29. Let me in
Let me in
Colby knew in that moment he was not going to be able to pull it off—the hostility, the cold aloofness.
None of it. He stared at Hunter’s shoes.
They looked expensive. He was sure, like Colby, that everything he was wearing was a gift or a loan.
For some reason, that made him smile when he glanced at his own shoes, which were Yves Saint Laurent suede loafers that cost almost a grand but were gifted to him for this event.
“Do you remember my Adidas sneakers I used to wear every day?” Colby asked him. “Because I had no other pairs of shoes.”
Hunter chuckled. “Yeah. You ended up putting black electrical tape on the sides where the sole was falling off.”
Colby smiled, and God, it felt good to look up and find Hunter smiling back.
“The sole fell off entirely hiking Fryman the day before I moved out of the apartment. I brought it home and taped it back on, even though I haven’t worn them since.
And now I own like…eight-hundred-and-fifty-dollar designer loafers. ”
Hunter looked at Colby’s shoes and shook his head. “Tell me it’s not fucked up that now that we’re finding some success, we’re getting tons of free shit we don’t need because we can afford to buy it. But when we were trying, no one would help us, and we had to duct tape our shoes.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“I donate a lot of the stuff I get,” Hunter said.
“So, if I see a guy on Skid Row in designer shoes, I have you to thank?”
Hunter laughed and rolled those big, warm eyes of his. The ones Colby longed to get lost in again. He sighed and swallowed down his longing because it served no purpose. “What’s next for you?”
“I got a part in a superhero thing. No one knows yet. I just accepted today, and they didn’t even make me audition.
It’s a collective thing with names I can’t even…
” Hunter shook his head, then looked around and stepped closer, bending a little to get closer to Colby so he could really whisper.
And then he rattled off the names, and Colby tried to absorb them, but he was more focused on how Hunter’s breath danced on the shell of his ear and how the feel of his closeness still made his cock stir.
“And the pay. Like, Colbs, I can’t even…
I could pay the apartment rent for forty years. ”
“You didn’t move?” Colby wanted to know. It felt stupid to focus on that, with all this amazing stuff Hunter had just confided, but it mattered to Colby. The idea of someone else living in that dump bothered him, but the idea that Hunter still lived there was absurd.
“No. I did. I had to. That apartment doesn’t have a locked front gate.
Anyone can wander into the complex,” Hunter said and ran a hand through his hair as he looked away, focusing on the greenery around them instead of Colby’s face.
That was a good thing because Colby couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face.
“I’m renting a place in Spaulding Square.
It’s only two bedrooms, but it’s an actual house.
It has a pool too, if your AC ever breaks wherever you are. ”
He finally looked at Colby again and threw him a small smile.
Like nothing ever happened between them.
Colby nodded but couldn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say.
Hunter was still right on top of him because he hadn’t stepped back after whispering to him.
Colby found himself lifting his hand and touching the thin, smooth fabric of Hunter’s pale jacket.
Hunter inhaled slowly, deeply. “Where do you live?”
“With Trev in a small house in Laurel Canyon.”
“That’s great,” Hunter replied, but his voice didn’t lift. “Do you love Laurel Canyon like you thought you would?”
Colby shrugged. “Yeah. The place. The vibe. Not the house. Or Trevor.”
He needed to stand, even though there was barely enough room.
Maybe because of that. Colby had never been great at subtle.
Now he and Hunter were chest to chest and almost eye to eye.
Hunter had that slight inch on him. His shoes must have a bigger heel because, flat-footed, they were pretty much even.
Tonight Colby had to tilt his head up slightly, and then the words just…
escaped. He really wished they hadn’t even as they were tumbling out. “I miss you.”
It was the worst possible thing he could say.
He knew it, but he said it anyway, and then he stepped around Hunter and walked away.
Hunter grabbed his wrist and tugged him off the main path back into the shelter of the fountain alcove.
He said nothing at first. The air was scented with night jasmine, and somewhere in the distance, there was murmured talking.
“Colbs… Not now. Not here.”
“Where?”
Hunter looked physically pained. “Nowhere. Not now.”
“Are you and Mikayla really a thing?”
