Page 42

Chapter 42

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 14

Unspoken Guideline 18: Do not sit on the fountain in winter, or your ass will freeze.

Snow hasn’t fallen in Au Sable Forks yet, but my breath visibly leaves my lips as I wait out here. I still prefer this to being surrounded by the lovey guck in that ballroom, reminding me how Jasper and I aren’t getting the night we deserve.

Any moment, the mixer will end. Jasper will walk out of that ballroom among the crowds. I need to tell him I made a mistake.

But will he listen?

The double doors open, chandelier light seeping into the night. A group walks down the steps, hollering about the fallen plastic cup spider. More follow, wandering toward the residential hall. Ten or so minutes pass, and there’s barely anyone left.

Fabric slaps me across the face.

I choke out a very not-hot noise and grab at it.

“You’re cold” comes from above me.

Lowering the fabric—a white suit coat—Jasper stands in his white vest and dress shirt, hands tucked into his slacks pockets.

“I’m not cold,” I say through a chatter.

Jasper spikes an eyebrow.

I huff and wrap his suit coat around my shoulders. “You didn’t have to.”

“What are you doing out here?”

I clench my fist against my lap. “I was waiting for you.”

Jasper’s eyes widen, a light breeze fluttering his left-down hair. His rosy cheeks are already turning brighter. “P.M. wished to speak with me. Apologize, rather, for mistakes he hadn’t known he’d made. And explained some others.”

“Like?”

“Well, he believed I wrote better love letters for STRIP than him. Better poetry than him, especially after the popularity I found after he featured me online. And I ranked at the top when he knew he wouldn’t come close.” Jasper’s laugh is sour, in a way that sounds like regret.

I don’t know what to say at first. “None of that’s your fault.”

“This whole time, I thought P.M. was overshadowing me, yet he felt the opposite. So much that he needed to leave Valentine to escape me.”

“Jasper, that’s not true.”

He just shrugs, sniffs in the cold air.

“Well, I’m not leaving Valentine,” I say.

“Pardon?”

“The board of trustees is getting rid of rank requirements for Excellence Scholars. Because you apparently collected a group of people to convince them. Thank you.”

Jasper’s face falls into something so unbelievably warm and genuine—everything I’ve come to know about who he is in the past few months. Years. “Charlie. Charlie, I’m so—” He steps forward, lifting his arms almost into a hug, but then back again like he’s lost.

“Why did you still do that for me?” I ask.

Jasper doesn’t respond.

My mouth opens. Closes. “Can we talk?”

Still nothing.

“Jasper?”

“I’m sorry, but no.”

My heart drops into my toes. After how I reacted last night, maybe I should’ve expected this answer, but admittedly, I didn’t. “Why did you smile at me in the ballroom, then?”

“Because I—” He looks away. “I’m not sure why I did.”

“Not being honest with me anymore?”

Then my breath catches in my throat.

Because there’s a shine to Jasper’s blue eyes now, and it’s not the reflection of the lampposts or the crescent moon. “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.”

So many thoughts zoom through me, but one sparkles brightest. If any spotlights were to shine upon Jasper and me for being together here, he’d make sure I never get hurt—we’d get through it together.

How can I keep thinking otherwise?

“I don’t want to break your heart,” I say, rising off the fountain and stepping cautiously toward him. “I made a mistake. That’s what I was waiting here to tell you. I like you.”

That only pulls a bitter smile out of Jasper. He scuffs his dress shoe along the pavement, kicking a gravel chunk. “I know you like me, Charlie.”

“Then why do you think I’ll—?”

“Because you still don’t like me enough to take the risk.”

The words are a wound in my gut, but I still gently take his hand and lead him onto the fountain ledge to sit too. “I am honestly a bit scared. But I don’t want to be. I want you. I don’t know what to do.”

He nods a few times, but his expression doesn’t change.

A speck of white falls between us, and I look up. Snowflakes flutter through the dark sky. The light from the ballroom doors makes each one flicker.

