Page 61 of Seeing Grayscale

The only reason I stepped away—the only reason I let him slip from my grasp was out of respect for his boundaries. The ones he so boldly told me were already surpassed.

What is brewing in my chest and mind was always inevitable.

I didn’t want to let it be possible—I didn’t want to hope.

I feel his eyes on me like phantom touches. Unsure where to take us next, I decide if I want to keep him, I need to let him see me for who I really am. Muscle memory guides the vehicle to the place I want him to see—to experience. Maybe he’ll love it just as much as I do.

He wants us to have a good day off, and I’m determined to make it happen. Tomorrow will be a bucket of ice water to this whole epiphany, forcing me to acknowledge my life for what it is. A life that won’t make room for Gray, no matter how badly I wish it could.

Deep down, I know I could leave it. My dad will disown me. I don’t know what my mom will do, but I can’t imagine it’ll be any different. We used to be so close when I was little. Then she left for five years, leaving me at the mercy of my dad. I missed her so much and tried everything I could to fill the hole in my heart by bowing to my dad’s every whim, hoping to be what he wanted.

It never happened.

I’ll be thirty soon, and what do I have to show for all the sacrifices?

All the lies?

Deciding to derail that train of thought quickly, I switch to the object of my obsession.

“If you could do anything—go anywhere—what would you do?” I ask Gray.

He huffs a laugh. “That was random as shit.”

“I’m curious,” I say with a smile.

“Well, I like where I am.”

“You must’ve wanted to go somewhere else at one point,” I pry.

He nibbles on his thumb while he thinks, the motion so endearing yet sad to watch. Every time he does, it must cause him some pain. “Berlin.”

“Germany?”

Nodding, he pops the digit free, deciding to fold his arms instead. “I’ve wanted to see the wall.”

Interest piqued, I nudge him with my elbow when he doesn’t elaborate. He grumbles with an eye roll and a cute huff, “I want to see the art.”

“The graffiti?” I can’t hide the shock in my voice.

“Yes, dick. Thegraffiti.”

My cheeks flush hard, ignoring my reaction to the worddick. I clear my throat before apologizing, “I didn’t mean it negatively. I’ve been to the memorial site, and it’s all…random.”

“It’s not random,” he argues immediately, chest puffing out as he gets more animated—passionate. “It tells a brutal story of overcoming oppression. It’s self-expression in its most carnal form. Thatgraffitiis the world’s mecca for urban art.” He takes a breath, then peeks at me. “And it’s not just the wall. The entire city is an artist’s wet dream.”

Realization strikes me like lightning to my skull. “Are you an artist, Gray?”

The long pause, followed by the spasm in his fingers before he curls them, tells me my answer. “I…wanted to be.”

“Did you paint? Sketch? Digital art?”

“I appreciate Digital art, but I never had access to it. When I was a kid, I’d sketch. But later on, I got into the urban scene. Liked the smell of the paint and having such a massive canvas.” I tear my eyes off the road to catch the wistful expression before he smothers it. “Oddly enough, I was just trying to get my hands on a couple of cans when—” His face pales as he seals his lips.

“When what?”

“Nothing.”

“Gray.”

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