by Sadie Moss
“Well, Roxie, here at Radcliffe, we pride ourselves on excellent graduation records and the highest GPA level in the country,” the dean says. “I’m sure you already know about the achievements of our alumni, and how selective our admissions process is.”
I nod. I did actually do a bit of internet searching on my third day here, so I know some of the basic facts. While schools like Harvard, Princeton, and Yale are the gold standards in my world, Radcliffe is the Hidden World’s equivalent. It’s basically an Ivy League institution, and I’m clearly not fitting in with the way I’m behaving right now.
“You were an exemplary student during your first two years here.” Dean Langston draws his finger down the page of one of the papers, apparently reading my grades. “Exceptional work, your professors had nothing but glowing reviews on your participation, your grades, your test performance, and your essays.”
He looks up at me. “Which is why it’s so concerning to us that you are now falling far below the average we expect of our students. Of course, a passing grade is seventy percent or higher, but our class average is eighty-five percent.” He gives me a smile that might be an attempt at sympathy, but it just looks patronizing. “We do not do mediocre here, Miss Macintyre.”
“Of course, sir.”
“You’re currently operating at fifty percent here in most of your classes. Your coursework is holding steady in these, and I see your history grade has recently begun to pick back up again, but still, below the average overall.”
He turns a piece of paper around so I can see it—it’s a list of my classes for this semester.
The only ones I’m still doing well in are the ones where Cross is doing the magic for me in class on the sly. Poor guy has to be so drained at the end of every class with me, but he never complains.
In the rest of my classes, I can plainly see the nosedive my grades have taken. It makes me feel a little sick, to see it in black and white like that, to know that this is really how bad I’m doing.
It makes it unavoidable and real.
Dean Langston sets the paper down. “Now, finals are coming up in just a few weeks. I think that’s rather a concerning prospect, considering where you are right now, wouldn’t you agree?”
Anger rises up in me, and I have to swallow it down. It feels like he’s trying to goad me into doing better or something, but it’s not working. It’s just pissing me off.
Maybe Roxie would get all snarky and find a way to make that snark work for her, get Dean Langston to like her for her gumption and guts. But I’m not Roxie, and I don’t know how to do that.
So I decide to go for the way that I work best, which is being sincere.
“Dean Langston,” I say, leaning forward a little. “I know my school performance the past several weeks hasn’t been what it should be. I understand about finals coming up, but I promise I’ll have my grades up by then, and I will pass.”
God, I hope that’s true.
“I’ve had a… a rough semester,” I admit, in the understatement of the century. “Things at home, you know, and I accidentally fell down a manhole and was injured, and that kind of knocked me for six for a bit.”
I try to give a self-deprecating smile, but I’m not sure I succeeded. I probably just look nervous.
“Yes. Well, we all have times when our personal lives get in the way,” Dean Langston acknowledges. He doesn’t sound entirely benevolent, more like he’s mulling things over. “And it’s such a bother to expel a student in the middle of the semester instead of simply waiting for the end.”
“Precisely,” I say, even though what I want to do is tell him how fucking heartless that is. Clearly, his school’s reputation matters more to him than actually educating his students.
“You were admitted, as you have reminded me, for your academic marks and your magical skills,” the dean continues. “The magical power you demonstrated when you took your practical entrance exam was quite unexpected.”
I’m not sure if that means Roxie’s more powerful than most students, or if they simply took one look at her and didn’t expect her to be all that good at magic.
“You had such promise, and your hard work since then has shown that, but we simply cannot allow any student who isn’t fully qualified to graduate. That’s how it works, and it’s nothing personal.”
That, I truly do believe. I don’t think he cares about who I am as an individual, just that I’m dragging down the image of his school—and that I’m from a rich and powerful family, and it might cause a problem if that happens.
“I promise,” I assure him, and I put every ounce of truth that I can into my words, “I promise you I will have my grades up by finals week. I’ll ace my finals, sir, I swear.”
Dean Langston looks at me for a moment and then nods, giving me a pleased smile. “I’m sure you will, Roxie. We’ve had nothing but good work from you up until now. I wish you the best of luck. We’d love for you to be able to return next semester.”
“Of course.” I force my smile to stay in place as I stand up and shake Dean Langston’s hand, like we’ve concluded some kind of business deal.
Yikes.
I escape from the office and hurry across campus to make it to my first class, my stomach working itself into a tight knot. I need to tell the guys about this, and soon.
My doomsday countdown timer is running out.
Chapter 28
The guys all come over to my dorm as soon as we finish our classes for the day.
I ordered delivery from a place off campus—because Roxie’s rich, and I can, and if she’s up there taking advantage of my life, then I’m going to order some pizza and cheesy bread on her dime, thank you very much.
“What happened?” Kasian asks as he enters, Theo and Cross right behind him. I haven’t had a chance to explain the whole story to any of them all day. “Did Langston give you a hard time?”
