And They Were Roommates(22)
Xavier digs through his gym bag on the floor. He whips out a sports drink and cracks open the lid. “Aren’t you STRIP’s face now?”
“I guess.”
“You’re technically doing us a favor, yeah?”
“Do you care that much about STRIP?”
“Hell yeah, I do.” He chugs his drink so fast that his Adam’s apple bounces like a pinball. “I was so done with the cockblockade last year. Couldn’t talk to my girlfrie—er, ex-girlfriend—at the sister academy. That’s what led me to STRIP, and then I saw how happy it makes everyone. I got why this was a tradition for a hundred years, and that’s why I’ve stuck around to continue carrying it on. It’s the right thing to do.”
I eye him curiously. “Was that Jasper’s situation too? Having a girlfriend?”
Xavier wheezes so loudly that it echoes through the workout room.
I’m not sure what’s so funny. Jasper trying to win over someone from the sister academy, let alone a hundred, seems likely.
“Not really,” Xavier says. “But Jasper always loved the tradition of it all, so he eventually became a self-appointed leader. It was all P.M. who got Jasper to join. He’s the one who came up with offering a love-letter-writing service within STRIP instead of just a delivery service.”
“P.M.?”
“Pierre-Marie. The previous Excellence Scholar for your class.”
A book cover flashes to mind. It can’t be. “The famous poet?”
“You know him? If you haven’t already noticed, I’m the oldest member since everyone else graduated. I sort of went on a spree, recruiting anyone I could. Got P.M. first with the whole spreading-love-via-the-written-word angle.”
My heart pounds as I recall what I’ve assumed about the previous Excellence Scholar. That he likely left due to the pressure.
They knew each other.
For some reason, that irritates me most. “Why didn’t Jasper bring up that I replaced him? He’s constantly reading his books.”
“Well, they spent every day writing letters at STRIP together. They got so close that P.M. even boosted Jasper’s work on his platform. Then they had a … falling out, I guess.”
“Oh. That’s not why P.M. left, right?”
Xavier awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. I promised P.M. that I’d keep it all to myself. Probably best not to touch it with Jasper.”
Plenty more questions pop into my head—did P.M. confide in Xavier about why he left? About Jasper?—but Xavier stands and lifts his hand for a fist bump/handshake concoction. He towers over me, and I ignore how small I feel.
“Let me show you how to use the machines at least,” Xavier says. “I’m here to train regardless. It’s not a favor. Come three days a week? After STRIP stuff?”
As I clumsily bump him back, a small smile rises to my face, even though I’m stuck on what I learned. In addition to the pressure P.M. must have faced, getting too close to someone as dangerous as Jasper seemingly pushed him out of Valentine. I’m walking in those shoes too closely for comfort. But I’m also outsourcing help. I have Xavier. If only I could tell Delilah the good news. Her whole-planet-arson status over my relentless struggles on this side of campus would turn down a few notches for sure.
“Wait,” I say, a possibility hitting me. “So you guys can deliver a letter from me to the sister academy too, right?”
Xavier shrugs. “Why not? Just bring your letter to our meeting room so Blaze can pick it up before his weekly runs. He usually goes on Friday or the weekend.”
My chest fills with hope. Maybe I can talk to Delilah despite this wall, after all. Although a piece of me wonders why she didn’t offer this as an option during orientation. Maybe, somehow, she doesn’t know about STRIP. Even though everyone seems to …
“Great. Thanks,” I say anyway, only for my smile to twist once I replay what Xavier said a moment ago. “Oh, I can’t train with you after STRIP. I have”—my mouth squirms more—“love lessons. With Jasper.”
“Repeat that?” Xavier says, brow pinching.
The fact that I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone jogs in my memory bank, and I bite my lip. “Jasper told me not to tell you guys, but I’m helping him write letters alongside being your face. Only until the mixer in November, though. Then I’m gone.”
Xavier stays silent.
“You good?” I ask unsurely.
“I’m just surprised. People have offered to help Jasper write love letters since P.M. left, but he always sent them away.”
“Really? Why?”
“Jasper claimed he never saw anything special in them.” Xavier shrugs and walks toward the nearest pull-up bar. “At least, until you.”
Chapter 12
LETTERS FROM A STOIC
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 12
Hi Delilah,
I found out about the love letter program. I’m giving this to someone named Blaze Alpha Destroyer, who apparently delivers letters to and from our campuses every week, so we’ll see if this gets to you.
You told me to call you if I start sobbing, but I don’t want to waste my emergency contact use already. I waited to tell you this, but I need to talk to someone about it: Do not set anything on fire, but I never got a single room. My roommate has already gotten naked in front of me. Knowing I was there. Do guys seriously do that?