Page 43 of Wicked Devotions: Part 2

“Sounds good. I’ll let Harper and Cy know. What do you need there?”

“Small group project. Hopefully today is the only time we have to meet up.”

My lip curls. I hate group work, which is ironic considering my position on the university’s soccer team. But it’s different when everyone is working for the same goal, versus having overeager parents who just want you to succeed, no matter what. The pressure to be perfect does linger in ways I wish it wouldn’t.

Chapter

Sixteen

HARPER

Focusing on school has been so hard the past few weeks, and I know my grades are reflecting it. Which is why it’s not a surprise that one of my professors calls me up at the end of the class. I glance out the door and see Cy watching from the hall.

“Harper, do you know why I’m calling you up here?” Dr. Andrews asks.

“Yes.” My nose burns with shame. “My grades are down.”

“Do you need a recommendation for a tutor before finals? It’s against school policy to offer extra credit, but I know you’ve been dealing with stressors outside of the classroom.”

“I’m so sorry. A tutor would probably help.”

“Don’t apologize.” He scrawls out a name and email address on a scrap of paper. “She’s great and very knowledgeable on this class specifically as she used to be my TA.”

“Thank you, Dr. Andrews.” I take the paper.

“Have a nice day, Harper.”

I wave over my shoulder as I exit the class. Cy pushes off the wall and crosses the hall to get to me. Concern bleeds from his eyes as he looks me up and down as if I was assaulted by my professor or something.

“What did he want?” Suspension lingers on the fringe of the question.

“To offer me a tutor since I’m doing so poorly in the class.”

“Seriously? That bad?”

“Yeah.” I pull my jacket closer as we walk out of the building. “I’m not that smart, you know? It was probably a mistake for Cillian to pull strings to get me admitted at all.”

Cyrus grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop. “Nope.” He shakes his head. “We’re not doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Talking down to ourselves. Youaresmart. You dodeserveto be here.”

I shake my arm free and keep walking. I don’t want to argue, and I don’t believe his words. Thankfully, he lets me walk a few steps ahead of him, knowing I need to work this out on my own. It’s one of my favorite things about Cy, the way he gives me space.

It feels like he just instinctively knows what I need. He’s never afraid to give me the time or space I need to think. That quality is what has made our relationship effortless to fall into. He immediately felt like my boyfriend.

Wait.

My boyfriend?

I stop in my tracks, taken aback by my train of thought. We haven’t had any type of discussion about titles or being officially together. Is it okay that I just assigned him the role of being my boyfriend?

“What’s wrong?” He stands protectively at my side, scanning our surroundings and ready to protect me.

“Are you my boyfriend?”

He blinks. “Huh?”

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