“Soap?""School of America in Paris" he explains. "SOAP".Nice. My father sent me here to be cleansed.”
“I'm not British.I'm American."I smile. "Sure you are.""I am.You have to be an American to attend SOAP,remember?""Soap?""School of America in Paris," he explains. "SOAP."Nice.My father sent me here to be cleansed.”
“I intend to stay on her like hair on soap.”
“Why did you choose to stay here?" (...)"I don't know," he said. "It's as if there's more oxygen here.”
“Is that a yes?" he asked, pushing his fingers through my hair, fanning it out around my shoulders and searching my face intently. "Please let it be yes," he said with a gravelly edge. "Stay with me tonight. Let me hold you, even if that's all it is. Let me keep you safe.”