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...
The next few nights are a little easier. Paris realizes he can't spend every night over at my home, even if it's what we both want. We were lucky my parents haven't walked in on us the times he has slept over. Even though we weren't fooling around, my parents would never trust me alone with him again. Besides, school starts tomorrow. Things are going to be different now. We'll still be a couple, but who knows how much we'll get to see each other. He's a junior and I'm a senior. I don't think we'll have a single class together. We need to cherish the memories we shared this summer, and use every minute we have with each other to our advantage.
***
My parents decide to take me out for one last dinner of the summer. My first instinct is to invite Paris, but they want this dinner to be "family time." I know it's hard for them to understand that we're in a serious relationship, but it pisses me off. I try to wave my anger aside and enjoy myself, even if Paris isn't with me.
My Mom is teary-eyed from the moment we arrive at this fancy steakhouse. She can't believe I'm going to be a senior in high school - my last year at home. My Dad even sheds a few tears, and they both tell me how proud they are of all I've accomplished in high school and for transitioning so well from New York City to California. They tell me to order the most expensive steak on the menu, but I stick with the rib-eye while my Mom and Dad both order a filet mignon. I tell them all about Paris and I's date at the beach cafe, leaving out the racier parts. I tell them about how great it felt just to drive with Paris, and they roll their eyes at me, giggling at my silly young love.
Our meal comes, and it's absolutely heavenly. I finish every last bite and the three of us return home, my parents yelling at me to go right to bed. I have to get used to not sleeping in till the afternoon. I say goodnight to them but don't listen to their orders, shutting off the lights and pulling back the window curtain so I can check up on Paris. He's sitting on his bed, wearing a tank top and fluffy pajama bottoms. His thin, light skin almost glistens in the moonlight, and I wait desperately for him to look up from the book he's reading so that we can say goodnight to each other. As if he can read my thoughts, Paris looks up and notices me on the other side of the road. His lips quickly curl up into a beaming smile and I blow him a swift kiss. He catches it within an instant, holding his fist close to his chest, closing his eyes with joy. The two of us exchange one last glance - his jet black pupils staring into my sparkling emerald rings.
Here it's just the two of us - the way it should be.
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