Page 118 of Method Acting

I looked up at him. “You ran?”

He replied with a sigh. “Of course I did.”

“Aww. You’re so sweet.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

The footage showed snippets of the others, all funny and dramatic and awesome.

Then it cut to the final scene, that’d just aired tonight. To Amos and me slow dancing, kissing. And the audience cheered. And then when Jess and Phoebe were dancing, foreheads pressed together and holding hands, they cheered again.

They cheered for Max and Jenna, and then for Didi and Tucker.

But they cheered loudest for Holly, as she danced by herself, holding a red solo cup in the air.

It was so awesome.

Then Holly’s interview showed on-screen. She was wearing the shirt she had on now. “Not everyone’s happy ever after has to end with being in love.”

It cut to footage of Max and Jenna, and then to footage of Amos and me.

And then it showed us all together, the eight of us, laughing at our usual breakfast meetings, with Holly’s voiceover. “Sometimes it’s learning about yourself. It’s about loving yourself and knowing your own self-worth and finding people to call friends. Sometimes that’s the best happy ever after.”

And that was how it ended.

Perfectly.

Had I found my happy ever after? With Amos? With knowing more about myself, about how I loved and needed to be loved? I was pretty sure I had.

Sure, we were young and we had our whole lives ahead of us, but I knew one thing for certain.

I wanted to start a life with Amos. He was the calm to my chaos, and I wanted that safe harbor forever.

Now that the filming was done, we could concentrate on just us, on graduating, and on maybe moving to LA together like I’d dreamed about.

Big dreams, big goals.

Big love.

Sounded about right.

Epilogue

Amos

It was easy to see where Chase got his need for physical touch. His whole family were huggers. His mom was the hugging, emotional type that was kinda horrifying, kinda nice.

“Ohh,” she cried, sliding a box onto the kitchen counter. “Look at this place!” She took it all in as if it were the Taj Mahal. “It’s so cute! You two will be so happy here, I just know it.”

She called it cute.

My mother had taken one look at our place and cringed.

It was a one-bedroom apartment roughly the size of a shoebox, with marked walls and scuffed flooring. But the location was great and there was a balcony. The hot water seemed a little sketchy, but it was cheap enough.

Cheap enough for two budding actors here to chase the dream.

Mrs. Soria was lovely though. As pretty as her son, and she’d welcomed me with open arms. Literally. She’d hugged me, and I’d almost died. Chase had to pull me free, but being squished with welcoming hugs was so much better than facing disapproval, so I’d take the hugs and the happy tears, even if it made me die inside.

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