Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Just keep walking, Noah,” Roman says, coming up beside me on the stone front path. He puts a hand on my back. “Not worth it.”
I pull in a slow breath of air, the heavy thudding of my heart calming down.
“You're right. Not worth it at all.”
“Those two have the maturity level of… fruit flies dancing around pig shit,” Roman says.
“Good imagery there, dude.”
He shrugs. “What? It’s true.”
I exhale, nodding at him as we make our way onto Red Row.
The moment we’re on the sidewalk and further from the house, the tension slowly starts to dissipate in my body.
The low chirp of crickets fills the air. Lamp posts along the street cast little pools of glowy light in the humid night, and the trees in between are so verdant that the street almost feels like a greenhouse.
We walk beneath the canopy of leaves on the sidewalk, keeping a slow pace.
All three of the Crimson College secret society houses are on this street, and Red Row feels more like home to me now than my own childhood house, which is weird to think about.
I’ve had way too much fun on this street.
It’s strange to think that casual sex was my currency for years. Hookups were a dime a dozen, and although every woman I slept with praised my cock, hands, and tongue… none of them ever wanted to make it official with me.
I’m finished with my third year of college and I’ve never even had a serious long-term relationship.
Because of that good old friend, my reputation.
A real bitch, that one is.
But I never wanted transactional hookups to begin with. What I want, deep down, is the kind of spark that leads to all-out obsession.
That leads to needing each other so bad it swallows us whole, and wrecks us in the best way.
I’ve never had that kind of love, but I have to believe it exists. I want something so real it consumes me.
I don’t feel like I’m going to find it at Crimson.
Or ever, maybe.
That’s why this summer, I’m focusing on myself. I just don’t know where to start.
“This place is going to be on a different level this summer,” Roman says.
“The air already feels different out here.”
Roman hums. “Yeah. It’s humid. I hate it.”
I puff out a laugh. “Not everyone would thrive living in a sub-zero Russian tundra like you.”
He nods. “I like the cold. But I can take the heat, too.”
I listen to the chatter of the rest of the guys behind us as we make our way down Red Row. Further up the street is the Double Daggers house, and then after that is our residence.
“Hey,” Roman tells me, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I have a question for you.”
“What’s up?”
Roman glances back toward the guys behind us and then back at me, dropping his voice a little.
“Tomorrow night. Are you busy? Would you be willing to help me with a trade?”
“What kind of trade?”
He narrows his eyes. “The kind we shouldn’t talk about.”
It takes me a moment to realize what he must mean.
He’s offering for me to get involved with the “business” he’s always doing on the side.
Almost certainly illegal, and probably connected to his mafia family ties.
Roman’s cousins have had various levels of connection to the mafia since long before he was born, but that’s as deep as my knowledge about it goes. Most of the time, I can almost forget that there’s a side to the Petrov family I don’t know about, but other times, it’s plain to see.
Roman’s covered in tattoos.
He’s Russian.
He has a fondness for vodka, and he’s built so thick that I swear he could lift a car on his own.
And at the root of it, Roman is a really good person. He’d take the fall for any guy in Onyx, and that’s always how it’s been.
“Um, I guess I could help,” I tell him.
He’s never asked me to help with something before, but that honestly makes it harder to say no.
“Good.” He ignores the obvious hesitation in my tone. “You will meet with my cousin at the loading dock behind Colossus Dining Hall, eleven o’clock tomorrow, right after the workers all go home.”
The sound of the crickets suddenly seems to get louder.
“A loading dock?” I joke. “Does it have to be set up exactly like a gangster movie? Like I’m committing a crime?”
He gives me a look like I’m stating the obvious.
“Noah, it is a crime. Do you want me to ask Hunter instead? He likes doing this type of thing—”
“No,” I interject fast. “I want to do it. I need… well, I fucking need something to fill my nights now that I’m not slamming liquor like it’s my job.”
“Right,” Roman says, giving me a quick pat on the back. “I’m glad. And don’t go without a weapon.”
A faint icy grip hits my chest.