Page 19 of Method Acting

I sighed and threw my bag into the locker. “Nothing. I just...” I spun around to face him. “I’m a likable guy, right? I mean, everyone likes me. I’m fun to be around. I’m nice to people. Well, I’m not a dick to anyone. But I’m kinda all right, aren’t I?”

He stared at me, seeing I was serious, and closed his locker door. “What the hell brought this on? Of course you’re likable. You’re better than just kinda all right, Chase. Three-quarters of this campus wants you to dick them. Girls, guys. Why you askin’?”

“Why only three-quarters?”

He snorted. “Gee, I don’t know. Because lesbians and asexual people exist, Chase. And straight guys.” He put his hand to his chest. “Now I love you, but not that much. Dude, why are you... who’s got you doubting yourself?” Then he pulled his head back and looked down his nose at me. “Is it that emo guy? What’s his name?”

Jesus. He made that leap pretty fast. “What? Who?”

“The guy at the coffee shop, the guy you called out to across the quad, down the hall... What’s his name... Armistice, Amish, Amy?—”

“Amos.”

He grinned. “Holy shit.”

“He said I’m generic.”

Jimmy laughed. “Holy shit.”

“It’s not funny. He called me generic. Actually, it was generic Hollywood. That’s what I am. Generic Hollywood.”

He stared at me, eyes wide, mouth open in some horrified smile. “Holy shit.”

“I know!”

“No. Holy shit because he’s got you.”

I squinted at him. “Got me what?”

“Figured out. Bent outta shape.” He put his hands up as if his words were up in lights. “Bamboozled.”

“The fuck is bamboozled?”

“What he’s got you.”

“Oh, fuck off. He has not.”

“You finally met someone who doesn’t like you.”

“I dunno. I’m starting to wonder about you and where this conversation is going. You seem a little enraptured in my misery.”

He laughed and gave me a shove. “I just never thought I’d see the day.”

“The day what?” Tater said, walking in and dumping his gym bag.

“The day Chase meets someone who doesn’t fall at his feet.”

“It’s not about them falling at my feet,” I said. “It’s about them not even liking me. Without even getting to know me.”

Tater’s eyes went to me. “For real? Why don’t they like you? Everyone likes you.”

“Not everyone,” Jimmy added, far too cheerfully. “Emo Amos.”

“He said I’m generic Hollywood and that my abs looked like a fossilized trilobite.” I snatched up my phone. “I don’t even know what that is.” I began to google it, and as soon as I saw the first pic, I groaned. “Look. He thinks I look like this.”

I showed them the pic.

Tater pressed his lips together, but Jimmy burst out laughing.

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