Page 55 of Seeing Grayscale

I’m on my feet, feeling his eyes on my back while I fix him a cup. It’s a shame I can’t take him home; my coffee selection is far superior.

The rustle of his blankets moving has me looking back. It’s like I’m unable to take my damn eyes off him, worried some monster will appear from under the bed and drag him into the shadows.

He doesn’t notice me looking at first, so when he adjusts his morning wood, my cheeks flame. I hurry to look back at the coffee pot, fumbling with the damn sugar packets.

His lithe body passes in a blur, disappearing into the bathroom.

Hanging my head, I hold onto the countertop in the kitchenette and take a deep breath. I’m so far out of my element when it comes to Gray, and I’m noticing things I shouldn’t—feeling things that far surpass treacherous.

I shouldn’t have looked at his crotch.

What the hell was that? Morbid curiosity?

This illusion of control I’ve managed to fool myself into believing I have is slipping through my fingers at lightspeed.

The best course of action is to ignore his beauty and focus on the end goal: helping him get back on his feet. If I keep that as my sole purpose, he and I will come out of this unscathed. My minor obsession with him can still be justified. There’s nothing to obscure it as of right now. But if I start letting myself enjoy his company and keep pushing to get to know him, I don’t think it’ll go well.

In fact, it might already be too fucking late.

The toilet flushes in the bathroom, followed by the sink running. I wait with Gray’s coffee in my hand, staring at the door like I can mentally pull it open. Thunderous and uneven, my heart kicks against my chest as the seconds tick by. I even resortto holding my breath. My anticipation and unrelentingneedto get my eyes on him again have my lungs in an iron grip.

When the door finally opens, and he steps through the threshold, I scan his entire body without restraint.

“You good?” he asks, taking the cup from me as I continue my perusal.

“Fine.” I have to force myself to look away.

While I busy myself with taking out some clothes from my overnight bag, Gray sips his coffee. The noise is loud—distracting. I want to watch him drink it. I want to watch him fuckingbreathe.

This is ridiculous.

I gather my outfit and fresh underwear, ready to shower, and get dressed for the day when he clears his throat. My eyes find him instantly.

“So what happens now?”

There’s a flicker of excitement in his icy blues, a slight flush to his cheeks. Those wild bleach-blond locks of his stick up in every direction, and my first thought is:adorably rumpled.Trying not to swallow, I manage to speak. “Well, I was thinking we could look into getting you an ID.”

He frowns. “Alright.”

“It’d be good to have one,” I say, wondering why his features are contorting so deeply.

“I had one before, but…well, I had access to my birth certificate and social security card. I don’t have those anymore.”

“We can get them.”

Taking a sip of his coffee, shoulders slumping, Gray nods once. “Okay.”

“Do you notwantto get an ID?”

Shrugging, he puts the cup down on the counter and chews on his thumb. I watch while he struggles to gather his thoughts. His broad but thin shoulders hunch up, and one arm bands aroundhis middle. “So I get an ID, and then what? You get me hooked up with some shelter? A shrink? Maybe put in a good word for me at the local fast food joint?”

I blink, confused.

“Do you have some checklist? Things I need to do to get rid of Gray?” he snaps, popping the wet digit from his lips and completely encircling his body with his thin arms. “I mean, if that’s the plan, I get it. But you made it seem—last night and—never mind.”

“I’m not trying to get rid of you, Gray,” I say gently, taking cautious steps closer. “Why do you think that?”

“It makes sense. You want to help me, right? Help me get out of your hair, maybe your guilty conscious or whatever.”

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