She brushed her hair in a few quick strokes, smeared on some lip gloss, and added the final touch of a fanny pack.

Feeling satisfied with her look, she slid the paneled door open. “I’m ready!”

Jake sat by the edge of the bed with two water bottles by his side.

When he saw Mira, he laughed. A lot. “Is that a fanny pack?”

Mira was not the least bit embarrassed and caressed the fanny pack fondly. “I didn’t think I’d get a chance to use it on this trip, but now that I have a whole day of exploring ahead, it’s definitely the right way to go.”

“Is it, though?”

“And they’re totally back in fashion,” she went on. “Louis Vuitton even makes one.”

He stood from the bed. “But that’s not Louis Vuitton. That’s . . .” He bent down and studied the tiny label on the fanny pack. “Pack ’n’ Go?” He fell to his side and laughed some more.

While Mira still wasn’t embarrassed, she started to remember her one visit to India nearly a decade before, when she and her cousin had been led through the bazaar by their bargain-hunting moms. They’d visited one garment shop after another that afternoon, aggressively in search of the perfect outfits for the weddings of the upcoming season. While no one had laughed at Mira that day, she’d been made to feel weird about how she looked, much in the way that Jake was making her feel right now. It may not have been a fanny pack in India, but every glittering lehenga she’d chosen had been met with frowns or tailoring suggestions, whereas everything her cousin slipped onto her frame had seemed perfect. Was it a crime to have prominent shoulders and an actual butt you could see from a distance? Apparently in India, it was. She should have found it funny and pitied the buttless girls, but instead, she’d felt like a stranger in her own skin.

And now, here in Paris, she was starting to feel like a stranger in her own fanny pack.

Not okay.

“Go ahead, laugh it up,” she said, “but I’ll be the one laughing when I don’t get robbed, when I have easy access to all of my essentials, and when my feet don’t hurt from walking thirty thousand steps.” She thought about it for a second. “I guess that last one’s more orthopedic-insole related than fanny-pack related.”

“You’re wearing orthopedic insoles?”

“Guess you’ve never heard of cobblestone.”

He scratched his jaw. “Right; kudos on being so prepared.”

“Thanks.” She opened her carry-on. “I’m also bringing a cardigan and an umbrella.”

“Sorry, can’t allow that. The sky is blue and it’s not going to rain; even the sweater’s a bit much.”

“It may be sunny, but the rain can come at any time.”

“And next up,” he said mockingly, “meteorologist Mira with the weather.”