Bathe in Color

15. Grayson Pierce, Age 17, August 4, 2019

For a while I lay there, unsure what to think.

It's been over an hour since I said goodnight to my parents and slid in bed. Despite the enduring exhaustion from all the gardening work and from unloading the rest of the moving boxes, I can't seem to fall asleep.

I try to focus on my new bedroom, which is fully decked out with all my belongings, just the way I like it. My clear lights are strung from each corner of the room, coming to bloom in the center. My plasma screen TV sits across from my bed, perfect for future scary movie sleepover viewings, and my desk is placed across from the window, adorned with my computer and camera.

Yet all I can do is think about Paris' gorgeous face, his intoxicating deep brown eyes, his seductive cherry red lips, and his alluring black curls which I so desperately want to run my hands through. Freckles are dotted all over his pale face, and he has a frail figure that makes me worry about him a little. His arms and legs are so thin, but I can't see the outline of his bones, so that makes his figure a little less alarming. I know some people don't eat as much food as I do because I eat like a horse. Except he's only about a year younger than me - he should look a little less like a prisoner.

I had so much fun with him this afternoon, and already hate the thought that his adorable face has suffered. He has this intoxicating laugh that's softer than whipped cream and melted into me when I unexpectedly hugged him. Surprisingly, Paris practically collapsed into my arms when we embraced, and my heart ached to let go of him. We only held onto each other for a few seconds, yet every inch of our bodies felt like they fit into place.

He smells like fresh jasmine, and I have no idea if it's his shampoo or cologne, but I have to keep myself from getting aroused when I smell it. It doesn't help that my mom has vases of jasmines on the dinner table. All through our dinner of lasagna, I couldn't think about anything but him. My cheeks turned a harsh auburn and my Mom asked me if I was feeling alright. I assured her I was fine but refused to sit up from the dinner table for the next fifteen minutes, even though both my parents had already finished eating. Usually, I'm on my second serving when my parents are still working on their first, but I told my parents I wasn't all that hungry and slowly nibbled on my food, too afraid to stand up without revealing the unfortunate predicament residing in my joggers.

The feelings I have for Paris are stronger than anything I've ever felt before and it scares me. I've had plenty of crushes in my life, but never anything like this. It was like, right away, I wanted to kiss those cherry lips and pull at his black curls, getting intoxicated in the smell of jasmine that radiated off his neck and chest and-

My heart speeds up, uncontrollable in the heat of the night. My body longs to feel Paris' touch, to let his image dance in my mind, to crave him like never before-

Restlessly I stop myself. I can't bring myself to think about him like this. My imagination is starting to take control over my rationale, and there are a number of reasons I need to wave his beautiful image away:

#1 - I hardly even know him.

#2 - I just moved here and have to get settled in first.

#3 – I am majorly in the closet. It took me years before I told Maya and Tommy, and they're the only ones who know.

#4 - I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF HE'S GAY!

I am sure there are plenty of more reasons for me to try and give up my illicit desires for the boy next door, but four are more than enough. In a perfect world, where all gay people had a gaydar that told them who was gay and who wasn't and where I wasn't terrified my parents would have a stroke if they knew I was gay, I would be more than happy to jump on the Paris train and stick my tongue down his throat.