Soap?””School of America in Paris” he explains. “SOAP”.Nice. My father sent me here to be cleansed.

I pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. “Is this okay?” I whisper. “Are you okay?”His reply is anguished. Honest. “I...

I told him your loins were clearly burning, and he should man up and make a move.””You did not!””I did. And if he doesn’t, then I suggest you jump his bones.”…I finally register what he’s...

If I weren’t standing next to your boyfriend, I’d be tempted to ask you out myself.”She blushes, and St. Clair bounds inside the box office and wrestles her into a hug. “Miiiiiiiiine!” he says.”Cut it...

I trail my fingers across his cheek. He stays perfectly still for me. “Please stop apologizing, Etienne.””Say my name again,” he whispers.I close my eyes and lean forward. “Etienne.”He takes my hands into his. Those...

Kiss me,” I say.He does.

It gets worse. Josh tell her that he loves her. She says it back. He touches her. She touches him back. And then they’re losing their virginity on the floor of her bedroom beside her...

How did you know? That she wasn’t the one for him?” Now he’s staring at his hands, slowing rubbing them together. “They just didn’t have that . . . natural magic. You know? It never...

yes,” and only recently did I learn it’s spelled o-​u-​i and not w-​e-​e.

We’re enveloped in pitch black. “Wait here,” I whisper.”Are you getting your ax?””Handcuffs.””Kinky. But, okay, I’ll try it.

I get out of the car, and I’m blasted by the stench of body odor. Cricket is beside me, and he’s talking, but his words don’t reach my ears.Because it’s my mother.Smelling.On my porch.

St. Clair gets a crush on Anna. He’s torn between her and Ellie, and he spends so much time running between them that he hardly has time left for Josh. And the more time that...

Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place?

I’d like to point out that we’ve had zero problem reaching each other’s mouths.

I don’t care about anything. But I care about you.

They left me. My parents actually left me! IN FRANCE!

We’ll buy a cot. Your husband can sleep on that when he visits.

I laugh, and it sounds like I’ve been sucking helium.

I don’t believe in fashion. I believe in costume. Life is too short to be same person every day.

How much detention did you get?”Two weeks. One per arsehole.

Mi cuarto esta oscuro, y Etienne envuelve sus brazos a mi alrededor. Escuchamos a la cantante de ópera en un silencio tranquilo. Estoy sorprendida por lo mucho que extrañare Francia. Atlanta fue casa por casi...

Do adults realize how lucky they are?

For the two of us, home isn’t a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.

Tomorrow. Right now, I only want you.

Just imagine! In the early nineteenth century, this cathedral was in such a state of disrepair that the city considered tearing it down. Luckily for us, Victor Hugo heard about the plans to destroy it...

Har. Bloody. Har.

Confidence, darling.” He leans across the table and touches a finger to my cheek. “You could learn something from me, you know.

To: Anna Oliphant From: Étienne St. Clair Subject: So . . . Does that mean I can call you now?

STOP FLIRTING AND GET BACK TO WORK.

My smile wavers as I revert to my natural state of being: nervous and weird.

I’m saying I’m in love with you! I’ve been in love with you this whole bleeding year!

Because that’s the thing about depression. When I feel it deeply, I don’t want to let it go. It becomes a comfort. I want to cloak myself under its heavy weight and breathe it into...

—En París, es común reconocer a alguien atractivo. El francés no desvía la mirada como otras culturas lo hacen. ,No te habías dado cuenta? St. Clair piensa que soy atractiva. Me llamó hermosa.—Créeme, no quieres...

I’m sorry,” he says.”What? Why?””You’re fixing everything I set down.” He nods at my hands, which are readjusting the elephant. “It wasn’t polite of me to come in and start touching your things.””Oh, it’s okay,”...

The directness of her question throws me. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think there are only so many opportunities…to get together with someone. And we’ve both screwed up so many times”- my voice grows quiet...

A moment of reserve. “That was it? The whole story?””Yes. God, you’re right. That was pants.”I sidestep another aggressive couscous vendor. “Pants?””Rubbish. Crap. Shite.”Pants. Oh heavens, that’s cute.

I don’t know what I believe. I guess that makes me a Christmas Tree Agnostic.

He closes his eyes.Our lips brush lightly.”If you ask me to kiss you , I will,” he says.His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists, and I burst into flames.”Kiss me,” I say.He does.

I look at you, and I think about you, and … I don’t know. No one has ever confounded me the way you do.

He’s so close, yet so far away.” – Anna

You’ve crafted this bored veneer, but you’re always giving yourself away in moments like that. In the moments that really matter.

St. Clair clears his throat. ‘My fiancée and I are headed out for a celebratory dessert. I’d ask you all to join us, but I don’t want you there.

The way he looked at you? He wasn’t distracted. He was consumed.

Crushes are so awful. I wonder if they suck worse for the crush-er or the crush-ee. I consider my three years of watching Josh from afar. Yeah, definitely the crush-er.

I’ve always thought the best relationships are those that are as happy and content in silence as they are in action […]

Sólo hay una cosa que no me gusta de él. Ella.

Yes, St. Claire. I like you. But I can’t say it aloud, because he’s my friend. And friends don’t let other friends make drunken declarations and expect them to act upon them the next day

I just can’t fathom why anyone would stand on a ledge when there’s a respectable amount of walking space right next to it.

I wish he would look at me the way he looks at his subjects. Because then he’d see there’s more to me than shy, just like I see there’s more to him than slacker

Closed. Plenty of time to see it later, remember?” He leads me into the courtyard, and I take the opportunity to admire his backside. Callipygian. There is something better than Notre-Dame.