His head reared back like he’d been slapped by Colby’s question. “What? No. Why would you think that?”
Colby shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket to keep himself from reaching out for Hunter. “Because the media thinks it.”
“Like they thought it about you and Hannah?” Hunter lifted an eyebrow.
“And you could. You have before. Women. They’re the norm for you.”
“Nothing is normal in this version of life we’re living now.
And yeah, I guess I could. But I haven’t…
” Hunter stared at him for a long second, and Colby found himself holding his breath.
There were a million ways Hunter could end that sentence, but he didn’t finish it at all.
“I should go. I’m an ambassador for the brand. ”
“So you don’t miss me.” It was a statement, not a question.
“It doesn’t matter,” Hunter shot back, and his eyes darted to the path. It was empty, and they couldn’t see or hear anyone else. “We both got what we’ve always wanted, right? That’s what we need to focus on.”
“Your willpower would be admirable if it didn’t apply to us.” Colby slipped around Hunter and back onto the main path. People walked by, laughing, enjoying the night. Once they were gone, Colby turned back to Hunter. Hunter looked stunned, as if Colby were the problem.
“So much for not fucking it all up.”
Colby realized, in one heavy, painful moment, that Hunter would never be his. Not the way he wanted. He would forever be some guy he had never gotten to love. And it was crazy how something that never got to become real could crush a person anyway.
“Hey! Wow! Colby Keaton and Hunter Law!” The voice sliced through their moment like a knife tearing through a spiderweb.
They both startled, like they forgot anyone else was in this place.
The guy was lanky and wearing a cheap blazer, with sunglasses pushed up into his messy brown hair. There was a camera around his neck.
“Official photog for Marmont. They want candids to commemorate. This would be golden.” He waved a finger at the small space between Colby and Hunter. “Can I?”
Colby nodded and turned to face the guy, his shoulder brushed Hunter’s as he angled in for the pose.
Hunter gave his head a little shake, ran a hand through his hair, and stuffed his hand closest to Colby’s in his pocket.
The guy lifted his fancy camera. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other. Or did you just meet tonight?”
“We used to be roommates,” Hunter blurted out.
Colby stiffened beside him. “I had to couch surf at one point, and his was one of the couches.”
“That’s fucking great! Talent finds talent in this town.” The guy snapped away. “Did you know Danny DeVito and Michael Douglas used to be roommates? And Jason Segel and Kevin Hart. Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah. Nuts.” Colby cuffed Hunter’s shoulders like they were teammates on a baseball diamond or some shit, and then he stepped away. “Good seeing you again, Hunter.”
The photographer dropped his camera back around his neck and continued down the path.
Colby stormed into the Chateau and straight to the bar.
Hunter never came back in, or if he did, Colby didn’t see him.
He had two more vodka sodas as he decided what to do next, and the conclusion was to move on. Finally. Completely.
“Judging by the look on your face, your night is going worse than mine,” Kenner said, slipping into the space beside him by the massive fireplace.
His dark brown eyes, filled with sympathy, slid over Colby.
He had only learned Kenner was bisexual a couple of weeks ago.
He, too, was keeping it private because Hollywood.
But he’d confessed to Colby when he’d explained the toxic relationship with his old agent.
And Colby had told Kenner he was gay. Kenner had just smiled like he already knew.
“When I saw Hunter here tonight, I thought maybe you would finally get closure.”
Their eyes locked. He’d never told Kenner he’d been with Hunter, but clearly he didn’t have to, and that was a bit terrifying. So instead of denying it, Colby just shook his head. “No. But I think I know how to get that.”
He dropped his empty drink on the mantle. His hand lifted, and his fingers pressed into the metal hanging around his neck, under his expensive shirt. “See you at the rehearsal tomorrow afternoon.”
They were getting ready for their first tour as a headlining act. It started in three weeks.
Kenner nodded. Colby smiled and then left Chateau Marmont. He’d booked a car service, knowing he would be drinking and not wanting to monitor himself. The car was waiting at the curb just around the corner from the front entrance, and he hopped in. “I need to make a stop before home.”
“Sure thing. Where to?”
“Twelve forty-five North Hayworth.”
