And They Were Roommates(50)
Jasper winces. “You like privacy?”
“I need privacy. You know the academy’s motto. It literally has traditional in it. You could tell someone. Your aunt. If you do, I could be—”
Jasper clutches my wrist, stopping me in place, his bracelet cold against my skin. “I won’t do that.”
His typical showy self has vanished. All that remains is something so stern and sincere that it shocks me into silence.
I instinctively turn away, blocking my face, and find somewhere else to look. Anywhere else. The last time I trusted Jasper, I got burned, yet my shoulders are already lifting. Maybe I won’t get kicked out. At least, not because of him.
It’s an illogical thought. An impossible one. Especially when this news of him intentionally trapping us in a room contradicts our deal. Has Jasper been giving me this much homework in hopes I’d never finish and fail?
“Were you ever going to fulfill your end of the deal?” I ask him flatly. “Or did you plan to keep us trapped here together forever?”
Jasper hesitates.
I scoff.
“No, I always keep my word, Charlie, I swear. But I did admittedly want to buy a little time. If we were no longer going to be roommates, then I wanted you to see me as a friend first. But people kept getting in the way, like Luis Per—” He stops. “So we’d keep in touch about your famil—” He stops again. “You. I promise, I plan to get us separate rooms.”
He’s so desperate for me to believe him that he’s tongue-tied.
Him. The famous poet.
“You never came to the beach like we promised,” Jasper keeps going, gripping my dress shirt cuff tighter. My arm tenses. “On the last day of camp. Why?”
“Gee, let me think,” I snap back, shooting daggers at his touch. “Maybe because I got busy with kayaking lessons. Or maybe because you pretended to care about me while chasing after three other people all summer.”
Stuttering noises shoot out of his throat. “Who told you that?”
Another scoff rips out of me. Unbelievable. “Asking who told me isn’t exactly what you should say in this situation.”
“Right. You’re right. You’re right. I can explain—”
“You don’t need to. On the last day of camp, those girls came up and showed me the letters you sent them.” Recalling the memory surges more anger through me.
Jasper’s brow furrows. “Love letters? I never sent any love letters.”
He’s still lying.
“Jasper, I saw them with my own eyes.” I yank my wrist out of his grasp, and the fact that I didn’t sooner has me kicking myself. Where is my brain?
“But I haven’t even told you my side—”
“Stop talking, Jasper!”
Jasper Grimes falls silent for the first time in sixteen years. Everything about him shrinks despite his typical presence filling up a room with ease.
“You’re moving into your aunt’s quarters,” I bark. “Today.”
His eyes go wide. “But the mixer—”
“You think I care anymore? No more lessons. No more deal. We’re done, Jasper.”
Jasper’s stunned gaze morphs into something emptier. He picks up his JFG bag, and his footsteps creak along the floor as he leaves.
Chapter 25
THE SECRET GARDEN
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 13
I need Delilah. An emergency contact phone call isn’t enough. I need to see her, hug her—someone familiar after my fight with Jasper.
As I study in the library with Luis, I let him do the talking more than usual, even though I want to tell him all of this. But I can’t. If I expose myself like I did last night, then the risk of everyone finding out grows.
Besides, I hardly have the energy. I couldn’t sleep despite the silence of Jasper’s absence now that he left for the instructor quarters. How could I after he revealed I used to be his long-lost love?
Jasper doesn’t know what love is. His ego is just tied up over me never meeting him at the beach and getting away. That’s all.
I barely make it to dinner hour. When Luis and I step out of the library, I spot Blaze across the Halo. The very tip of what I know to be rubber-banded letters poke out from his front backpack pocket.
An idea strikes me.
It’s reckless. Nothing an Excellence Scholar should request. But I still give Luis a quick goodbye and rush over to tug on Blaze’s blazer-cape. “Blaze.”
His eyes light up beneath his seaweed bangs. “Comrade, what ho?”
“You’re delivering letters, right? I want to come to talk to my friend. I’ve been sending her letters, but I don’t think she’s getting them.”
His gaze drops to my lapel, void of a top five enamel pin.
“I’m an Excellence Scholar,” I say before he questions how I’ll get into the equestrian center. “And a new kid. Say I never got a tour and want to see what my perks will be once I rank.”
Blaze’s mouth twists. He’s still hesitant. “I have never once failed at STRIP’s deliveries finding their rightful recipient. Are you unwavering in this belief?”
“Yes,” I say as levelly as I can, even though I want to drop to my knees. “Please.”