Chapter 21
Hunter
The end of the interview was a big anti-climax. We weren’t told if we’d passed or failed. We were simply allowed to leave, and informed that we’d hear back soon whether our application had been successful. That was it. No triumphant celebration, no dramatic arrest.
As Max and I walked away from the test centre, we compared notes.
When I found out we’d given different answers to the question about what we do for each other, I was convinced it would be our downfall, but Max promised me we’d think of something if they ever tried to call us out on it.
For once, I decided to go with his optimism.
No, that’s not very me of me. I’ve always thought that optimism skates too close to delusion to really trust it. But in moments like this, when you don’t have any control over your fate, what’s the point of thinking negatively? I’m going to believe everything will work out until I’m proven wrong.
Even so, I’m not the best company when I’m waiting for news, which is a shame, since that’s most of my life.
Until my visa is confirmed, we are basically in limbo.
Waking up the morning after the interview, I’m relieved at the thought of Max going back to work today.
Passing his bedroom, I see that it’s empty and I figure he’s already gone into the office.
It’s only as I walk into the bathroom, half-awake and desperate to pee, that I realise Max is in the shower.
My heart almost stops. My first instinct is to walk straight back out again.
I can hold it in until he’s done. But I stop myself.
Max must have already seen me enter. He made it clear that he’s fine with sharing a bathroom.
The toilet is on the other side of the room from the shower, it’s not like he’ll have a clear view of me.
Guys pee next to each other in public all the time.
This is the perfect way to show we can live alongside each other domestically without making it sexual. I can totally do this.
Thank god I didn’t walk in here naked. That’s how I sleep, but since Max moved in, I’ve got in the habit of pulling on some underwear when I leave my room to avoid situations like this.
Unfortunately, there’s no avoiding the fact that peeing involves standing there with your dick in your hand, which is not ideal when you’re trying not to think about sex.
My mind goes to all the times I’ve been at men’s urinals and got turned on as I noticed men clocking me.
Plus, needless to say, I woke up with a boner.
I stand there waiting for it to go down so I can do what I came in here to do. Eventually, I succeed. But no sooner have I finished and I’m washing my hands than the shower cuts off and steam drifts out as the door swings open.
‘Morning,’ Max says, casually reaching for his towel like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be standing there dripping, naked, inches away from me.
I catch myself glancing at him, just a flicker, but it’s enough to know too much.
A line of water runs down through his chest hair and disappears into a wispy treasure trail.
His torso has a softness that feels inviting, human, and absurdly hot.
How are we going to survive living together?
With Rafferty, intimacy blurred into routine until the erotic edge dulled.
But with Max, it’s the opposite. Because we’ve decided not to sleep together again, everything is impossibly charged.
‘Morning,’ I say, far too brightly to sound natural.
‘You’re up early,’ says Max.
His towel is now safely wrapped around his waist, which in theory makes this whole encounter less awkward but in practice only draws attention to a prominent dick print that looks like it wants to burst out.
‘I’m always up early,’ I say defensively.
‘Any plans for the day?’
‘Not really.’
I don’t know why I’m not telling him what I’m planning to do today. Actually, I do know, but I’m not going to get into it with him. I’m worried he’s going to judge me or think I’m lazy, but he just offers me a breezy smile.
‘Nice.’
I wish he hadn’t done that. It hit me in a very specific place.
When I lived with Rafferty, there were days when I had nothing happening, and he always made me feel bad about it.
When you’re an actor, it’s pretty hard to control your destiny.
The fact that Max is so non-judgmental about it is hardly helping to limit this inconvenient attraction I’ve developed towards him.
Ten minutes later, he enters the kitchen in his work suit and hands me a sheet of paper.
‘What’s that?’
‘Instructions for Mr Peanut. I wrote them down last time I went away. Thanks so much for looking after him today.’
I scan the sheet, which is dense with text.
‘Let him off lead when you get to the park?’
‘He loves to run around.’
‘I’m not going to do that. I’m scared he’ll run off.’
‘He’s never run off.’
‘That’s because he’s attached to you. He’s not attached to me.’
But Max smiles, unable to conceive of anything going wrong.
‘He’ll be fine, Hunter, trust me. You guys have fun.’
He collapses to his knees and launches into an extravagant farewell with Mr Peanut, stroking him all over and working him up into a frenzy.
‘You shouldn’t do that,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘Make your departure such a big deal. No wonder he gets upset when you leave.’
Max smiles at me. ‘Are you jealous?’
I scoff. ‘No, I am not jealous of a dog.’
Max cocks his head playfully. I could swear he’s flirting, which feels like a terrible idea and therefore irresistible.
‘Could have fooled me,’ says Max. ‘If you’re going to miss me today, just say that.’
I hold his gaze. ‘You wish.’
‘Please,’ says Max. ‘I can’t wait to leave.’
‘Then why are you still here?’
I need him to walk out right now. I’m overwhelmed with the urge to tear off all his clothes, bend him over the sofa and bang the hell out of him.
For a brief moment, I really think we might be about to throw it all away and have sex at 8.30 a.m. right here in the living room. Instead, Max smiles at me innocently, leans in to give me a gentle kiss on the cheek, then leaves.