19. Surprise!
Surprise!
FIVE WEEKS LATER…
Hunter’s mom gave him a disapproving look but didn’t say anything as she cleaned up after dinner.
He felt her judgment, like he always did.
She was the queen of passive aggressiveness.
She sprinkled guilt like it was fairy dust all over him.
He tried not to take it personally. She’d grown up with parents who only knew how to be strict.
Her mom, especially as an immigrant, was all about rules, grades, and appearances.
Her dad was the standard absentee dad—a big, burly Scottish second-generation Canadian who was there physically but not emotionally.
Hunter’s mom’s only act of rebellion had been to date and then marry Hunter’s dad.
After that blew up, Catherine went back to leading an excessively unadventurous life on purpose.
And she wanted her son to make smart, safe choices too.
So the whole dropping out of McGill University’s architecture program after one year to move to Hollywood to become an actor was her worst nightmare.
And now, in this moment, she wasn’t thrilled with his current choice to leave the family home and head off to a venue downtown to see some band play. By himself.
“It’s a Thursday night, Hunter,” she argued finally. “Can’t you just stay in? Play Scrabble with me? I haven’t seen you in almost a year. And I’m lonely without Zeus.”
“You’ll be in bed by ten, with or without a cat, or me,” Hunter argued softly.
She missed her son. He understood that. And he was happy to see her, but she’d be in bed in the next two hours, and he’d planned this visit because of the band, not that he would admit that to her.
“And I have no plans tomorrow night. Why don’t I take you out to your favorite restaurant? Is it still Baton Rouge?”
She smiled. “Yes. I love that place.”
“Okay, tomorrow when you’re done with work, we’ll go to Baton Rouge. My treat.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to pay, honey. I’m fully capable of buying my kid dinner.”
“Yeah, but now I’m capable of buying my mom dinner. So let me.” He stepped up beside her, smiling, and hugged her. She hugged him back.
“Who is this band that you just have to see?”
“Tidal. My roommate is in it,” Hunter said, and his mom looked confused.
“Leandra? Your ex? Are you back together?” He was both shocked and uncomfortable at how her brown eyes lit up at the idea.
“No. Colby Keaton. He moved in after Leandra cheated on me, remember?” His mom’s eyebrows pinched.
“Oh, the boy who had a tree fall on him?”
“On his van, yeah. Anyway, I haven’t seen him in forever because his band has been on tour and I’ve been filming, so I just thought, since we’re both in Montreal, I would surprise him,” Hunter explained.
His mother nodded, somehow feeling a bit better about the whole thing. He kissed her cheek, which always made her happy. “I’ll be home late, so don’t wait up. Or freak out.”
Hunter walked to the front hall and grabbed his wallet and keys off the small console table there. His mom followed, and her brow furrowed again. “Mom. I’m twenty-six.”
“You are not. You’re twenty-five.”
“My birthday is in two weeks. I’m trying to get used to it.” Hunter smiled cheekily, and his mother caved.
“Fine. Be careful. The city is crazy at night.” She stood at the door and waved. “Baton Rouge tomorrow! I get off work at six!”
“See you then!” Hunter called from the stairs because he was already making his way down the circular steps of her second-floor Westmount apartment.
He walked swiftly through the upscale neighborhood and was proud of himself for only having to check Google Maps once.
Hunter didn’t grow up in the swanky two-bedroom apartment his mom lived in now.
He’d grown up in a nice townhouse in the suburbs, in a little town called Beaconsfield just west of Montreal, where his dad was Mayor.
Hunter had begged his mom to move downtown when he was in high school because there was a performing arts school there he desperately wanted to attend, but she’d refused.
Now, looking back, he knew it was because she didn’t want to take him away from his father.
Greg needed to be in Beaconsfield, and Catherine thought her son needed his father. As soon as Hunter left to take acting at UCLA Extension, she moved downtown. Because she didn’t need to be anywhere near Greg and his new wife Giselle or their child, Hunter’s half-brother Francois.
It was a quick metro ride to the venue, but it felt like it took forever because Hunter’s nervous system was short-circuiting at the thought of seeing Colby again and surprising him.
After their failed attempt at hanging out in Boston, their communication had broken down a little.
They still texted and FaceTimed occasionally, but it was getting painful to see his face without being in the same room with him. At least it was for Hunter.
Hunter’s second big film experience hadn’t been as enjoyable as the first. The director wasn’t warm like Eugenie had been.
His co-stars had already been filming together for two weeks when he showed up, and no one made the effort to make him feel welcome.
He spent a lot of time alone, even on set with his costars around.
No one wanted to hang out like Mikayla had, and no one offered up tips and tricks to the industry like Chris had.
His direct costar, Alyssa, was polite and professional but not much else.
He thought he had done well in the role, but it was a relief when it was over.
He’d flown straight from Atlanta to Montreal, unwilling to walk back into his apartment knowing Colby still wouldn’t be there.
His mom had been complaining that she missed her only child since he bailed on Thanksgiving months ago.
