Page 48 of And They Were Roommates

I have to be careful here.

Shoving aside the pencil case, I study him equally hard. “If by romantic experience, you mean getting screwed over and left behind, sure. But, in a way, I’m thankful. I learned earlier rather than later in life that your version of romance doesn’t exist.”

Speaking these words makes the past I’ve tried so hard to forget rush to the surface, feel all the more real, and my chest twists tight. I never thought I’d have to admit this aloud someday, let alone to the person who caused the damage.

Jasper frowns. “Forget that person. They’re long gone now.”

I press my lips tightly together.

The next thing I know, Jasper reaches over the table to squeeze my cheeks together and smushes my lips into a fish face.

The courage I summoned prior zips out of my body. He’s so close, I can smell mint gum on his breath. “Whuat auh youh doang?” He’stouchingme. Myface.

“Look at me.”

“I auhm?”

“Tell me you love me.”

“Whuat?!”

Jasper finally lets go. Coughing erupts out of me like I’m a broken dam. If the librarian is finally shushing us, I can’t hear at all.

“EROS Four. Craft for yourself—not your audience—for true connection,” he recites over my choking. “But you’ve closed off your emotions about romance because you’re scared. We must fix that.”

My face burns as hot as lava. No, lava only reaches 1200 Celsius. I’m a bajillion-zillion. “N-no thanks.”

“Then you may end our deal. No more room to yourself.”

What if I strangled him? Then what?

Any feelings I once felt toward Jasper are history. Logically, saying I love him should be painless. But this is about pride, and I’d prefer to retain some after my time at Valentine so far. There must be a way to imagine Jasper is something—anything—else I love. What do I love?

Books.Othello.I’ll pretend he’s Shakespeare. I’m praising his work as a playwright.

Straightening in my chair, I fold my hands on my lap. “I…”

Jasper’s lopsided dimple pops. He’senjoyingthis.

I hate you. Ihateyou.

I ball my hands into fists on my lap. I can do this. “I… I… love…”

“V.H.!”

Luis and two others, holding calculus textbooks. The three increase in size like phone service bars beside us, Luis standing at the shortest rung.

“H-hey ther—!” My voice spikes to a wonky pitch. What iswrongwith me?

Luis claims the untaken seat by me. “Sorry I’m late. Had detention today.”

“What? What’d you do?”

“Wore a T-shirt under my gift shop costume and forgot to put my dress shirt back on after. Residential retainers swarmed me like I was a bomb.”

The guidelines sniping down someone so close to me shakes me. When the main person I talk to lately is Jasper, who doesn’t need to follow them, how cutthroat they get over even little things was starting to slip my mind. “That sucks.”

“Is it cool that I brought Emilio and Michael for STRIP?” Luis says. “I’m the only one who got a perfect score on last week’s calc homework because of you.”

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