Page 89 of Method Acting

“No, because you wouldn’t come with me,” he whined.

“I had to work.”

“We’ll have to go tomorrow,” he declared.

I wasn’t going shopping with him, in character as Elijah or as myself. Absolutely no way. Uh-uh. Hell no.

Chase grinned and went back to his muffin. “Cool. We can go after class.”

Filming wrapped up and talk around the table turned to the party, which I still wasn’t sure whether it was real or fabricated for the sake of filming. I didn’t care either way because I wouldn’t be going.

I couldn’t help but notice that Max looked sullen and Holly looked frosty. Their chemistry wasn’t great, and while I understood why—real-life relationship pressures—it kinda made it hard for all of us.

I hadn’t paid much attention to any of the social media hype, but word was that Max and Holly’s on-screen relationship was an issue between the shippers and the people who knew them in real life.

It had to suck especially that Holly’s friends and Max’s friends knew the reality. And because they were all friends with Max’s girlfriend Jenna.

I was just very grateful that Chase didn’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend that was upset with me.

We had the audience’s full support.

Max and Holly didn’t. Which, yes, sucked for them, but having viewers invested and getting the students of Franklin U to support all of us was paramount. And social media was an instant indicator.

If we sucked, if the show was lame, we’d get told.

In no uncertain terms.

And it wasn’t really a fear of failure or embarrassing ourselves in front of our friends that filled me with dread.

Not being convincing enough. It was not being good enough. That’s what I feared most.

Any story or script can be convincing with the right actor, and a failure to deliver it was a failure on the actor’s part, right?

“Whatcha thinking about?” Chase murmured. “Or did the table make you mad?”

The table?

“Huh?”

“You’re frowning at the table.” Then he weaseled his way in and shoved his stupidly attractive face right in front of me, with that stupidly attractive grin. “Is that better?”

“Remarkably worse.”

He snorted but made no attempt to move. “I know what it is,” he said. “You’re mad at yourself for telling me you don’t want to see me tonight. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“One hundred percent incorrect. In fact, that is so wrong, I think the CDC wants to examine it for stupidity fusion proteins. There might be hope of a vaccine.”

Chase scowled at me. “Now, I did my very best to forget everything I was forced to learn in biology, but did you call me stupid?”

Yes.

I sighed. “No. Sorry.”

He put his hand over my heart, looking me right in the eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, and so help me god, he made me smile. He also made my heart feel too big and my blood run too warm. That was beginning to feel like emotions.

Or maybe it was encephalitis.

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