Page 49 of Scrap Metal & Love Reforged

The competition had ended a week ago, so I knew the winner announcementhadto be coming soon. I jumped every time my phone chimed. Eventually, it would declare whether I was a winner or a loser. In the meantime, I worked a lot, picking up all the extra hours that Arthur would throw my way. Once he saw how much money I was making, he’d probably cut it off for a while, but it would be worth it if the temporary pay bump covered a down payment on an apartment. Winning the competition wouldn’t hurt either.

That is, if I won.

I ran a hand through my hair and scrolled through apartment listings for probably the millionth time that morning. Skye was at home, curled up with me on the sofa and binge-watching TV. My niece was at school. It all felt bizarre, like being back in high school. Except that Lance should’ve been there and wasn’t.

“So,” Skye said.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t believe you’re gay. I mean, I believe you, but it's strange to think it's been that way for so long and I never knew.”

I shrugged. Was it bad that, despite my sister’s easy acceptance, I really wasn’t especially eager to talk about my sexuality with her? Nope.

“You have good taste, though,” Skye said. “Appearance-wise, I mean. Seth was very handsome.”

Earth to Skye—please shut up.

Now, Ireallydidn’t want to think about it. Sure, he was attractive, but apparently I wasn't so good at finding someone with a decent personality. But that wasn’t entirely true either. Even if Seth had been a jerk and kept secrets from me, whenever I thought of him, I still felt a sharp pang in my gut. I still thought about what we might’ve been able to be. But he went and screwed everything up.

“I guess,” I said. “Seth's good-looking.”

Skye pursed her lips together. An awkward silence fell between us. I was pretty sure that I’d already gone through these same ads a few times now, but I kept looking, as if I might’ve missed the deal of a lifetime or something.

But I wasn’t even reading anymore. Instead, my thoughts went to Seth. Why did Skye have to mention him? I wondered if he even believed he’d done anything wrong. Maybe not. Seth didn’t seem to take anything too seriously, and while I’d initially found that endearing, I now wondered if maybe that same trait was really a flaw. He probably didn't even realize he’d done anything wrong.

I sighed, drawing a concerned look from my sister. “Maybe you should go out,” she said. “Meet some nice people.”

“I’d rather not,” I replied. “I don’t think that’s going to help. Besides, I think I’ve got a lot more to think about than getting a date.”

“I suppose,” Skye muttered, “But you know that you need to spend some time to take care of yourself, too. Right?”

I nodded, although I still didn’t entirely get where she was going with that. Sure, I needed to take care of myself. So what? First, I needed to get a place to live. And I needed money. Everything else came in second and could wait, but Skye didn’t seem to get that.

“I’ll worry about that later,” I said.

She returned her gaze to the TV. She didn’t believe me. That much was clear. I considered saying something further. But even if my life was crap, that wasn’t any reason for me to be curt with my sister, who had theaudacityto care and worry about me like a sibling ought to.

My phone chimed with a new email. I sucked in a deep breath and unlocked the phone. It was from the gallery. A lump hardened in my throat as I opened the email, entitled: “Announcement of Winners”.

“Who is that?” Skye asked.

I barely heard the question, but I choked out an answer anyway. “No one important. Just an email.” I was a better liar than she was.

Pulse skyrocketing, I read over the names. I didn’t recognize any of them. None of them were mine. I'd lost. The defeat settled over me like a cold, heavy mist. I lost. There went the prize money. All those weeks of effort, down to nothing. I skimmed over the details about picking up artwork. Really, I should’ve expected this. The rest of my month had already been awful. Why had I expected this to go differently?

Even though it wasn’t always fun, there was one benefit to working, and that benefit was that it made it more difficult towallow in one’s misery. There was a comforting familiarity in working with cars, especially today when it had been nothing but oil changes and tire rotations—the kind any mechanic could handle.

After finishing with a sleek, red Porsche, I stretched and rubbed my oil-stained hands on my ratty blue jeans. I looked over the garage, still full. Someone had brought in a really nice, silver bike. I couldn’t decide what the exact make and model was from the distance I was at, but it was clearly vintage. Probably expensive.

“Oh, shit. No, it can’t be.”

I swallowed hard. Surely, it wasn’t Seth. It couldn’t be him. But I knew we only hadoneregular customer that brought in expensive bikes. I let out a low breath of air. I was an adult. I could deal with this. And it wasn’t like Seth was banned from bringing his bikes here or anything.

I steeled myself and walked into the shop proper. My eyes swept over the room: Janet at the counter, Arthur in the back as usual, and Seth in the waiting room. Son of a gun. Unwillingly, my eyes drifted to him. He sat hunched over in one of the cheap, plastic chairs, his face buried in his phone. I straightened my spine, watching. Should I say something? Pretend I didn’t even see him? My heart quickened.

Maybe I should do nothing and see if he notices that I’m here. Put it on him, leave it to chance.

But my chest still ached at the thought ofnottalking to him, of seeing him here and never saying a word. Before I could change my mind, Seth looked up, his hazel eyes wide. For the first time since I’d met him, his face reflected uncertainty. I felt like I ought to look away or say something or anything except stand stupidly behind the counter, near Janet, who was on the phone quoting prices.