《》95. Grayson Pierce, Age 17, December 15, 2019

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Tomorrow the callback list goes up for Chicago. I'm not worried about it anymore. After all, I don't plan on making a career out of acting; it's merely a hobby of mine. There'll be other chances to showcase my talent anyway. Besides, I need to focus on the more important aspects of my life.

Winter Formal is next Saturday and I have yet to ask Paris. He hasn't mentioned it, but I'm sure he's been wondering how and when I'll ask him. I've been trying to come up with a brilliant and charming way to ask him that's flashier than the typical poster board.

Flashier. The word echoes in my mind over and over, until an idea sparks.

***

"Can I open my eyes now?" Paris pleads, standing on the sidewalk while I frantically run through my lawn, putting the final touches on my display.

"You're so impatient!" I tease, glancing over my shoulder to ensure that Paris still has his eyes closed. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to sneak a peek. Except, it would ruin the secret surprise I've been working on all day, and I can't let that happen!

Backing up onto the sidewalk, I take in the magnificent sight. It took me quite a few hours and a rather expensive trip to the store, not to mention I had to convince Vanessa to prevent Paris from looking out any of his windows, but I'm delighted with how it turned out. It'll look even better all lit up!

I just hope Paris likes it.

Inching toward Paris, I reach out my hand and grab his, clutching him tightly amidst the darkness. The sun set over an hour ago, allowing an onyx black sky to shroud the horizon. It's the perfect backdrop for what's about to unfold.

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"Alright, you can open your eyes in 3...2...1!"

As soon as Paris' eyes blink open, I click a button on the fob in my hand and my home illuminates our entire cul-de-sac, accompanied by Christmas music piping through overhead speakers. Indigo light-up icicles hang from the rain gutters, string lights twinkling every vibrant color of the rainbow adorn the roof, two tall deer lawn ornaments radiate a soft gold shimmer, and in the downstairs window sits six big brightly lit letters that read: "Formal?"

Paris gasps, stunned speechless. Tears brush his pink, blushing cheeks and a few droplets pepper my face too. I try to break through the inevitable snivels by voicing the question affixed to the window.

"Paris, will you be my date to Winter Formal?"

"Yes! Of course!" Paris exclaims, his face beaming like the light show surrounding us. I happily welcome his rushing body into my arms, picking him up and twirling him around the lawn. Paris' dark marble eyes reflect the flashing bulbs, the numerous colors melding into a dreamy kaleidoscope that sends me through visions of cliffside kisses and poetic lines spoken sensually under the covers. I want to replay those moments over and over again until they blur to nothing but Paris and me.

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