Bathe in Color

35. Grayson Pierce, Age 17, August 16, 2019

The morning sun peers through the window of my expansive bedroom, waking me up. I let out a lengthy yawn, exhausted from an evening of driving. It took over five hours for us to reach the Las Vegas strip. I drove my truck all the way there with Naomi talking my ear off while my parents drove in a glossy red Dodge Charger. Needless to say, my dad enjoyed speeding up to the lobby of Caesars Palace in his stylish new ride. By the time we checked into our three-bedroom penthouse suite, I could barely make it to the bed before drifting to sleep. I even neglected to shut the curtains, too enamored by the velvety satin sheets.

Naomi's voice singsongs downstairs, my parents silently nodding along. The reminder of Naomi's presence just steps down from me leaves a striking stain on this entire trip. I couldn't wait to explore the Las Vegas Strip, eat experimental dishes from fancy restaurants, and see spectacular acrobatic stunts at Cirque du Soleil. Best of all, my parents surprised me by scoring tickets to Lady Gaga's Enigma residency, a last-minute surprise. Now that Naomi is here, she'll probably drag me to the ritzy flagship stores and boutiques and my parents will end up exploring the Las Vegas Strip without me. Except I refuse to miss out on seeing Lady Gaga live. For years I've wanted to see my idol in concert, and I wouldn't give this opportunity up for anything, especially since it's near impossible to score tickets. My parents and I are going without Naomi. I about lost my shit when she told me she wasn't a fan of Lady Gaga's music.

I only have myself to blame. Although I didn't invite Naomi to come with us to Las Vegas, I gave my parents the impression I'd enjoy spending a weeklong vacation with her. After all, we are in a "relationship" and, any happy couple would love exploring the glitzy scene of Las Vegas together. I can't even imagine how magical this trip would be if Paris was accompanying me. He would adore trying funky food on the strip and be overjoyed to see Lady Gaga. We'd wear matching Lady Gaga merch and sing along to every song. It'd be a dream come true.

Before I can dream any longer, the sound of footsteps alerts me to Naomi's tall frame in the doorway. She looks flashy in a skin-tight low-cut indigo dress and heels. It's only 10 AM and Naomi appears to be dressed up for a midnight after-party.

"Hey cutie," she whispers with a sultry voice, probably hoping I'll compliment her stunning outfit choice.

Maybe if I actually cared for Naomi like a decent boyfriend should, then I'd be telling her how beautiful she is instead of begging the Universe to make her vanish from my field of vision. It would be so simple to break-up with her, but I suppose I would rather be miserable than face the truth and admit that I'm gay.

***

With some incessant pleading, Naomi manages to drag me out of bed and lead me downstairs to the kitchen, where my parents are nibbling on a fantastic breakfast spread brought up by room service. My parents look a little flabbergasted at her outfit choice. I wonder if she's doing it to compensate for my apparent lack of interest these last few days. Has she seen past my masquerade?

After breakfast I return upstairs for a much needed shower. Naomi hollers at me from the kitchen, "Don't take too long, Gray. I wanna see the city!"

Hearing Naomi call me Gray leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. When Maya and Tommy use my nickname, it brings a smile to my lips and ignites a warm feeling inside. Then, when Paris uses my nickname, it feels electrifying, an addictive jolt that I want to feel again. That intense personal connection I share with them is absent between Naomi and me, which is probably why it feels so foreign to hear her call me Gray. My nickname is sacred, something I hold very near and dear to my heart.

Following Naomi's orders, I hastily jump into the shower and rinse off my body, letting the scolding hot water wash the disgust off my skin and awaken my senses. No matter how much soap I lather or how harshly I scrub my skin, I still feel a layer of filth covering me. The constant lying sickens me, but I keep letting everyone around me believe I'm something I'm not. Naomi believes we're a couple, no matter how bland our relationship may be. My parents believe I'm straight and have a girlfriend. Even Paris must believe I'm straight, especially after how much time Naomi and I have spent together these last few days. Even after slipping out of the shower and drying off, the grime remains. All the lies have contaminated me inside and out, and I have no idea how much longer I can keep this act up.