“Cricket tells a joke and turns to see if I'm laughing, if I think he's funny, and I want him to know that I do think he's funny, and I want him to know that I'm glad he's my friend, and I want him to know that he has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known. And I want to press my palm against his chest to feel it beat, to prove he's really here.”

“Cricket walks several steps behind me. It's a careful distance. I wonder if he's looking at my butt.WHY DID I JUST THINK THAT? Now my butt feels COLOSSAL. Maybe he's looking at my legs. Is that better? Or worse? Do I want him looking at me? I hold on to the bottom of my dress as I climb into the backseat and crawl to the other side. I'm sure he's looking at my butt. He has to be. It's huge, and it's right there, and it's huge.No. I'm acting crazy.I glance over, and he smiles at me as he buckles his seat belt. My cheeks grow warm.WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?”

“I risk a glance, and St. Clair stares back. Deeply. He has not looked at me like this before. I turn away first, then feel him turn a few beats later.I know he is smiling, and my heart races.”

“I know. And I couldn't wait any longer, I have to tell you - "The panic rises, and I grip the French band tighter. "Cricket, please -"But his words pour forth in a torrent. "I can't stop thinking about you, and I'm not the guy I used to be, I've changed -""Cricket -" I look back up, feeling faint.His blue eyes are bright. Sincere. Desperate. "Go out with me tonight. Tomorrow night, every ni -" The words cut off in his throat as he sees something behind me.Cigarettes and spearmint. I want to die."This is Max. My boyfriend. Max, this is Cricket Bell.”

“St. Clair tucks the tips of his fingers into his pockets and kicks the cobblestones with the toe of his boots. "Well?" he finally asks."Thank you." I'm stunned. "It was really sweet of you to bring me here.""Ah,well." He straightens up and shrugs-that full-bodied French shrug he does so well-and reassumes his usual, assured state of being. "Have to start somewhere. Now make a wish.""Huh?" I have such a way with words. I should write epic poetry or jingles for cat food commercials.He smiles. "Place your feet on the star, and make a wish.""Oh.Okay,sure." I slide my feet together so I'm standing in the center. "I wish-""Don't say it aloud!" St. Clair rushes forward, as if to stop my words with his body,and my stomach flips violently. "Don't you know anything about making wishes? You only get a limited number in life. Falling stars, eyelashes,dandelions-""Birthday candles."He ignores the dig. "Exactly. So you ought to take advantage of them when they arise,and superstition says if you make a wish on that star, it'll come true." He pauses before continuing. "Which is better than the other one I've heard.""That I'll die a painful death of poisoning, shooting,beating, and drowning?""Hypothermia,not drowning." St. Clair laughs. He has a wonderful, boyish laugh. "But no. I've heard anyone who stands here is destined to return to Paris someday. And as I understand it,one year for you is one year to many. Am I right?"I close my eyes. Mom and Seany appear before me. Bridge.Toph.I nod."All right,then.So keep your eyes closed.And make a wish."I take a deep breath. The cool dampness of the nearby trees fills my lungs. What do I want? It's a difficult quesiton.I want to go home,but I have to admit I've enjoyed tonight. And what if this is the only time in my entire life I visit Paris? I know I just told St. Clair that I don't want to be here, but there's a part of me-a teeny, tiny part-that's curious. If my father called tomorrow and ordered me home,I might be disappointed. I still haven't seen the Mona Lisa. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower.Walked beneath the Arc de Triomphe.So what else do I want?I want to feel Toph's lips again.I want him to wait.But there's another part of me,a part I really,really hate,that knows even if we do make it,I'd still move away for college next year.So I'd see him this Christmas and next summer,and then...would that be it?And then there's the other thing.The thing I'm trying to ignore. The thing I shouldn't want,the thing I can't have.And he's standing in front of me right now.So what do I wish for? Something I'm not sure I want? Someone I'm not sure I need? Or someone I know I can't have?Screw it.Let the fates decide.I wish for the thing that is best for me.How's that for a generalization? I open my eyes,and the wind is blowing harder. St. Clair pushes a strand of hair from his eyes. "Must have been a good one," he says.”

“Cricket removes his hand. I blink at him, and he cautiously offers his arm. I hesitate. And then I take it. And then we're so close that I smell him. I smell him. His scent is clean like a bar of soap, but with a sweet hint of mechanical oil. We don't speak as he leads me across the street to the bus stop. I press against him. Just a little. His other arm jumps, and he lowers it. But then he raises it again, slowly, and his hand comes to rest on top of mine. It scorches. The heat carries a message: I care about you. I want to be connected to you. Don't let go.”

“She's probably just tired of seeing you miserable.Like we all are," I add. "I'm sure...I'm sure she's as crazy about you as ever.""Hmm." He watches me put away my own shoes and empty the contents of my pockets. "What about you?" he asks, after a minute."What about me?"St. Clair examines his watch. "Sideburns. You'll be seeing him next month."He's reestablishing...what? The boundary line? That he's taken, and I'm spoken for? Except I'm not. Not really.But I can't bear to say this now that he's mentioned Ellie. "Yeah,I can't wait to see him again. He's a funny guy, you'd like him.I'm gonna see his band play at Christmas. Toph's a great guy, you'd really like him. Oh. I already said that,didn't I? But you would. He's really...funny."Shut up,Anna. Shut.Up.St. Clair unbuckles and rebuckles and unbuckles his watchband."I'm beat," I say. And it's the truth. As always, our conversation has exhausted me. I crawl into bed and wonder what he'll do.Lie on my floor? Go back to his room? But he places his watch on my desk and climbs onto my bed. He slides up next to me. He's on top of the covers, and I'm underneath. We're still fully dressed,minus our shoes, and the whole situation is beyond awkward.He hops up.I'm sure he's about to leave,and I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed,but...he flips off my light.My room is pitch-black. He shuffles back toward my bed and smacks into it."Oof," he says."Hey,there's a bed there.""Thanks for the warning.""No problem.""It's freezing in here.Do you have a fan on or something?""It's the wind.My window won't shut all the way.I have a towel stuffed under it, but it doesn't really help."He pats his way around the bed and slides back in. "Ow," he says."Yes?""My belt.Would it be weird..."I'm thankful he can't see my blush. "Of course not." And I listen to the slap of leather as he pulls it out of his belt loops.He lays it gently on my hardwood floor."Um," he says. "Would it be weird-""Yes.""Oh,piss off.I'm not talking trousers. I only want under the blankets. That breeze is horrible." He slides underneath,and now we're lying side by side. In my narrow bed. Funny,but I never imagined my first sleepover with a guy being,well,a sleepover."All we need now are Sixteen Candles and a game of Truth or Dare."He coughs. "Wh-what?""The movie,pervert.I was just thinking it's been a while since I've had a sleepover."A pause. "Oh.""...""...""St. Clair?""Yeah?""Your elbow is murdering my back.""Bollocks.Sorry." He shifts,and then shifts again,and then again,until we're comfortable.One of his legs rests against mine.Despite the two layers of pants between us,I feel naked and vulnerable. He shifts again and now my entire leg, from calf to thigh, rests against his. I smell his hair. Mmm.NO!I swallow,and it's so loud.He coughs again. I'm trying not to squirm. After what feels like hours but is surely only minutes,his breath slows and his body relaxes.I finally begin to relax, too. I want to memorize his scent and the touch of his skin-one of his arms, now against mine-and the solidness os his body.No matter what happens,I'll remember this for the rest of my life.I study his profile.His lips,his nose, his eyelashes.He's so beautiful.”