And They Were Roommates(35)

Intrigue flickers across Jasper’s gaze like he’s impressed. I can’t deny the rush of how good that feels. “Correct. Sometimes, clichés stop a reader from experiencing emotions. Other times, it can also be the writer.”

He wants me to write about my emotions again.

I pick at a hangnail and scowl, feigning ignorance. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re holding yourself back from expressing your true feelings about romance. You can’t write love letters if you are.”

My pencil case. Now’s a good time to clean it. I pick out a few pencils with dud erasers. “My true feeling is that I don’t believe in romance.”

“How come?”

I can feel Jasper’s blue eyes focused on me like no one else exists. The same look that drew me in years ago. I shrug.

“You’ve had romantic experiences before?”

A pencil slips out of my hands. “Uh—I—”

“Why else would you feel this strongly about your lack of belief?”

My brain screams to shield my face with a textbook, to drape more hair over my eyes, to run back to Queens. If I lie to Jasper, he’ll keep pestering me. If I tell the truth, his memory could be jogged.

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’s touching me. My face.

“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’s enjoying this.

I hate you. I hate you.

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 is wrong with 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.”

Because of me.

A grin spreads along my face. “Congrats.”

Jasper is too busy scrutinizing Luis up and down to offer a hello. His kindness must only extend to patrons who worship his every word. He points his journal’s spine at an empty desk one row over and stands. “I’ll wait there until we can finish our lesson.”

I follow Jasper’s journey to the next row with my eyes until Emilio and Michael distract me by talking among themselves.

“You good?” Luis whispers closer to my ear.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I say.

“Whenever you’re around Jasper Grimes, you look a little anxious.”

“He just gets on my nerves.”

“I heard he’s your roommate.”

Does that mean people talk about us? What could they even be saying? “Unfortunately. What have you heard?”