Page 68 of If the World Was Ending

“I’m getting out of the shower,” Hunter replied and grabbed a towel off the rack next to the shower. Colby rinsed off and stepped out as Hunter wrapped the towel around his waist. “You could have made it on your own. Your own music is the best part of the band. And your voice.”

“Yeah, well, I gave the solo thing eight fucking years, and I’ve come farther in six months with Tidal than I ever did alone,” Colby told him, and he looked almost ashamed of that fact. “And Ford says I can do the solo thing in a few years. When this has run its course. Let’s be honest, Trevor is going to crash out in some kind of scandal, and Kenner really wants to act like you.”

“So you do the band thing, and date Hannah for a couple of years, and then what?” Hunter wanted to know as Colby ran his hands over his damp hair, flicking little water drops everywhere. “You get to be a fake straight solo singer? Will Ford find another chick for you to fake-date? Or do solo singers get to be gay?”

“I never said I was gay,” Colby shoots back, grabbing a towel of his own.

“Oh, sorry. My bad.” Hunter walked out of the bathroom. “I got confused because you keep touching my dick and liking it.”

“I’m queer, but fuck you for labeling me,” Colby said hotly. “I mean this is newer for me than you, clearly. So, like, give me a minute.”

“I can give you all the minutes, Colby.” Hunter knew that sounded ominous. He didn’t really mean it that way, so when the color drained from Colby’s face and his eyes got a wounded glint to them, he felt like instant and absolute shit. He stopped moving and inhaled. Then he exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t like that fuckface knows anything about this. About me.”

“I get it. I didn’t tell him. But… I mean fuck Hunter, I think I have the worst masking skills on the planet,” Colby admitted and dropped onto the edge of the rumpled bed. “That’s why this Hannah thing is important. Because I need this shot to work out. And if the label wants straight, I have to give them straight.”

“Of course. I get that,” Hunter grumbled because he did. He just still hated it.

“Margo knows you're bisexual? Is it on your IMDB? Your Wikipedia?”

“I don’t have a Wikipedia.”

“You gonna put that on there when you get one?” Colby challenged. “How many openly queer actors are action heroes and superheroes, Hunter? I’ll give you fifteen seconds to respond because that’s how long it takes to say zero.”

Hunter swallowed. “I know that. Trust me. I’ve discussed it with Margo. It’s not something I can say or show or be either. Right now.”

“So Margo does know?”

“No. We were discussing my co-star from Platonic Planet. Chris Westchester was casually and completely canceled in the nineties for being in love with a man. So my sexuality has to be as private as yours. But I’m not fake dating anyone to hide it.”

Colby looked up at him with an expression that could only be described as bereft. “You think pretending to date Hannah is the issue? It’s not. The issue is I can’t even look at you without the whole fucking world seeing it on my face.”

“Seeing what?” Say it. Say it. Tell me this isn’t just sex.

Colby frowned and shook his head. “That you aren’t just my roommate.”

“That I’m a guy whose dick has been in your mouth?”

“That you’re the guy that…” Colby stopped and shook his head. “You’re more than you should be, and I’m not an actor. I can’t hide it well.”

“So… what are we even doing?”

“I don’t know.”

Hunter’s chest tightened, and he couldn’t quite get his lungs to expand the same way they had five minutes ago. Colby stared at him. Hunter stared back. “I gotta go home.”

Hunter tugged on his clothing in a doomed silence that made him hot with anger. Colby was still in a towel when Hunter shrugged into his jacket and shoved his feet into his boots. He never moved from the edge of the bed and barely looked up as Hunter walked toward the door. But he did croak out, “We can still be friends, right?”

Hunter opened his mouth and waited for words. Nothing came.

Colby’s expression turned pleading. “It’s not that I don’t?—”

“I gotta go.”

They were both cowards.

Chapter 22

Your anti-potato agenda