Page 52 of Method Acting

I groaned. “Yeah. Nice girl. We had a thing once. We’re still friends, but I don’t want a repeat.”

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t do repeats. I forgot.”

I shot him a sideways glance. “It’s not that I don’t... Well, okay, I didn’t used to. I just never...”

I stopped talking, not even sure what I was trying to say. But now holding his hand felt weird. I let it go, missing the warmth of it, and the ache in my chest grew a little deeper.

And I was hurt.

Why? Because I never did used to want repeats, and that was a well-known fact. So why did him saying that hurt so much? Because him thinking less of me, thinking I wasn’t capable of dating anyone...

Fuck.

“I dunno,” I mumbled.

“You just never what?” he asked. “You dunno what? You’re not normally at a loss for words, Hollywood.”

I rolled my eyes at his stupid name for me, but it also kinda made me smile. He made me feel a bit better without even trying. “I dunno about a lot of things,” I said. “Like what we’re gonna watch when we get back to your place. Or what kind of pizza we’re gonna order.”

He snorted as he took the steps up to the entry hall of his dorm. “You assume a lot,” he said, leaning his back against the door. But then, with that disarming smirk, he pushed the door open, waiting for me to brush past him.

Which I did, of course. A little closer than was completely necessary, but that was totally his own fault. I went up the stairs without waiting. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For the view of my ass when I’m walking up these freaking stairs again.” I lifted the back of my shirt and tucked it into the back of my shorts. “There you go. Unimpeded view. Now you’re welcome.”

“Tell me, do people find your douchery charming?”

I stopped, mid-step, turned, and smiled at him. “Believe me, those who I’ve douched for, appreciated it very much.”

He stared, cheeks turning pink, before he trudged past me. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did, yeah.” I followed him up the stairs. “Now it’s me who should say thank you.”

“Stop looking at my ass,” he grumbled.

“It’s a great ass,” I replied, just as two girls came down the stairs. They giggled, and I gave them a nod. “It’s true. He has a great ass.”

He stopped on the landing so he could glare at me, which, of course, made me grin at him. He also glared at me when he opened his door for me, and I grinned at him as I walked in.

This game was so much more fun than my uncertain, overthinking shitshow game from earlier. It was so much more fun to pretend not to have feelings.

I threw myself on his bed, head on his pillow. “So,” I said, “pizza?”

“You know,” he said, toeing out of his Chucks. “When we agreed to the whole method-acting thing, I was pretty sure it did not include you lying on my bed demanding pizza.”

“Okay, one. I didn’t demand it. I suggested it. Offered to order it, even. There was definitely a question mark implied, so that rules out any demands. And two, this is method acting. Me lying on your bed is exactly what a boyfriend would do. And we are acting boyfriends, amiright?”

He sighed. “You’re impossible to argue with.”

“Only when I’m right. Which is most of the time.” I took out my phone. “So, meat lovers okay?”

“Get the spicy one. The Godfather, I think it’s called.”

So of course I had to do my best Godfather impersonation. He’d basically asked for it.

“‘I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.’”

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