Page 98 of Method Acting

“Uh, okay boys,” Deirdre tried, her eyes wide. “That’s not what I?—”

“You know what?” I said to her. “I had it right in the beginning. Don’t date, don’t get involved, and sure as hell don’t ever fall in love. Not even for an acting role, because this sucks!” I suddenly realized, I knew in my heart, that I’d crossed a line. And more importantly, that I was done. “You know what’s worse for ratings than not having your most popular couple in some pitiful third-act breakup? Not having them in it at all. Because I quit.”

I stormed out, slamming the door open on my way out, even more pissed off than I was before.

Honestly, fuck this. Fuck that and fuck him.

Fuck him in particular.

I heard Deirdre call out to me, but I kept walking. She could fail me for all I cared. I walked back to my house, trudged up to my room, threw myself onto my bed, and buried my face into my pillow.

Then I screamed into it.

I cocooned myself up in my covers and wallowed like a sad burrito until I fell asleep.

I woke up when someone sat on my bed. I peeked at who it was, hoping with all hope that it was Amos.

It wasn’t.

It was Jimmy.

I groaned and covered my face with my comforter, rolling back over to the wall. “You’re not him.”

“Nope. I’m not. Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“You okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Just need to be dramatic first.”

He snorted.

“This is your fault,” I mumbled. “You told everyone I’m in love with him.”

“Chase,” he said.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I’m going back to the old me. To the me that doesn’t do repeats. That doesn’t date. That doesn’t feel things.”

“Uh, Chase?—”

“Feeling things is awful,” I added. “Why would anyone do this willingly?”

Two very strong hands grabbed my burrito cocoon and sat me upright. “Dude,” Jimmy said sternly.

I peeked out of my blankets to see Jimmy sitting there, a worried look on his face.

And Amos standing behind him.

Chapter Fourteen

Amos

Chase’s eyes went wide when he saw me. Then he threw himself back down on his bed and pulled his blankets over his head, making a pitiful sound. He mumbled through his covers, “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

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