Page 50 of Method Acting

Amos almost smiled. “Emotional support tiddies. Makes sense.”

I used my balled-up shirt to wipe off as much sweat and sand off my chest and arms as I could. “Leave my tiddies alone.”

I was just glad he didn’t call them moobs in front of Jimmy.

“It sounds better than emotional support moobs.”

Aaaaand there it was.

I looked at Amos and sighed while Jimmy roared laughing.

“Thanks a lot,” I mumbled. “Never gonna hear the end of that.”

Tate gave me a sympathetic nudge. “Guess it’s better than generic Hollywood.”

Tate meant no harm, but Jimmy laughed again, and even Amos cracked a smile. I looked at all of them. “Is it National Pick on Chase Day today? Did I miss the memo?” I gave Amos a pointed stare. “You are supposed to be on my side.”

Jimmy and the others picked up all their stuff and began heading toward the bar, and Amos and I fell into step behind them. There were some girls still on the steps watching us, so I slung my arm around Amos’s shoulder, pulling him into my side.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It’s payback for the moobs comment. Now Jimmy is gonna be a pain in my ass for weeks.”

I’d pulled him so close he kinda had to put his arm around my waist. “You’re all sweaty and gross,” he said.

But he never dropped his arm, so I kept mine where it was. “Volleyball was fun. I’m glad you came to watch.”

He made a scowly face. “I’m not staying here long, just so you know. Just enough to show face, play our part, then I’m bailing.”

“Fair enough.”

I was surprised he’d said yes to the bar at all, so even five minutes was a win.

Especially when he saw how crowded it was. A lot of people meant close contact, and I was grateful for all the practice we’d done because it didn’t feel weird at all.

It felt natural.

We managed to score a tall table by the wall, so I put Amos on a stool in the corner so he was kinda hidden and might feel more comfortable. It also meant I could maybe press him against the wall if it got extra crowded.

Not my original plan, but I didn’t object when it happened.

Neither did he.

I found myself somehow between his legs, my arm around his shoulder, a drink in my other hand.

Yep, all that close-contact practice had been a great idea.

“So,” Jimmy said, looking at Amos. “You drew the short straw and won the consolation prize, huh?”

“I’m not a consolation prize,” I said, sipping my drink. “So that’s a real quick fuck you. I’m first prize all the way.”

Amos smirked as he sipped his bourbon. “Your friends are great for your self-esteem.”

“I know! I don’t know why I keep them.”

“Because shit-talking is our love language,” Jimmy said, raising his glass.

We clinked our drinks together and Amos shook his head.

---