“He did a little.” I hand out the pizza as the guys settle onto various pieces of furniture in the room. “But he sort of had a right to. I mean, Roxie was one of their top students, and now she’s slipping in her classes, except for the ones where Cross is doing the magic for me.”
“You’ve been doing that?” Theo asks, his eyebrows shooting up as he turns to look at Cross.
The copper-haired man lounging on my bed salutes. “Yup. It’s kept her grades up in some of her classes, but I can’t be there for all of them.”
Kasian thinks for a moment. “What did he say?”
“The dean?” I sigh and start pacing, too nervous to sit down. “He said if I don’t get my grades up by the time finals come around, that I’ll be expelled at the end of the semester. He suggested that they might even consider doing it to me now, but there’s always this big hoopla when a student is kicked out in the middle of the term.”
“Cheerful,” Theo notes.
“So I have to find some way to get my grades up in all of my classes until I get that charm from the fae,” I finish.
“I can help you with the history,” Kasian says immediately.
“You’ve been helping me, and I appreciate it, but—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I do the grading for Angelique as her TA. I get your tests and essays before she does. If you give me one of Roxie’s previous essays, I can copy her writing style and write the essays for you, and I can just fill out the tests for you, fix it all up. Angelique will have no idea.”
I blink, stopping in my tracks. “But that’s—that could get you fired.”
“If I’m caught,” Kasian replies, flashing a smile that’s almost mischievous.
“Well, well, well, look at you.” Cross sits up, grinning at Kasian. “The goody-two-shoes does know how to break the rules after all.”
“It’s for a good reason,” Kasian shoots back, but he looks kind of exhilarated, like he also realizes what a big deal it is for him to break the rules like this. Then he sobers up, shaking his head.
“Look, normally I don’t condone this k
ind of thing. But this is important. And Gabbi’s been working hard with me in her tutoring. If she actually had magic, or that charm was good enough to give her the power she needed, I’ve got no doubt she’d be able to pass all her classes on her own.”
A tiny little thrill of pride rises up through the worry in my chest. Kasian is one of the smartest people I know, and that vote of confidence from him means more than he probably realizes.
“And this isn’t just about getting good grades,” he continues, glancing from Cross to Theo. “This is about keeping Gabbi alive and safe. The less like Roxie she acts, the more likely it is that she’ll be found out, and we can’t afford that. So.” He looks over at me. “I’ll take care of your history class. Any other classes that require essays? I’ll write them for you. I’m great at those.”
“I can help with the classes Cross isn’t in,” Theo says. “If I can stand outside the door or be in the next room, well… the range’ll be a bitch, but I can do the magic for you.”
“Guys.” My chest feels too full, and a lump forms in my throat. This is so thoughtful and selfless of them, but… “If any of you are caught, you’ll be expelled. And I’ll be exposed.”
“You’re going to be exposed anyway if we don’t do this,” Theo points out. “At least this way you’ve got a fighting chance, and we’re doing something instead of sitting around and waiting for the hammer to fall.”
That’s true.
“We’ll be careful,” Kasian promises.
“Well, you’ll be careful,” I say, before shooting a pointed look at Theo and Cross.
Both men glance at each other, then grin at me sheepishly.
“We’ll divide up your schedule,” Kasian says. “Coordinate it with ours so that one of us is always there to do the magic for you. I can talk to the TAs and professors and find out things like upcoming assignments. That’ll help too.”
“You guys—” I trip over my words and all the things I want to say. There’s just too much. “I really appreciate this.”
Fuck. I more than appreciate it.
They’re putting themselves on the line for me. Not their lives, necessarily, but their academic standing and their careers, yeah, definitely. And that’s a lot to ask of anyone, but especially people you’ve only known for a couple months.
“Hey, don’t mention it,” Cross says. “We’re happy to do it.”
“You didn’t ask for any of this,” Theo adds. “We’re just trying to take care of you, love.”
“We know you’re not helpless. But you deserve to have people in your corner.” Kasian comes over and presses a kiss to the top of my head, and the simple tenderness of the gesture makes my heart skip a beat.
We talk for a little while longer, going over my schedule and making sure every class is covered, and then the guys get up to leave.
Or, well, Kasian and Theo do. Cross is settled on the end of the bed, and he makes a move to stand but then stops. He runs a hand through his hair and scrubs at his neck, suddenly becoming very interested in the floor, staring at an imaginary spot as the other two men head toward the door.
They both look back at him, and I’m certain they’ll say something—give him shit for trying to sneak in extra time with me or something—but to my surprise, they don’t. The two of them share a brief look, their expressions unreadable, then say goodbye to me and leave, closing the door behind them.
Huh.
Everyone knows about what happened between Kasian and me, because he told them. And I’m pretty sure he and Cross know about what happened with Theo and me too. But weirdly enough, it hasn’t made things more strained between all of them. If anything, things are getting better. They don’t get nearly as prickly and territorial around each other as they used to, and I don’t know quite what to make of that, but I’m so damn grateful for it.
