Page 69 of Seeing Grayscale

Several pairs of eyes are looking at the scene and the cold sweat of nerves forms on my forehead and under my armpits.

Too many fucking people are watching meintimatelyhugging another man.

In public.

In goddamndaylight.

Fresh waves of terror crush me, erasing any attempt I might have had to comfort Gray. I gotta get out of here and fast. Before they notice, before the pictures start, before it gets back tomy dad.

“Gray,” I say with a wicked bite to my voice. I can’t fucking help it. Calm, thoughtful Hunter is gone. “Get in the car.”

I get him detached from my body, rip open the door, and all but shove him inside. Jogging around to the other side, I jump in, start the engine, and peel out of the parking spot. My breaths saw out of me, loud and harsh. I keep checking the mirrors for signs of paparazzi. The lump in my throat won’t go away, I can’t fucking swallow, and Gray has shriveled into a small ball in the seat, leaning as far away from me as he can get.

Regret fills me up to the point it’s suffocating.

He came to me for comfort, and I shoved him away because I’m a coward.

A fuckingcoward.

This—right here—is why I should’ve kept my affection locked away. I should’ve never looked at his face and thought, I couldkiss him, and he’d let me. I should’ve never allowed myself to become so obsessed with him that I thought who I was wouldn’t matter—that I could find a way.

Only now that I’m calming down do I realize I left his crutch on the sidewalk. “Fuck!” I roar, slapping the steering wheel, and he jumps out of his skin.

“I’m sorry!” he cries.

I just need to get somewhere.

Anywhere.

A dark, quiet place where nothing and no one can see what a fucking monster I am.

THIRTY-ONE

Sayingsorrydoesn’thelp.

Other than the outburst, Hunter has been deadly silent. He told me to back off in more or less words, and I didn’t listen.

I saw that fucking painting…mypainting and I just lost it. In that moment, I needed his arms to shield me from the ugly truth more than anything. And now he’s pissed at me for it.

Nothing helps the unease swirling in my gut.

Nothing calms my racing heart.

I knew Caleb was a piece of shit the minute I walked in on him cheating on me with that rich guy. I didn’t connect the dots untilI broke down in Hunter’s arms. Caleb not only stole my art and used it as his own, but the guy he left me forownsthat art studio. The guy’s face was plastered on the wall beside his business license.

I want to throw up—scream—give up altogether.

This is what happens when you hope. It always gets ripped away.

Promises mean jackshit, and dreams are for assholes.

I’m that asshole for ever thinkinganyof it might be for me. Nothing is for me.

Nothing.

For a while, I don’t look over at Hunter. There’s no point. He’s going to find the first bus stop and dump me. I wouldn’t blame him. No one wants a freaky homeless dude stitched to their side like I’ve been.

Fighting back the urge to sniffle, I lift my head when the car stops.

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