“School has ruined cinema.It's official. There's nothing worth living for.”

“How'd you get this number?""Well, you see, there's this book. It has white pages. And it has all these phone numbers listed inside it. It's also online.”

“French name, English accent, American school. Anna confused.”

“There's something about blue eyes.The kind of blue that startles you every time they're lifted in your direction. The kind of blue that makes you ache for them to look at you again. Not the blue green or blue gray, the blue that's just blue.Cricket has those eyes.”

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

“Did I ever tell you I went to school in America?""What? No.""It's true,for a year. Eighth grade. It was terrible.""Eighth grade is terrible for everyone," I say."Well,it was worse for me. My parents had just seperated,and my mum moved back to California.I hadn't been since I was an infant,but I went with her,and I was put in this horrid public school-""Oh,no. Public school."He nudges me with his shoulder. "The other kids were ruthless. They made fun of everything about me-my height,my accent, the way I dressed.I vowed I'd never go back.""But American girls love English accents." I blurt this without thinking, and then pray he doesn't notice my blush.St. Clair picks up a pebble and tosses it into the river. "Not in middle school, they don't.Especially when it's attached to a bloke who comes up to their kneecaps."I laugh."So when the year was over,my parents found a new school for me. I wanted to go back to London,where my mates were, but my father insisted on Paris so he could keep an eye on me. And that's how I would up at the School of America.”

“Oof," he says."Hey, there's a bed there.""Thanks for the warning.""No problem.”