“I know.”

He does?

“Mer told me. But I guarantee you that my father is worse. Unfortunately, he’s the one here in Paris, while my mum is alone, thousands of miles away.”

“Your dad lives here?” I’m surprised. I know his dad is French, but I can’t imagine someone sending their child to boarding school when they live in the same city. It doesn’t make sense.

“He owns an art gallery here and another in London. He divides his time between them.”

“How often do you see him?”

“Never, if I can help it.” St. Clair turns sullen, and it dawns on me that I have no idea why he’s even here. I say as much.

“I didn’t say?” He straightens up. “Oh.Well. I knew if someone didn’t come and physically drag you outside, you’d never leave. So we’re going out.”

A strange mix of butterflies and churning erupts in my stomach. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

“Right.” I pause. “And Ellie?”

He falls back, and now he’s lying down on my bed. “Our plans fell through.” He says this with a vague wave of his hand, in a way that keeps me from inquiring further.

I gesture at my pajama bottoms. “I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

“Come on, Anna. Do we honestly have to go through this again?”

I give him a doubtful look, and the unicorn pillow flies at my head. I slam it back, and he grins, slides off the bed, and smacks me full force. I grab for it but miss, and he hits me again twice before letting me catch it. St. Clair doubles over in laughter, and I whack him on the back. He tries to reclaim it, but I hold on and we wrestle back and forth until he lets go. The force throws me onto the bed, dizzy and sweaty.

St. Clair flops down beside me, breathing heavily. He’s lying so close that his hair tickles the side of my face. Our arms are almost touching. Almost. I try to exhale, but I no longer know how to breathe. And then I remember I’m not wearing a bra.