Page 49 of Method Acting

I heard some laughter behind me, but I wasn’t turning around.

“Very Top Gun,” Amos said. “Iceman.”

I wiped my abs over with my shirt and chugged some water. “You calling me Iceman is better than generic, so I’m taking that as a win.”

“Iceman from Top Gun 1986 is the definition of generic Hollywood, but okay.”

I threw my shirt at him. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like watching me play just now. I caught you smiling a time or two.”

He held up my sweaty shirt. “Ew. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

“Hold it for me,” I said, giving him the smile that usually got me whatever I wanted. “And you can’t toss it because people are watching and you have to think, what would Elijah do with Dominic’s shirt?”

Amos gave me an unimpressed glare. “He’d send it to the CDC and then have an acid bath, that’s what Elijah would do.”

I laughed and stepped in even closer. “He absolutely would not. He’d love it. Method acting, remember?”

I was probably pushing my luck with him, but to be honest, I really gave my shirt to him so there’d be more of a chance he’d stick around until the match ended. We were heading down to Shenanigans after the game and I wanted him to come with me.

So, he’d either hold it till the end or my shirt would be a lump of fabric on the sand, and he’d be nowhere to be found.

I had a feeling it’d be the latter.

But to my surprise, he stuck around.

Also to my surprise, we won the match. I played awesome in the final set; it helped that I played harder than I’d ever played in that final set. I told myself it was not because Amos was watching me.

But it absolutely was.

I wanted to impress him.

Even if he didn’t care.

But did sticking around mean he cared? Or was he just acting the part of his character, Elijah?

Because sure, being in character one hundred percent of the time was very much an Amos thing to do. This was an exercise in method acting, after all.

But I wasn’t entirely sure I was . . .

When the match ended, we walked off to our drink bottles and most of the crowd dispersed. Amos headed over and threw my shirt to me. “Good game,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Tater smiled at him, and I knew he was about to say something... I mean Tate. I really had to stop calling him Tater. “Hey,” he said to Amos. “We’re heading down to Shenanigans. Wanna come with us?”

Amos was clearly surprised and he shot me a wild look. “Uh...”

“Just for one drink,” I said, striking while the iron was hot. “And food. It’ll be fun.” But remembering how peopling wasn’t his favorite thing to do, I added, “We don’t have to stay long.”

Amos shoved his hands into his back pockets. “Uh, okay. Sure.”

I grinned at him, and yeah, it wasn’t my character Dominic that was happy. It was me. “Awesome.”

He looked me up and down. “But only if you put your shirt on.”

Jimmy grabbed my pec and tweaked my nipple. “These are his emotional support tiddies. Brings ’em out whenever he can.”

I batted his hand away and rubbed my nipple. “Ow.”

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