The apartment was actually stumbling distance from Chateau Marmont.
Colby probably could have walked more quickly.
He pulled the necklace with the key over his head as the car finally pulled up next to a string of parked cars in front of the wide flagstone stairs that led to the front door. “Be back as soon as I can.”
“Take your time. You paid for the whole night. I’ll be here.”
Colby stepped onto the sidewalk and looked up at the tree that had crushed his van less than two years ago. The severed branch still stuck out awkwardly above him. Fuck. He had probably fallen in love with Hunter that night while he tenderly patted the cut on Colby’s head and took care of him.
And now they were strangers.
And now it was time to let go of the hope they would ever be anything more than that again.
He climbed the stairs to the building. Being one of the older, less looked-after buildings in West Hollywood, it had a metal gate that didn’t lock.
More than once, the neighbors had had a package stolen from the mailboxes just inside.
And a couple times Bob had found a homeless guy sleeping on the loungers by the pool.
Colby had been back a few times when he knew Hunter was out of town, but not in the last four months.
He had been too scared that he would show up here and find it belonged to someone else.
And now Hunter confirmed the suspicion. He had moved.
So why was Colby still holding onto a key to someone else’s place?
Wearing it around his neck like a religious symbol, reminding him there was something bigger out there. There wasn’t. Not anymore.
He climbed the stairs to the right because they were closest to Bob’s apartment.
He lived two units over from Hunter and Colby’s apartment.
Nothing had changed in the outdoor hallways.
Mrs. Yoon still had her hodgepodge of pots by her door with half-dead plants in them.
On the landing, the macramé art Bob’s wife made was still hanging on the wall.
It all felt so familiar and now painful.
Colby was definitely on the drunk side of tipsy, but he wasn’t stupid.
It was after midnight, and he knew he couldn’t wake up Bob to return a key for an apartment that had never been his.
But he had to get rid of it. His plan was to loop it around Bob’s door handle.
Bob would eventually figure out which apartment it was for.
He reached the second-floor landing, and the wind chimes Patti hung by the railing overlooking the pool tinkled in the breeze.
Colby ran his fingers over the key and glanced toward the door that used to be…
There was a light on in the large living room window that overlooked the outdoor hallway.
The gauzy curtains Hunter had bragged he got from the clearance rack at World Market for four dollars a panel were still on the windows.
Had Hunter left the curtains? There was a space where they didn’t quite meet in the center…
someone passed in front of them. Someone with dark, silky hair.
Colby walked slowly toward the window. He couldn’t stop himself, even though he risked a peeping Tom charge if it was a stranger.
But it was Hunter in the living room, which looked exactly the way it had last time Colby stood in it.
He could see Hunter’s profile staring down at the couch.
No. He had his phone in his hands while facing the couch.
Colby drank in the sight, and it brought him back to the night after they first touched each other, and Hunter came to where Colby was curled up on that couch to make sure they were alright.
Now, Hunter’s hand lifted, and he wiped at his cheek, like something was on it. Colby lifted his own hand and rapped on the windowpane. Their eyes met through the glass, Hunter’s wide with fear and Colby’s soft with nostalgia. “Let me in.”
Sure, he had the key, but he needed Hunter to do it.
If Hunter opened that door, Colby would be let back in, and not just to the apartment.
Colby didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Hunter started walking to the door and he finally filled his lungs with cool air. He moved from the window to the door.
Hunter opened the wooden door, but as his hand reached for the metal storm door, he hesitated, and Colby’s heart lurched.
And then their eyes met through the gaps in the metal, and it fell into his expensive shoes.
Hunter had been crying. His brown eyes were bloodshot and watery, and his cheeks were wet. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to give Bob the key back,” Colby replied, and his voice was almost hoarse for some reason. “I thought you didn’t live here.”
“I don’t. But I kept it.”
“Let me in,” Colby pleaded softly.
Hunter’s eyes flicked to the handle and back to Colby’s gray-blue ones, which burned with his own imminent tears. “It’s not locked.”
“Let me in, Hunter.”
Hunter took a breath so deep and long that Colby could hear it. And then wrapped his fingers around the handle and twisted.