Page 39 of Scrap Metal & Love Reforged

“Glad to hear it,” I replied.

“Yeah.” Seth grinned—almost at a loss for words for once. “This will be great.”

I nodded. The more I thought about it, the smaller my doubts felt. Seth was a good guy. What was the harm in staying with him for a little while?

Chapter Fifteen

Troy

Although I’d been in Seth’s apartment recently, it still felt strange that nothing had changed. I felt like my very presence, my beat-up boxes—stuffed with twisted metal, broken glass, and old duffel bag—marred the expensive white leather of the sofa and the intimidating marble floors. But Seth clearly didn’t see it that way.

“Feel free to do whatever you like,” Seth said. “Mi casa es su casaand all that, and besides, you’re my guest.”

“Thank you,” I replied, “But really, I don’t want to inconvenience you. I won’t make a mess.”

Seth paused and sheepishly grabbed a Starbuck’s cup from the counter. “I should’ve cleaned up,” he said, tossing it into the trash. “Believe me, though, when I say that nothing you do could possibly inconvenience me. I’m very happy you’re here.”

As if I'd judge him over an empty coffee cup.

Seth brushed his hand over the counter, presumably wiping away crumbs, although I didn’t see any.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“You said that already. But yeah, while you’re here, don’t feel like you have to—you know—live any differently.”

As if it was impossible to live like I had become accustomed to in this beautiful, expensive penthouse apartment.

“And if you need to move the furniture to make way for your junk assemblage, you can. I don’t mind a bit. It’s not as heavy as it looks. Easy to push.”

Seth walked into the living room and pushed one of the chairs a few inches, as if to prove his point. It was impossible not to smile at him. He was so accommodating and so enthusiastic to have a guest. If I hadn’t known Seth like I did, I might’ve assumed that no one ever came over, but with as many friends as he seemed to have, I very much doubted that was the case.

After Seth led me into the guest room, I threw all my stuff down in a corner. It was nice, in an impersonal kind of way. I wondered vaguely if Seth had paid someone to stage the apartment; the white walls, hardwood floors, and dark blue comforter felt far too understated to be of his doing.

Or maybe he has rules in his lease saying he’s not allowed to paint the walls or change certain things.

Did rich people evenhaverules like that in their leases? Heck, I didn’t even know if he rented here. Maybe he owned the place.

“It has a half-bath,” Seth said, opening the nearby door. “You’ll need to take showers in the other bathroom, of course. But this one is good for pretty much everything else.”

“Are you trying to sell me the place?”

Seth chuckled. “No, sorry. I don’t feel like selling it, actually.”

So, hedidown the place. “How long have you had this?” I asked, gesturing around us.

Seth hummed and sat on the bed. “A few years. I always liked Bluehaven, and I wanted this place for… it sounds really silly butI dreamed of owning this place as a kid. When it finally came on the market, I bought it. The location is good. The view is nice.”

I didn’t quite know what to make of how I felt about that. It seemed like I knew so few people who actually had the same dreams as adults that they’d had as kids, and I knew even fewer people who’d actually achieved them.

“Congratulations,” I said. “I’m glad you got it, then.”

Seth shrugged. “I am, too. But it’s not like it was hard. Most people in Bluehaven don’t have a small fortune to their name.”

I sat on the bed beside him. “You seem to do a lot of good with yours, helping your friends out and things like that.”

“I try,” Seth replied, “But I’m really more selfish than you might think. I’m not perfect; you know.”

“I didn’t think that.”