And They Were Roommates(39)

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 20

THE 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 called TEARS that 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.

I follow the dripping spit-paste with my eyes. “Can … I join you?”

Jasper’s surprise flips to a smile, and he quickly shuffles over to make space like he fears I’ll change my mind. The way he acts whenever I approach him first. Like nothing has changed between us. He wets his toothbrush again and resumes brushing.

Did he figure it out?

As I grab my toothbrush from our shared wall holder, I realize we’ve never gotten ready together. Jasper is usually out the door before I’m out of bed.

Jasper spits out his toothpaste, into the sink this time. “Did I wake you?”

“N-no,” I say, directing my stare to the sink.

“I’m glad. I try not to.”

Is this why I usually sleep through his routine? “Thanks.”

“You usually aren’t up this early.” His voice is as melodic and articulated as usual.

Same as always.

“I have lots of studying to do,” I mutter, feeling like the most brainless Excellence Scholar to ever enter Valentine. Of course Jasper wasn’t examining my face while I was sleeping. He was staring out the window. Or something. Right? After how much Ms. White harped on the scientific method in chemistry last week, she’d be ashamed of how Jasper makes me jump to conclusions. “I gotta keep up my grades to stay here.”

Jasper looks right at me. His morning-person joy has been wiped away by a frown. “Von Hevringprinz, you were selected out of thousands to be our Excellence Scholar. Please, never think of leaving.”



* * *



“Jasper’s love life?” Xavier asks, voice strained. He’s fighting for his life with a jammed lever on the side of a workout machine, since I finally recovered enough from the cardio he had me doing to graduate to weights.

“Yeah,” I say, wiping my forehead. We’ve just started our first weight training session with stretches, and I’ve broken a sweat. Somehow, Pragma Recreational Center always magically smells like a bouquet, even though each body in here has to be as sticky as mine. Must be the work of Saint Valentine’s spirit. “What’s going on there?”

“How come you’re super interested?”

“Not super interested.” But Blaze couldn’t give me a firm answer last night, and without this information I’ll never be able to write the love letters to Jasper’s satisfaction. Xavier seems to know him best among the student population, so he’s my last shot. “I should know since he’s my love tutor, you know? His credentials. A résumé.”

“You seem interested.” Xavier manages to shove the lever down a few rungs, and it echoes through the abandoned room. Whatever he’s changing seems related to the weights. He must need to make adjustments because I’m weak.