When in Paris... (Language of Love) (32 page)

Suddenly I can’t see, my eyes are blinded by tears. I whip back around and now the search for my keys takes on a life-and-death struggle for survival. The second I find them buried in one of my purse’s miscellaneous pockets, I unlock the door and bolt inside. Behind the wheels, my hands are shaking, my throat is so tight it’s hard to breathe in the icy night air.

Knowing I shouldn’t but unable to help myself, I raise my gaze to the rearview mirror, giving me a bird’s eye view of Zach and his skanky date for the night. He’s trying to pry her hand from around his neck as he’s staring directly at me. I immediately drop my gaze and jab the key in the ignition and start the car. It’s pretty dark outside so I pray he didn’t see me staring at him.

The rear lights spotlight them—now I can’t avoid looking at them if I want to back out of my parking spot since running them over, though tempting, is
not
an option.

Breathing shallowly, I wait as they make their way to Zach’s truck. Although I’m looking everywhere but at him, I can
feel
him staring at me hard.

The second it’s all clear to reverse, I back out carefully, then peel out of there like a fireman heading to a fire.

***

ZACH

Olivia hightails it down the road, and I watch her taillights disappear into the moonless night.

Shit shit shit shit!

“
Your p-place or m-mine,” Jennifer slurs, tottering on her high heels. Who the fuck wears sandals in late fuckin’ fall in northern New York? Right, a girl who’s falling-down drunk and doesn’t have the sense God gave a pea. And I’m her designated driver for the night. The problem is, she can’t keep her goddamn hands off me.

There are some guys who’ll sleep with girls in her condition but having sex with someone who can barely stand and who barely knows her own name isn’t my style. Sober and
into it
is my motto, thanks very much.

“
Your place,” I reply tersely. Where I’ll deposit her into the waiting arms of her roommate or barring that, in her house and I’m outta there. I’ve been the good Samaritan and I’ve done my duty for the night.

“
Great.” She practically purrs the word and places her hand on my thigh, so close to my crotch, she could be giving me a hand job.

Normally, I’d be more amused than anything else when dealing with a drunk chick who can’t keep her hands to herself, but with Olivia dominating my thoughts, I’m just plain pissed off. I’m not in the mood for this. I remove her hand from my thigh and drop it in her lap. “I’ve got to drive.” Drunk as she is, I guess the fact that all I’ve been doing is peeling her off me isn’t a big enough hint that I’m
not
interested.

She’s a junior and shares a house with five other girls. The house is only a couple miles from the campus so it only takes me ten minutes to get her there. Two of her roommates are home and I help—half carry—her to the door where I drop her off and leave without giving her another thought or a backward glance.

I barely remember the drive back to my apartment. It’s like I’m on autopilot. Troy’s out on a date tonight, taking advantage of one of the few weekends we don’t have an evening practice or a game.

I can’t get the image of Olivia’s face out of my head. I’d just accused her of trying to make me jealous and then she sees me leaving with Jennifer. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m playing a game of tit-for-tat or that I just don’t give a shit and have completely moved on from her.

As if.
Not wanting a serious relationship doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to her, hang out with her, have sex with her. I throw myself onto the sofa and flop the back of my hand over my eyes.

Who the hell was the guy hanging all over her?
I told her I don’t get jealous—which is normally true—but tonight I so badly wanted to rip into that guy. And there’s no way I was going to leave that party with them huddled in the corner together. Then I saw her leave and just like
that
the party held zero appeal. I’m not even sure I wouldn’t have followed her and tried to talk some sense into her if Sarah, the girl hosting the party, hadn’t begged me to take Jennifer home since I was leaving.

You want to have your cake and eat it too.

That’s what she’d said. And what the hell does that mean anyway? If I’ve got cake, what else would I do with it? That phrase never made any sense to me.

I feel my cell vibrate against my thigh. My thoughts go immediately to Olivia. Shit, if she’s even calling to bitch me out, I’ll take it. That’s how much I want to talk to her right now. But when I pull it from my jean pocket, I see Ashley’s name flashing on the screen.

I didn’t return her calls or texts yesterday so I know I need to pick this up or there will be hell to pay.

“
Hey.” I try not to sound as aggravated as I am but my voice is coming from a very dark place right now.

But as usual, Ashley pays no attention to my mood because the only thing that counts is her. Her wants, her desires, her fuckin’ everything.

“
Zach, where have you been? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since yesterday.”

I roll my eyes. Christ, I hate when she uses her baby voice. Drives me fuckin’ nuts.

“
What do you want, Ashley?”

There’s a long pause and I don’t know if she’s getting ready to bawl or what. It’s the
or what
I’m most afraid of.

“
It’s just that I miss you,” she says, her voice a lonely whisper.

I close my eyes as a pang of guilt and sorrow spears my chest. As much as she’s a complete pain in the neck, the truth is, I feel sorry for her. Sorry that she’s so unhappy. Sad that right now I’m the center of her world. Sad that she doesn’t know how to let go.

There’s no way of responding to that without either hurting her feelings or giving her a reason to hope, which is the last thing I want to do.

“
Ashley, you’ve got to—”

“
What day will you be home for Thanksgiving?” she interrupts, as if she knows what I was about to say. What I’d built up the courage to say. She does this every time and I allow it.

