Paris Wills is a dreamer. His father always said he got it from his mom, an artist who was unlike any other. Her virtue was painting, and Paris' is poetry. No matter where he is, Paris finds inspiration for his poems.
In the summer after his sophom...
I speed down the Nevada desert as fast as I legally can, hoping to reach Paris by the evening. The California border is a few miles ahead, and I only have a suitcase and truck to claim my own. Naomi is probably telling my parents all about the letter, outing me before I can tell them myself. I push my worries aside. Dealing with my parents is a problem for another day. Right now, all I care about is reaching Paris before the sun sets. He must be a nervous wreck, terrified that I read the letter days ago and refused to even acknowledge it. I feel horrible. If I hadn't let Naomi into my life, none of this would've happened. Now, I may have jeopardized any chance I have at being Paris' boyfriend.
It seems crazy to think I could possibly have a boyfriend. For years I've envisioned what life might be like with a guy on my arm. It never felt safe, but it always felt right. Even though I tried for so long to deny that part of myself, I wanted it more than anything. Yet life seemed easier if I just pretended to be straight. But pretending to be something I wasn't made everything crumble around me. Although being gay may make life scarier or harder, it's a part of me I can't suppress or throw away.
Letting go of the past and looking to the future, I shout over the looming California horizon, "I'M GOING TO HAVE A BOYFRIEND!" Everyone alongside me on the road can hear me, but I don't care. After reading Paris' letter, I couldn't be prouder to consider him my boyfriend.
I just hope he feels the same way.
I refuse to think that way. Instead, my heart beats with giddy excitement as I picture pulling into our cul-de-sac, sauntering up to Paris' front door, and kissing his beautiful bright red lips. I've wanted to kiss him since the moment I met him, but I never had the courage to do it before. Now, I'm more than ready. While being out and proud won't make homophobes and bigots go away, it'll make me a happier and healthier individual. Every bone in my body knows that the pros of being out outweigh the cons. I have to make this jump because I've fallen in love with the boy next door, and I refuse to forget about him. Not now, not ever.
***
My eyes are glossing over while the California sun begins its magnificent descent into the horizon. Lady Gaga is blaring through the stereo to keep me awake, my body exhausted from the hours of driving. Right now I'd be getting ready for Lady Gaga's Enigma residency, but even seeing Lady Gaga isn't as important as seeing Paris.
The closer I get to Santa Barbara, the closer the sun gets to sinking into the stagnant ocean waves. The sky is teetering between day and night, but I need that picture perfect sunset to win Paris' heart. The Friday afternoon traffic is no help for reaching my destination, and I worry I may be too late. The only thing keeping me going is the guy waiting for me in Santa Barbara.
***
By the time I reach the exit for "Mountainside Acres," one of the most gorgeous sunsets I've ever seen is spilling into the sky. Radiant hues of magenta and orange blend together amidst the cool afternoon indigo to form an array of swirls that dance across the sky like strokes of watercolor paints blending together.
Bile bubbles within my stomach but I push the nausea away, turning into the cul-de-sac with desperation. Soon I finally pull into my driveway and rush to the front door, setting the suitcase inside and greeting an excited Tessa, who must be shocked to see me back home so soon. She wags her tail and hobbles over to greet me. I scratch her chin in nervous anticipation, my stomach flipping boundlessly. I shut the front door but Tessa watches supportively from the front window as I cross the street to Paris' front driveway. The pink carnations we planted almost two weeks ago are still thriving, and it gives me a sense of hope that he hasn't given up on me quite yet.
Consumed with a combination of enthusiasm and worry, I knock on Paris' front door, the sound echoing as I recall the first time I came up to his front porch with a beaming grin on my face and a bouquet of pink carnations in hand. The memory sets my heart aflutter with elation, and I yearn for those joyful memories to grow. Then, Paris reaches the front door.
I gulp at the rickety chime of the door handle turning, and my stomach drops with fear and a hint of regret, all my worries crashing down on me. Yet they all dissolve the moment Paris' awestruck face comes into view, his alluring brown eyes glowing with shock and puzzlement.
Right away, his eyes dart to the crumpled letter in my hand.
"I got your letter. Sorry it took me a while to read it. I was in Las Vegas."
Paris is at a loss of words, amazed to see me here and unable to comprehend the situation around him. I restrain myself from giggling at his adorable bewilderment.
"That...that's alright. It's good to see you, Gray," Paris stutters anxiously. Hearing him call me Gray sends my heart flying even faster than before.
"Anyway, I liked what you had to say. I know it's not poetry, but you really do have a way with words."
My compliment leaves him breathless, and I scratch the back of my neck flirtatiously, slowly playing with my curly blond locks, drawing this moment out for as long as I possibly can, wanting to experience every minute of it, like a picture developing to capture the most perfect moment. Only this is my perfect moment, and no camera in the world could do it justice.
"Did you really drive all this way to talk?" Paris asks, donning a look of confidence I haven't seen before, an optimistic and open-minded side of him I desperately want to learn more about. Someday I hope to know every single thing I can about Paris Wills, the boy of my dreams, the boy who has fucked me up in ways I could have never imagined.
I guess love really does make a person do crazy things.
Like kissing the boy next door.
Paris gasps as I do what I've been wanting to do for so long and press my lips against his, pouring out all my emotions, cupping his face in my strong hands. His cheeks are blazing bright red and he tastes like jasmine and chapstick and everything good in this world. His lips are welcoming and take me in, and I feel his tongue edging against my teeth, begging to be let in, and I realize that I want to taste Paris' lips forever. It feels like I've tapped into the rawest and purest emotions of the Universe. All my fears, all my worries, all the answers to life's deepest questions don't matter anymore because I have Paris' lips against mine, the two of us standing in the shadow of the world's most glorious sunset, with dreamy values of cyan and fuchsia intermingling to explode into a cascade of wonderful amusement. Two completely different colors blend together to form an ignition of beauty the world has never seen before. We are that ignition, that outburst of color that the sky bathes in, that the world bathes in. A rapture of love and ecstasy blooming into a rhythmic pattern of pigments old and new to form absolute perfection. Pure joy erupts among us, and the Universe captures the memory like an eternal picture, destined to beat all odds, to brace the elements and never fade.
Who would've thought a kiss could change the world?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
