When in Paris... (Language of Love) (5 page)

I hop off the bed and head to my closet while April stands in front of hers, thumbing through a line of pants.

“I haven’t seen him in ages. What does he look like now?”

I glance over at her in time to see her give a nonchalant shrug, all her focus on her clothes. “Like a guy.”

In silence, I digest her answer and try to decide if I may be projecting or if there’s something she’s not telling me because this is so not like April. Not only does she want details—every salacious bit of them—but she also tends to offer them up without prompting.

“That’s it?” I probe, watching her closely, not exactly sure what I’m searching for but certain I’ll know it when I see it.

She pulls out a silky blouse on a hanger, holds it up in front of her before she turns to me. “What do ya think?” she asks in a bright voice that tells me she’s deliberately ignoring my question.

The blouse is the same green as her eyes, which she knows looks fantastic on her. But then everything looks great on her.

“Fantastic. Now back to Troy.”

And it’s then it strikes me. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. She never talks about Troy. In the last five years, I can count the number of times on one hand she’s brought him up. I wonder if something happened between them. I know they used to be real close. I thought they still were.

What sounds like a forced laugh bubbles from her throat. “What do you want? It’s Troy. There’s nothing to tell. He’s on the football team so I’m sure your—I mean Zach knows him.”

I’m not sure what to make of her response but decide to let it drop. Anyway, I’m going to see him soon enough. If something’s going on, I’ll be able to tell.

“Just checking,” I reply lightly and then I turn back to hunt for the proper
ensemble
to meet my BFF’s best guy friend.

~*~*~

Forty-five minutes later, we’re getting out of April’s white Mustang V6. Personally, given the choice, white wouldn’t have been the color I’d have picked if I lived in Illinois or New York. But then my four-door Honda Civic is a very unsporty car so you can hardly call me adventurous.

Located across the street from the sprawling campus, the apartment building is four-stories high and looks much nicer than some others I’ve seen. Troy obviously has more money at his disposal than most incoming freshmen.

Four guys are coming out as we’re going in and one holds the door open for us, saving us the need to have Troy buzz us up. They also perform the kind of double-take that’s not unfamiliar to me when April and I are together. I glance at my best friend and her expression is so blasé, I’d swear she’s not affected by the attention. I know for a fact she is but she plays it off as usual.

In the elevator, she pulls her compact out of her purse, flips it open and studies her reflection in the mirror. “Do you think this lipstick is too bright?”

“You look gorgeous, like always.” Okay, this is weird. April never needs her ego stroked.

“My hair never does what I want,” she frets as if she didn’t hear me.

Grabbing the beige compact from her hand, I snap it shut and drop it back in her purse. Her gaze lifts to mine and I see something I rarely see there, anxiety.

I’ll be damned.

“What are you nervous about? Seeing Troy?” And if that’s true, there’s definitely a whole lot she isn’t telling me.

April huffs a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. But Troy has a roommate. You know how I am with guys I’ve never met.”

“Um yeah, vivacious and gregarious.”

To that, she purses her lips in annoyance. “Like everyone, I have my moments and I’m having one now.”

The elevator dings, the doors open and I’m fairly certain I’m not the only one keeping secrets.

“What’s the number?” I ask as we step into the lit hall. Unlike the lobby, which had darker walls, the walls up here are cream colored and shockingly clean if the majority of its tenants are a bunch of college students. Not that I expected to see graffiti or anything like that but this is pretty nice.

“Apartment 243,” she replies after a glance at her cell phone. “Come on, it’s got to be down here somewhere.”

Diligently, we follow the arrow on the wall that points the direction to apartments 233 through 255. It’s when we’re halfway down the long stretch of hall that I notice the guy walking toward us. His appearance alone isn’t what pulls my attention back to him—I can’t see his face from this distance—it’s his familiar loose-limbed stride that puts my senses on high alert. For a second, I think I’m losing my mind.

The distance closes between us until he’s close enough for me to recognize with pinpoint clarity the face that has somehow become ingrained in my mind.
Zach.
My stomach does a flip-flop then goes into free-fall mode.

It’s Zach. Who apparently lives in this building too. I’m not sure whether this is karma or fate. Or maybe a bit of both messing with me.

Oblivious, April is too busy concentrating on the number on each door we pass to notice what’s going on with me. Which is actually the way I’d like to keep it.

The instant he recognizes me his strides slow just as mine had and he gets this look on his face; brows drawn, eyes narrowed, mouth tight. In other words, he looks absolutely thrilled to see me. In another parallel universe, I’m sure I’d think this whole situation was hysterically funny.

“Here it is,” April exclaims. Only then does her gaze dart to Zach, who is still almost three doors down. He has his backpack slung over a broad shoulder, his hair is damp and he’s wearing the same clothes he had on when we saw him in class.

Don’t ask me why, but April and I stand there frozen like we’re two wax figures on display. He continues toward us and I expect we’ll make the best of an awkward situation. We’ll exchange some sort of greeting—a grunt, a tip of the chin, what have you—and then we can continue on with our lives, ignoring each other.

My heart is racing when he’s finally abreast of us and I feel hot so you can best believe my face is hothouse pink.

You’d think that my acting talents would come in handy in cases like this but this is worse than any pre-performance jitters I’ve ever experienced. In as casual voice as I can manage, I say, “Hey, Zach, I didn’t know you lived here.”

What is wrong with me? We’re not friends so why on earth would I know where he lived. I’m better at reading lines from a script because it’s clear I suck when it comes to adlibbing.