But on second thought, this isn’t something I want to do over the phone. I’ll tell her during Thanksgiving. I’ll talk to her mother and tell her I can’t do it anymore, even at the risk of Ashley relapsing. I can’t live like this, anchored to her by guilt. It’s just not right.

“
The twenty-first.”

“
Will you come see me as soon as you get in?” she asks, a petulant whine in her voice. I cringe.

“
I will.” Of course it’s not going to be the kind of visit she wants.

“
Oh good.” Her voice is now breathless with joy and I hate that I still have the power to do that, elicit that kind of reaction.

“
Listen, I gotta run. I’ll see you then. Oh and Ashley, I’m going to be busy these next couple weeks with classes and games so you may want to hold off on the calls and text messages.” It’s not like I haven’t used this excuse before but there’s no harm in giving it another go.

“
Hmm, well, okay, I’ll try not to freak if it takes you a bit to get back to me.”

I stifle a stream of curse words until I’m off the phone then I let them fly. Not a minute later, my phone buzzes again and this time I don’t even look to see who’s calling when I jam it against my cheek. Thinking it’s Ashley calling me back to piss me off some more with some inane shit she forgot to aggravate me with before, I bark, “What?!” My patience has been worn down to its nubs.

The line goes dead, which is when I realize it couldn’t have been Ashley because she’d never hang up. She would’ve just started sniffing and moaning about how mean I sound.

I jerk the cell from my ear and tap the screen until it brings up the most recent incoming calls. The one at the top says unknown.

My thought goes to Olivia and I immediately regret letting my anger get the best of me. I stare at the screen, willing it to ring again. Of course it doesn’t.

I wait another minute before I toss it on the low wooden table in front of the couch.

When we were in Paris everything was great. But not one thing has gone right since the second we got back to school. And to be honest, when Olivia basically told me she’s not going to have sex with me if we’re not in a relationship, I didn’t think it would take me long to put her behind me, stop wanting her.

I’ve never had problems getting girls, as evidenced by Miss Falling Down Drunk tonight. If I want female company I don’t have to look hard to get some. My problem is I can’t get Olivia out of my head, my thoughts. And sitting behind her in French class twice a week is nothing short of torture. She does her best not to look at me, but she’s just as aware of me as I am of her.

I’ve slept with five girls since I started having sex at the age of fifteen but with Olivia it was different. She’s not just a collection of beautiful body parts. Having sex with her was mind-blowing. Some guys need
Playboy
to get off. The memory of her lying naked under me does that for me. And it’s all I’ve got because I haven’t had sex with anyone else since our trip to Paris. Hell, she’s the only girl I’ve had sex with since I started college.

Christ, I really need to think about something else. I flick on the TV, a welcome distraction.

Two hours later, I haven’t moved from where I’m lying sprawled on the sofa when I hear the front door open. Seconds later, Troy walks into the room. Judging from his expression, his date must not have gone well.

“
Hey, you’re home early,” he says.

“
Look who’s talking.” I push myself into a sitting position and run my hands over my face. I’m not tired, but I’m exhausted.

“
Yeah, well, I just escaped the date from hell. What’s your excuse?” He takes a seat in the armchair across from me, props his forearms on his spread thighs and drops his head.

I laugh. “What’d she do, order lobster?”

Troy lifts his head and regards me, his head tilted to the side. “Worse, we ran into April and her asshole of a date.”

Perfect, something to take my mind off my own female problems. “What, you guys come to blows?” I’m only half-kidding.

“
She’s my friend. I can’t stop and talk to her when I see her out?” A dark scowl has settled across his face.

“
Well, yeah,” I say, uncertain of what I’m setting myself up for. “Sure you can.”

“
Melissa literally rakes me over the coals the second we get in the car, asking me all kinds of shit that, on our first date, is really none of her goddamn business. I mean it’s not like we’re going out.”

“
Well just look at April. No girl is going to believe that there’s nothing going on between you two.”

“
Christ, man, are you siding with her?” he accuses, his eyes flashing in anger.

“
I’m just saying the girl is hot. Most of the guys on the team think you’re doing her.” I used to be included in the crowd but I can tell nothing physical is going on between them. What I can’t figure out is who’s holding out.

“
Most of the guys on the team want to do her,” Troy grumbles, his expression dark.

When I don’t respond, he sends me a sharp look. “Do you?” he asks, again his tone accusing.

I bark out a laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? And risk your wrath when I gotta live with you? No thanks. I thought we’d already settled that.”

Troy remains silent, which I find telling.

“
So if your problem’s your date, why’s April’s date an asshole?”

Troy’s scowl gets darker. “Because all the guys she dates are total
a
-holes,” he mutters, which I find even
more
telling.

As if sensing he’s said too much, he switches the subject so I’m on the firing line. “Why are you home so early? Weren’t you supposed to be going to Sarah’s party?”

“
Been and come back. Just didn’t feel like partying tonight. And after last weekend’s hangover, I wasn’t looking to get wasted.” Which we know is essentially what college parties are all about. Right, and getting laid.

“
Was Olivia there?” he asks, but I can tell from his expression his interest is not as casual as he wants it to appear.

“
Yeah.” And that’s all I say, not in the mood to discuss her at all.

Troy’s a cool guy, which means he knows when not to push. He gives an understanding nod and then with both hands, pushes himself to his feet. “Women,” he mutters with a heavy sigh, slowly shaking his head.

I couldn’t agree more.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
HREE