Page 70 of Method Acting

He gave me a shove. “Oh, shut up.”

I laughed. “It’s okay with me. I have zero objections. In fact, I like you checking me out. Amos or Elijah, or both. I work hard for this body. I’m glad someone appreciates it.”

“Half the campus appreciates it,” he mumbled.

“Only half? That’s disappointing.”

He chuckled. “You just love the attention.”

“And you hate it,” I replied. “That’s why we make a perfect couple.”

He was quiet for a bit, and I couldn’t be bothered correcting the couple thing.

He knew what I meant.

I ignored the pictures on his phone and closed my eyes. I couldn’t ever remember feeling so relaxed. So peaceful.

So happy.

“Uh, he posted the video,” Amos murmured. “Though it’s more of a gif.”

I cracked an eye open to watch. Sure enough, there were Amos and me, lying on my bed, exactly as we were right then. The door swung in, a shirtless me draped over Amos, me trying to get up, Amos throwing the pillow at the door.

That was the entire clip.

The caption read Still not acting.

“It has three hundred likes,” Amos added.

I groaned. “I’ll kill him later. I’m too tired. Do we have to go to the outdoor theater?”

“It was your idea.”

“Past-me was a dick. Now-me is a much more reasonable person.”

He chuckled, turned his phone off, and put it on my bedside. His arm fell back to my shoulder, so I hitched my leg a little higher on his thigh and closed my eyes.

“This is nice,” I mumbled. “We should do this more often.”

“Hm” was all he replied.

I told my dick to behave itself and snuggled in, ready for the best nap ever.

I woke up fully embracing Amos. He was on his side, holding me, his leg between mine, sound asleep. His dark lashes fanned his cheeks, his pink lips were wet and parted, and so help me god, I had to make myself not kiss him.

Don’t do it. Don’t kiss him. Don’t pull him on top of you. Don’t open your legs so he’d fit between them, so you could feel his dick against yours. Don’t do it.

I wanted to kiss him so bad.

And not just a small peck like I’d done before. I mean, a deep kiss. I wanted to thread my fingers in his hair, tangle my tongue with his, and grind on his dick. I wanted his hands all over me.

And my dick was most definitely not behaving itself.

Christ.

But he was so attractive, especially in sleep. The frown was gone, the scowl. He looked peaceful and happy and so goddamn beautiful.

My door creaked open, and a hand appeared holding a phone, aiming the camera right at us.

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