Page 63 of Seeing Grayscale

“But youdid, didn’t you? With him?” He gestures behind us.

“I’d love to know why you are so invested in where I put my cock,” I say dryly, and he blushes…hard.

“I—that’s not—dude. I didn’t say that. I—”

“You choke on your words when you’re lying. Did you know that?” I’m goading him. I know that I am. I want him to admit that he’s jealous.

Why? Perhaps to stroke my ego.

Maybe to confirm he’s as obsessed as I am.

Hell, maybe even to eradicate that boundary line we’ve been toeing over already.

There’s raw emotion behind every act I perform. I care about this man, whether or not I meant for it to happen. He’s said before that I can’t give someone with nothing, something. Yet, he’s done that very thingto me.He’s given me a slew of new experiences, new hopes and dreams.

He’s allowed me to want. And right now? I want to hear the words and see them whip off his wicked, pierced tongue.

“I’m not fucking lying—I’m…,” he growls in frustration, “I don’t want to be second fucking place, alright? If you got someone waiting on you…or whatever, I don’t want to be the other guy. Platonic or not.”

I hold perfectly still while he fidgets with whatever his fingers can grab, his cheeks flaming and his breaths rough.

“Gray,” I say gently. His head whips to me, eyes blinking rapidly. “I can confidently say that you have my complete and undivided attention. And I don’t want to look away.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

There’snopointintrying to backtrack or deny what I said.

My experience with all of this is virtually none. I’m fully aware that my attachment issues are showing themselves in a vibrant rainbow over my head. Those very issues are the reason I don’t get close to people.

My parents gave me so much love and attention that I couldn’t cope without it. I clung to anyone who would have me, only to get used, discarded, and forgotten. It happened with the other kids in the group home, happened with my foster parents—even Caleb.

You don’t forget that kind of shit.

Once it stains you, there’s no getting that discoloration out. So, despite the evidence showing I should pulverize the growing attraction and attachment to Hunter, I like having it. I like that he’s here.

Before he showed up, I had surrendered to my bleak existence. I’d accepted it all, knowing I’d never get out.

And honestly? I didn’t want to, either. I glued myself to my hometown because I didn’t have anyone to latch onto. I fucking made up fake names for the family living in my house, wishing I could still walk through that door and be welcomed.

As sad as it is, I’m looking for anywhere that’ll take me. I guess I always have been. Somewhere that accepts me despite all my fuck ups. I don’t know if that place is with Hunter. It’s comical to even think of it as amaybe. But if you could see how he looks at me or hear how he talks, you’d get it. Anyone would.

It’s fucking infectious, and I’ll gladly sacrifice my immunities to keep this dream going.

What would he think if I told him everything? If he knew just how deep my failures ran?

“Come on,” he says gently from his spot by the passenger door. I reach for his extended hand, slipping my palm over his.

He easily pulls me onto my feet with a soft smile on his lips. “I usually do this on the hood, but it’s hot.”

“Huh?”

He chuckles. “I’ll show you.” With that, he lets me go and rounds the vehicle to the trunk. I wait while he grabs something out of it, returning to my side a few seconds later with a thick, scratchy-looking blanket. “When I can’t sleep, like I said before, I come here and watch the planes take off. I’ll throw this bad boy,” he holds up the blanket, “over the hood. But the same effect can be achieved from the ground.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Like fuckin’ Wayne’s World?”

Confused, he cocks his head while unfolding the blanket. “Like what?”

“Wayne’s World. The movie.”

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