Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Troy
The competition had ended a week ago, so I knew the winner announcement had to 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, I really didn’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 the audacity to 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 to wallow 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 had one regular 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 of not talking 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.
Seth slowly stood, his hazel eyes watching me warily, as if I was some predator he was trying to decide how to approach.
I tapped my fingers along the countertop and gave him a small nod, my way of silently acknowledging his presence.
He looked cautious. I drew in a sharp breath, working as hard as I could to appear as if I cared little either way about how he approached me.
Even though he surely knew he’d upset me, I didn’t want to look like he had.
I was over him. Definitely. At least as far as he knew.
“Hey,” Seth said, leaning against the counter.
Was he apologetic? Angry? Seth’s normally expressive face was now hard to read. I couldn’t say what he was thinking.
“Hey,” I replied, refusing to give him any more than he’d given me.
Seth smiled hesitantly. “So how are things?” he asked. “I—um—happened to have a special-order part for one of my bikes, and since it was already ordered, I came over. You know.”
So, it was his bike that I’d seen. No surprise there.
I shrugged nonchalantly. “You don’t have to explain why you’re here. It’s a shop, open to the public.”
But I actually felt my heart sink a little with the admission. Despite everything Seth had done to wreck things, a part of me still wished he’d said he’d come for me—to see me. To make things right with me. But, no.
“Right. I just thought I should tell you why I was here. I don’t want things to be awkward, and I thought you might…jump to conclusions. I probably would’ve.”
I shrugged. “No,” I lied. “I figured you were here for fixing a bike or something. You do that a lot.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
Silence dropped between us again. I cleared my throat and rocked back on my heels. “So, uh…how are things? For you.”
Freaking wonderful, probably. Seth didn’t have to worry about half the stuff I did, but it was hard to really be angry at him for that.
I’d be willing to bet that—if I asked for rent money—he would hand it to me right then and there.
Maybe that was the problem with Seth, though.
To him, all problems could be solved with money.
A handful of bills or the swipe of a credit card were all Seth had ever needed.
Maybe that was true for his relationships.
“They’re fine. The same as usual,” he said, shrugging. “How are you doing?
“Terrible,” said my inside voice.
“Fine,” said my outside one.
“Have you heard anything back about the contest?” Seth asked.
I shrugged, trying to act as though I didn’t keep thinking about the money I’d missed out on by not winning.
The attention wouldn’t have hurt either.
The winner of the contest would be placed in the gallery, which meant that the winner would be receiving a lot of publicity, too. Publicity from people who mattered.
“I didn’t win. No shock there. There was a lot of competition, you know. And it was my first contest. I didn’t really expect to win, you know.”
“You should have expected to win,” Seth said. “You did great work for that competition. I’m sorry that you didn’t.”
He sounded sincere, his face softening as if he found it tragic that I hadn’t won against hundreds of competitors. I shifted against the counter, uncomfortable.
Why did you have to mess everything up, Seth? I liked you so much.
I still liked him, if I was being honest with myself, but I had no desire to admit that.
Not at the moment, anyway. Not with him standing so near me I could smell the spicy, woodsy scent of his cologne.
Damn him. This all would’ve been much easier if he’d exhibited frequent asshole behavior instead of just doing one, really awful thing.
“Do you know which competition you’re going to try for next? Have you looked for others?” Seth asked. “I’m sure that with your skills, you could make it really big.”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
I didn’t have time to focus on art. I needed to get into a stable, financially stable position first. Then, I might be able to look up other competitions and worry about things like that.
“You don’t sound sure,” Seth replied, “But I really do mean it, Troy. I’ve never seen anyone as driven and motivated as you are.”
I shrugged. “Just because I’m motivated doesn’t mean I’ll do any better than anyone else. Success in the art world is a lot of luck and a lot of gaming the system. I know that.”
Seth nodded. “You’re right,” he said, “But I think you’d make it.”
“Yeah.”
An awkward silence spread between us. My eyes focused on Seth and how he kept flipping his phone over and over between his fingers.
If he apologized, would I forgive him? Maybe.
I didn’t like to think about that, though.
It was bizarre how easy I could see myself accepting this one transgression, agreeing to work through this situation, and eventually, forgiving and forgetting.
But I couldn’t do that. I had to be strong.
For all I knew, this situation had taught him nothing.
After all, he hadn’t offered an apology, despite the growing crevasse of quiet between us. He could have said something at any time. I sighed. “I have to get back to work,” I said. “The oil won't change itself.”
“Yeah, I guess not,” Seth said. “It was good seeing you. I'm sorry you didn’t win, but I hope you take the next one.”
“Yeah, thanks, so do I.”
But I doubted I would. Maybe that was defeatist, but I had to be realistic.
If there was one thing that my relationship with Seth had taught me, it was that I had a lot of bad luck.
And maybe I wouldn’t have even gotten in this situation if I hadn’t dared, for the first time in so long, to believe that something might go right for once.
It took all my willpower to turn away from him and walk back into the garage.
Despite where my thoughts had gone, I couldn’t help feeling ridiculous.
I really could do with being a little more optimistic.
If there was one thing I could thank Seth for, it was his outlook on life.
He’d taught me that some things really were just beyond my control.
Maybe if I kept working and trying, that would be enough.