They’re all going to play instrumental roles in helping me pass my classes this semester. But that’s not why it’s so important to me that they get along. I want them all in my life, in whatever capacity I can have them, and I hate the idea of the three most important people to me in this world—literally—being at each other’s throats all the time.
As the door closes behind Theo and Kasian, I turn back toward Cross. He’s still sitting on the bed, and even though the other two are gone, he’s still examining the floor like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.
A little spike of worry rises up inside me. Is he okay? Is something bothering him?
“Hey, what’s up?”
I cock my head, trying to get a better view of his face, as I pad across the room toward him. I stop in front of him, and he doesn’t look up or answer the question, but his hands reach up to land on my hips.
His grip is tight, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, as he pulls me forward. He spreads his legs, and I end up between them, my own legs brushing the edge of the mattress. He rests his forehead against my stomach, still holding onto my hips, and although it’s a strange sort of embrace, it’s one of the sweetest hugs I’ve ever received.
It’s like he just needs to be close to me, like he’s drawing strength from me even though I’m the one who keeps needing help around here.
Instinctively, my hands thread through his hair, combing the soft, coppery strands away from his face. Cross has this scruffy, shaggy thing going on that really works for him. His hair is always just a little unkempt, his jaw often sporting a hint of stubble. Combined with his leather jacket and boots, it always makes him look sort of like a modern day Indiana Jones—like he just got back from some daring adventure or something.
Usually, he’s got a roguish smile to match the rest of his look, but it was conspicuously absent as he stared at the floor a moment ago.
“Hey, Cross? You okay?”
I keep my voice soft and light. If there’s something bugging him, I don’t want him to think it’s not okay for him to be upset. Lord knows I’ve had my fair share of dark moments and mini-breakdowns over the past several weeks. If something is getting to him, I want to be here for him the way he’s always been there for me.
Keeping his grip on my hips, he draws his head back slightly, looking up into my eyes. “You’re really something, you know that, cupcake? You’re amazing.”
A small smile tilts his lips as he speaks, and he opens his mouth again, then closes it.
He wants to say more than that, I think. I can practically see a speech bubble forming over his head, like in an old-timey cartoon.
But no words come out.
He gazes at me for another long moment, and I hold perfectly still, waiting for him to say something.
Cross isn’t exactly the kind of guy who speaks his feelings out loud every time he has them. He plays things a little closer to the chest than that, hiding his real feelings behind jokes and banter.
Right now though, I get the feeling that the words trapped in his mouth aren’t jokes, and they aren’t banter. Whatever he’s trying to work up the courage to say, it’s real.
He clears his throat, shaking his head self-deprecatingly, and a sudden rush of warmth for the man before me floods my chest.
He’s teased me since literally the first moment he met me—but he’s also gone out of his way for me too many times for me to count. He’s rearranged his whole life for me and given up his single-minded pursuit of being top in our class to focus on pulling me up from the bottom.
Words are one thing, but what a person does shows you where their heart really lies.
And Cross has shown me over and over that his heart lies with me.
I don’t think I need to hear him say it.
Because I already know.
Chapter 29
My heart beats harder, banging against my rib cage like it’s straining to get closer to the man in front of me, and I don’t give myself time to doubt or second-guess. I just do the first thing I can think of to show Cross how much I care about him too.
Cradling his head in my hands, I lean down and
kiss him.
It’s a soft kiss, and he jerks a little in surprise when my lips meet his. But then he leans into it, pouring more of himself into the connection between us. His tongue slides out to trace the seam of my lips, and when I open my mouth to invite him in, he doesn’t waste a second.
The kiss deepens and grows, taking on a life of its own until I’m breathing hard, one hand resting on his shoulder to steady myself as I lean down and he leans up to meet me.
I want to take care of him.
It’s a strange realization to have, but it’s true. There’s something about his brash, snarky exterior that makes me want to protect the softer side I sometimes see lurking underneath. I don’t know if I’m all that qualified for the role of bodyguard, considering I can’t even do my own damn magic without help, but I’d sure as hell try.
And even if I can’t protect him from physical danger, there are other ways I can show him how much I care.
Pulling back from our kiss, I sink down onto my knees in front of the bed. I’m wearing one of Roxie’s stylish skirts and a form-fitting blouse, and I can feel a sudden surge of wetness dampen my panties as surprise and desire flare in Cross’s blue-green eyes.
He doesn’t make a move to stop me as I run my fingers up his muscled thighs. His eyelids droop and his breath stutters when my fingers move for the button and fly of his pants.
I’m being a little bold here. I know Cross wants me, or at least, I’m almost positive he does. But dropping to my knees to give a guy a blowjob with no preamble isn’t exactly my usual style.
Or at least, it wasn’t. Until I met these three men.
I flip the button open and pull his zipper down, and Cross watches every move I make like a hawk. When I tug the fabric of his pants down just a little to get them out of the way and then slip my hand inside his boxer briefs, he draws in a deep gulp of air. His nostrils flare, and he licks his lips, but he doesn’t put a hand on me to stop or to guide me—he lets me take control.