Page 27 of Scrap Metal & Love Reforged

I hadn’t planned on being so forthcoming, even though I’d agreed to this outing. But there was just something about Seth, maybe his enthusiasm, that made him easy to talk to.

“Who got you into bikes?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

Seth hummed and shrugged. “I don’t really know, actually. It seems like I’ve liked them for as long as I can remember.”

A large curl of rusted metal, embedded with blue polished pebbles poked out from behind a scuffed-up desk. I paused and crouched before it. From the corner of my eye, I saw Seth pause, too. Even without looking, I felt his gaze—and the thought of him focused on me sent a warm rush up my spine.

“Are you thinking of using that for something?” he asked.

“Possibly.”

I trailed a finger over the curve of metal, chipping off flecks of rust with my nail.

“It’s hard to explain,” I said, “But there’s something about taking old, unwanted things and making them into something, well…wanted that just appeals to me. I like to see progress. Trash to treasure. And when I’m doing my junk assemblage, it’s like there’s nothing else in the world.”

“That sounds deep. Profound, even. Now, I’m embarrassed that I only like acting because it gives me the opportunity to be someone else. It’s fun.”

“It’s nothing deeper for you?” I asked.

When I glanced at Seth, he shrugged and smiled disarmingly. “I don’t think so,” he said, “And I know that sounds shallow, that my art doesn’t have some deep meaning. I just do it for fun, to fill my time.”

What a luxury, to have time that needed filling. I felt like I always had too much to do, like I was stuck in a perpetual state of being overworked. Or like there wasn’t enough time. But it was difficult to begrudge Seth for it. I’d seen his performance in Brandon’s film, and even if Seth’s acting didn’t have depth of any consequence, it was clear he enjoyed it.

I straightened, looking at the piece of metal from a different angle. “So how come you never went to Hollywood?” I asked. “Or…you know…something major. Did you try?”

That soundedreallyjerk-ish in hindsight. I had no idea if Seth had gone to Hollywood and been a huge failure or something. I might've just poured salt into a wound with that clumsy attempt at conversation.

“No,” he replied. “I just really prefer to do indie material. I never really had an interest in being famous. Come to think of it, I’m just not that ambitious. But that’s the luxury of being rich, I suppose. You don’t have to worry about things like getting ahead or earning money. Everything is already good. So, you fill your time withstuffand things to do.”

Herealizedhe had advantages, being rich. I realized it with a start and a strange sort of glee. Seth wasn’t really the empty-headed, selfish rich guy I’d thought he would be. He was…nice. Aware. I’d been wrong about him.

“Are you going to get it?” Seth asked, nodding to the piece of metal before us.

Once upon a time, it might’ve been some yard decoration. I considered it again, trying to figure out where it would go in my present project, but the image didn’t come together. “I don’tthink so,” I said slowly. “As weird as this sounds, I have a sort of instinct about these things. I don’t think this is the piece I’m looking for.”

“Ah, these aren’t the pieces you’re looking for,” Seth echoed, waving his hand.

I smirked. “Thank you, Obi Wan.”

“Movies aremything.”

I knew they were. I’d seen his giant-ass TV. It ate an entire wall. Never before had Ireallycared all that much about the size of a TV, but I had to admit that Seth’s wasdamnimpressive. I’d have liked to have one, but unless someone walked into a pawn shop with one of those for cheap,reallycheap,I sure wasn’t going to get one. I’d just have to make do watching videos on my laptop. That’s if the Wi-Fi worked. For some bizarre reason, the apartment Wi-Fi___33 went down at five-thirty every single day, and most of the time, it didn’t come back up until twelve the next morning.

“It’s not a huge bragging point to be able to make aStar Warsjoke,” I pointed out. “From you, I expected something better.”

We walked on.

“Pick any pulp horror film since the dawn of cinema,” Seth said, grinning. “Even the really stupid ones.”

“What do you mean by stupid?”

He shrugged. “I only mean that you haven’tliveduntil you’ve seen the porno version ofNightmare on Elm Street. It’s a trip. A gore-filled trip.”

I snorted and shook my head. “You really watch that crap?”

He nodded. “Of course. It’s my one true love in this mortal coil.”

At the mention oflove, my heart gave out an embarrassing flutter. What would it be like to bewithSeth? To be out of the closet and togetherwithhim?