“You aren’t offended?”
“No, it’s perfect.”
“I had to order it online, that’s why it took so long. Didn’t know where I could find one in Paris, sorry.” He fishes through a desk drawer and pul s out a safety pin. He takes the tiny maple leaf flag from my hands and careful y pins it to the pocket of my backpack. “There. You’re official y Canadian. Try not to abuse your new power.”
“Whatever. I’m total y going out tonight.”
“Good.” He slows down. “You should.”
We’re both standing stil . He’s so close to me. His gaze is locked on mine, and my heart pounds painful y in my chest. I step back and look away. Toph.
I like Toph, not St. Clair. Why do I have to keep reminding myself of this? St. Clair is taken.
“Did you paint these?” I’m desperate to change the mood. “These above your bed?” I glance back, and he’s stil staring at me.
He bites his thumbnail before replying. His voice is odd. “No. My mum did.”
“Real y? Wow, they’re good. Real y, real y . . . good.”
“Anna ...”
“Is this here in Paris?”
“No, it’s the street I grew up on. In London.”
“Oh.”
“Anna ...”
“Hmm?” I stand with my back to him, trying to examine the paintings. They real y are great. I just can’t seem to focus. Of course it’s not Paris. I should’ve known—
“That guy. Sideburns.You like him?”
My back squirms. “You’ve asked me that before.”
“What I meant was,” he says, flustered. “Your feelings haven’t changed? Since you’ve been here?”
It takes a moment to consider the question. “It’s not a matter of how I feel,” I say at last. “I’m interested, but . . . I don’t know if he’s stil interested in me.”
St. Clair edges closer. “Does he stil cal ?”
“Yeah. I mean, not often. But yes.”
“Right. Right, well ,” he says, blinking. “There’s your answer.”
I look away. “I should go. I’m sure you have plans with El ie.”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I don’t know. If you aren’t doing any—”
I open his door. “So I’l see you later. Thank you for the Canadian citizenship.” I tap the patch on my bag.
St. Clair looks strangely hurt. “No problem. Happy to be of service.”
I take the stairs two at a time to my floor.What just happened? One minute we were fine, and the next it was like I couldn’t leave fast enough. I need to get out of here. I need to leave the dorm. Maybe I’m not a brave American, but I think I can be a brave Canadian. I grab the Pariscope from inside my room and jog downstairs.
I’m going to see Paris. Alone.
Chapter thirteen