For the first time in months, I felt calm. My focus solely on the art in front of me while Toby stayed close by, radiating a feeling of safety that I'd needed for a while. It was different than how I felt with Izaak — my roommate would protect me at all costs, but his fierce loyalty to the FBI had me skeptical of where I stood. Toby looked for a different kind of intimacy... he wanted to see every part of me, and accept all of those parts, regardless of whether I accepted myself. He asked all the right questions, genuinely curious about my past, not allowing me to hide. It was so refreshing, I almost wanted to confess everything to him. Almost.
When our art was complete, I took a step back and looked it over. "I feel like an official street artist now," I said with a grin, glancing over at Toby. He was splattered with paint, all the way from his Vans up to his backward hat he always wore to running group.
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