15. Yay for hypocrites!
Yay for hypocrites!
THREE MONTHS LATER…
There were signs that they wouldn’t pick up where they left off.
Hunter had refused to acknowledge them, but that didn’t make them less real.
First, almost immediately when he got to Canada, he realized this movie was a bigger deal than he thought it would be.
There were so many people involved in every aspect.
So many things to learn—lines, fight choreography, hours with an intimacy coordinator for the love scenes, wardrobe fittings—Hunter went into panic mode the first day and stayed there.
And then, on the first day of filming, they announced that the film had secured distribution with a major streaming service, which meant more money.
Suddenly, they had fancier cameras and better special effects, and this insane machine of people who lingered on set asking for meetings with Hunter in between takes, making him film behind-the-scenes footage for a marketing campaign and lining up interviews.
People wanted to talk to him. Magazines and entertainment podcasts he had actually heard of.
It was no longer just a Canadian Indie flick, and Hunter had been catapulted into the big leagues.
Mikayla was more established in her career than Hunter and had been on a successful pre-teen show before doing a small, recurring role on a popular television series for three years.
She was a wealth of advice and knowledge, and she never made Hunter feel like an imposter or an idiot.
And when she thought he was making himself feel like an imposter, she would give him a pep talk.
Hunter probably could have hooked up with her.
He thought he had clocked signs she was interested.
But he didn’t want to be a cliché —the actor who hooks up with his costars.
And he often walked away from whatever he was doing with her to answer FaceTimes and texts from Colby, so…
Hunter realized that was another clue that maybe he shouldn’t hop into bed with her.
I mean, it wasn’t like him and Colby were anything romantic, but his body was definitely interested in exploring more with him.
And keeping away from romantic entanglements was probably best for him right now.
This was most definitely his ‘shot’, and he needed to focus on his career and nothing else.
Colby and Hunter talked every day, sometimes by text, sometimes by FaceTime, sometimes on an actual old-fashioned call. Colby’s show with Hannah Wolfe had gotten Tidal an opening gig on part of the American tour. Colby Keaton —his Colby— was on tour.
Hunter watched Colby’s social media following grow daily.
He was up to almost 100,000 followers now.
He was posting more and more. Clips mostly of just his hands playing guitar and his voice singing his own songs over video of the band backstage or a sunset reflected in their pool.
But sometimes he posted stage shots that Hunter knew Briar or Ford had taken for him.
Two weeks before Hunter got back to California, Colby posted his first Instagram story, which was a picture of a breakfast plate, filled with a breakfast burrito, tater tots smothered in cheddar, and a healthy smattering of Pico de Gallo over it all.
It was an old pic of a breakfast Hunter had made for them.
He could even see his own hand slicing up an avocado in the corner of the photo.
The caption Colby wrote was: Missing my burrito
It made Hunter laugh but also… caused a small, almost indiscernible nervous flip to happen in his chest.
Two days before Hunter wrapped the movie, Colby Facetimed. It was after midnight, but Hunter hadn’t even gone to set yet. It was a night shoot, and Hunter had to be on set at 2 a.m., so he was up and running lines after sleeping most of the afternoon and evening.
“Hey!” Hunter smiled into the camera, but as Colby’s face filled his screen, his smile dropped into a gaping O. “Holy shit!”
Colby rubbed his hand over his shorn hair. “Yeah. I know. Is it horrific?”
“No. Not at all. You look…” Hunter swallowed down the lump that was suddenly in his throat. He missed Colby so much it was ridiculous. “You look fucking hot.”
Colby’s cheeks immediately turned such an adorable shade of pink that Hunter grinned. “It feels weird, but I don’t hate it. I don’t think. The label wanted me to do it before we shoot the album cover.”
“The label? Your label? You have a label?”
Colby’s face bloomed into the biggest smile Hunter had ever seen on him. “Yes! I have a mother fucking label! We signed a contract today with Revolution. " Two-album deal,” Colby explained. “Two fucking albums!”
Hunter jumped up off his couch and nearly tripped over the cheap Ikea coffee table. “Oh my fucking god! Colby! Fuck, that’s so epic.”
He wanted to fly straight home and celebrate with Colby in person. It physically hurt that he wasn’t there to share this moment with him. “You’re amazing. It’s amazing. I’m so fucking happy for you.”
