I can't believe him.

I hate him for showing up at a godforsaken time in the morning and asking me to take him sightseeing. I hadn't even taken a shower or had time to change out of my grungy pajamas before he arrived, barely taking a bite of cereal before hearing him knock on my door.

Who am I kidding?

I couldn't be happier that he came to my doorstep.

I wish I could get him out of my head, but he's all I ever think about. It's only been a few days since I met him, but it feels like a lifetime. Whenever we talk, I know exactly what to say. There's nobody I feel more comfortable with than him. I know I'm desperate. For years I've yearned for a guy to take my hand, kiss my lips, hold me in their arms, and touch me like never before. I crave a relationship where I'm loved more than anyone else. Every second I'm not around should make their lives a living hell. Every second Gray's not around the whole world dims.

Now, I'm seated on the passenger's side of Gray's truck, driving down to Stearns Wharf. Gray keeps asking me about the buildings and landscapes we pass, and I go into detail about the city's history, unweaving tales told to me by my parents when I was younger.

When we stop at a red light, Gray asks if I want to play some music. I nod and he hands over his phone, which is open to his music library. Immediately I notice a Lady Gaga playlist and hit shuffle, thrilled that we share an adoration for Mother Monster.

The opening electric guitar synths to "Perfect Illusion" pipe through the truck's speakers, causing the seats and my chest to vibrate. I'm tempted to scream along to Gaga's soaring vocals like I have so many times before. There's something so liberating to shrieking this song at the top of your lungs. Not wanting to embarrass myself, I mouth the words, earning a beaming smile from Gray. Sensing my hesitation, he sings out loud, breaking the ice and looking to me with an expectant glare. Realizing he wants me to join in, I nervously take on the chorus and we start jamming along together, voicing every word in perfect harmony. We fall into a natural symmetry, Gray pretending to rock out on the guitar while I imitate Gaga's low, raspy vocals, much to Gray's delight. Gray applauds my theatricality, sending me into a fit of laughter.

"I can't believe I just did that!" I exclaim in between giggles. And it's true. I'm stunned by my behavior. Around anyone else, I wouldn't have felt comfortable enough to belt Gaga at the top of my lungs. Yet, around Gray, all my walls seem to come down.

As Gray chuckles at my bewilderment, the both of us lock eyes and I notice I've scooted so close to him that our lips are mere inches away from touching. Beads of sweat trail down Gray's face, causing his skin to gleam. Before my mind can entertain the thought of what his soft pink lips must taste like, Gray returns his focus to the road and I slide back to the other side of the truck, tension lingering in the air.

"So you like Lady Gaga?" Gray asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Who doesn't?" I reply.

"You're so funny, Paris. I've never met somebody like you before."

Did he really just say that? Grayson Pierce, the guy who I've been thinking about nonstop for the past few days. Maybe I'm exaggerating. Yet it seems impossible to ignore the way my heart soars after hearing his compliment. Am I crazy for thinking we could become more than friends?

"Well, tour guide, are you ready to show me around?" Gray asks as he pulls into a parking spot near the beach, prompting me to slip out of the truck. The only thing with me is my phone.

"I guess so, if you really need help getting to the beach," I respond sarcastically, motioning my hand to the sparkling turquoise blue waves crashing up onto the pearly white sand, echoing their sound through my body. Gray smirks again, that devilish smirk that my heart beat crazy for a few minutes ago, now making my body shake even more. He walks down to the beach, hoping to find a good spot amongst the hordes of families and friends eager to visit the beach after the cold spell we've been experiencing. I try to follow after him, fearfully weaving my way through the claustrophobic crowds. Being around this many people freaks me out, but Gray keeps looking for a place for us to be more secluded. He finally settles upon a calm part of the beach, where the waves gently ride onto the sand, softly maneuvering through the toes of little toddlers who are ready for their first swim or happy couples taking selfies in the breeze.

