Page 48 of Method Acting

“So are you still coming to watch me play volleyball tonight?”

He pushed his food around with his fork, frowning at it. “I thought that was Dominic talking.”

“Sure it was. He asked Elijah to come watch.” I tapped his foot with mine under the table so he’d look at me. “Kinda hard for Elijah to come watch if you don’t bring him.”

He rolled his eyes again, but the corner of his mouth curled up a little. “This method acting really is something, huh?” He ran his hand through his hair, and so god help me, it looked good. “Being in character full time is harder than I thought it would be.”

“And we haven’t started filming yet.”

He chewed on the inside of his lip for a bit. “Hm.”

Why did he somehow look ten times hotter to me than he ever had in that moment? The angle of his jaw, the line of his neck, his dark hair where his fingers had left track marks...

“What time is volleyball?”

I grinned at him. “You’re such a good boyfriend.”

Volleyball started at six.

It was just a pickup game, a bit of fun with the guys. I’d felt as if I’d been neglecting my friendships so it was good to spend some time with them.

Especially on the beach at twilight. The sand was cool underfoot, the sun was getting low, the fading light made everything look like they’d used a photo filter. The day was winding down, class was finished, dinner had been had. It was playtime.

People were coming across the campus to watch, which was normal. It was a great night to sit on the pier or the steps to the beach, grab some snacks from the food trucks, and chill with friends.

But I hadn’t seen Amos yet.

“Christ, Chase,” Jimmy said, throwing my water bottle to me. “It’s been two hours since you saw him last and you’re already looking for him.”

Fuck.

“I just don’t want him to be by himself,” I said. Which was redundant because I knew he would be by himself. “He’s not big on crowds or people in general. This is out of his comfort zone.”

More crowds came down as we were warming up, and by the time the first match started, we had a decent audience.

Still no Amos.

I tried to tell myself not to be disappointed, but that was a fat waste of time. I tried to not be distracted, tried not scanning the crowd, or looking for a familiar face with dark hair and a sly smirk. But that wasn’t going too well either, apparently, because I missed a few easy shots and I wasn’t really paying much attention to the game. We lost the first set.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jimmy said, sending the ball none too gently at my head. I caught it before it hit me—barely—and before I could spit out what the fuck, he pointed to the pier. “He’s over there. He’s been there for fifteen minutes. Now quit looking and pay some goddamn attention. I got two beers on this match.”

I looked over toward the pier to where Jimmy had gestured, and sure enough, there he was.

Amos, in his black jeans with the knees out of them, black hoodie, and his Chucks. Without even realizing it, I was grinning at him... until Jimmy came over, took the ball from me, and shoved me into place.

When I took notice, people were smiling at me on the volleyball court—waiting for me so they could play?—and in the crowd too, but before I could even be embarrassed, the whistle blew and play began.

I was more focused for the second set. I managed some points and a few kickass saves. And it helped that I had a reason to try and look cool now.

It was a tough game but a lot of fun, and we’d managed to win the second set. I was hot and sweaty and covered in sand, and knowing that people would be watching—hell, maybe that’s why I did it—I grabbed my water bottle and jogged over to Amos.

“Hey.”

He made a face, clearly horrified that I’d make a bigger point of drawing attention to him. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” I said, ignoring his question. I pulled up the hem of my shirt to wipe my forehead and then I had an even better idea.

I pulled my shirt off right in front of him.