French Kiss - Romantic Version
An admissions dept. snafu at Juilliard School for Arts, pairs a lovely African American girl and a blond haired Frenchman as dormmates. Maybe it’s karma, but sparks of frustration turn to the heat of attraction and in short order the pair becomes a couple. But cruel fate steps in at Christmas break, when, after a second snafu, the lovebirds are separated by an ocean of despair More
New York City was mind-boggling. I had no idea what to expect or how it would affect me. New York City, especially Manhattan, was bigger than life. Pictures and movies are nice, but they can't begin to convey the sheer magnificence, of the reality.
From the time we circled the city, waiting for the okay to land at John F. Kennedy Airport, until almost two hours later when I arrived by cab at Juilliard, I'd been mesmerized. My home town of Indianapolis, Indiana, wasn't small, but compared to New York City, it seemed tiny. The vibrancy, diversity and energy that surrounded me seemed contagious. I surveyed everything as the taxi driver darted among the canyons that had been formed by the man-made high rise colossuses. Chills ran up my spine and down my arms as we drove from JFK, across the Brooklyn Bridge into lower Manhattan. I was awestruck.
Even though I'd been surprised by the grandeur of Manhattan, the largest shock waited for me in my assigned dorm room at Julliard's Residence Hall for students. With wide-open mouth and eyes, I demanded, "Who the hell are you?"
His light blue-eyed gaze locked with mine as his narrow lips posed a friendly smile. "I am René Réjane. You must be LaCherna Smith?"
Despite the fact that he was tall and extremely handsome, I demanded, "Yes and you are in my room. What are you doing here?"
"I'm your roommate."
"Roommate?" I shouted.
"Yes, your roommate. We are roommates" His azure eyes bored into me. "My, but you are très belle—very beautiful."
When he offered his hand, I slapped it away and whined, "This is some terrible mistake."
His eyelids lowered as if offended. "Why?"
"Why? Are you kidding? You…you…you're a man!"
He laughed. "Not to mention that I'm an étranger…how you say it?" His eyes widened with recognition. "Ahh yes, a foreigner. One of those quirky, self-centered Frenchmen."
I flashed a smart aleck grin. "You said it, I didn't."
He looked up at the ceiling. "Gee, thanks." Sitting on the lower of the bunk beds, he continued to hold his hand out, a hand I had no intention of shaking. When he finally realized that, he pulled it back and looked at it as if studying it. Lowering his hand, he frowned. "Better than a rude American. For your information, I washed my hands less than an hour ago."
Having made his point, I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing. Not only was he a stud-muffin, he was charming to boot. "This isn't a co-ed dormitory. How could they have placed you with me?"
"It's my name. Everyone assumes someone named René is a girl, until they see me, then it dawns on them, 'Oh yeah, men are named René too.'"
This time, I did laugh. Despite my unease, in addition to being charming, white and handsome, he was tall well built and, from all appearances, possessed a great personality.
Resisting an urge to run my hand through his long blond locks, I held out my medium brown hand. "I guess we don't have to be roommates to shake hands. I go by Cher."
A warm, tingly feeling invaded my nether regions when he took my hand.
His lips failed at suppressing his smile and a mischievous twinkle formed in his eyes. "You know that is 'dear' in French, don't you?"
I nodded curtly. "I've heard that."
"Anyway, ma chèrie, we are, in fact, roommates."
I lifted my left eyebrow and smirked. "Only until we can get the dormitory manager to assign you elsewhere."
When I turned to leave, he jumped up and slid himself between me and the door. "Let's not make snap decisions."
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