When the Heart Falls(13)

"No. You are not getting off that easy, Ice Queen. If you're not going to hook up with the hot cowboy, then we need to find you a boyfriend pronto." She crosses the room and grabs my good hand, pulling me from the bed to twirl around like a child. "It's perfect. We'll find you a hot, sexy French guy, and the two of you will make sweet amour together."

"I'm not here to make sweet amour to anyone. Besides, that doesn't even make sense." I try to pull my hand away and notice the dark purple spots around Jenifer's wrists. "Oh my God, what happened?"

She clutches her hands to her chest. "Nothing."

"Was it that guy you were dating? Xander?"

"No. No. It was… " She turns away from me and wipes her eyes. "I was getting ready to leave, but he wanted to do it again."

"So he grabbed you?"

"No. He just held me down while we f*cked, you know?"

"Did you tell him you didn't want to?"

Her voice stammers, like a child apologizing for sneaking candy. "Yeah, but I say that stuff sometimes. It turns them on. And I don't mean it. He just didn't know I was being serious this time. It's not his fault."

I grab her shoulder from behind. "Jenifer, you can't keep hooking up with guys you barely know."

"This time was an accident. I'll be more serious. I'll make sure they know when to stop." She turns back to me and smiles. I can tell she thinks she has it all figured out. The conversation is over.

Tired, emotionally fractured from the highs and lows of the day, and still in pain, I toss my journal aside and collapse on my bed with a sigh.

Jenifer walks to the door. "I have to use the bathroom, be right back, roomie."

Her enthusiasm is draining, but I raise my hand and point to the small stack of toilet paper squares we each have on our dressers. "Don't forget to take some with you. Remember, the bathrooms don't come equipped with any T.P."

Monsieur Bellugue had given us the welcome speech on the bus here, including the little tidbit that we'd have to remember to bring toilet paper to the co-ed bathrooms each time we went.

"Oh my God, how embarrassing would that have been? See, already you're the best roomie ever." She grabs her stack of squares and heads out.

I'm nearly asleep, lost in dreams of old Paris, a black and white version with flashes of color, when cold water splashes on my face, startling me awake.

Jenifer is standing by my bed holding my water bottle. "Come on, sleepy head. We're in Paris. Let's go out to eat, I'm starved."

I wipe my face, forgetting about my injury, and flinch at the use of my left hand. Jenifer seems oblivious, already freshening up her make-up and hair for a night out.

Normally I'd jump at the chance to explore Paris at night, but the weight of the day is crushing me, and I just want to sleep. "I don't know. Maybe later."

She stops mid lip pucker and scowls at me. "Did you miss the part about being in Paris? Plenty of time to sleep when you're dead. Come on. It's on me."

My stomach rumbles. I haven't eaten since the unsatisfying bit of food on the plane. "Okay, fine. Just give me a minute to get ready."



It's sensory overload finding a cafe or restaurant. First we take the Metro into the heart of Paris, which is an experience in and of itself. French signs and unfamiliar landmarks and street names make it hard to navigate. We pick a stop at random, something that looks like it'll be fun, and exit to a street alive with lights, people walking and shopping and talking—mostly in French, but some English, Italian and Algerian mixed in there as well.

I gawk at the traffic, cars driving at random through intersections that don't seem to have clear road dividers. I'm not sure how they aren't all crashing into each other. Next to what looks like a bus stop, a car stops and fills up on gas. It's not a gas station like I've ever seen, just a random gas pump in the middle of the sidewalk.

The scent of crepes wafts through the air, and my stomach grumbles so loud the guy walking past us turns to stare.

"Jenifer, we have to stop and eat. I'm dying."

Nodding, she turns into the first door we pass, the smell of roasting chicken mouthwatering.

Unfamiliar music plays in the background as we're escorted to a table. My pulse quickens. "This is our first meal in Paris. Oh my God!"

Jenifer smiles. "I know, right? What are you going to order?"

"I'm not sure, yet. You?"

Jenifer points to someone behind me. "Him. Do you think the gorgeous Italian staring at us is on the menu? Check him out."

"I'm not here to meet men." My mind flits back to Cade, how he tilts his hat when he's greeting someone, the way his eyes light up when he talks about old buildings, but I shut down the thought. He's only here for the summer, and I'm here for much longer. Besides, the butterflies in my stomach scare me. Last time I had those, I got hurt.

Jenifer licks her lips, eyes peering over my shoulder. "Oh, but look at those strong arms, those broad shoulders, that thick head of black hair—"

Le sigh. "If I look, will you shut up?"

"Deal."

I reach up as if to stretch, surreptitiously turning my head to catch a glance at the man making my roommate drool. He is pretty good looking, if you like that tall, dark and handsome type.