Chapter Two

Amos Beddington

The eight of us sat at the round table reading the very brief script outline. The thing with reality TV was that, yes, while it was technically scripted, a lot of it wasn't. This was an exercise in method acting, after all. We were to become the character. We were to behave, to act, to be in our everyday lives as the character would be.

Which was ourselves, but not entirely.

We had character names, but these characters were to be us. They would go to our classes, hang out with our friends. For as long as there was a camera on me, I was Elijah. Elijah James, whose boyfriend of twelve months was Dominic Davis.

Dominic, played by none other than Chase Soria. Chase, who was super popular, hot as hell, loved by all. Insatiable flirt, serial dater, but never serious. Apparently. Not that I'd noticed.

Not that I cared.

Not that I'd known that he's dated both girls and guys, a different person every other week, but was happy to keep his options open, impossible to nail down.

Not that I'd heard these things. Not that I'd cared.

Because I knew damn well he'd never looked at me.

That I knew of.

Because for all the times I'd looked at him, never once had I caught his eye.

I clearly wasn't his type.

Not that I cared.

Maybe he wasn't my type anyway.

Maybe I could lie to myself about that because, while I told myself the all-American guy next door was not my type, I kept finding myself drawn to him. Spotting him in a crowd, seeing him every time he crossed the quad, or finding myself wishing he'd look my way just once...

So yeah, this whole production was going to be a true test of my acting skills.

How to act the part of his boyfriend convincingly while acting like I didn't care.

"Elijah James," I read out loud when it was my turn. "Twenty-year-old fine arts student, gay. Boyfriend of Dominic Davis." I gave a quick glance up to Chase, though he was reading along, not looking at me. "We met in our second year of college. Elijah is brooding, serious. Aloof and mysterious and prickly to everyone but those who know him."

I glanced again at Chase, as I often did, to find him still reading along, still not looking at me, and wait... did he smile at that?

What did that mean? That I was prickly ?

I went back to my outline. "Elijah is loyal and fiercely protective."

So, my character was basically me.

Had he been written with me in mind?

And after everyone had read their character traits out loud, I realized all these characters were similar to the actor portraying them. And then I realized it was for good reason.

So they'd be believable.

So we could spend this entire production being this character, method acting, without too much disruption to our normal lives.

"My character is basically me," Chase said. "Funny, well-liked, popular."

"Humble," Holly added.

Chase laughed. "No, that's not listed here."

"They're all like us," Max said.

"Because this is method acting," I said flatly. "It's so we can still be ourselves, basically. Just with different names and..." I made myself not look at Chase. "And partners."

Max made a face. "Yeah, my girl ain't gonna be too happy. Not gonna lie."

"It's just acting," Didi said.

"We know that," Tucker replied.

And that was the truth. Actors had to play the role of lover or partner to their costars all the time. The real-life partner or spouse had to deal with that. Was it easy? Probably not. But it was part of the deal.

It was acting.

"I'll talk to her," Holly offered.

Max gave her a smile. " Thanks."

"Anyone else here got a girlfriend or boyfriend they need to explain this to?"

Jess shook her head. "Phoebe and I are just friends in this, so it's not the same."

Tucker and Didi both shook their heads, then Holly did the same. "Single."

Chase grinned. "Very happily single."

Jess chuckled. "We know. You were crowned King Player at the end-of-semester party, remember?"

They all laughed. I had no clue what they were talking about. Very obviously wasn't at that party...

Then all eyes fell on me. I remembered they were waiting for my answer. "Single," I admitted.

Not happily, but whatever.

Chase turned the page. "My biggest obstacle will be convincing everyone I finally got nailed down by one person."

That earned a few laughs, but Phoebe's eyes landed on me. "You've got some expectations on your character already," she said. "Being the one that nailed him down."

"The whole enigmatic and mysterious thing will totally work in your favor," Holly added.

"Enigmatic and mysterious thing?" I asked.

I wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean.

"The whole James Dean thing you have going on," Chase explained. He spared me the briefest glance, then shrugged. "Dominic would totally fall for that whole vibe."

Right.

If they meant loner, on the outside, no friends, then sure. The James Dean thing was a nicer way to put it.

Our character arcs were laid out, although very thinly .

We had some milestones and some overall plot points to aim for. Fabricated dramas and some juicy elements to keep the viewers enthralled, but this was very much about the lives of students in college. A group of friends finding themselves in an ever-changing world of social media, studying, parties, and relationships.

The premise was great.

It was exciting, and it had the promise of some groundbreaking stuff. A modern-day 90210 with a reality-television twist, all livestreamed, no room for error.

Personally, I hated reality television. I thought it cheapened the art of acting and brought down the quality of decent television viewing.

But despite my best effort to sound like my grandfather, reality TV was an entertainment phenomenon of the twenty-first century, and that shouldn't be ignored. As an artist in the industry, I'd be foolish to turn my back on it.

It was an opportunity to push my limits and to explore acting as a craft.

This was what I told myself.

Was I convinced?

The jury was still out.

"So," Deirdre said as she waltzed back into the room. "How are we feeling? Excited?"

We all kind of said yes, but not with the enthusiasm she was after, clearly.

"Well, look alive," she said. "Preproduction is two weeks. That means you've got two weeks to get to know your on-screen partner. Get acquainted, become familiar. Partner off and pretend it's your first date—ask each other fifty questions."

Well, that I could do.

"Because," Deirdre added with her trademark grin, "tomorrow begins the workshops where we'll get a whole lot more familiar with each other, if you know what I mean. There will be intimacy exercises in touching, holding hands, cuddling, and kissing exercises. You know the drill. So go," she said, shooing us out. "Go on your first dates."