Page 67 of Seeing Grayscale

Frustrated and, honestly, sad, I grunt, “Alright.”

He lets go of my wrist, leans back in his seat, and we drive away.

I don’t know where we are going, and I don’t really care.

I have to figure out how to detach myself from him when he hasn’t done anything to warrant it.

THIRTY

Sickofbeingstuckin a car or hotel, I start to drive us towards the downtown area but change my mind at the last second.

It’s been easy today.

Forgetting who I am and how many people can recognize me.

Knowing I've ruined it, I want to lighten the mood, but I’m unsure how to do it.

An idea sparks as I spot a stoplight with graffiti on the pole. Altering our course, I drive us deeper into the city, knowing that this might perk Gray up.

Hopefully.

Not that I ever like doing it, but rejecting Gray damn near killed me. Almost admitting how badly I wanted to kiss him, to domore, makes me feel like a creep. Anyone with eyes can see the clear power imbalance between us. The very clothes on his back wouldn’t exist had I not bought them. Growing these feelings for him only makes me out to be a blood-sucking predator, taking more than I should. There’s no doubt in my mind that my emotions are genuine—that this attraction is based on more than a vulnerable target.

I’ve never been that sort of person.

But I wasn’t lying before. He deserves everything a person can give and more.

In all my life, I’ve never stood up to my dad—I've never even tried. I’m scared to be disowned and cast out. I’m terrified to work from the ground up because I have never had to. Being brave has never been my strong suit, and deep down, I still wish my dad would look at me and see his son instead of a puppet.

More than anything, I want to see love in his eyes instead of disappointment.

Stupid, I know, but it’s the truth.

Some people can live with it—knowing they’ll never measure up and are a failure in their parents’ eyes. They allow it to strengthen their resolve, push them closer to their goals, and remain authentic to their identity. I don’t have it in me. And with the public eye constantly trained on every move my family makes, I would live in constant shame.

No one would work with me; no one would understand.

I’m fucking alone, stuck in this damn mask.

Gray doesn’t need that. I won’t push my bullshit on him either. He’s got enough to worry about.

Still, even as I try to convince myself I made the right choice, I catch myself peeking at him. Needing my eyes on himconstantly, I glance down at his lips. Those soft, kissable lips might’ve been mine in another life if I were someone else. The sting radiates through my chest when I look back at the road, spotting our destination. I can do this for him.

Keep the day good.

Keep everything elseaway.

Finding street parking usually is a pain in the ass on this side of town, but as luck would have it, there’s a spot right in front of the building. I swoop into it, put the car into park, and watch Gray realize where we are.

He leans so close to the window that I’m sure he will smash his nose into it. Little breaths escape him, almost pant-like, as one hand reaches up to palm the barrier between him and the art studio.

“Ever been?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Never. What’s it called?”

“Court Syde.”

“That’s a stupid name,” he says through a chuckle, then hurries to unbuckle himself.

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