Page 67 of And They Were Roommates

“It says so here. Strange. Mr. Grimes lived in Philautia’s single suite last year. I believe I recall Nathalie—Principal Grimes—saying she converted her office space into a bedroom for him in the instructor quarters as well.”

I stare back at him wildly. “She did what?”

This whole time, Jasper had another room. Of course the principal’s nephew did. How did I never consider that?

Why didn’tJasper?

Fury burns in my chest. I clench a fist at my side, trying to hold it together. “Could Jasper move into his aunt’s housing as a compromise, then?”

“I assume so. I’m surprised this was never suggested to you both as an option. Can you refresh my memory on what exactly Ms. Lyney told you?”

“Not much. My check was never sent in, so the academy randomly assigned me a room and roommate, and there’s nothing else in my file?”

The longer Mr. Acosta’s eyes scan the screen, the more his gaze narrows in confusion. “Not sure what Ms. Lyney saw, but there’s indeed a file here.”

“Wait, my check?”

“Not quite.” He looks up. “According to our records, you and Jasper Grimes requested to be roommates.”

Chapter 24A MODEST PROPOSAL

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12

I slam the door to Room 503 behind me with the force of a billion newtons.

Jasper shrieks where he sits on his bed and startles, tossing his book. The cover slaps the poster of him on the ceiling and then falls back to his lap. Yet another P.M. Laframboise collection. He’sthisobsessed with the guy? Come on. I bet even I can write better than that strawberry shortcake.

“What’s gotten into you, Charlie,” Jasper mumbles.

Gripping on to the baroque—French country—whateverwallpaper, I heave out breaths after marching up five flights, but not as many as I expect. Xavier’s training is paying off. “I’m irritated. Wanna know why I’m irritated?”

“Why?” Jasper asks. His bedside lamp buzzes beside him, even though it’s only afternoon, and the ambrosia design pattern of his quilt is spread smoothly over his legs. His hair is still left down and frizzy from last night. He looks sleepy. A bit cute.

What the FUCK, CHARLIE?

“You know how we were both supposed to have single rooms?” I say ten times shriller than I want to, thanks to my revolting thoughts.

Jasper nods, shoulders stiff.

“And we thought there was a mix-up?”

Another nod.

“There was more than a mix-up. There was a catastrophic, what-the-fuck, how-could-you-do-this mix-up.”

“What was it?”

Tossing my workout bag, I make my way through our room, which Jasper must’ve cleaned. His optimal love-letter-writing environment has been wiped since last night. Thank Saint Valentine. “They insist we signed up to be roommates together. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“F-fascinating.”

“How is this fascinating? Now we’re stuck together because of some story they came up with out of nowhere.”

“Yes.” Jasper lifts a triumphant fist. “Lamentably so!”

“What’s with you?”

“Nothing!”

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