For the rest of the week, Jasper Allister was everywhere.
It wasn't like Alex had never seen him before, but now it felt like he was always in her line of sight—leaning against a locker with his ever-present notebook, lounging in the cafeteria with an easy smirk, or—most annoyingly—sitting directly across from her in AP English, ready to challenge every single thing she said.
It was like he had made it his mission to get under her skin.
"Alright, class," Mrs. Holloway announced on Friday morning. "For today's discussion, let's talk about whether The Great Gatsby is still relevant in modern society. Dunphy, thoughts?"
Alex, as always, was prepared. "Absolutely. The themes of wealth disparity, obsession, and self-destruction are still prevalent today. Gatsby's story is a reflection of how people chase unattainable dreams, often to their own ruin. The novel is a timeless warning."
There was a beat of silence. Then, the inevitable.
Jasper leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his notebook. "Or," he said lazily, "we're just glorifying the problems of rich people who made bad choices. Maybe Gatsby's biggest mistake wasn't chasing a dream—it was thinking he deserved it in the first place."
Alex whipped around to face him. "That completely disregards the social critique of the novel! Gatsby represents the illusion of the American Dream."
Jasper tilted his head, amusement flickering in his blue eyes. "Or maybe he represents people who never know when to quit. You ever think about that?"
She bristled. "Of course I've thought about it. But that's an oversimplification."
"And your analysis is unnecessarily complicated."
"You can't just reduce Gatsby's tragedy to bad choices—"
"Why not?" Jasper interrupted smoothly. "Are we supposed to feel bad for him because he was rich and sad? There are people who have it way worse. Maybe we should stop romanticizing his suffering."
Alex opened her mouth, then closed it, because—ugh—he was so irritating.
Mrs. Holloway clapped her hands. "Excellent debate, you two. Let's hear some other thoughts."
Alex barely paid attention for the rest of the class. Every few minutes, she could feel Jasper's gaze flick to her, like he was waiting for her to snap again.
When the bell rang, she stormed out of the classroom, determined to ignore him. That lasted all of thirty seconds before she heard his voice behind her.
"You know," Jasper said, falling into step beside her, "I think I enjoy making you mad."
Alex glared at him. "Well, congratulations. You're very good at it."
Jasper grinned. "It's a talent."
She groaned, walking faster, but he easily kept pace.
"Why are you even in AP English?" she muttered. "You don't even take it seriously."
Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Says who?"
"Says the guy who just dismissed one of the most well-analyzed books of all time as rich people problems."
He chuckled. "I like literature, Dunphy. I just don't like blind agreement. Where's the fun in that?"
She exhaled sharply. "So that's what this is? Fun for you?"
"Of course." He flashed her a smirk. "And admit it—you're enjoying it too."
Alex scoffed. "Enjoying it? You are infuriating."
"But you haven't told me to shut up yet," he pointed out. "Which means part of you likes arguing with me."
Alex opened her mouth, ready to deny it. But before she could, Jasper's smirk softened into something more thoughtful.
"Besides," he added, tapping his notebook, "I think you need someone like me around."
Alex frowned. "Excuse me?"
Jasper shrugged. "You're used to people just accepting that you're the smartest person in the room. I'm just reminding you that there's always someone who sees things differently."
She didn't know why, but that stuck with her.
Before she could formulate a response, Jasper flashed her a two-finger salute and walked off. "See you in class, beautiful overachiever."
Alex clenched her fists. She hated him. Hated him.
And yet, as she stood there, fuming, she realized something even worse.
She was already looking forward to Monday.
Monday arrived far too quickly for Alex's liking.
She had spent the entire weekend not thinking about Jasper Allister. Or at least, that was what she told herself. Because if she was thinking about him, it wasn't because she found his arguments interesting, or because his stupid blue eyes had this way of lighting up when he was about to say something particularly annoying.
Nope. She was just mentally preparing for the next round of intellectual combat. That was all.
And yet, as soon as she walked into AP English, she spotted him. Jasper was already in his seat, leaned back with his notebook open, spinning his pen between his fingers. He looked up when she entered, his lips immediately twitching into a smirk.
"Good morning, Dunphy," he said, like they were old rivals meeting on a battlefield.
Alex exhaled sharply and took her seat. "Don't talk to me."
Jasper hummed. "You always say that, and yet… here we are."
Mrs. Holloway, completely oblivious to the ongoing war, started the class with another discussion. "Today, I want you all to think about the power of words. Literature, film, speeches—what makes them so impactful? Let's hear from someone who hasn't spoken yet... Jasper?"
Alex turned her head so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. He never volunteered to talk.
Jasper closed his notebook and leaned forward, as if considering the question carefully. "Words are like knives," he said. "The right ones can cut deeper than any blade. But they can also heal, inspire, and change the world."
There was a brief silence. Even Mrs. Holloway seemed impressed.
Alex, however, narrowed her eyes. "That's stolen."
Jasper turned to her with a look of pure innocence. "Excuse me?"
"That quote," she said, crossing her arms. "It sounds like something straight out of a movie."
Jasper grinned. "Ah, Dunphy, you wound me. Are you accusing me of plagiarism?"
"Yes."
He chuckled. "Fine. You caught me. It's a mix of Shakespeare, Orwell, and a little bit of Dead Poets Society."
Alex rolled her eyes. "So in other words, you don't have an original thought."
Jasper smirked. "Or maybe I just know when to borrow from the best."
The class continued, but Alex was distracted. She hated to admit it, but Jasper's words were kind of… poetic. Infuriatingly so.
By the time the bell rang, she was more annoyed than ever.
Jasper, of course, took that as a victory. As they exited the classroom, he fell into step beside her. "So," he mused, "if words have power, does that mean my words hold power over you?"
Alex stopped walking. "What?"
Jasper tapped his chin. "Well, you seem pretty affected by everything I say. So either my words are just that powerful…" He turned to her, smirking. "Or you secretly like them."
Alex let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "You have got to be kidding me."
Jasper held up his hands. "Hey, I'm just applying today's lesson."
Alex shook her head, resisting the urge to push him into the nearest locker. "You love annoying me, don't you?"
Jasper grinned. "More than you know."
And with that, he walked away, leaving Alex standing in the hallway, fuming.
She was not going to let him get to her. She had more important things to focus on—college applications, essays, her future.
But as she headed to her next class, one thought refused to leave her mind.
Jasper Allister was getting under her skin.
And the worst part?
She wasn't entirely sure she hated it.