The card read simply: Plus de fleurs pour une fleur. Sebastian. Nothing more, nothing less.

If he liked me, why didn’t he kiss me?

Oh, Emily, stop being a child. You finally meet a guy who respects you and you’re not happy? Come on.

He probably thinks I’m a prude.

I’d rather he think you’re a prude than a slut! And besides, he did bring you roses. Twice.

Oh my god, I was going insane. I was actually speaking to myself. Out loud. I put my hand to my mouth and hoped the walls in this hotel were nice and thick.

Tomorrow was Monday and I had the whole morning and afternoon to myself. The museum closed at 7:00 PM, so I probably wouldn’t hear from Sebastian until then.

I had a week left in Paris before my return flight. The new semester at NYU started the following Monday. Seven days left in Paris. Seven days to visit museums, go shopping, eat French bread and French cheese, and be with Sebastian.

And possibly even fall in love.

All of a sudden, seven days didn’t sound like much time at all.