Page 33 of Scrap Metal & Love Reforged

“Yep,” Troy said. “United. Off Broad Street.”

I nodded. “I know where it is. It’s only been there for a century now.”

Troy snorted. “I thought you were about to tell me you kept your millions stashed there.”

“New York City, actually.”

Poor, independently-owned United Bank would probably collapse if I’d opened an account or needed a withdrawal. My family probably had more money than this town’s net worth. Well…more than the town budget, anyway.

“Do you spend a lot of time there?” Troy asked.

I shrugged. “Some. I like to move around, but most of my friends are here in Bluehaven. And it does have its charms. I don’t see half-naked guys pissing on the sidewalk. People are nicer. You know.”

Troy nodded. “I get that,” he said, sounding as though his thoughts were elsewhere.

I glanced at Troy, briefly. It was dark, and the streetlights had just come on. Troy’s cheekbones were highlighted in the orange light. He had an attractive face; a gorgeous face.

I tore my eyes reluctantly back to the road. It was strange how uncomfortable I felt sitting beside him. If I’d been honest, I knew I wouldn’t have been here. Troy probably would’ve ghosted me or if not that, he’d have just stopped talking to me…again.

“So where do you want to go tonight?” Troy asked.

“I assumed antiquing. Junk shopping. That’s your favorite thing, right?”

Troy chuckled. “We…always do that. Don’t you get bored?”

“I never get bored with you.”

Which brought me to another problem. Despite my attraction to him, Troy wasn’t out yet, and he might not be for a long time. I obviously had no intention to push him into anything. But…

I wondered if I was pushing him too hard just by showing up at his work and then insisting on hanging out with him so often.

Already, so many complications to our maybe-relationship. But I kept digging the problems deeper and deeper into a hole. I knew it was only a matter of time before this came back to bite me.

Chapter Thirteen

Troy

The problem with renting a new place is landlords want deposits, proof of income, or decent credit—sometimes all three. I had none of the above in great supply. I toyed with my phone, trying to decide if I wanted to try renting somewhere else anyway. My lease was ending soon, and it's not like I could find aworseplace to live.

I kept running through my options, building mental lists of pros and cons inside my head as I waited for Seth. I’d long stopped hoping that he wouldn’t show up. Seth always showed up, and somewhere along the way I'd started anticipating it. He sauntered up in average-looking jeans that probably cost my month's rent, and a pale purple shirt under a black leather jacket. My breath caught in a really embarrassing way when he grinned at me. He knew exactly the effect he had on me—and itshouldn’thave been alluring, but it was.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Seth said.

I glanced at my phone. “Oh, yes. You’retwo minuteslate. I’m going to hold that over you forever, Seth. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Howwill I go on after such a terrible crime?” Seth moaned, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “Woe is me.”

“Chew the scenery a little more for me,” I said dryly.

There was something surreal in seeing that he wasjustas dramatic “off-screen” as he was “on”. He seemed tireless—probably thanks to coffee with a day's worth of sugar and calories, never mind the caffeine.

“So,” Seth drawled, putting his hands in his back pockets. “How was your day?”

We meandered down the sidewalk. We were headed to a restaurant Seth liked, but downtown parking was so bad we’d met a couple of blocks away.

“I was off,” I replied. “I spent most of it looking for apartments. I’m trying to find a new place. My lease ends soon, and the apartment I live in now is…well…pretty much Third World.”

“Is that why you’ve never let me come over?” Seth asked. “You’re ashamed of it?”