Page 7 of If the World Was Ending
Chapter 3
To a… woman?
Leandra came home a little after four-thirty in the morning. Hunter heard her key in the lock because he was wide awake, listening to the thin windowpanes rattle and waiting patiently until it was time to wake Colby again. He bolted out of their bed and rushed into the living room to greet her so she wouldn’t freak out. She jumped as she stepped into the apartment and came face-to-face with Hunter.
“Hunter, what—” He held a finger to his lips and widened his eyes in urgency, silencing her. Then he pointed at the couch. Her brown eyes followed, and then her eyebrows pinched. “Who the fuck is that?”
“A… friend. He was in an accident,” Hunter whispered.
“You don’t have to whisper. I’m awake,” Colby said from the couch.
“Sorry,” Hunter replied.
“Dude, it’s your house. Don’t apologize,” Colby said, and then he was sitting up.
Leandra stared between them, reached for the wall where she had blindly hung her keys, and then flipped the switch for the overhead light. Colby blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, and Hunter stepped closer to him. “How are you feeling?”
“Headache still, but fine. Honestly,” Colby replied.
“The cut isn’t bleeding through the bandage, which is good.”
Leandra stared between them, and eventually they both turned and looked at her. “Hi.” She waved at Colby. “I’m Leandra. I live here with Hunter.”
“Yeah, he mentioned a girlfriend.” Colby smiled. “I’m Colby Keaton. I was in my van?—”
“That mangled thing outside? You were in that?” Leandra’s mouth dropped into an O for a second. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.” Hunter nodded. “I heard the tree fall and I helped him get out. He was stuck in the back.”
“The back?” Leandra blinked. “You were sleeping on the street?”
“In my van. There’s a bed. It’s a camper van. Basically,” Colby explained. “I’m a musician.”
She seemed to think about that for much longer than required, Hunter thought. Then she nodded at their guest and turned to Hunter. “I thought you knew him. You said he was a friend.”
“He is,” Hunter said, and he felt absurdly awkward, like the time he’d been forced to ask a girl to the Sadie Hawkins dance in ninth grade, long before he felt like talking to girls. He’d been a late bloomer. “We met before tonight.”
Not a lie, Hunter reassured himself. “He happened to be sleeping in his home in front of the house. By random coincidence. Anyway, he can’t sleep there now, and because he’s injured and the van’s fucked I offered him the couch. Someone needs to check on him every hour with the concussion.”
“My friends mostly live in the Valley or Malibu, so I really appreciated the help,” Colby said to Leandra, and he smiled again. He did look very sweet when he smiled. Charming really. “I can be out of your hair tomorrow. I’ll call someone while I’m at work and figure out how to deal with the van. Then figure out a temporary living thing.”
“Where does a musician work during the day?”
“Trader Joe’s,” Colby admitted sheepishly.
“Okay…” She nodded slowly, then turned her attention to Hunter. He stood beside her, feeling weirdly on edge. Like she was his mom and he was trying to convince her to let him have a sleepover on a school night. “FYI, you don’t have to wake concussed people every hour anymore. That’s old protocol.”
“Leandra is a nurse and a yoga instructor,” Hunter told Colby, which made Leandra frown for some reason.
She looked at Colby again. “Have you been nauseous?”
“No.”
“Double vision?”
“No.”
She turned back to Hunter. “You should have kept him awake for the first four hours, and after that, if there is no dizziness, double vision, or nausea, he can sleep.”
