Never Kiss Your Roommate by Philline Harms

Author:Philline Harms
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: YAF052040, YAF052070, YAF054010
Publisher: Wattpad WEBTOON Book Group

16

Seth

On Sunday, Jasper was the one who seemed to have swallowed a tornado. It didn’t have anything to do with me though; it was the day of the play.

The play. Last night I had lain awake thinking about what would happen afterward, when I wouldn’t have rehearsals as an excuse to hang out with him anymore, to see him several times a week, if only from afar. The thought was one of the bad ones I sometimes had, the ones that were like bees or wasps or hornets, something stingy in any case, that kept buzzing around my head so loudly I couldn’t focus on anything else.

Now, in Jasper’s presence, the buzzing had momentarily stopped. We were in the backstage area of the auditorium, leaning against one of the tables filled with props while the other members bustled around us, each in varying stages of panic. It was a tiny room that was stuffed with racks of old costumes, the air thick with the smell of dust and hairspray. By hanging up a few dark bedsheets, the left-hand side had been converted into a changing room where the actors could get into outfits while next to it, people were crowding in front of the mirror.

Jasper’s fingers were drumming against the table, his face a dark cloud as he asked, “We only have fifteen minutes left, where the hell is Gina?”

“Still searching for her wig,” I said.

“She still hasn’t found it? Mon dieu, this is awful,” Jasper said, more to himself than to me, and nervously glanced at his watch for what felt like the twentieth time in only the last two minutes.

“Don’t worry, she’ll find it,” I said with much more confidence than I was actually feeling. “I think Alissa said she had it a few minutes ago.”

“There’s so much that could go wrong though. What if someone forgets their lines? Or what if there’s a blackout? God, we’d have no lights, no sound . . .”

“When was the last blackout around here?”

He paused and lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, a year ago, maybe?”

“So how likely is it there will be one during the play?”

“You’re right,” he muttered. “Still, something could happen.

Why the hell am I doing this? Jesus, I should have never agreed to do this.”

“Jasper.” I turned around to face him and waited until his eyes—a stormy ocean today, all seafoam and crashing waves—

met mine. “This is what you do. Queer media for queer people, right? Today you can make that happen. It’s going to be good.

Hell, it’s going to be bloody brilliant.”

He opened his mouth, probably to list a few more ways his play could be ruined, but was interrupted as Miss Pepperman suddenly stuck her head through the door. “Oh, there you two are! I’ve been looking everywhere . . . I couldn’t let the show start without wishing you good luck, now, could I?” she chirped.

Jasper’s face lit up considerably as she made her way towards us. “Thank you, Miss Pepperman.

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