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...
Gray arrives to find me nestled under the covers in bed. He sets down a bag that smells of chicken noodle soup and warm bread. He probably went to this hole in the wall soup restaurant right outside our neighborhood that I told him about. My Mom would always walk down and get me chicken noodle soup when I was sick. The smell reminds me of her right away. I want to feel something other than sadness. I've felt sad for so long. I want it to go away. I need it to go away.
I sit up in bed and reach for Gray's t-shirt. He doesn't even say a word before I have him on top of me. I'm kissing him so hard that my lips are digging into his teeth. I reach for his jeans and try to unbutton them, but Gray throws my hands off his waist.
"Paris, stop!" He yells, pushing me down onto the bed so that he can breathe. My face turns red with anxiety. Did I do something wrong? What's his problem?
"Why don't you just fuck me?" I yell, attempting to sound seductive as I grab hold of his shirt and bringing his lips back up to mine. Gray pulls away from me and gets off the bed, pacing back and forth around my bedroom, wiping the taste of me off his lips. My heart stings as he licks away my kisses in disgust.
"This isn't you, Paris! You're...you're not well!"
All I wanted was to feel something. I wanted to remove the numbness from inside my soul and taste that exhilarating rush that comes with kissing, touching, being with Gray. I need to know I can still feel something, anything at all. Because all I feel now is this aching pain in my chest welling into my throat, suffocating me with grief, bringing me to tears and fueling a wave of ruthless anger that makes me want to throw myself out of my own bedroom window and watch the world blur away before me. Gray will be better off without me. My own father will be better off without me.
Who wouldn't be better off without me?
"I can't do this anymore," I mumble.
"What?" Gray screams.
Please don't make me say it again I whisper in my mind. I don't think I could bear to say it again.
Gray storms out of my bedroom before I can say another word.
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