“You’re the first person I’ve told. I wanted you to know first.” Colby confessed, his smile wavering. “It’s surreal.”
“It’s deserved,” Hunter said, and he couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re gonna be so fucking famous, Colb.”
God, he wanted to hug him so fucking badly. And kiss him. Wait… what? Whoa.
“I heard them talking about your movie on an Instagram reel, Hunter!” Colby exclaimed, suddenly changing the subject.
“It was some movie buff or movie influencer type shit, and he was talking about most anticipated upcoming releases. He said your fucking name, dude! He said your name, and he even had a pic from set. You were in a gray leather jacket, and someone painted your chest in red paint.”
“That’s a red T-shirt.” Hunter corrected.
“A child’s extra-small?” Colby winked and laughed at his own ribbing. Then his voice dropped an octave. “It looked so fucking hot, Hunter. And all the comments on the video were people saying exactly that. You looked hot.”
“Like you do now, Mr. Haircut.”
Colby’s smile slipped into something soft and deep. And warm. So warm Hunter could feel the heat through the phone. “You still coming home at the end of the week?”
“Yeah. I can’t wait to see you.” Hunter gushed, and then his breath hitched as he watched Colby’s smile disappear, taking the warmth Hunter was basking in with it. “What?”
“They want us working with the same producer who did Hannah’s first album,” Colby said. “He’s really good. I like him. He’s worked with a lot of my idols. But he’s a total New Yorker and won’t come west under any circumstances.”
Hunter’s brain tripped over the words, but it only took a couple of seconds for him to draw the conclusion. “So, you’re recording the album in New York?”
Colby nodded. “We leave the day after tomorrow.”
“And I don’t get back until the day after that,” Hunter concluded, and Colby looked as devastated as Hunter felt.
The disappointment was intense, and Hunter was immediately hurled headfirst into a shitty mood.
“I’m happy for you. Do what you gotta do for this because it’s amazing. But I… for me I wish...”
“I was thinking maybe you could fly to New York instead of home? We’ll be brainstorming, jamming, and shit for the first few days.
We don’t start studio time until the end of next week,” Colby explained.
“The label rented us an apartment in Chelsea. It’s only three bedrooms and obviously Kenner and Trevor are staying there too, but I’m sure it has a couch or, like, you could crash in my room. ”
Hunter wished more than anything he could say yes, but he shook his head. “I can’t. The day after we get back, the streamer wants Mikayla and I to do some video sessions with a bunch of online magazines. Interviews, I think, and viral content.”
“What the fuck is viral content?”
“Silly shit like quizzes and games. Someone mentioned puppies.” Hunter shrugged, and Colby blinked and took a heavy breath. “Well, maybe later then. We’re there for a month. And then we’re touring, opening for Hannah on the East Coast.”
“You’ve mentioned her a lot,” Hunter said, and hoped it sounded casual. “You guys like working with her?”
“Yeah. She’s been super supportive since we did that show with her in the Valley right after you left,” Colby explained. “And then she pushed for us to open a couple of the California shows, which got us the record deal. She’s pretty fucking great actually. We owe her a lot.”
It felt like a personal attack, which was ridiculous.
Colby was allowed to praise whoever he wanted.
And Hunter knew it was a good thing to have other musicians who supported him and the band.
He’d found himself on this movie. There were Mikayla and also Chris Westchester, who played his dad in the movie.
When his mom found out that Chris Westchester was in the movie, she turned into a fourteen-year-old girl.
Chris had been a teen heartthrob in the late eighties and apparently every Gen X girl’s first crush, including young Catherine Gibson.
Hunter was happy to report that he was a genuine guy, very humble and friendly, and a great scene partner.
Chris had even signed a script for his mom that he was going to surprise her with.
Hunter had been very vocal with Colby about how well he was getting along with his costars, and Colby gushing about Hannah every now and then was the same thing, Hunter tried to convince himself.
But still. Rational thoughts weren’t his friend right now.
“She’s pretty,” Hunter muttered. “And her music is decent.”
“Yeah. She doesn’t write all her own stuff, but she does play guitar. And drums. I can’t drum, but she’s offered to give me tips,” Colby sounded absolutely delighted.
“Kenner drums. You don’t need to.”
“Yeah, but I’d love to learn for the future. It’d be cool. Drummers are bad ass.”
“You’re doing fine in the bad-ass department, especially with the haircut,” Hunter muttered, and Colby grinned.