Page 21 of If the World Was Ending

“Burning the house to the ground with all his baseball memorabilia inside would have been preferable,” Colby muttered and sucked in a breath, then exhaled loudly. “I don’t wanna rehash all the gory details, but it was a big deal. To Dad. And he believed Atlas and just shut down toward me. Like, he grounded me and stuff. But then afterward, he just stopped interacting. Gave me years of the silent treatment or the bare minimum. When I said I was skipping college to live in a van and move here to give music a shot, he just handed me five hundred dollars cash, said good luck, and that was it.”

The label tore in half, and Colby balled up the part that was between his fingers. “Growing up, he said he had one non-negotiable, and it was that we all had to go to college for something. He said he didn’t care what we took, so for a while I thought maybe I would try and get into Juilliard or something musical. But after the… incident… he just didn’t care what I did. He didn’t even blink. Just handed me cash and walked away. He never calls. Never checks in. Today, when I saw him, he kinda just nodded, and that was about it. Never asked how I was. And when he saw the cut on my head, he was only concerned with how it would look in the family photos we had to take, not if my van survived or if I was okay.”

“Why don’t you just tell him Atlas lied?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” Colby finally stole a glance at his new friend. Hunter’s dark eyes were narrowed, and his smooth forehead wrinkled with concern. Maybe confusion too because Colby wasn’t giving him details. “The thing is… what my brother got caught doing, I’d done too. Before. Prior. So, it’s not that I was innocent, I just wasn’t caught.”

“Okay, I don’t have siblings, like I said, so I’m not exactly sure how it works, but I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t just throw your brother under the bus,” Hunter said, and he sounded so sure of himself it made Colby feel like he wasn’t the only one who knew he was on the right side in this family feud. Briar did that too, but it was nice to have unbiased reinforcement. “I mean, if you didn’t get caught, then you didn’t get caught. Atlas needs to own it.”

“Too late. Damage is done.” Colby finished his beer. “Anyway, why did your day suck?”

“I was up for this guest star part on a network show, and I didn’t get it. Also spent the entire day earning minimum wage as a background actor on a show, and it was a brutal day. Long and hot and we had to wait around for only like an hour of actual shooting,” Hunter replied. “And the second I got home, Leandra started in on me to pick up day shifts at work, which I’ve been avoiding.”

“If you work during the day, you can’t audition for stuff.”

“Exactly.” Hunter lifted his hand, excited. Colby got it. “She doesn’t care, though. Her friends invited us on a weekend trip to Tahoe, and I can’t go because I can’t afford it.”

“Pool is closed, Hunter!” a feeble voice called out. “You and your guest need to go elsewhere.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Yoon!” Hunter called back. “We’re leaving.”

He stood, and Colby did too. Hunter leaned close to Colby so he could whisper. “She’s the building’s security guard, I swear.”

Colby smiled and ignored the ripple of something hot that unfurled in his gut as Hunter’s breath tickled his cheek. “Hey. Do you do edibles?”

“Dude, I’m Canadian. It’s so legal there you buy it from the government,” Hunter replied as they walked toward the gate. “So yeah, I partake. When I can afford it.”

“Canadian? Right. Leandra mentioned that, I think, but I forgot,” Colby replied and tilted his head toward the stairs at the back of the building that led out to the parking. “Wanna come to my van and tell me about life in the great white north?”

“I would be delighted,” Hunter smirked and then held the gate for Colby to leave the pool area. “Should I start with the fact that we’re all assigned a beaver upon birth or just tell you about the time my sled dogs took a wrong turn, and I almost had to make out with a polar bear?”

Colby laughed. It felt unnatural because he hadn’t done it all day, but also really, really fucking good. “Have you thought about stand-up comedy instead of acting?”

Hunter winked at him. “Nah, man. I’m meant to be the next Keanu Reeves, not the next Jerry Seinfeld.”

“You do give strong Keanu vibes.”

Hunter covered his heart with his hands. “Nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

They got to Colby’s van and climbed inside. Colby was still wet but not dripping. He wanted to change, but there was nowhere private to do that, so he sucked it up and went to where he kept his secret stash of his favorite edibles. This company made sour gummy edibles that gave him the most chill buzz. He found a packet, tore it open, and handed two to Hunter before popping two in his own mouth. Colby sat on the floor across from Hunter, each with their back against opposite sides of the van.

Hunter’s eyes darted around the dented, cramped space. “You okay in here?”

“Yeah. I mean, not being able to stand up kinda sucks, but insurance will figure it out soon,” Colby said confidently, even though he had no clue if that was true. So far, his insurance company had been slow to respond to him. “So tell me about Canada.”

Hunter smiled and suddenly looked gorgeous. He was a good-looking dude. Colby could admit that without feeling uncomfortable, at least to himself. Hunter was what Colby would call his type, if he allowed himself to have one. Dark hair, tall, intense eyes, pretty mouth. The last woman Colby had slept with—Briar’s roommate—was half-Chinese and had hair similar to Hunter's, all lush and silky and dark. Only much, much longer. Like it went all the way down to her ass, and it was always in Colby’s eyes or mouth as they hooked up. It had been distracting.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything.” Colby leaned back into the wall of the van. Hunter took a breath and started talking. Colby learned that Hunter grew up in Montreal, Quebec, but had actually been born in Vancouver, British Columbia. His parents had flown out to get him forty-eight hours after his birth. They divorced when Hunter was young, and he lived primarily with his mom. In school, he played hockey and was in theater. He made his mom take him to an audition for a commercial when he was thirteen, and he “bombed it so bad.”

But he didn’t give up, he begged for acting lessons, and his dad, feeling like a failure from the divorce, paid for them. He landed the next commercial he auditioned for at fifteen. Some Canadian restaurant Colby had never heard of that sold burgers named for family members like Teen, Mom, Grandpa. “It paid what felt like huge money, and my mom wanted me to save it for college, but my dad let me buy my first car with it.” A used Toyota Rav4. He wanted something more fun, but his mom insisted on practicality. He named the car Martha.

“You name your cars?” Colby asked, stunned. He didn’t know many dudes who did that.

Hunter nodded emphatically with a look on his handsome face that said Colby was insane for even asking. “Of course. I used to name my bicycles when I was a kid too.”

Colby stared, open-mouthed. Hunter shifted, and Colby watched as his cheeks pinked a little. For some reason, that delighted Colby way more than it should have. “You don’t name things? Like your guitar or the van?”