Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“Longer than I thought,” she admits. “Hey, maybe we should ask him to pick up Italian for dinner?”
Can’t escape Rocky. It’s always been a comforting idea, hasn’t it? “Yeah, go ahead.”
Thirteen
Phoebe
FOUR YEARS AGO
THE BADGER GAME
Princeton, New Jersey
I hate secret societies. They’re dramatic for no reason. Highly pretentious. The whole cloak-and-dagger bit would be cool on Halloween, but not on an average day in a musty old basement of an Ivy League. That’s what crossed my mind last month when my mom told me I’d be joining a secret society at Princeton.
I begged her to let me be recruited into a sorority. I could go through rush, pledge, and make “fake” everlasting friends. “Girls are just as loaded in Kappa Phi Delta, please,” I pleaded, like the rest of my life was at stake, even if I knew the job would only last a semester.
While applying a sheen of pink lipstick, she slipped me one of her this has already been decided looks and then shook her head. “Who’s going to be your second in a sorority? Rocky can’t do that job with you.”
Rocky. Rocky. Rocky.
It was always about Rocky. I could feel her silent push of him toward me and me toward him. And she wasn’t wrong—I loved doing jobs with Rocky. I just hated that she saw how much I loved having him around.
“He could start dating a friend that I make,” I said, forcing down a cringe at the suggestion. “It’d put us in the same social circle.”
“No—”
“I could bump into him—”
“No.” She capped her lipstick. “You focus on what you’re good at, bug. Okay? Leave the logistics and placing the roles to Addison and me. We’ve pored over these plans for weeks and thought of every scenario, I know what’ll work and what won’t.”
I wasn’t ready to let go. “What about Hailey? She could be in the sorority with—”
“Phoebe, please.” Her eyes sank consolingly onto me. “You need to do this with Rocky. You both work well together. What do I always say?”
I took a sharp breath. “Stick to the plan.”
She smiled. “Sweet spider.” She brushed her fingers through my hair like I was still a child, and for some reason, her sugary nature melted the scowl that began to form. The soft parts of my mom were warm and inviting. Maybe they were even reminders of how much she loves me and cares. “We’re only doing what’s best for you, you know that?”
I nodded.
“You’re going to college.” She smiled, like it’s the biggest adventure. “It’ll be fun. Just give it a chance?”
I wanted to. Not just for myself, but a little bit for her. I still hated the idea that I could be the screwup. The one to foil Addison and Elizabeth’s painstakingly constructed plans.
That wouldn’t be me.
And the scary part—college has been fun. The past three months, I’ve enjoyed the Ivy League experience with Hailey, Rocky, and my brothers. I’m twenty, and in another life, maybe I’d be here for real. But there’s no mistake in my role.
Everything here has been devised. Each lecture I sit in has been expertly selected by Hailey. She made sure I’m in all the classes with our marks. Add in some charisma and “chance” encounters, and it only took a few weeks for Rocky and me to be selected for initiation into the Firefly Club.
But the plan my mom wants me to stick to—it hasn’t wavered, up until tonight.
“What do you mean this is it?” I whisper to Nova. Why is he walking so fast? I rush to reach his side and power walk just to keep up with his strong gait.
Oliver is more lackadaisical behind me. With his easy stroll, black preppy peacoat, and light-brown stylish hair, he looks like he’s in a Burberry ad and not in a house on fire.
“Mom called and says it needs to happen tonight,” Nova whispers back. “We’ve gotta be out of New Jersey by tomorrow morning.”
What? “That’s . . . insanity.”
This changes the con we’ve already set up, but Nova just points to the dorm room at the end of the hall. “That’s Rocky’s room?” He has to ask since he hasn’t been in this dormitory before.
In fact, I haven’t seen Nova face-to-face in three whole months. We weren’t supposed to cross paths until after winter break. Sometime in January. It’s still December, and the unspooling threads of this tapestry we’ve carefully woven are putting me on edge.
“Yeah, it’s his dorm,” I tell my brother.
Once we approach the door, I hear an audible, high-pitched sound of pleasure. “OhmyGod, OhmyGod, ahhh!”
I freeze, all thoughts exploding out of my brain.
“Right there. Oh my . . . fuck. YES!”
Nova pounds a hard, angry fist on the door. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
I can believe it. Rocky hasn’t been, and will never be, a Virgin Mary. And at college, Rocky—sorry, I mean Cole Miller—has quickly earned a reputation in our coed dorm hall for being a sex god.