Page 39 of And They Were Roommates

“I’m not writing your letter.”

My head flicks up at Jasper’s sudden change in tone. The sweetness usually coating it has vanished, leaving behind something colder.

“You’re denying me?” Cody asks. “You can’t just do that.”

“We’re an unofficial, free program. So, yes, we can just do that.”

“Better watch your mouth, Grimes.”

Jasper calmly taps the corner of his own lips. “You should wipe yours.”

Cody slams a palm against the table and lunges forward like he might punch Jasper in the jaw—but he falters and wipes the drink residue with his other hand. Maybe he recalled who Principal Grimes’s nephew is. “You want the academy to discover what you do back here? How youreallyuse your equestrian center privileges? Only takes one student to tell your aunt.”

“Go ahead.” Jasper doesn’t flinch.

My mouth hangs open. What is Jasperdoing?

Cody sneers, tosses on his bag, and passes us on his way to the curtain.

“Although,” Jasper calls, still motionless, “what a shame this will be for our classmates. Their love letters will never be delivered again. Established couples who rely on us throughout the year? Future couples who haven’t even had the chance?”

Cody turns around. “So?”

Jasper smiles, but it’s off. His lopsided dimple is missing, and his blue eyes are glazed—I’ve only seen this look once before, when he was kept waiting by me and Luis in the library. He stands, readjusting the number-one enamel pin on his dress shirt, and takes calm but intentional steps toward Cody. “I hope they won’t be mad at whoever tells my aunt. Maybe they’ll sabotage his status as the student council president?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You threatened me first.” Jasper shrugs, still exuding acollected aura that proves he isn’t scared, yet one that has me on the edge of my seat. “It’s an equivalent exchange.”

“If you—”

Jasper points over Cody’s shoulder, toward five other patrons peeking through the curtain to check on the raised voices. “Go on.”

Cody’s foot face nearly flashes red with anger. Without another word, he storms past the captive audience and out the crypt.

Sighing lightly, Jasper reclaims his spot beside me on the floor. He picks up his fountain pen and twirls the base with his pointer finger and thumb. “Who’s next?”

Unspoken Guideline 10: Principal’s nephew’s powers include threats and blackmail.

Sweat beads on my hairline as I mentally play back Jasper’s silky-smooth, authoritative tone and how strangely captivating it was. Well, not to me. To the crowd it gathered. Yeah. I’m an empath. “You threatened someone.”

“I suggested he should leave.”

“By threatening him.”

“STRIP isn’t here to harass women.” His voice is soft now.

I study him in surprise and, I’ll admit, begrudging respect. “You’re not worried he’ll tell your aunt?”

“It’s his word against mine and the student body’s,” Jasper says. “I wish him luck.”

The one-on-ones go faster than I expect after that, taking only another hour. Jasper smiles through every discussion—a real one, dimple included—and I lower my defenses. Once patron number nineteen walks out, Jasper blows out the taper candle, the runaway blond locks of his ponytail fluttering around his cheeks.

“Good work today, student,” he says beside me. “Now, please write letters for all nineteen of our patrons today.”

“What?” I say, pushing my glasses up my nose to reread the scribbles in my notebook. Out of the nineteen letters, five are common correspondence to their girlfriends, but the other fourteen haveMixerwritten down as the reason. Delilah was right. Students do care about this event. Maybe even more than grades. “You’re starting to deliver my letters already?”

Jasper laughs so hard that he grips his stomach, his half-buttoned shirt drooping and revealing even more chest that I pointedly avoid looking at for the hundredth time. “No, this is your first homework assignment. Solely practice.”

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