Page 108 of And They Were Roommates

“Why don’t you want me to keep saying that?” he asks, muffled through my fingers.

“Because, well, you’re really close—and—I’m insecure about it.” My hand falls gradually off his mouth after admitting the truth I’ve never said aloud.

“But you have no reason to be insecure.”

“Thanks,” I drone. “No longer insecure.”

“I’m serious,” Jasper says. “I’m not sure what you see when you look in the mirror, Charlie, but I have a hypothesis that it isn’t what others see.”

I’ve tried to tell myself this for years but could never believe it. For some reason, right now, it feels like a piece of me is starting to.

My lips are back on his in seconds. We tumble into his side of the room until we fall on his bed. I finally yank off his ridiculous headband and thread my hands through his hair, and he does the same to my curls. Our teeth clink, and my glasses slide up my face. I pull away for air, and he gives me the chance. He’s listening. I’m listening too. What I’ve wanted all along.

Good. All I need is to get this—him—out of my system. And he just needs to be quiet. That’s all this is.

But what if it’s not?

“Wait” heaves out of me.

Jasper stops. “What’s wrong?”

“Does this—Does this mean you want to be together?”

His chest rises and falls as he takes me in. At first, I think I’ve worked him into a panic again, but his lopsided dimple pops. “Is it not obvious?”

It is. But if what Jasper says is true, that he’ll figure out a way to keep me at Valentine—us together, at a place like this, the spotlight would be huge. To students. Instructors. His aunt.

All that attention. On me.

Dread rolls through me, and my heart squeezes tight.

My gaze drifts away from Jasper, but he leads my chin back with his pointer finger. “Hey,” he says. “I do. Want us to be together.” His smile softens, almost shy now. “And if you’ll allow it, I would be honored to take you to the mixer. As your date.”

I imagine us walking hand in hand into the mixer tomorrow. All those eyes following us. Slowly, I nod.

His face falls gradually, emptily. “You don’t want to.”

It’s not a question. The words fall out from under him.

I stare back into his pained eyes. My hands itch to pull him closer. My heart tells me to let go of my fears and sayyes.

But my brain won’t let me this time.

Chapter 40THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 14

Xavier thumps my back so hard that I lurch like a pinball flipper. His crisp black suit was definitely tailored to account for his biceps, but his bow tie threatens to snap off his thick neck any second. “Stop messing with your cuffs.”

“Okay,” I say as we walk through the crowds of other black suits heading to the mixer early, only to move on to my tie and collar. Apparently, sister academy students are walked over in single-file lines by instructors right before. Because if they weren’t, we would all run off into the woods and crash mouths.

Even though I haven’t spotted any girls yet, my eyes wander in search of Delilah. She must be coming tonight. I have to see her. I have to know she’s all right.

“Stop!” Robby says to my left, swatting my hands off my suit cuffs. His own suit, of course, is as put together as a celebrity’s. “You look good.”

Xavier and Robby seem adamant. I should believe them. A few months ago, the last place I would’ve guessed I’d wear my pack-in-case-of-emergency suit to for the first time was a hormone-ridden mixer, let alone one I wrote love letters for. Worse, Mom wouldn’t let me buy a normal black one.What about a shiny navy? It’s a classic!

Unspoken Guideline 17: Everyone owns a black suit,Mom.

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