Page 53 of And They Were Roommates

Jesus. “Why don’t you help with the letters again?”

“I am midmost fighting a war. Warriors have no time.” Blaze grabs his slingshot and aims for the shore. “The day that the arachnids come from the west is nigh. I must keep watch here.”

I grab my notebook off the bench and open to my unfinished one-on-one prompts. “I’ve agreed to help write letters for STRIP for a bit.” Even though Jasper told me not to tell the other members, I’m too desperate to care. “If you give me ideas for these, and don’t tell Jasper about it, I’ll help you on the predestined day. How does that sound?”

Blaze agrees with a nod quicker than I expected. The moment I pass him my notebook and pencil, his little hands take off. No wonder he skipped two grades. He may be a worthy challenger for Jasper. Rank Three would be.

Jealousy creeps into the back of my mind as a current Rank Twenty-Eight. “How long have you been frie—acquainted with—Jasper, by the way?”

“My first year here, we encountered one another.”

A question burns within me—one that has for a while. “Has he ever, you know, courted womenfolk here with his own letters?”

Everyone at Valentine has known Jasper longer than I have, so they must have an answer. If I want to shape these love letters to Jasper’s liking once Blaze’s handiwork is done, then having as much information on his love life as possible will only be a plus.

That’s the only reason why I ask.

Blaze laughs so hard that it comes out like a squeal. “Jasper refuses to court anyone.”

I sit there a moment, floored. “Why?”

Blaze just shrugs.

It’s as Jasper claimed yesterday. Is he really not breaking hearts anymore?

And how do I find out the truth?

Chapter 20THE BOOK OF DISQUIET

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 28

Of course the weekend is when my body naturally wakes up before the bell tower’s obnoxious little song. Which is for the better. Midterms are approaching too quickly for comfort, and I need to study. But it’s the principle of the matter.

Shoving on my glasses, I roll over to face Jasper’s side. He stands at his dresser with his hands on his hips, half clothed in slacks and an unbuttoned dress shirt with his number-one enamel pin on the collar. He’s studying the fragrance collection—eau de parfum, as he calls it—along the top. As if there’s a choice to make. He always goes for the one calledTEARSthat torpedoes fresh lilac and orange flower petals up my nostrils.

Jasper’s head tilts. Like he senses me watching. He turns.

I slam my eyes shut before he can catch me.

What the hell. Why was I watching?

I need to keep my head down. I need to keep my head down.I repeat this to myself so I don’t forget it again. The more I watch Jasper, the more I instigate interactions between us. The closer he gets, the more dangerous it is for me.

Like now, as Jasper’s footsteps approach the foot of my bed. The room falls so silent that I hear my pulse thrum in my neck. He just noticed a crack in my wooden bedpost. He dropped his tie, and he’s glaring at it with hatred since he’d rather die than wear one.

Or he noticed something familiar about me.

My body locks up, dread crashing through me so hard that I feel like I’m drowning in it. I failed. I’m going home. I didn’t get my single room in time.

But then Jasper’s footsteps drift away, and a door closes.

I open my eyes again, mentally kicking myself for getting caught staring. For ever looking his way, even once.

Light shines from underneath the bathroom door, and I can hear him brushing his teeth.

My adrenaline shoots my body right out of bed. I can’t keep my head down anymore; I have to know if he knows. I storm up to the door and knock once, so hard it makes my knuckles throb.

Jasper opens the door, eyes wide. His toothbrush hangs loosely in his hand. Toothpaste is splattered across the mirror like I startled him into spitting it out.

---