Stephanie Perkins

I said you were beautiful. I slept in your bed!

I bought you love poetry! 'I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.'" I blink at him. "Neruda. I starred the passage. God," he moans. "Why didn't you open it?

I trail my fingers across his cheek. He stays perfectly still for me. "Please stop apologizing, Etienne.""Say my name again," he whispers.I close my eyes and lean forward. "Etienne."He takes my hands into his. Those perfect hands, that fit mine just so. "Anna?"Our foreheads touch. "Yes?""Will you please tell me you love me? I'm dying here."And then we're laughing. And then I'm in his arms, and we're kissing, at first quickly - to make up for lost time - and then slowly, because we have all the time in the world. And his lips are soft and honey sweet, and the careful, passionate way he moves them against my own says that he savors the way I taste, too.And in between kisses, I tell him I love him.Again and again and again.

You're the most incredible girl I've ever known. You're gorgeous and smart, and you make me laugh like no-one else can. And I can talk to you. And I know after all this I don't deserve you, but what I'm trying to say is that I love you, Anna. Very Much.

He's exasperated. "I'm saying I'm in love with you! I've been in love with you this whole bleeding year!

I'm just as big a fool as the rest of them.

Phones are distracting. The internet is distracting.The way he looked at you? He wasn't distracted. He was consumed.

But that's not quite right either.I miss Paris, but it's not home. It's more like... I miss this. This warmth over the telephone. Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place? Bridgette used to be home to me. Maybe St. Clair is my new home.I mull this over as our voices grow tired and we stop talking. We just keep each other company. My breath. His breath. My breath. His breath.I could never tell him, but it's true.This is home. The two of us.

And we're finally home.

How could I wish for it for so long, only to come back and find it gone. To be here, in my technical house, and discover that home is now someplace different.

I mean . . . I don't know. I don't know what I want to do, or who I want to be, or where I want to live. I don't know. I like reading about adventure, sure, but I also like doing it from the safety of home. But what is home, besides a quilt-covered bed? Where is it?

Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place?

I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

We straighten , bu our snickering is barely contained as we attempt to focus our attention on a picture of a discarded Coke can. "This guy's lady love is kind of a slob, don't you think?" he whispers.I cover my mouth with my hands again."A reaaaaaaaal litterbug.""Stop it," I hiss. My eyes are watering. "Ohmygod look at this one! How did he get her toenail clippings?""If you were my girl," he whispers, "I'd take creepy pictures of your trash when I knew you weren't looking.""If you were my girl," I whisper back," I"d put the creepy pictures in a foreign museum so you wouldn't know that I take creepy pictures.

I pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. "Is this okay?" I whisper. "Are you okay?"His reply is anguished. Honest. "I love you.

Some of us wear our hearts. Some of us carry them.

Welcome to Paris, Anna. I'm glad you've come.

If I weren't standing next to your boyfriend, I'd be tempted to ask you out myself."She blushes, and St. Clair bounds inside the box office and wrestles her into a hug. "Miiiiiiiiine!" he says."Cut it out." Anna pushes him off, laughing. "You'll get fired. And then I'll have to support your sorry arse for the rest of our lives.