He flashes April a faint smile before shifting his gaze back to me. “Yeah, I do. You?” The first words he’s spoken to me since the first semester of our senior year. The last time had been the awkward holding-of-the-door situation when not doing so would have looked rude. I’d quietly thanked him and he’d politely replied. That’s the closest we’ve ever gotten to a torrid love affair.

“No, we’re just here visiting a friend.” I angle my body toward the door. “Where do you live?”

My heart goes wild when his mouth tips up at one corner. He raises his chin toward the door behind us. “I live here.”

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

ZACH

Olivia again.
Seriously? It’s like I can’t shake her. What’s that saying,
you can run but you can’t hide
? Right now that fits me to a “T”.

As I hold the door for Olivia and her friend—who I can safely presume is the mysterious April—I’m vaguely surprised that April stands almost eyeball-to-eyeball with me. She didn’t look that tall in class. A glance down at her shiny black boots reveal the estimated three-inch heels that are giving her the additional height. Even still, she’s tall.

Judging by Olivia’s expression, it’s pretty clear that I’m the last person she expected—or wants to see. At this point, I wonder if my instincts about her are wrong. Maybe she doesn’t like me at all. But how would that explain what happened in the locker room last year?

“
Hey, you made it. April and Olivia should be here soon and the food is on the way,” Troy calls out from the kitchen where I hear the opening and closing of drawers. A second later he rounds the corner leading to the entrance and comes to a halt when he sees April. His expression undergoes a subtle change.

Okaaay.
Looks like I was right. There’s definitely something going on here. At least on his side. My gaze flicks to April. I don’t know her well enough to read her. Initial impression is that she’s a big flirt.

Rocking back on his heels, Troy crosses his arms over his chest. “Look who the cat dragged in,” he states, his tone dry but full of affection.

April laughs in response, her eyes alight with amusement as she quickly closes the gap between them, her arms outstretched in welcome. Troy immediately enfolds her in his arms, dropping all pretense of reserve.

“
Damn, Rosie, I think you’ve grown a couple inches since I last saw you.”

Huh? Rosie?

“
I thought you said her name was April?” Now I’m confused. Had he been talking about another girl?

After a prolonged hug, they part, still grinning at each other. Peering at me over the top of her head, Troy replies with a laugh, “Yeah, April Rose Wheeler. I only call her Rosie when I want to piss her off.”

To that, she playfully punches him in the arm.

Right. And Troy had said his “friend” April was pretty. What a load of crap. Olivia’s friend is nothing less than stunning. But Troy has a girlfriend so what’s up with that? Or maybe I’m reading it all wrong and they are
just
friends. But then, that’s me, I’m cynical that way. All I know is that I couldn’t have a “friend” like her and keep things strictly platonic. At some point I’d try to nail her.

“
And this is Olivia. You remember Olivia don’t you?” April grabs Troy by the hand and pulls him over to Olivia. Not that she has to pull because my roommate goes all too willingly.

“
Oh my God, I can’t believe how much you’ve changed,” Olivia breathes, staring up at Troy, her eyes wide and round.

I admit my roommate’s a good-looking guy. Not that I’d ever actually say it to another living soul. And if I didn’t have two eyes, the eight weeks I roomed and hung out with him during football training camp would attest to that fact. When we’d gone out, he’d always had a slew of girls hitting on him.

The way Olivia is reacting to him reminds me of those girls when they first saw him; like she’s blinded by his looks. And the appreciative glint in Troy’s eyes tells me he likes what he sees. Don’t get me wrong, as far as I can tell he’s faithful to his girlfriend, and I guess looking isn’t a crime. As long as he restricts it just to that.

I must have gotten lost in thought because the next thing I know it’s silent and the three of them are staring at me while I’m staring at Olivia.

“
You and Olivia went to the same high school?” Troy is incredulous as his gaze darts between us.

So that’s what I missed. “Yeah, Apple Grove High School.”

“
Really,” Troy says, drawing out the word, making it more of a statement than question. Speculation shines in his eyes.

“
We didn’t have many classes together.” Olivia is quick to explain our lack of familiarity, why we aren’t more at ease with one another. I guess which is when I realize how serious I must appear. Or standoffish. Or both.

Troy arches a brow as he motions between us. “Did you two know you’d be going to the same college?”

After darting an uneasy look at me, Olivia shakes her head. “No. I think we were both pretty shocked when we saw each other in class today.” She gives a little laugh as she glances at me again.

There’s an awkwardness about the whole situation that causes a knot of tension to form in my shoulders. But something it’s obvious we’re going to have to get past. I mean, my roommate and hers are “friends” and we have a class together.

The silence is broken by the buzz of the door.

“
That’s the food,” Troy announces moving toward the door, his hand reaching for the wallet in his back pocket.

I lead the way to the living room and after a pause, Olivia and April follow. Sliding my backpack off my shoulder and onto the floor, I nod toward the couch and armchair. “Have a seat.” As both girls move in that direction, I step in front of April. “By the way, I’m Zach.”

Olivia stops and spins around, her lips parted. “Oh I’m sorry. I should have—”

I hold up a hand to halt what sounds like an unnecessary apology. “S’okay.”

“
April, this is Zach.” Olivia makes the introduction anyway.

“
Zach.” April’s response isn’t unfriendly but she certainly had been friendlier after class today. Which makes me wonder what Olivia told her about me. Nothing good, judging by the way her friend is currently eyeing me.

“
Well, let me get rid of my stuff and clean up.” I grab my backpack and head to my room.
Shit.
I have a feeling this is going to be a long fuckin’ night.