10. That was a lot of word vomit #3
“Love is over-rated.” Hunter dunked under the water too and popped right back up, shaking his head so water flew every which way and so did his jet-black hair.
Colby was floating on his back now. The current pushing him toward Hunter, who just watched, his eyes climbing from Colby’s sagging wet shorts to his glistening stomach, to the droplets of water gleaming in Colby’s dark, thick treasure trail.
It was several shades darker than his hair and curlier.
Hunter ran his tongue along his lips. “The closer you are to someone, the easier it is to be hurt. I swear I just give my heart to people like it’s a toy in a Happy Meal. ”
“Whatever. That’s how everyone who’s been burned by a cheating ex feels,” Colby murmured, staring straight up at the inky, starless city sky.
“But I think it would be worth the risk to have that connection. Knowing someone has your back and that you have theirs, no matter what. And like… I mean… that they want you. They pick you over everything else. Are feral for you. Holy fuck, that’s the shit I want to write music about.
And I try… I envision it, but I just haven’t had it yet, so it feels like I can’t truly write about it, not authentically anyway. ”
“Late bloomer,” Hunter said softly, but internally he was wondering if he’d had that yet either.
On paper, for a few months at a time, yeah.
He would have sworn he had. With Leandra and his girlfriend before that.
Maybe even with his first girlfriend, Ming.
But what Colby was talking about shouldn’t evaporate at the first sign of trouble, right?
He turned his attention outward again, to Colby, who was still floating.
“I mean, look at you. You’ll find that.”
Colby’s eyes finally slid to Hunter. Hunter decided to float on his back too so he could avoid eye contact.
“What do you mean, look at me?” Colby wanted to know.
Of course, he wanted to know, Hunter thought, because he would want to know too.
They were both artists, and artists lived on external approval.
Praise. Validation. You could look in a mirror and think you were attractive, but it wasn’t a fact until someone else affirmed it.
Hunter wasn’t afraid to give that kind of affirmation, but he thought he should be.
His fingers bumped Colby’s in the water, and he casually pulled them away.
“You’re talented. Women love a guy who can play guitar, right?” Hunter started. “You sing like a fucking angel. And you’re funny. You make me laugh every fucking day.”
“It’s the edibles.”
“Nah. Maybe a bit, but not entirely,” Hunter said and closed his eyes. “You’ve got great hair, dude. And you’re fit without even trying.”
“You’re more fit. And your hair looks like it’s made of silk. Thick silk. It’s so fucking shiny,” Colby said. Hunter’s ears were in the water, so it was muffled, but he heard every word.
“It’s the Asian thing,” Hunter muttered. “I did one of those DNA test thingies to figure out what I was since I’m adopted. I’m Japanese, Swedish, a dash of Jamaican, and a dollop of British. A human mutt.”
Colby had no idea what it must be like to not know family heritage. His was as basic bitch as it came. His family was quintessentially American because his mom’s roots were Mexican and his dad’s were British.
“Well, it works. I mean, yeah, you can act. For real. But if you didn’t want to act, you could probably make a million modeling.
Like, fuck, with that height and how interesting you are to look at…
Plus, I know you’re always anxious, but you don’t show it.
You look so confident at the Range, serving drinks and chatting to everyone.
People go out of their way to get served by you.
I’ve watched it happen. They will straight-up ignore the other bartender and wait for you.
That’s a pull, an energy I don’t have,” Colby said, and their fingers brushed again.
Hunter didn’t move away that time, but Colby must have because he didn’t feel him again.
“We’re basically the same height. I have maybe half an inch on you,” Hunter argued.
But his brain tried to conjure up memories from the six shifts he’d had so far at the Range.
Did people really go out of their way to get served by him?
He couldn’t believe that. “Any night you play, we get way more women than men in there. And don’t say it’s because of the other two in Tidal.
Kenner is great, Trevor is… fine, but the girls all come up to you afterward. ”
Colby scoffed at that. “I’m just some skinny, sexually confused basic white guy who can hold a tune.”
“You’re a great singer and your songs are fucking incredible, and… and…” Hunter’s words evaporated as his brain stumbled over what Colby just said.
Their fingers brushed. This time, neither of them moved away, and they floated with their fingertips bumping for a very long, peaceful minute, Colby waiting for Hunter to speak and Hunter trying to find his words.
Finally, Hunter blurted out the only thing his brain was locked on, “You’re confused? ”
“Is someone in the pool? It’s closed!”