Work Text:
If you were to ask Paul who the prettiest girl he’d ever met was, he would say the first one that would come to mind because ‘there’s just so many to choose from’.
And there is; Chelsea from the Dinner, Abbie from cheerleading, Heather from down the street. You get it.
It’s easier that way, really. He’s the ‘rich, popular jock’, so it’s everyone’s first thought that he has a thing for the beautiful ones. The blonds and ones with tits, obviously.
He could have literally anyone he wanted. He’s hot, a star football player, and has money.
When someone asks, Paul usually says Leah N. Blond hair, thin frame, the whole package. She is pretty, has a charming smile and an easy personality.
She is the prettiest girl Paul has ever met.
Unimportant side note: Paul is also a dirty liar.
He lies so, so much. He lies about his grades, his likes, to his friends, his family. He doesn’t know how it started. Been like that since he can remember.
His father would tell him to lie about his likes to make him more charming to others. His mom would say to lie about what he likes to be more normal. To stay popular.
He tells himself to lie about who he likes.
Lying comes to him as easy as breathing.
But, there are a few things he doesn’t lie about- his favorite color is blue.
He says it’s because it’s mainly a masculine color. Which, it itself, isn’t a lie. It’s his fathers favorite for that reason- that and it was the color of mom’s favorite dress.
He doesn’t lie about the color.
(He lies about why he liked it. About how long he’s liked it. It used to be green, his own eye color)
(He started liking blue in high school, when he met Darry)
(Paul loves the blue of Darry’s eyes)
He, also, lies about his beliefs in God. He only goes to church every other Sunday to appease his mom and keep appearances for his father. It’s not that he doesn’t believe, it’s that he’s.. not sure if God's right.
Because it’s either that or he’s a sinner.
He can’t be a sinner.
Anyway, he never exactly stopped lying. He’s not sure where the lying starts and where he begins. It’s something he’s always done.
When asked about the prettiest girl, he says the one that rushes to him first and doesn’t mean it. They all look like crumpled roses.
His least favorite flower.
He lays awake in bed, staring straight up at his ceiling. Seeing through it to the blue sky and thinking about his eyes.
His favorite shade of blue.