By the time I look down again, Jasper has slipped his hand out of my grasp. He reaches toward my nose and wipes it. “They like your face.”

He likes my face. He told me.

I yearn to lean forward, to touch him and kiss him until we’re both burning in the snow, and make him mine. Jasper always claims that writing helps him release his love and fears. Things can’t be that simple. But Jasper believes so.

“I assume you’re staying at your aunt’s tonight,” I mutter. “But tomorrow. Do you want to write with me?”

Jasper stares. He’s so close that I can pick out every wispy eyelash. “Write?”

“Like we used to. At camp? Come with me to the lake. Noon?”

He takes another shaky breath. Prepares to say no.

“Right,” I say despite the deepening pit in my stomach. “I under—”

“Okay,” Jasper says.

Shock hits me like a punch. It turns to excitement, bursting through me. “Really?”

He nods again. Gradually.

I’ll take it. I’ll take anything. “Okay. Okay! I’ll see you then.”

“Comrade, are you out there?!”

We look to the ballroom, where Blaze is running down the steps, then tripping as his white sheet tangles between his feet. He tumbles and hits the pavement in front of us.

Xavier and Delilah stand by the doors, wincing. London isn’t with them—she must still be with Griffin, enjoying the night she and everyone else deserve.

“Sorry,” Delilah calls our way. “We couldn’t find either of you, so we thought you’d—You know.”

Gotten caught.

As they join us by the fountain, Jasper pulls his pen out of his chest pocket—of course he brought the pen—and waves the nib their way. “Well, you just put quite the attention on us by yelling that into the night, thank you very much.”

Xavier whips out his lucky spoon. The two commence battle. Blaze must’ve risen back to life at some point because he’s lugging himself over Xavier’s back now as well, adding his slingshot to the mix.

Delilah sits beside me on the fountain, elbowing my shoulder. “Mission accomplished, by the way. Looks like they’ll trust STRIP again.”

Jasper stops thwacking Xavier’s spoon, his eyes lighting up. “Really?”

We did it.

“I can’t believe we didn’t get caught,” I say incredulously.

Which means my guilt should be gone. But the thought of keeping my mistakes from STRIP for the rest of my time at Valentine only turns my stomach more hollow.

“Of course we didn’t,” Xavier says. “We can figure out anything. We’re the smartest guys on campus. And girl.”

“Thank you,” Delilah says, raising her nose high.

I take a breath. A long one. “You guys.”

Everyone stares at me. Waiting.

“I went to the equestrian center with Blaze and accidentally let out the horses.” I shrink deeper into myself. “I think the ripped trash bags were my fault too. My ring that got caught on Jasper. Everything was my fault. I’m sorry—”

“Who cares?” Xavier interrupts. He knocks both Blaze’s slingshot and Jasper’s pen into the fountain basin while they’re distracted. Blaze squeals and fetches them. Delilah rolls her eyes.

As if none of them truly care.

“You should,” I say, furrowing my brow at the pen-diving lollapalooza. “You almost got expelled. STRIP’s legacy would’ve also been done—”

“STRIP is a unit, bro,” Xavier says. “Your screw-ups are our screw-ups. We’re a powerhouse of screw-ups.”

I look to Delilah, giving up on Xavier. “Your detentions are my fault. Hit me.”

Delilah’s mouth twists. “Ew. No.”

I grab her palm to slap myself with it.

Jasper stops me in time, lowering my hand to my thigh. “If we blamed you, we’d have to blame Blaze for not checking that the gate was locked, knowing you’d never used it. I’d have to blame myself for wearing the bracelet that got stuck to your ring.”

“What you’re blaming yourself for sounds like your straight-up existence, Charlie,” Xavier adds, “and we’re not gonna hear that.”

All I can do is blink back in shock at everyone—the people who are still my friends. Slowly, it turns to a smile. Maybe STRIP really will always figure things out together.

But I still have a few last things to figure out on my own.