Chapter Fourteen
Troy
“So, this is where the magic happens,” Seth said. “More or less.”
He pulled his red Corvette up to the curb in front of a plain white building—Brandon’s studio, according to Seth. I climbed out of the car, my tennis shoes crunching on the gravel. I shoved my hands into my pockets and glanced at Seth as he climbed out more slowly.
“Is it true you were late every day of filming?” I asked.
Seth grinned. “Did Brandon tell you that?”
He had—and it surprised me, since Seth was always on time with me, or close enough.
“He’s right,” Seth admitted, looking sheepish. “I was probably a pain to work with, but when I showed up, I gave it everything. That counts, right?”
“You looked good on the screen,” I said.
“Of course!”
Gravel growled beneath his shoes as he led the way to the white metal door on the side of the building. No one else was around. It was another day off, and I didn’t have anything better to do—Except look at apartments.
I thought about the listings I’d saved on my phone. I’d already gone over a few with Godofdiscord, but nothing was good enough. Maybe, to him, nothing ever would be.
Seth would probably think all my apartment prospects sucked, too.
Seth unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. Shadows peeled back to reveal a cavernous studio crammed with sets, metal cases, and racks of costumes. Even empty, the place felt crowded. I moved past columns and airbrushed backdrops.
“Do you like it?” Seth asked.
“The sets are much bigger than I imagined,” I replied.
Seth nodded. “Caught me off-guard, too. I knew they'd be big, but they still felt oversized. Not all of them—there are model cities, too.”
I kept exploring. “Are you working on this film, too?”
“No,” Seth replied. “I’m too busy with other things.”
“Like?”
“My charities,” Seth said, “Passion projects. I’ve been funding a lot.”
“That’s very noble of you.”
I stopped at a backdrop: an airbrushed beach at sunset that from a distance would pass for real.
“I tried my hand at that,” Seth said. “It turns out I’m terrible with spray paint.”
“Wait—you’re actually bad at something?” I teased.
Seth stuck out his tongue. “One thing,” he said, “I can’t be gorgeous, rich, and a natural-born artist. That wouldn’t be fair; you know.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I said. “So what do you like about acting?”
“The fantasy,” Seth replied. “Being someone else for a while. Being part of something bigger. On set, it feels like family—at least it did on Brandon's film.”
I remembered meeting all of them: Brandon, Alex, Bioncia, and the others. They really had seemed like family together, and I could definitely see the appeal in something like that.
“What do you like about mechanics?” Seth asked.
“It pays the bills,” I replied.
“But there must be more to it, after all those years learning your craft.”
“Is mechanics an art?”
I pulled a Renaissance costume from a rack. That was art, the way the fabric had been pieced so neatly together and how elegantly it was embroidered.
And my junk assemblage was art—competition or not. The shop wasn't. It was just a job, a stand-in for what I really wanted.
“I think so,” Seth replied. “Anything you pour time and effort into can be art, and you’re as patient with cars as any sculptor.”
I set the garment back and smiled. “It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like scraping to make ends—stuck in a hole I can't dig out of long enough to focus on what I want.”
“Someday you will,” Seth said. “You've got more drive than anyone I've met. If anyone deserves to succeed, it's you, Troy.”
He said it as if it was the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. “You flatter me too much. You know that, don’t you?”
Seth laughed. “I’ve found that flattery is an integral part of pursuing any relationship.”
But what an uneven relationship it was. My heart fluttered at his words; heat rushed through me. I thought of kissing him, of the night we'd already shared, and how good it had felt—like being in his apartment.
Staying with him would be fine—if my pride allowed it.
“How many times have you used that line?” I asked, trying to sound flirtatious for the first time in ages.
“Only twice,” Seth said. “Once on my reflection only to test if it sounded charming or lecherous—and just now, on you.”
“So, I get the custom lines, huh?”
Seth laughed and flopped into an overstuffed velvet chair in front of a fake fireplace and faux bear rug. “Of course. Surely you think you’re worthy of fresh material. Although given your penchant for junk assemblage, maybe recycling would win you over.”
I dragged over a wooden stool and sat. This studio felt more like Seth than his apartment did. It was bright and cluttered, like he was.
“I'll take new material,” I said.
Seth grinned. “Noted. I’ll start right away, writing down my lines and cutting the bad ones. Process of elimination so you only get the best.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
It was an open invitation. My pulse kicked. No one would notice if his flirting edged past friendly. After all, he was flirty by nature.
Endearing. Attractive.
And I liked the attention. It had been a long time since anyone gave me this kind of—romantic—attention, even if that was partly on me.
“How many relationships have you been in?” I asked.
Seth tipped his head against the back of the chair. “God, do you want an exact number on that? Or just a rough estimate?”
I whistled between my teeth. “That many, huh?”
He was so much more experienced—and confident—than me.
“I never kept track. I’ve gone on plenty of dates. Long-term? Maybe four or five. Not counting high school. I couldn't tell you how many I dated back then,” Seth trailed off.
“Did you go to public or private school?”
“Both really,” Seth said. “I did private most of my life, then public for my last two years. You?”
I shook my head. “Public school,” I replied, “All the way.”
“I think it broadens your worldview,” Seth said, “because you meet more kinds of people.”
“High school feels both close and far away,” I said.
Seth nodded. “Yeah.”
“Did you do college?” I asked.
Seth waved a hand. “On and off. No degree. I took classes because I liked them—and the people—but I didn’t finish. I’m… I’m a bit like Brandon, I guess. He bounced from hobby to hobby until he found his passion in film.”
“And you?”
Seth gave me an intense, unreadable look. “I’m still looking for it. It may not be film, but I think my passion might be people. Meeting them. Learning from them. Or maybe I just like to hear the sound of my own voice.”
“I suspect it’s both,” I said.
“Yeah, maybe it is.”
For a few seconds, silence stretched between us. Seth kicked his feet over the arm of his chair and adjusted, sitting sideways. The phone in my jacket felt heavy.
Rooming with Seth didn't seem so bad. I'd help out, pull my own weight—even though he'd probably insist I do nothing.
“I was thinking…” I paused.
“That can be a dangerous pursuit.”
I raised an eyebrow. Seth chuckled. “It’s something my mom always says. Force of habit. What were you thinking about?”
“This apartment issue.”
“Ah. Are you any closer to finding one?” Seth asked. “I could help you look. I don't know what makes a place good and I might miss some red flags, but I can bring someone who won't.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m going to keep looking. It’s just that I have two weeks left on my lease, and I was thinking about what you said. If the offer's still open, would you mind if I stayed with you for a little while?”
Seth nodded. “Sure! You could stay with me as long as you need. I don’t mind at all.”
“Well, I don’t anticipate needing to stay long. I don’t want to impose.”
Seth winked. “A handsome guy staying with me is never an imposition.”
I swallowed hard. We would really be a thing now, wouldn’t we? Moving in with him, even for just a little while, was a big step, one that might change our entire relationship. But even with that uncertainty, excitement fluttered in my chest.
“Just until I can get a down payment together for a new place,” I said, “No longer than that, I promise. I’ll help around the apartment, too. Maybe buy groceries or something.”
Seth waved a dismissive hand and climbed to his feet. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got plenty of groceries.”
That wasn’t really the point, but I suspected he knew that.
“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?