Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
It really does feel like you’re getting ripped off.
And okay, maybe I have been played before and bought my fair share of heart-shaped Reese’s cups. But I’ve never dreamed of having a Valentine’s date.
I’ve been more than happy spending February fourteenth watching movies with Hailey, both of us gorging ourselves with Sweethearts candies that give positive affirmations like Cutie Pie and Ur Hot.
Except this year is different.
This year I’m bummed that I can’t go on a Valentine’s date with Rocky, and I’m a little worried if Jake and I aren’t seen out together, people will think we’re “taking a break” when that’s not exactly true.
Wind assaults my skin as I stand on the steps of town hall with twenty other Clue Girls. Goosebumps are mountains on my forearms, and I hug myself to try to contain the warmth from my thin blue sweater.
I’m the only one who didn’t bring a jacket. I blame my hostility toward Sidney, which made me pretty warm up until two minutes ago.
Everyone else is bundled with mittens and hats. Even Hailey slipped on a pair of black leather gloves when we walked outside.
The town square is packed.
Bodies everywhere, none shivering from the cold. Tall gas-lamp heaters have been placed around the cobblestone square to warm the residents, and the richest stay huddled beneath a tent reserved for country club members.
Claudia Waterford included.
I wave my fingers like she’s my mother-in-law to be.
She noticeably cringes, then whispers to her best friend, Stella Fitzpatrick.
I hope you hate my guts. I hope you show me who you really are.
Katherine approaches a microphone in front of us. Clutching a clipboard with gloved hands, she scans the audience with a quiet reverence. She’s spent her entire life in this town. Grown up around the three founding families. Unless you’re a caufer studying at Caufield University or a skunk who’s passing through, she most likely knows you by name.
Not quite royalty but not quite among the middle class, she thinks of herself as the glue, I’ve realized, holding the ill-fitted pieces of Victoria together.
She leans down to the microphone. “Welcome to the eighty-eighth Hunt!”
A round of applause booms from the crowd with a few hoots. Beside me, Hailey’s grin expands, and for a moment, I’m swept into the infectious energy.
Katherine explains the rules of the event. “Twenty girls behind me are in possession of envelopes filled with five clues. These clues will lead you to five golden geese hidden around the town. The first person to bring back all five golden geese will win the coveted Victoria Hunt Trophy and be named this year’s Huntsman. But not everyone can participate in this event. To play, you’ll need to bid and win a Clue Girl.” She outstretches a hand to display us.
Girls give pageant waves. Julia has a sheepish smile.
Hailey is fidgeting.
I scowl and search for Jake.
With an incoming chilly gust, the cold annihilates every inch of exposed skin. I tremble.
“Without further ado—” Katherine’s voice cuts off suddenly as the crowd shifts and parts, letting someone through.
I see the muscled, never-ending limbs and the serious, ocean-blue eyes of my fake boyfriend.
“Sorry, Katherine,” Jake apologizes as he approaches. His long legs practically skip the five steps up to where I’m standing.
He shrugs off his long black overcoat. A chorus of awwws echoes from the crowd as he gallantly fits the coat over my shoulders. I eagerly snuggle inside the warm wool. He bends down to my ear and whispers, “Your boyfriend says hi.”
Rocky.
“Is he here?” I whisper back, my heart flipping, melting, and panging all at once.
Jake just nods.
Do not look for Rocky. The desire to find him tears at my insides, and I force myself to nestle in the woolen fabric. “Thanks, Jake,” I say louder.
“Anytime, baby.” His head slants, and there’s no lingering hesitation. He kisses my cheek.
It’s warm but perfunctory.
A boyfriend would likely kiss his girlfriend in this scenario, and despite some love triangle rumors, Jake and I have established ourselves as a normal, modest couple. PDA is not for us, and no one questions it.
Jake is Polite Panda, after all. He’s not the groping type.
I hear the second wave of awwws from the audience before Jake backs away and descends the steps into the gathering throngs.
Katherine returns to the microphone. “Well, we all know who will be bidding on Ms. Phoebe Smith.” It draws a wave of chuckles from everyone. My cheeks roast, and they burn a thousand degrees hotter when I catch sight of him.
Rocky.
My pulse spikes unsteadily.
Why is he even here? The question withers inside the raw craving of him. Of hoping he will stay.
I do everything to not show the emotion assaulting me.
Rocky stands darkly beside a lamppost, wearing a white button-down beneath a leather jacket and a casual, consistent glare. Arms crossed over his chest and gray eyes shadowed with tormented irritation.