah, he’s just grouchy,” Zach insisted. “Besides, if we can get your grades up, it really doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, right?”
“Sure, whatever,” I cooed, lowering my eyelids in what I hoped were bedroom eyes.
“So what else are you taking this semester, Claudia?” Zach asked, leaning in close to me and lowering his voice.
“Mass media and the popular culture,” I said.
“Cool. Watching television for credit.”
“Exactly,” I said.
“I can help you with that homework too,” he offered. “My television is just down the street.”
Oh.
“CLAUDIA!”
I spun to see Charlie standing up from her chaise lounge, hands rooted firmly on hips in a superhero’s pose. A supremely pissed-off superhero.
I flashed another blinding smile at my new hottie and hurried over to Charlie. Once I was within three feet of her, she grabbed at my wrist and pulled me aside, fuming. “Are you
insane?”
she stage-whispered.
“No,” I said hotly, “Are
you?”
“Claudia, that is Zach Masters. He’s president of the Inter-Greek Council!” she said, still with the fake-lowered voice.
“Um, okay, then. Still not seeing the reason for the hissy fit.”
Charlie smirked at me. I realized it was the first time
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