Jasper doesn’t.
The news of Olive and Jasper’s breakup travels like wildfire through Bleakwood. They might not have been officially together, but from the scowl that darkens Jasper’s face for the next week leading up to the dance, you never would have guessed it.
No one knows why. No one knows it’s because she’s agreed to go with me, instead.
Because if they did, I’m sure I wouldn’t be here at Bleakwood to see it happen.
Jasper would make sure of that.
So, for now it’s a secret, but it won’t be able to stay that way for long, not at the very least when we show up at the dance together.
Holy shit fuck, what a mess I have made.
The night before the dance, it’s impossible for me to sleep. The dean—and not just Dean Robin—has been sending me notes in all my classes to remind me to make sure to get my medical records to him as soon as possible. So far I’ve avoided being called to his office directly, but I’m sure it won’t be much longer.
On top of all that, Olive’s enthusiasm to have the chance to ‘make things right’ after that night just eats me alive with guilt. Not enough gilt to override the sick satisfaction I get when I imagine the look on Jasper’s face when he sees us arrive together.
Rafael interrupts my worrying when he stumbles in around one in the morning, so tired he might as well be drunk, and almost falls over in his attempt to get through the doorway.
Things have been tense between us to put it mildly. My lacrosse hero status was enough that his precious reputation wouldn’t be hurt if he was seen with me again, but I’ve been reluctant to forgive him.
He pauses in the doorway. The light from the hallway spills through into the dark room, illuminating his face as he looks over at my bed. I lie still so he won’t know I’m awake.
He looks tired. There are dark purple circles and bags beneath his eyes. His hair is ruffled, lacking its usual style. He’s been working on dance preparations like his life depends on it.
Rafael heaves a sigh, closes the door, and trips so badly on his way to the bed that he almost smashes his face against his headboard. I can’t suppress a snort.
“Oh, look who’s awake,” he says, but his voice lacks its usual bite.
“Yeah,” I say, sitting up since there’s no more point in pretending. “You okay?”
“Fine.” He sits down on his bed and starts pulling off his shoes. Silence grows between us in the darkness, potent and awkward. We haven’t spoken in almost a month. Really spoken, anyway.
“So … big day tomorrow, yeah?”
He turns on the lamp on his nightstand, filling the room with dim yellow light. Even his clothes look rumpled and unkempt.
“You don’t have to do this, Alex.”
“Do what?”
“Small talk.” He continues tugging his shoes off his feet.
I look down at my blankets, burying my hands in them. “Well. Okay. How does big talk sound, then?”
“Big talk?” He chuckles bitterly. “That’s what you’re all about nowadays, isn’t it?”
I sigh. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” he snaps.
“Be an asshole,” I snap back. “You’re the one who didn’t want to be seen with me, remember?”
“You didn’t even let me explain,” Rafael hisses. “You just got all pissy and left and avoided me.”
“Explain now, then!”
“Fine! I’m gay, Alex!”