Read Online When in Paris... (Language of Love) by Beverley Kendall - Free Book Online Page A

narrow and her mouth flattens into a line. “Very funny.” Pushing my bare feet none too gently aside, she takes a seat on the edge of my bed, her body angled toward me.
    “C’mon, tell me what’s going on. This isn’t like you. I always thought one of the best times of my life would be us rooming together in college. But in my mind, I thought we’d be having a helluva lot more fun.”
    I scoot up into a sitting position and place the book on my lap. “I am having fun.” Not technically the truth but not an outright lie. I love the independence of living on my own. And I love rooming with my best friend, being able to see her every day and not only six weeks during the summer.
    April regards me in silence, her gaze probing. “What you need is a boyfriend,” she concludes as if she can now somehow see into my mind.
    “You think a boyfriend is the solution to everything.”
    She laughs, her head thrown back, the pitch high and contagious. It takes a good fifteen seconds for the sound to eventually trail off.
    “For some of us, yes.” She looks pointedly at me. Gesturing to herself, she continues, “And for others of us, no. You like the security of being in a relationship. I, on the other hand, do not.”
    April is a serial dater and although she says she prefers it that way, sometimes I think that’s just what she’s convinced herself.
    “Anyway, what about Zach? You guys seem to—”
    “No. Absolutely not!” I vehemently shake my head.
    She slowly tilts her head to the side and soon her eyes are narrowed and glimmering with suspicion at the violence of my response. “Well, well, well, he sure gets a reaction out of you.” Her mouth slowly curves into a conspiratorial smile. “Okay, spill. What’s going on between you two? I knew there was something. When I saw you together at the apartment, sparks we’re going off.”
    Right, that’s what she’d said on our way back to the dorm. And kept repeating once we were back in our room. When I denied there was anything there, she’d pointed to the way he’d looked at me and that she’d never ever seen me blush so much.
    I’d given up trying to convince her that I wasn’t interested but staunchly denied any interest on his part, finally getting her to admit his attitude toward me had definitely cooled by the end of the night.
    Pushing my legs over until they’re butting up against the wall, she swings her legs onto the bed, crossing them in classic yoga style. “Tell me all,” she demands.
    All? There’s no all to tell. We talk as much as we did the day Zach had held the door for me. Which meant me mumbling a greeting in response to his brief nod that may or may not accompany, Hey Olivia . Actually, these days I’m lucky if I get that—actual words. Most of the time it’s a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and a sharp jerk of his chin. It’s like the dinner at his apartment never happened. It’s like we hadn’t said we’d start over fresh. Zach definitely doesn’t want to be friends.
    “There’s nothing to tell. Zach and I barely speak.”
    “Barely speak? I thought you guys were friends now?”
    Friends my ass.
    Well, the past couple weeks proved how friendly we are not. But I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much, why I even care. So he’s hot and I’m physically attracted to him, it’s not like he’s ever been a remotely integral part of my life. It shouldn’t matter that things haven’t really changed between us.
    The problem is, as much as it shouldn’t matter, it does and I can lie all I want but I also know why I care. Why I’ve always cared. It’s that crazy thing called lust.
    I shrug. “Look, Zach is not the issue. Actually, I have no issues.” I force a smile and offer up another weak laugh that sputters and dies before it makes it halfway off the ground.
    “Bullshit,” April says with tender conviction. “Your mood makes sense now that I know you guys aren’t talking.”
    When I turn my head