Page 87 of Romeo

I looked down at myself beneath the blanket. Five foot nine definitely qualified as tall.

My throat went dry.

Me: Jasper.

Jasper: You asked.

And I was beginning to regret it because he was either deliberately describing me or I had finally gone completely insane.

Me: Personality?

His answer took a little longer this time.

Jasper: Kind. Smarter than she thinks. Quietly funny.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Smarter than she thinks.

He’d said that to me before when I complained about school and again when I’d told him about the scholarship rejections.

Quietly funny.

That one was his too. He’d called me that after I made him laugh over text.

You’re quietly funny, Cher. I like that about you.

I knew those words and he knew I knew them.

Me: She sounds suspiciously familiar

Jasper: Does she?

I stared at his response, my eyebrows pulling together in frustration.

He was making me say it.

The asshole.

Me: Maybe.

Jasper: What’s your type?

I should’ve known he’d turn it around on me.

If I described him, there was no pretending I hadn’t understood what he was doing. If I lied, I’d spend the rest of the night wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t.

Me: I don’t have one.

Jasper: Liar.

I bit my lip and smiled, then took a breath and typed the safest answer I could think of.

Me: Fine. Dark hair.

Jasper: Promising.

My pulse jumped.