Page 17 of Method Acting

He was feeling his way up to my throat, my neck, my jaw.

He kept one hand on my neck, holding my head still, and probably for spatial awareness, while his other thumb drew lines on my face.

He mapped me out like I did to him, and god, seeing him this close up without the dagger in his eyes... like I was seeing the real him.

He had his eyes closed, concentrating. His eyelids were pale, his lashes long.

“What do I look like in your mind?” I murmured. “And don’t say generic Hollywood.”

Fucker smirked.

He seemed to consider this question as he touched my hair, down the line of my nose.

“Hmm,” he mused. “Prince Charming from Shrek 2.”

I snorted, because what the fuck.

My eyes were well and truly open now. “Really?”

He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “I could have said you looked like Shrek when he was human, so be grateful.” Then he shrugged. “Or when he’s not human.”

“Very funny. And anyway, Prince Charming is hot. I’ll take that.”

“He’s a giant douche.”

“Yes, but I said looked like, not is like.”

He rolled his eyes but he did almost smile. I was also taking that as a win. “Anyway, your nose is slightly crooked and one eyebrow is a little higher than the other. And you need to shave.”

“Wanna know what you look like?”

“No.”

“A masterpiece.”

He stared. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he mumbled.

“I mean it. An actual masterpiece. I mean, it’s a Picasso, but they do consider that art.”

He sighed. “I take it back. You’re not Prince Charming or Shrek. You’re Donkey. Insufferable and not funny.”

“Are you kidding me? Donkey is freaking hilarious.” Then I had to imitate him. “‘I’m making waffles!’”

“Boys,” Deirdre said, and yet again, everyone was watching us. They were smiling, but still... we’d missed whatever the class was doing.

“Sorry.”

Amos fought a smile. An actual real smile.

Damn.

“Okay, that’s class,” Deirdre said. Then she put up her hand. “Before you go. Normally these on-screen relationships have many weeks or even months in preproduction to work on their chemistry, but we don’t have that luxury. So you have homework.”

Oh great. I was pretty sure I knew where this was going.

“Spend time with your partner. With your friends or not, I don’t care. Do something together outside of this classroom. Because tomorrow?”

She paused . . . and we waited.

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