Page 42 of If the World Was Ending

“Whatever. Maybe they went with the other dude out of desperation and then saw your tape and thought ‘no, wait, he is what we’ve wanted all along.’” Colby inhaled and pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to say more. But then… fuck it. “And as for your look… I’m gonna tell you something that could make things weird, but you clearly need to hear it.”

Hunter’s eyes widened a little, and he bit his bottom lip as he waited nervously for whatever Colby was going to offer. He was like a child scared of the dark, needing a parent to promise them there was nothing under the bed. Only the dark was the entire world, and under the bed was Hollywood, which was, in all honesty, filled with some scary monsters. Colby took a deep breath and reached for Hunter’s hand again. “You’re definitely not standard issue when it comes to looks. But that’s not a bad thing. You’re an interesting mix of many things, and I never stopped to give a shit what that actually was. I just enjoyed the view. The first time I saw you on the Trader Joe’s restroom floor, I thought, well, at least I get to die with the hottest dude ever. And since I moved in, I just felt lucky to be able to look at you any time I want. And audiences will be the same way. I know it. Bonus you can actually act your perfect ass off, and you’re coordinated. You’ll nail the fight shit.”

Colby finally stopped gushing and tried not to open the car door and run away. Because this was next-level private thoughts, and being that frank with Hunter could make him freak harder. But then again, Hunter was leaving the country, so at least they would have time to get over the awkwardness if that’s what Colby had just caused.

“You really believe that?” Hunter finally asked, his voice a wobbly whisper.

“Sure.” Colby nodded. “But what matters is that you start believing it.”

Hunter smiled and squeezed Colby’s hand. Not sure what to do next but drowning in the weight of the moment and knowing they both needed to be saved, Colby pulled his hand away and gently slapped the side of Hunter’s cheek. “Now let’s get upstairs and start packing. You’re off to be a movie star in forty-eight hours.”

Colby unbuckled his seat belt and opened the car door. Moments later, they were climbing the stairs to their apartment, and Colby was making a checklist on his phone while Hunter rattled off things he had to do before he left.

Colby really wanted this for Hunter, as much as he wanted his own career to take off. They both deserved it. Colby knew it in his soul, so he ignored the tiny, uncomfortable pinch in his chest at the thought of Hunter leaving for Canada for God knows how long.

Chapter 14

I already miss you

The next night, Colby sat on Hunter’s bed and watched him pack. His flight to Vancouver was at the obscene hour of six in the morning, and he had to go immediately to a wardrobe fitting upon landing. Someone would take his bags directly to the apartment that had been rented for him because after the fitting, he would go to two hours of fight training. It was on. Hunter seemed more excited than daunted since their little talk in the car, so that was good. Colby was just trying to ignore the pinch still in his chest. He watched Hunter fold a T-shirt with the precision of a Gap employee and place it on top of two others in his suitcase.

“Are you excited to go back to Canada?” Colby asked because he couldn’t ask what he really wanted to, which was ‘Will you miss me?’ God, that would be fucking ridiculous.

“I mean… yeah, but no. I love Canada. It’ll be nice not to worry about healthcare if I get sliced in half or something on set.” Colby made a face, envisioning Hunter getting injured. It made Hunter chuckle before he went on. “But I really do feel like LA is home now, you know? So, it will be familiar, but… I’ll miss my life here.”

Colby dared to lift his eyes, and he was rewarded by finding Hunter’s gorgeous brown ones staring back at him with a tinge of sadness in them. They stared at each other for what felt like a long second, and then Hunter’s lips quirked. “But I guess it will be cool to have a place all to myself and not be pulling long blond hair out of the shower drain every day.”

“Fuck you.” Colby threw a pillow at him, and Hunter picked it up off the floor and threw it back. It hit Colby square in the face, causing that long blond hair of his to billow out and then fall against his cheek, a squiggly curl stuck to the corner of his mouth. Hunter reached over, hooked the curl with his index finger, and pulled it away. Colby’s gut sparked with desire. “I’m gonna cut it off.”

“What? Your hair? I was kidding!” Hunter looked immediately distressed.

“Ford says that I’d get more attention with shorter hair. I look too hippie and girlie,” Colby said, and he picked at a thread on the pillow he’d kept on his lap. “And honestly, it would save me money on hair products.”

“Fuck Ford,” Hunter growled, and Colby blinked up at him. He kind of got the feeling that Hunter wasn’t Ford’s biggest fan, but Hunter had never bothered to say anything to prove it. Until now. “He isn’t the fucking genius he thinks he is.”

Colby didn’t respond because the simple truth of it was that Ford was Colby’s biggest hope. And honestly, he hadn’t really steered Colby wrong yet. He was making so much money from these regular Range gigs that he was able to cut back on his hours at Trader Joe’s. The other guys were okay to work with. Good, even. They didn’t contribute much lyrically, which Colby actually liked. And Kenner had a great new melody he'd come up with that Colby was working on the lyrics for.

And also, Ford had gotten them a new gig at a club in Silver Lake next Saturday night. They were co-headlining with a singer named Hannah Wolfe, who was ragingly popular on social media and had a deal with Revolution Records. That label was on fire with seven artists in the Billboard Top Twenty. Ford promised that Revolution would have people there for Hannah, who was about to start a world tour, but that meant they would hear Tidal too. Colby was sick with performance anxiety about the whole thing, but also excited for what felt like a solid opportunity. He hadn’t told Hunter any of this. Hunter had been so busy getting ready to leave and riding on the happy yet anxious wave of his own success that Colby didn’t want to take away from that.

Hunter wasn’t folding his clothes anymore. He took a pair of jeans and a pair of joggers and shoved them in the suitcase in a lump. “You could take a break from Tidal and Ford, and come to Vancouver with me. I’ll buy your ticket. I have a credit with the airline from my canceled trip to Montreal. You could do shows around there. Solo ones. And help me figure out how to convince my mom not to get a new cat. Hers died a couple of weeks ago.”

“Sorry about the cat.”

“It was old. Had a good run. He’ll be missed, but if she doesn’t get another one, she can travel more. Come see me, maybe.”

“I can’t do gigs in Canada. I would need a visa or something.” Colby moved the pillow off his lap and twisted his fingers together instead. “And I’d have nowhere to stay.”

“My place, of course,” Hunter offered without a moment’s hesitation. “Ma maison est ta maison. Comme ici.”

Colby felt heat roar through his body. What the fuck was that—French? Holy shit, that was hot. “You speak French?”

“Un peu,” Hunter replied, his lips quirked in a happy smile. “I’m from Montreal, remember? It’s kinda mandatory.”

He fought against the flush and smiled. “I have no idea what you just said. Was it ‘you are welcome to continue to mooch off me like you do here?’”

“You’re not a mooch.” Hunter frowned. “You’ve been paying rent since Leandra moved out.”

“Speaking of… I’m making decent money with the band, but, like, I don’t know if I can carry the whole place while you’re gone,” Colby said, and then he swallowed and found the courage to say what he’d been thinking for a while. “Maybe I should find my own place, and you can sublet this properly. Or give it up entirely. Save the money and find a new place when you get back.”