Gray sets his backpack on the sand, taking out a towel and laying it down to claim the spot as ours. Over across the way I see dozens of people sitting beside each other in a packed, terrifying mess of umbrellas, towels, chairs, and picnics. It's all so chaotic compared to the peaceful tranquility over here. There's only one family near us - a young couple and their two children. The father is holding their baby in his arms, swaying them back and forth while the mother takes their little girl, who is dressed in a sparkly magenta swimsuit with a floppy little skirt, down to the water. The girl squeals in delight as the water hits her feet, and she runs screaming to her mother when the water starts to get up to her knees. The mother caresses her frightened daughter, picking her up and soothing her, assuring her that the water is harmless. The touching moment reminds me of my own mother, and I can't stand it.

Gray can sense that something is wrong, but I don't want to get into it right now. Here I am, with a guy I only met a few days ago, seconds away from crying. He knows about my mom but does he really want some mopey guy sobbing gross tears into his chest? I should just walk back to my house while I can still salvage some ounce of dignity. Maybe the fresh air will prevent me from balling my eyes out. As I turn away from the ocean, destined to make my way for the street, Gray stops me, resting his hand affectionately on my shoulder, prompting me to turn around and look right into his stunning, radiant green eyes, which sparkle like the Emerald City, intoxicating me as I plunge into their tractor beam of light.

Then, I fall apart.

Before I fall to the ground, Gray swoops in and catches me in his big, strong arms. My head rests on his sturdy chest, the pitter patter of his heartbeat echoing in my ear. It accelerates, pumping faster and faster as our bodies crash into each other. His hand holds firm to my neck as tears pour from my eyes, the sound of my wailing certainly scaring those around us. Yet Gray doesn't care. Instead, he holds me fast, not prying or trying to stop my crying. He lets me sob but keeps me from drowning, his body a flotation device amid my sorrow.

When I finally manage to gain composure, I wrap my arms around Gray's muscular waist and clutch to him. He returns my affectionate squeeze as I smile up at him, mouthing a quick "thank you" before sniffling. A cool breeze blows through, sending shivers through both our bodies. The two of us sit down on the towel Gray laid out, me wiping the tears from my eyes while Gray gently rests my head in his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gray kindly inquires, no pressure. I groan as Gray runs his fingers through my long black curls, causing me to blush. A prickling sensation overtakes my abdomen and I gape at him, shocked that a guy is actually playing with my hair. I know that most guys don't play with each other's hair, but I try not to overthink and it and instead just enjoy this moment. He looks down at me, his curled lips providing me with soothing relief. I shake my head to tell him that I'm not ready to share my pain with him. Perhaps someday I can tell him all about the wonderful, and horrible, memories my mom and I share. Someday, but not today.

"Do you want to go back?"

I shake my head again, assuring him that I want to stay. Gray's face lights up, thrilled to run into the cool aqua water on this sizzling day. It's been years since I've stepped foot in the ocean. Fuck, I live five minutes away from the beach and I never even dip my toes in the refreshing foam. The last time I was here was probably before my mom died.

I try to brush that thought away. I love and miss her so much, but she doesn't get to insert herself in every single moment of my life. It's not fair to me. I shouldn't have to be reminded of her wherever I go.

Gray turns to go to the water, unabashedly removing his shirt and exposing his chest. I hold in a gasp as I take it all in. His well-built frame. Detailed lines of muscle running up and down his body, outlining his rigid biceps, firm pecks, sleek six-pack. He's a marble statue immortalized, every inch carved with a delicate craftsmanship. An outstanding work of art.

"Don't be shy. I won't bite," Gray teases, nodding to my shirt, which is clenched in my fist.

I guess I was staring for a little too long.

I let a chuckle and bite my lip, my cheeks a blazing fuchsia. Hesitant, I pull at the cotton, pulling it from my body, exposing my thin and frail figure. Gray eyes my pale white skin, burning my cheeks even brighter. I attempt to break the awkward staring by running toward the waves, letting the shivering cold water hit my skin, eliciting a delightful screech. Gray trails after me, crying out at the ocean's terrible chill. I laugh at him, the two of us catching each other's glances, unsure where else to look.

It makes me believe things are getting better. I have a chance at happiness again, with Gray. My imagination fantasizes about evening strolls along the street and kissing in cars on the boulevard. It's what I crave more than anything. Not having it will break me more than anything ever has.