Page 12 of Method Acting

I turned to see him give his buddy one of those cringey bro-handshakes, before he jogged over to me while his friend squinted in my direction, confused.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, far too cheerfully. “We got preproduction now, right?”

I gave his buddy a pointed look, where he’d now sprouted a few friends, and they were all looking at us, mystified. “They’re about to stage an intervention.”

Chase laughed and, completely ignoring them, began walking to the rehearsal hall. “They’ll be fine. They’ll get over it.”

“Am I that big of a leap from your norm?” I asked, kinda joking, kinda not.

“Well, I’ve never dated an emo before.”

I stopped walking. “An emo?”

He gestured to my clothes. “Rage Against the Machine tee-shirt, which I like, by the way. Black jeans and black Chucks. What would you call it?”

“This is my grab-what-the-fuck-ever look. Tomorrow will be whatever’s-left-before-laundry-day look. I wasn’t aware it was a whole identity.”

“Is everything you own black?”

I didn’t even have to think about that, so I sighed instead. “What’s your point?”

“Nothing. It’s just your vibe. I like it.”

“And not everything I own is black. I do own some... gray.”

Chase laughed. “Right. So do you like Rage Against the Machine, or you just into the merch?”

Into the merch. God help me.

“I do like them. Their political analogy of domestic and foreign policies of the government is insightful.”

He made a face. “Isn’t... isn’t it just music? Like heavy metal kind of music?”

I stopped walking again and gave him a serious what-the-fuck look, then because I wasn’t even going to begin that whole tirade, I settled for an eye roll and a sigh, then kept walking.

I got to the door and held it open for him, gesturing for him to enter before me. “People with zero concept of irony and appropriation first, please.”

He laughed, and I had to wonder if there was anything I could possibly say that would offend him. I’d always known he was a smiley kind of guy, that everyone loved him, that he was easygoing and friends with everyone.

Everyone except me, that is.

“So do your friends think you’ve lost your mind?” I asked, sliding my gear onto a table.

Chase grinned at me. “How good am I? How convincing was I in the coffee shop yesterday?”

I conceded a nod and I even almost smiled. “I was leaning toward overkill, but they certainly noticed.”

He laughed. “They noticed, all right. And I got twenty questions about us.”

“And?”

“And what?” He shrugged. “I’m playing it so cool. I just said we got talking in class and you were kinda cool.”

“And they clearly don’t believe you.”

He smirked. “They will. I’m a good actor, remember?”

Hm. Yeah. The way he was checking me out and calling out to me across the courtyard... yeah, he was a good actor.

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