Page 23 of If the World Was Ending

His voice was raspy. Colby tapped his phone screen where it sat on the bed, hooked up to a portable charger. “Almost one.”

“Fuck. I told Leandra I was just going out for a walk.” He started to get to his feet.

“Roof!” Colby warned because Hunter was about to try to unfurl to his full six feet. In an effort to protect him from the dented roof, Colby lunged forward and shoved his hand on top of Hunter’s head.

Hunter froze, Colby’s hand sliding through his thick, silky hair. So silky. Fuck. Colby’s cock stirred. He immediately stepped away.

“Thanks for the save.” Hunter smiled, still hunched like Colby was. “Between that and the earthquake, I owe you.”

“Between the tree on the van and letting me squat in your parking stall, I’d say we’re even,” Colby said as Hunter got the door open and stepped out, rising up fully next to the van.

He looked at Colby for a long, quiet minute and then said, “Thanks for tonight.”

Colby nodded, smiled and pulled the door closed. He dropped onto his bed, pulling the sleeping bag on top of him, too tired to zip it up and sleep in it properly. He needed to slide right back into sleep, so he didn’t think too much about Hunter, or how charming he was or how good his hair had felt against his skin. If Colby did that, he might jerk off to him. And jerking off to the dude with the girlfriend letting you squat was not a good idea.

Chapter 7

Take care of him, okay?

“Thank you for coming in, Hunter.”

“Thank you for having me. Have a great rest of your day.” He smiled at the two middle-aged women with disinterested expressions, turned, and left the room.

It was very rare, since Covid, that auditions were in-person events, but this callback, for a new Netflix thriller, was. He was up for the role of the boyfriend who was accused of killing his girlfriend, but his brother actually did it. Hunter used to love in-person auditions. He felt he did better at them than the self-tapes, but he didn’t feel confident about this one. The minute he walked in, they looked startled, like he wasn’t what they were expecting, even though it was a callback, so someone, somewhere had seen his original self-tape and pushed him through to this round.

Maybe he was overreacting? He’d done an okay read. Better than okay. He’d nailed it, he thought. But they didn’t smile once, so he was feeling less than confident as he made his way back to his car. The casting office was on Doheny. The street was notorious in Los Angeles because one side was zoned Beverly Hills and the other was zoned Los Angeles. The casting office was on the West Hollywood side of the street in a storefront that used to be a dry cleaners and still smelled like one. He’d parked around the corner on a cracked side street. His car was roasting when he got there because he forgot to put up the screen that blocked the sun from seeping in through the windshield. So he opened the door, turned on the engine with the AC on full blast, and leaned on the door while it cooled down. He decided to light up a smoke while he waited.

He didn’t smoke often, not anymore. Leandra hated it, so he’d cut back a ton and now only did it if his nerves were fried. That usually happened because he was fighting with her, but over the last several weeks, he’d found a new cure for the rawness fighting with Leandra created—Colby Keaton. Spending time with Colby chilled Hunter right the hell out.

Since that night he’d found Colby in the pool, he’d hung out with Colby quite a bit. A few nights, he’d invited him up for dinner when Leandra had worked a night shift or gone out with friends. A couple of other nights, Colby had invited Hunter to go see him play. At first, Hunter had wondered if Colby was inviting him just because he needed a ride, since Hunter drove them to the first show when he agreed to go. But at the second show last night, when Hunter accepted the invitation, Colby told him his friend Briar would be picking them up at seven.

Briar was a short, gorgeous girl with smooth tanned skin, long neat braids, and a fiery personality. She was a makeup artist on a network sitcom that Hunter hated, but so did Briar. She was so fun and interesting that he couldn’t help but wonder why Colby wasn’t dating her. He didn’t ask, though. Just like Colby didn’t ask what was going on with him and Leandra, which Hunter appreciated. Even if Colby asked, Hunter wouldn’t have an answer. He had no clue.

Leandra was definitely pulling away from him. She spent more and more time out of the apartment. Mostly, she said she was working, but when she did say she was going out with friends, she never invited him. She used to always invite him. So much so that Hunter had stopped hanging out with his friends and always hung out with hers. It was just easier than trying to get her to hang out with his friends, who were mostly unemployed actors. Hunter knew in his gut that they were on the verge of breaking up. He just… wasn’t sure he cared enough to fix it.

Leandra was still bitching at him to take more restaurant shifts. What he didn’t know was why. Why was she suddenly so unimpressed with dating a guy who was trying to be an actor? She used to love how creative he was and how he was chasing a dream. Was it because she was two years older than Hunter, so she was growing up faster and wanted something more substantial than living paycheck to paycheck? It’s not that Hunter loved living this way. He hated it too, but he hated the idea of working full-time in a restaurant more. Or doing anything other than acting.

“You do realize there are men your age who aren’t one set of bald tires away from not paying rent.” Leandra had said in a particularly biting fight a couple of nights ago. “Jeff was only twenty-five when he bought his first home. It was only a studio in Sherman Oaks, but he owned it. And still does. He rents it out. It’s an investment.”

“Who the fuck is Jeff?”

“Estelle’s son.”

Hunter had been confused as to why her dementia patient’s son was suddenly the bar for success, but he never got to ask because she stormed out of the apartment to go teach yoga because “someone has to work,” ignoring the fact that Hunter had worked at the restaurant four nights in a row and gone on two auditions already that week.

Also, her tire statement wasn’t entirely true. Last time they’d had a massive, unexpected expense was when the brakes went on his car. His mom had wired him cash to fix them, so he could still make rent and have enough for gas and food. He hadn’t paid his mom back yet, but he would. Hopefully before the end of the year… maybe?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. Speak of the devil. He bent to ground out his cigarette on the pavement and then opened his car door, sliding into the passenger seat and dropping the butt into a half-empty, long-forgotten bottle of Fanta before hitting Accept on his mom’s call and putting her on speaker.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Hi honey! Is this a bad time?”

“No, I just got out of an audition,” Hunter explained. “About to drive home.”

“Oh. So, it is a bad time,” Catherine Gibson said. “I don’t want you talking and driving. Did you know distracted driving, even just when it’s talking, not even texting, is essentially like driving drunk? Very similar.”

Hunter smiled. “I’m not driving yet. It’s fine.”