Page 109 of If the World Was Ending

Inside, they sipped pink champagne and waiters in 70s tuxedos circulated with trays of appetizers from the same era. Waldorf salad and pineapple sliders and cheese balls that were an alarming shade of orange. The host was a now-elderly music icon. He only attended for fifteen minutes, and he’d spent six of those minutes talking to Hunter about how much he adored Platonic Planet and how he couldn’t wait to see what Hunter did next. The word surreal didn’t seem strong enough for how Hunter felt after that, and he slipped into the bathroom to recalibrate. How was this his life?

When he slipped out of the bathroom, he saw Colby. He had changed too and was in a black ribbed tank with an oversized blazer and dark denim cuffed jeans. Hunter looked away quickly because his dick was waking up at the sight of Colby, and he needed to make that stop. And then he opted not to approach him because Colby was being chatted up by the legendary host himself, and Hunter knew, as a musician, Colby needed to bask in that moment.

When Hunter and Mikayla crawled into the back of her chauffeured SUV to head to the final party, held at Skybar on Sunset, Hunter had no idea what time it was or why his feet didn’t hurt. He should have been exhausted, but he wasn’t. He was running on anticipation. Because Colby had to be here, right? He had to be. Hunter groaned out loud at yet another red carpet, and Mikayla laughed at him as they got out of the SUV. “You know you can bypass it, but if Lorne and the studio don’t see pics of you on each carpet tomorrow, they’ll say something.”

She was right, of course, so he sucked it up and walked toward the carpet lined with celebrities being assaulted by flashbulbs. This carpet was actually a rainbow, not red. The event was raising money for an AIDs charity, and studios and agencies paid stupid amounts of money for their talent to attend. He was halfway down that carpet when he heard a few photographers at the other end yell, “Colby!”

Hunter’s whole body perked up. He turned his head. Colby was on the other side of the velvet rope, heading toward the entrance that bypassed the carpet. He was flanked by Hannah and Briar. She’d gotten all dressed up to attend the after-parties. Kenner was on the carpet, Hunter noticed, just a few people down from him.

“Colby, please! Just a second. Please!”

Colby hesitated.

“Hunter, this way, please!” a photographer called because Hunter’s head was turned away from them. “Hunter, just a few more! Hunter!”

He ignored them and stepped out of the line as Colby’s eyes started to scan the line. He took one step toward it but didn’t breach the velvet rope. He froze when his gaze landed on Hunter, who was staring right back. Hunter lifted his hand in a wave, and his internal monologue kicked into high gear. Good. Fine. He sees me. I’ll nod and wait for him inside, and I’ll shake his hand, maybe clap his back, and tell him congrats. Make a joke about him winning an Oscar before me. Tell him I’ll have to grab a Grammy now. All smiles. Casual. Good fun. Aloof admiration. Yeah…

Colby jumped the rope. Jumped it like he was a horse doing dressage. Hunter broke the line and strode toward him. Colby grinned, so bright and so beautiful, and Hunter laughed, and suddenly, and undeniably passionately, they had each other in a bear hug.

“You’re a fucking Oscar winner!” Hunter’s voice was strained.

“Because of you!” Colby rasps.

“What? No! Dude, I’m so proud of you!” Hunter’s voice broke.

“Some Jesse guy —a suit— told me you played my song for him. You did this!” Everyone was screaming their names now. The photographers, Ford, Mikayla, fucking everyone. So Colby had no choice but to speak the words so close to Hunter’s ear that his lips grazed the shell. No choice.

“Colbs, I owe you my whole career. The least I could do was tell anyone who would listen you’re amazing.” Hunter’s arms were still around him, and Colby inhaled his spicy-sweet scent, and nostalgia filled his veins. This was home.

“Guys! Let’s go!” Kenner barked, which was out of character and got their attention. He looked angry and panicked.

Hunter let go, and Colby took a step back. Mikayla moved to step between them, but the men turned and walked away from the photographers side-by-side. Colby slung an arm over Hunter’s shoulders, and they kept talking and smiling, lost in their reunion.

Inside the venue, in a dark corner far from the door, Hunter turned to face Colby and wrapped him in another hug. Colby laughed deliriously, his arms wrapped tightly around Hunter’s shoulders. Into his neck, Colby giggled. “We were at the fucking Oscars!”

Hunter laughs. “Dude, we’re fucking famous.”

“And rich,” Colby added. “I’ll never live in a collapsed van again.”

Colby’s lips nicked Hunter’s rough jaw as he pulled back. Hunter didn’t even pretend to ignore the flutter the contact started in his belly. He couldn’t even spell chill right now, let alone remember how to act that way. And he didn’t care. He just fucking didn’t. “This paves the way to a solo career.”

“I just… I mean it’s fucking ridiculous.” Colby laughed. “You’re next, and I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass. You. Are. Next. We need to find you an Oscar-worthy role after the superhero thing.”

“Should I fire Lorne and hire you?” Hunter laughed again. He realized he was still holding Colby by the waist with both hands, and Colby had one hand hooked on Hunter’s bicep. “I appreciate the idea, Colbs, and one day I’ll get there, I hope, but for now I just wanna take everything I get. Make stupid money and bank it all away and then when I have more than I can ever need, if I’m lucky enough to get that far, I’ll do something artsy or whatever.”

“That’s how I feel about this too. I hope it does earn me solo cred, but I’m in no rush to bail on Tidal,” Colby replied. “Our world tour is wrapping. We just have some Canadian dates left. We’re recording the new album next. I’m going to buy a house. My own fucking house!”

Hunter beamed at him. He was so happy, and Hunter was too because he was here, with Colby.

Hunter didn’t leave Colby’s side for the rest of the night, which was fading anyway. But still. He stayed. They had some ridiculously delicious strawberry gin drink that Hunter discovered in Vancouver and sat next to each other on loungers by the rooftop pool, passing a smoke back and forth occasionally. Hannah was there for some of it, Mikayla too, until they both ran off to dance together to the celebrity DJ. Kenner and Briar were with them until they snuck out together to fuck. Actors, musicians, models, and singers all wandered by to congratulate Colby or praise Hunter. It was like they were princes holding court in their kingdom, which was Hollywood. It was surreal and amazing, and Colby had never, since this career started to take hold, been this happy. This fulfilled. And the scariest part was it had very little to do with the award.

Hunter got up to use the bathroom. Colby watched him go under the protection of a pair of Versace sunglasses someone had put on his head for some reason. A very pretty, very blonde model/influencer/dancer/spokesperson/whateverthefuck plopped herself down in his lap and started talking about how she played the guitar, and they should do a couple of TikToks together. Her arm was slung over his shoulders, her fingers danced over his breastbone, and all Colby could think was that he wished it were Hunter. And that was dangerous. He knew it. He felt it anyway.

She pulled the sunglasses off his face and put them on her own. Colby blinked and readjusted to the glow of the pool lights, and that’s when he saw Hunter standing on the other side of the pool. Back from the bathroom? Or maybe he’d never made it there? He was talking to a server in the standard white shirt and black dress pants that they all were wearing. It was a female with long dark hair pulled back in a high pony. Something about the look on Hunter’s face made Colby want to get up, so he did. The model didn’t seem to mind, moving to a different lounger with a dude from a TV show on it.

As Colby rounded the pool, he saw the server’s face and his heart dropped into his boots. Leandra. Hunter noticed him before he could get the fuck out of there. He waved him over. “You can tell him yourself.”

“Tell me what?” Colby said, the reluctance in his voice thick and obvious.