And once Hunter realized Colby’s tour would be in Montreal, it was a no-brainer.
Except when he got to the venue, there was a line around the block and a sign at the ticket window that said SOLD OUT in big black letters.
“Fuck,” Hunter hissed as he stood on the sidewalk.
It was winter, and it was freezing. The snow crunched under his boots as he mourned the surprise reaction he’d been fantasizing about.
In his head, he’d imagined buying a ticket, getting into the venue, and making his way to the front of the stage.
Colby’s band would come on, and he’d see Hunter and smile that big, bright, infectious grin of his that made his dimple pop.
Then they’d reunite backstage after the show and hang out all night, just the two of them, and Colby would smile the whole time and be delighted that Hunter surprised him, and they would go back to Colby’s hotel…
“Fuck,” Hunter whispered to himself again and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Hey. I’m here. In Montreal.
There was a huge possibility that Colby wasn’t even near his phone. Hunter knew he would give it to Ford to hold or turn it off before a gig so he could get focused. So Hunter was frustrated but not surprised when there wasn’t an immediate response.
I’m trying to come to the show, but it’s sold out.
He should probably go to a restaurant or bar nearby and wait until he heard back so he didn’t get frostbite. Winter was fucking horrible in Montreal. Please answer. Please answer. Come on, Colby he chanted in his head. He had one other option. He could text Ford.
He gritted his teeth, scrolled through his contacts, and found the one titled FuckFace because that’s what Hunter had changed Ford’s number to a few months ago.
Hey it’s Hunter. I’m outside the Montreal venue. Colb isn’t answering his phone.
Of course, he saw that Ford saw the text right away. But Hunter still had to wait almost five minutes before Ford responded.
FuckFace
Colby didn’t mention you were here.
Surprising him.
FuckFace
It’s sold out.
Can you just tell him please?
Hunter was going to have an even harder time than normal, not telling this guy to go fuck himself when he finally saw him. Which should be in a matter of minutes if Ford did the respectable thing. Hunter waited all of fifty-seven seconds before he messaged Ford again.
Or don’t and I’ll show Colby your texts later.
FuckFace:
Alley. Left side of the building. There’s a door near the back.
Hunter forced himself to type a thank you before following the directions.
The door burst open when he was a couple of feet away, and there was Colby.
He looked really fucking good in a pair of worn low-riding Levis and a white T-shirt with a faded gray logo Hunter didn’t recognize. “No fucking way!”
And there was that bright dimple-popping grin Hunter had been craving. “Surprise!”
“Fuck… I’m so happy.” Colby took a step forward but then looked down the alley. People were wandering by on the sidewalk. He could also hear the hum of the concertgoers lined up to get in. “Get over here. Now!”
Hunter jogged the remaining distance, and Colby grabbed his arm and hauled him into the venue. The door opened into a small vestibule behind the stage, crowded with equipment and people rushing by, carrying things. “I can’t believe this.”
“I was hoping to buy a ticket, but you’re sold out, rock star,” Hunter said with a smile.
Colby was still holding his arm. Squeezing it, like he was trying to prove that Hunter was flesh and bone and not a hallucination. “You’re here. We’re standing here. Together.”
“Colb!” Ford’s voice cut through the euphoria. He was at the end of the long hall behind the stage, arms folded, brows pinched. “You have sound check with the new mic in five.”
“Thanks!” Colby called back without tearing his gaze from Hunter. He seemed to be examining him, his eyes gliding over every aspect of Hunter’s face.
And then he turned and dragged Hunter down a short hallway to their left.
It had a door on the right with a piece of paper taped to it that read "Tidal," and directly across the hall was a door with a makeshift sign that read "Wolfe.
" At the end of the hall was a door with a handicap bathroom sign on it.
Colby opened that door and pulled Hunter inside with him.
The light was the motion-activated kind and turned on as soon as they stepped inside.
Colby didn’t let go of Hunter’s arm until the door closed, and then he wrapped him in a hug that would make a bear jealous.
He clung to Hunter, and Hunter wrapped his arms around Colby and hugged him back with the same ferocity.
Colby curled his face into the shearling collar of Hunter’s leather jacket.
He could feel Colby’s lips ghost the side of his neck as he said, “I fucking missed you so fucking much.”
“I missed you too,” Hunter confessed.
Colby’s lips pressed into Hunter’s neck.
It was a kiss. And it calmed a storm in Hunter he didn’t want to admit had been raging inside him.
There was no denying the stillness that washed over him as Colby’s tongue slipped out to taste his skin, just above where he’d marked Hunter before he left to film in Canada. God, that felt like a lifetime ago now.
Hunter reached up and grabbed Colby’s face in his hands, pulling him back gently so he could drink him in again.
He stared at Colby’s pouty mouth. How did it feel?
What did it taste like? Colby grabbed Hunter’s face too.
His long fingers sliding through his hair just behind his ears. “What are we doing?”
“I have no fucking clue.”
Hunter leaned in. Colby did too.
Someone pounded on the door.