Page 13 of Scrap Metal & Love Reforged

“So, this place is nice,” Seth added cheerfully.

“Yeah, I guess.”

The bartender sauntered to him and took his order. She was a tiny, pixie-like blonde, and I saw Seth’s eyes follow her as she walked away to retrieve his beer. I’d half-expected Seth to get some sort of fancy French wine I could barely pronounce. “She’s pretty,” I said.

“She is pretty. Not as pretty as him,” Seth added, nodding toward the male bartender nearby.

“You’re gay?!”

The bartender returned with Seth’s drink. “No,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “Bi, actually. I swing both ways. All the ways. Men, women, extraterrestrials if it comes to that.”

He was…bi. I relaxed my shoulders and let myself slouch a bit. He was safe.Maybe I should tell him I’m gay?I thought.He’d understand.

And both Godofdiscordand my sister kept telling me to be more outgoing. To make friends. Maybe they were right.

“So, what do you do in your spare time?” Seth asked.

“Not much, I gotta say.”

Seth nodded and toyed with his beer. “There must besomething, though,” he said. “Everyone has hobbies.”

“I do. I do junk assemblage. It’s a type of art.”

“Oh, I know it,” Seth said. “I know a few junk artists. I know a disproportionate number of artists, actually. Junk assemblage, painters, actors, writers…lots of talented people. More talented than me, if I’m being honest, but I’d never tellthemthat.”

“I have pictures,” I said awkwardly, trying to gauge if Seth was truly interested.

“Oh! Show me. I want to see your art.”

Seth leaned eagerly forward as I pulled out my phone and flipped through a few pictures. I’d taken several with the intention of posting them online for feedback, but I hadn’t gotten around to doing that yet.

“These are incredible,” Seth muttered, as I swiped through photos of twisted, painted metal and half-deconstructed engines. “You must have so much patience to make these things.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“But I mean, twisting all those pieces of metal, and then painting them! I dated a graffiti artist once, and let me tell you, I now can affirmthat I suck at spray painting. It looks much easier than it is, but you’ve gotthisdone so well!” Seth pointed at my screen, which presently showed repurposed clock parts, painted with floral patterns and small, twinkling stars.

“I’ve been spray painting since I was a kid,” I said, “So I’ve just had a lot of practice. That’s all.”

“So do you get parts from the shop?” Seth asked.

“Sometimes. Mostly, I dig around scrap yards and junk stores.”

“Oh! If I’d known, we could’ve done that instead,” Seth said. “That sounds like fun. We could go treasure hunting together.”

I raised an eyebrow, as I imagined Seth digging through old cars and heaps of junk in those tight jeans and that expensive jacket, having gotten off a $300,000 bike. I didn’t want to be prejudiced, but he looked like the sort of man who’d freak out if he got a speck of dirt on him. But maybe I was underestimating him. Or maybe—

Maybe he was interested inme, romantically. My face grew hot, and my emotions skyrocketed. I plunged face-first into several increasingly elaborate fantasies of how splendid this evening could turn out.

“We could still go look,” I ventured, “If you wanted to. I mean, we don’thaveto go. We could just stay here.”

Seth hummed and downed his beer, finishing it in a few, quick gulps. “Can we walk there?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “There’s a junk shop just a couple of blocks over. I think they close at eight.”

My phone said it was six.

Seth hopped off his stool and stretched, arching his back. He grinned at me; his hazel eyes brilliant with mischief. “That sounds good. Let me close out, and we’ll head over. I’ve never been to a junk shop.”