Page 60 of And They Were Roommates

At least no one pounces at me from the bushes when I do homework in the Dixon Writing Gazebo this time. Probably because it’s only an hour until lights-out. Or Blaze is on delivery duty tonight, tiptoeing around the equestrian center for all the couples whose sole survival relies on STRIP.

Staying out late isn’t enticing to me, especially when the temperature in Au Sable Forks is so low that I need my winter coat and the academy hasn’t turned on the heat lamps in this gazebo yet. But I want nothing to do with Jasper.

Unfortunately, he lives in my bedroom.

Instead, I flip through Mr. Stern’s blackout poetry assignment. The subject material fails to distract from thoughts of Jasper, but it is due tomorrow. The packet is scanned pages taken from “The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge,” a Sherlock Holmes short story.

I pick a marker out of my case and pop open the top. At least the words are already here, waiting for me to find the right answer. Unlike Jasper’s poetry, there should be a correct one, just like a multiple-choice test.

Maybe I can handle this.

I squint at the page.Mydate. There’s nomy.

Wait. Am I treating this like one of Jasper’s love letters?

I smack my forehead with my notebook at the same time as laughter swells closer toward the cockblockade. An instructor leads four sister academy students through the gate, back toward their side. Each carries a cardboard box, and plastic cups stick out of one labeledMIXER. One of the students is familiar. Someone I’ve nearly forgotten to think about lately, being so entrenched in the never-ending unwanted surprises on this side of campus.

I jump up from the bench. “Delilah!”

The moment she flicks her head my way, a sense of relief I haven’t felt in weeks washes over me. In the dark, I barely make out her reshuffling the box to wave back, and it’s only then that I realize how much I don’t expect her to. How much I wonder deep down, with her never responding to my letters, if I’ve done something wrong. All I can recall are memories of orientation when she briefly got annoyed, and how unresolved that feels now.

The instructor yells at her to stop waving, and the line continues through the gate.

Right. Because the academy won’t even let me say hello. Seriously?

The two church bell towers chime in harmony. Ten minutes to lights-out.

Shoving my belongings into my bag, I head back to Philautia Residence Hall by myself, feeling even more isolated after seeing Delilah without getting to ask if she’s receiving my letters. The air tickles my nose, the leaves of the woods rotting now with winter around the corner. Except for a few students exiting the library, the paths are deserted. For a moment, I get lost in thatdream where I don’t need a room to myself. Where I can make as many friends as Mom. Where I can live my days like any other boy here and not feel so on my own.

But once I’m in front of Room 503, reality comes roaring back. Time to face Jasper after leaving him behind for the second time in our lives. At least, to him, it’s only the first.

I take a deep breath and knock once.Grimes.

“Come in,” his voice calls.

I do cautiously. My eyes split open wide.

Jasper stands at the center of the Valentine crest rug, clutching a bottle of champagne against his stomach. His red dress shirt is tucked into his plaid slacks, and his blazer is buttoned, hugging his waist and shoulders in the right places. What’s rarer is his blond hair left down, falling to his shoulders. He never even sleeps with his hair down.

He somehow looks even more attractive this way.

The thought knocks me back like a punch. I slam the door shut. So what if he’sobjectivelyattractive? He’s notsubjectivelyto me. “What are you doing with abeverage? Get rid of that!”

Jasper twists the champagne cork. It pops and soars. Foam trickles down his hand.

“What did I literally just say?” I shout.

“You can’t even offer me ahoney, I’m homefirst?”

“We’re minors. We can’t have that on campus. Where did you—?”

“It’s sparkling apple juice.”

“You—Oh.”

“Yes,” Jasper says. “Will you allow me to speak now?”

Pushing my glasses farther up my nose, I huff and scan Jasper’s feet, surrounded by flower petals and cinnamon candles shapedin a heart. My notebook that I left in his office is nearby. So is a stack of pens and pencils. “Are you setting our room on fire?”

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