Page 46 of And They Were Roommates

“Good night, Charlie.”

We stay awake together for hours, him reading and me eventually working on some love letters, filling my notebook with scribbles and crossed-out lines. Between us, Jasper’s lamp buzzes until it starts to feel soft, almost comforting somehow, and lulls me into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 17CONFESSIONS

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 25

DELILAH!

I’M RANK 28! Just fifty-one days left to turn that into a five, but who’s counting?

I told Mom. And guess what? She never sent my single room fee. She encouraged me to keep my head down, yet she’s the reason why I’m stuck in a double now—the one thing that could ruin this for us both?

I hope you’re okay. And that your roommate isn’t walking in on you naked. Mine did. Today. But he bought us a bookcase? No matter what, though, he gives me hives. I’ll get away from him soon. At least, I’m trying.

Also, I’ve made some acquaintances at STRIP, I guess. Don’t tell my mom.

Are you getting these, by the way?

Charlie

Chapter 18A RED, RED ROSE

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 26

Roses are red

Violets are blue

You make me

Say yahoo

I scribble out my hundredth love letter attempt, then return to fiddling with the STRIP Time sign on my library desk. Even if I had a million days to finish these nineteen prompts, I’d fail. I’m running on four hours of sleep and a two-day-old breadstick from Dix. Either way, an Excellence Scholar can’t write about something as illogical as romance.

But they’re due any moment now, once Jasper wraps up his Thursday one-on-ones with his patrons. There must be an excuse I can give so that Jasper doesn’t revoke our deal. If Luis still had his cat, it could’ve eaten my homework.

“Greetings, student!” Jasper practically sings so loudly behind me, it echoes through the dead-silent library.

I jump, my hand knocking over three pawns on the chessboard. My eyes whip to the librarian, who must be armed and ready to shush us. She keeps tapping at her computer like it’s none of her business. Yet another principal’s nephew power.

“Today marks two weeks of your love tutoring,” Jasper says, claiming a chair across from mine. He wears hislove tutoringtortoiseshell glasses again, which I doubt have a real prescription. Maybe an old modeling shoot relic.

They do make him look good. The round frames are juxtaposed with the sharper angles of his face, and the color matches his eyebrows, which are several shades darker than his blond hair. Was his brow line always that pronounced?

“Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“I said, let me review your homework assignment.”

“Right—” I push my real glasses up my nose, buying myself time to concoct a lie. “I sort of lost my love letters.”

“How does onesort oflose nineteen letters?”

Yeah, how, Charlie? “A cat. Ripped them up.”

“A cat?”

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