Page 95 of Method Acting

Not that anyone would ask.

This. This shit feeling was why I’d stayed single all these years. Why no-dating, no-caring, had worked so well for me.

I grabbed my swim bag and jogged to the aquatic center, keeping my head down and not making eye contact with anyone.

I hit the pool, ignoring everyone else there, and started doing laps.

One after another, just following that black line for miles, up and back. Regulated breathing, unhurried strokes, measured and even, peaceful, mind-clearing.

I don’t know how many laps I did. I had no idea of the time, but my legs and arms ached and I was out of breath, so I could safely guess it was way more than usual.

Good.

I felt marginally better.

Until I looked over at the bleachers, where I’d dumped my bag, and found Amos sitting there, watching me. Waiting.

Fuck.

No time like the present to have your heart broken.

I pulled my sorry ass out of the water, my arms barely having the strength to manage it. Still puffing, I walked over to him. He tossed me my towel.

“I told Jimmy and Tate not to tell anyone where I was,” I said, patting my face.

“I never asked them,” he replied. “When you weren’t in class or at your house or in my room, there was only one other place you’d be.”

“Sorry for being so predictable.”

Was I really that predictable?

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Not really.”

His eyes met mine, and you know what that fucker did? He smirked.

He fucking smirked.

“Get dressed,” he said, standing up. “Deirdre wants to see us.”

Deirdre?

“Well, I don’t want to see her.”

He threw my shirt at me. Well, it was technically his shirt, but today it was mine. “Put that on and put your emotional support tiddies away.”

What the hell?

Was he just going to pretend this morning hadn’t happened?

I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or annoyed.

I put my wrinkled hand to my pec and squeezed. “If there was ever a day I needed these babies, it’s today.”

“Don’t squeeze your moobs and say the word babies,” he said. “Gross.”

“They’re not moobs.”

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