Seth
Something is up with Gabe.
Sometimes the producers line up exotic animals or wacky owners in the hopes of creating something that will get everyone talking and go viral on social media.
But other times, like today, they opt for normal.
Standard animals and everyday owners. There's a fifty-fifty chance of them even using the footage, but it's always good, dependable stuff to have in reserve should they need to fill out an episode.
But Gabe's not feeling it.
He's been slightly off ever since we came back from watching his brother compete last week. He's quiet and sullen, but the biggest clue would be that he hasn't stopped by my bedroom once. He says he's under the weather, but I suspect it's more than that.
In fact, I'm almost certain it's more than that, and if I had to put money on it, I'd say it has everything to do with our chat with Marcus right before we left.
His story hit hard, and Gabe's not the only one affected by it. I've been in my head about it as well. I mean, the parallels between his story and ours couldn't be any more obvious.
One of the last things Marcus said before we said goodbye has stuck with me. He told us we inspired him. I've never felt more like a hypocrite than I did right then.
Because while it's great to be inspiring strangers, what the heck am I doing in my own life?
Running away from love because my parents' multiple marriages have traumatized me.
That's not inspiring, that's pathetic. Sure, avoiding love completely guarantees I don't get my heart broken, but it's also a surefire way of living a sad, lonely life.
And I don't want to live a sad, lonely life. I want a life with all the colors, all the emotions, all the ups, and even the downs. And if that means taking a chance and risking my heart, then maybe I should go for it.
"And cut!"
I've zoned out. How the hell did I get through that scene? I barely even remember the animal we treated. And the owner? David? Darren? Shit.
I make my way over to the craft service table but can't decide on what I feel like. Gabe's footsteps come closer.
His hand lands on my shoulder. "You okay, Seth?"
I grab an apple, take a bite, and turn around.
His hair is perfectly slicked back, his face a bit paler than normal under the makeup we wear when shooting clinic scenes.
He’s in navy scrubs with the sleeves pushed up and a dark-olive fitted jacket that only sharpens the green of his eyes.
For a few seconds, I imagine this moment occurring in a parallel universe where I'm greeting him by the door of our house as he comes back from a day working at a normal vet clinic.
We're no longer in a showmance on a reality TV show but in a real one in real life.
I've been having these kinds of thoughts a lot more lately.
"No. I'm not okay." I lower my voice so that no one can overhear. "Can you come to my room tonight? We need to talk."
"Sure. What do you—"
"So, what do you think about the Lakers?" I cut in when I spot producer Eddie making his way over to us.
Concern flickers in Gabe's eyes, but I can't say anything to reassure him without blowing our cover.
We'll talk tonight, and hopefully, my courage won't desert me, and I can use Marcus's story to inspire me to raise something I should have said seven seasons ago.