Page 66 of Method Acting

Jimmy laughed and clapped my shoulder. “That’s what I thought. You got it bad for the emo guy.”

“He’s not the emo guy,” I said, probably way too short.

He raised both hands in surrender, and I let out a sigh. “Sorry. It’s just... confusing. Is it our characters? Is it Dominic and Elijah? Or is it me and him?”

“I thought your characters were kinda based on you. Aren’t you basically playing yourselves anyway?” Tate asked. And he mighta asked innocently, but the point he made needed no answer.

Because he was right.

God fucking dammit.

Laps of the pool, like always, helped clear my mind. Following that black center line in the lane, regulating my breathing, pushing my body, and using every muscle never failed to help.

I lost count of how many laps I’d done. I lost track of time, and I forgot that Amos was coming to watch.

That I’d asked him to come.

When I stood up at the shallow end, leaned against the wall of the pool, and tried to catch my breath, I saw him. Sitting there in the bleachers... with Jimmy and Tate.

Oh no . . .

And there, at the top of the stands, were Daniel and Bridgette, filming.

Double oh no.

Not that Amos couldn’t hold his own, but Jimmy... Jimmy couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.

I pulled myself up the ladder, my legs tired and heavy, and made my way over to them. I wore the swim shorts most athletic swimmers wore. Not Speedos exactly, but a whole lot tighter than swimming trunks.

And from the way Amos’s gaze drank me in, I wasn’t about to cover up. Camera or not.

He totally fucking checked me out.

All of me.

It gave me a thrill I wasn’t expecting, and all those silly fears and doubts about whether we were acting or if we were taking the role of boyfriends too far all just fell away.

Because he checked me out, and he liked what he saw.

If he was Amos or Elijah in that moment, it didn’t matter. Because I didn’t care either way. Me or Dominic, both knew appreciation when we saw it.

I took my towel and dried my hair, leaving the rest of my body dripping wet. And when I wiped the towel slowly over my pecs and down to my junk, I kept my eyes on Amos.

He scoffed and shook his head, finally looking away. “You have no shame.”

“None,” Jimmy said. “He has none.”

I held my hands out, holding the towel away from my body. “What’s not to be proud of?”

“Your ego,” Amos replied.

Jimmy laughed and Tate smiled at me. “I love how he takes no shit from you. It’s good for you.”

“I need new friends and a new boyfriend,” I said, loud enough for the camera to hear.

Amos stood up, smiling, and stepped down the bleachers and came to a stop right in front of me. Too close. Not close enough. “Swim practice is about to start, so we need to not be here when this pool is full of people.”

Right. Whereas I loved crowds of people, he did not.

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