Reunion Girls Read Online Free Page A

Gabrielle, none of that came into play . . . until him.
    Like all the other women on campus, Babe found herself mesmerized by Dean Paul Lockhart. Maybe it was the crazy contradictions, the way he could be so utterly vain yet unconcerned about his own beauty. An eager exhibitionist, he was always quick to take off his shirt, proud of his rippling back and that long, tan torso quilted with muscle. Yet at the same time, he could be so careless about his hair and clothes, showing up to classes and social gatherings uncombed, un-ironed, even unclean, as yesterday's stains on his shirt and pants would reveal. But the real magic was simply the awesome power of his charisma, the way he could transform a room when he entered or left it.
    That he was Lara's boyfriend did little to discourage Babe's crush. Her new friendship only brought her closer to Dean Paul more often. She was intuitive enough to realize the fierce loyalty expected from a close girls' club, but she lacked the experience to see it through. Babe had been a virgin to all of it—the sisterhood, the heady rush of a man with TNT for DNA. So it had been easy to fall in love, fall into bed, and fall out of favor.
    She remembered the scene like it was yesterday. Brown was wilder than most colleges. The weekends started on Wednesday, not Thursday. Finn had rented an abandoned warehouse in downtown Providence, turning it into an instant disco with a DJ and a full bar. He had invited at least four hundred people. Lara had felt sick and Gabrielle had to cover for someone at the radio station, which left Babe and Dean Paul to party together. And party they did. Until almost four o'clock in the morning. Too trashed to drive back up the hill, they had crashed at the Biltmore Hotel... and then stayed in the room for two days.
    By the time they checked out, news of the scandal had rocked the campus. Social lines were drawn, and surprise, surprise, Babe was odd woman out. The troika of Babe, Lara, and Gabrielle was no more; she was alone again. Even girls she didn't know hissed at her on the college green. She wondered why. Because she had betrayed a friend, or because she had landed the man they all wanted?
    For all the destruction left in its wake, Babe's romance with Dean Paul didn't last long. It turned out to be a hot affair that burned as fast as a pink meteorite speeding across the dark night sky. She wanted more. He moved on. Typical Dean Paul math when it came to his relationships with women. And thanks to the wrecking ball that was his fling with Babe, all bets were off now. He took up with Gabrielle next. And after her, some other girl waiting for her chance.
    Leaving Brown had been a relief. Babe couldn't wait to start over again, to get on with the rest of her life. She had moved to New York with dreams of making a living as an art photographer. It turned out to be frustrating as hell. Gallery after gallery snubbed her. She watched in disgust as other upstarts with less technical skill and a less interesting eye got ahead in the game. They were landing solo shows, selling images for top dollar, garnering attention from art critics. Meanwhile, she was going nowhere. A stint as an assistant for a legendary photographer proved short-lived. The genius had been a manic-depressive, drug-snorting lesbian. For six months, all Babe did was play victim to her pendulum mood swings and score coke from her dealer.
    A stringer job on the New York Times improved Babe's life—but not by much. She tried hard news. Too many elbows jockeying to snap the perfect shot. Her heart just wasn't in it. A run at sports fouled out, too. Action photography? Not her strength. Getting on as a party photographer had been a fluke. One night a double-booked freelancer called Babe to help him out of a jam. Two hours later she was recording the scene at a Christmas party being hosted by Brae Group, a hot venture-capital firm. An editor from 212 had been there, drunk on spiked eggnog and offering everything