And They Were Roommates

by Page Powars

“I’m a bit busy.” I continue down the hallway. He follows. “Too busy for Dix?” “What’d you just say to me?” “Dixon. The dining hall.” Jasper makes a face like I’m weird. “It’s by the Halo.” Right. The courtyard is the Halo. Dix is the dining hall.

“I see you couldn’t resist spending intimate time with me today, roomie,” Jasper says through a grin. He wears an enamel pin too—a gold number one fastened to his red dress shirt, weighing down the neckline and exposing his collarbone more than usual. “Why are you here?” I ask, keeping my eyes firmly on his face. “STRIP.” I clutch my blazer. “Excuse me?” “Student Tutoring Remediation Interdisciplinary Program,” Xavier says, who’s returned to jotting names and numbers in his notebook. “STRIP for short.”

“Why waste time on pointless love letters?” I say too sharply. I can’t help it. Now my principal-assigned job is impossible. These guys don’t tutor at all. Jasper’s mouth hangs open. “Pointless? How else will these heartbroken souls stay in touch with their crushes and lovers across the cockblockade that divides our academies?” People really do refer to that wall as a cockblockade. “They won’t?” “Exactly! Saint Valentine would weep over so many young lovers being ripped apart.”

He sits cross-legged on his blazer to fight off the dusty floor, using another stack of books as a table to scribble in his JFG journal. What are his initials, anyway? Jasper Fucking Grimes?

“Worried about me?” My cheeks burn, and only then do I realize we’re still touching. I chuck his hand onto his lap. “No. Buy a new pen.” “I will not. This is my cherished six-hundred-dollar fountain pen. Limited edition. Only ninety exist in the world. I’m eighty-nine.” Jasper points at the black resin barrel where 89 is engraved. “Any other pen would render my life a feckless charade.” “It’s leaking.” “All fountain pens smear.”

“Charlie?” “Hm?” “I said, let me review your homework assignment.” “Right—” I push my real glasses up my nose, buying myself time to concoct a lie. “I sort of lost my love letters.” “How does one sort of lose nineteen letters?” Yeah, how, Charlie? “A cat. Ripped them up.” “A cat?” “Came out of the woods. I tried … fighting it, but it was too late.”

“What are you doing with a beverage? Get rid of that!” Jasper twists the champagne cork. It pops and soars. Foam trickles down his hand. “What did I literally just say?” I shout. “You can’t even offer me a honey, I’m home first?” “We’re minors. We can’t have that on campus. Where did you—?” “It’s sparkling apple juice.” “You—Oh.”

Weeks of Jasper following me around. Weeks of him trying to get me to like him and steal my trust. Weeks of putting me through the stress of having a roommate. Of him being my roommate. This fear. For weeks. I’ve let him betray me again. “I don’t have any family like that,” I spit out, my adrenaline spiking. It overtakes any and all logic that’s been holding me back from letting out what itches on the tip of my tongue—what would make Jasper realize, once and for all, how he hurts me over and over while remaining untouched. “Because that person you’re looking for is me.”

“But—Wha—Hhh—?” “Use your words,” I grumble, crossing my arms. “You’re supposed to be good at those.” “This is an academy for boys,” Jasper says. “Yes.” “So?” “So, things change.” “Right.” Jasper’s gaze clouds as he looks toward the rug. “Things change.”

“Ms. Lyney, isn’t that your favorite reality show?” Ms. Lyney swivels to face him. “Why, yes, it is.” He shakes his head, but a teasing smile peeks through. “Fabricated love. A disgrace to our storytelling ancestors.” “It’s not fabricated. It’s about a young woman meeting a room of men dressed as gnomes to see which she falls for.” “You can’t simply shove two people in a room and expect them to fall in love.”

It seems that you indeed, can.

“I had a different name before surgery. And hormones.” Xavier nods gradually. I’m not sure how to read it. “If the admin finds out, then they could make me leave campus and you all behind, you know—?” “No.” “No?” Xavier’s expression is taut. “Don’t get me wrong, I get being concerned. I hope they wouldn’t do that, man. But if they do, I swear, I’ll punch them in the throat.” “Oh.”

“I had many expectations for my second year at Valentine. Win the Critical Junior Poet’s Award. Model for Poetic Fortune Digest’s Sexiest Poet of the Year. Remain Rank One. But being attracted to my roommate at an all-boys academy was not one of them.”

“I don’t know. I just said I don’t know what I’m thinking.” “You said you’re attracted to me.” “I suppose I did say that.” “Okay.” We stare at each other. Jasper starts to pace our bedroom and tosses up his arms. “I mean, of course I said that. Yes. I’ve been searching for you all these years because I fell for you. Those feelings don’t simply poof”—he does some jazz hands—“away!”

“It all began when I brought that dreadful bookcase in our room. Why ever did I engrave our names like that? Have you noticed it looks like a wedding invitation?” “Wait. Then? That was before you even knew who I was.” “That’s why I was having a CRISIS,” Jasper shouts, breaching into hissing basilisk territory, and his eyes blow wide. “I thought I was falling for the love of my life’s BROTHER. I was about to set myself on FIRE.”

“I’m still surprised you figured it out. I thought Jasper was straight.” Robby giggles and peeks up from the candy corn. Once he notices I haven’t joined in, he presses his lips firmly together. “That wasn’t a joke?” “No? Jasper only realized himself a few weeks ago.” His brow lifts incredulously. “The jewelry-wearing, more-dramatic-than-a-whining-baby-pony, long-haired poet?” “I mean, a straight guy could act that way too.” “Technically, but I also think the odds were in your favor.”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Charlie, because I’m terrified that whatever it is you’re about to say will break my heart again, and I’m not—” He sucks in a shaky breath, and the first teardrop falls. “I’m not sure if I can survive that again. Not when I love you as much as I do.” The words shatter me. “You love me?” “I never stopped.”

“What’s wrong? You look ill.” I rip the letter out and smooth the frayed edges. My hands are shaking so much that I can barely make out my own writing. “Charlie?” Jasper says. “ROSES ARE RED.” He jolts back, gripping his chest. “Y-yes, they are.” Too loud. I hide my face behind the paper. Mortifying. “Can I try that again?”