Chapter Seven

Chase

I wasn't gonna let Amos win.

Admittedly, when he'd kissed me first, I hadn't been expecting it. No, I hadn't expected him to be so brazen. I hadn't expected him to take charge. It knocked me off my guard a little, not gonna lie.

I'd tried to mimic his professionalism. His separation from craft. If he could kiss me like it meant nothing, then I could do the same. Admittedly, the big old smooch I'd given him wasn't my finest work and then he called it a joke kiss.

A joke kiss.

And I wasn't having that. So I kissed him like I would kiss anyone, anyone that I was interested in, anyone that I wanted to take to bed, and he was into it. When I'd fisted his hair, I felt the rumble in his throat. The moan damn near made me almost shove my tongue in his mouth, and I had to stop myself before I did. I wanted to push him against the table and kiss him for real—all hands, teeth, mouth, tongue. Bodies .

I'd almost done exactly that.

So close.

He tasted like pretzels and toothpaste. He smelled of deodorant or cologne. I wasn't sure what it was—timber and honey, or maybe it was just him.

I liked it.

I was beginning to like him.

When I'd left his room last night—after we'd sat on his bed, holding hands and watching Rick and Morty —I walked home, telling myself it wasn't real.

Because it wasn't real. It was acting. It was all preparation for this semester's production in our final year.

Just like the kiss.

It wasn't real.

It wasn't me, and it wasn't Amos. It was our characters. It was Dominic and Elijah. They kissed, not us, and that's what I told myself for the rest of the day and well into the night.

I told myself it was no big deal. I told myself not to read into it.

So I'd been a little competitive. That was nothing new. He'd been brazen enough to kiss me first when I had been suddenly overcome with nerves and apprehension, so if he could be aloof and removed, then so could I.

Except now, I couldn't stop thinking about him, about that damn kiss. About how he'd felt against me, about how he'd reacted. How he'd tasted.

How he'd blushed and been all shy afterwards.

It'd pleased me to know that it had affected him as much as it had affected me. And the great part was—or maybe it was the torturous part—now we had to keep doing it until we made it look natural.

"Why are you so quiet?" Tater asked. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything is great. Why do you ask?"

"Because you've been quiet. And you've got your thinking face on."

"That's not his thinking face," Jimmy said. "That's his caught-feelings face."

I gave him the stink eye. "Oh, fuck off."

He just laughed. "A bit like that time when you thought you caught feelings for Georgia before you talked yourself out of it. But this is worse. You've caught bigger feelings this time."

I leveled him a not-impressed glare.

Tater blinked in surprise. "Holy shit. For real?"

Jimmy's grin widened. "And if I were a betting man—which I totally am, by the way—so five bucks says it's a certain someone who doesn't like you... What did he call you? Generic?"

I sighed so loud it was a borderline groan.

"Oh my god. Like, for real?" Tater was grinning now too.

"No, not for real. And he apologized for the generic comment." Kind of. Not really, but whatever. "And he does like me."

"You're not denying it," Jimmy said, putting his hand out. "You owe me five bucks."

"You can suck my dick," I said, batting his hand away.

"No thanks." Jimmy sized me up, serious now. " Honestly though? Are you good? Ain't like you to get bent outta shape over someone."

So typical of Jimmy. Joked until he could see it was time to be serious. Like now. And it wasn't like the whole drama production was some big secret. We were allowed to tell people. Maybe telling them would help.

I began with another sigh. "So this production for drama is a thing for a few weeks. It's a focus on method acting."

"Okay," Jimmy hedged.

"What's method acting?" Tater asked.

"It's a style of acting," I explained, "where the actor stays in character. Not just when the camera rolls but always. At home, twenty-four seven. You become the character."

"Marlon Brando was famous for it, right?" Jimmy asked.

I nodded. "It can be intense."

"Like an undercover cop," Tater added. "Like if he infiltrates a gang, he has to be that character all the time."

God bless him. I adored the guy. He really wasn't the brightest, but that was actually a pretty good comparison. "Right."

"And?" Jimmy asked.

"And this is like a 90210 reality TV twist. They're gonna film us in our everyday lives."

"As another character?"

I shrugged. "Yes, but each character is very similar to our own person, so we can play the part for the whole project."

Tater blinked. "For how long? "

"We have another week or so of preproduction and then filming for two weeks. Which doesn't sound long, but it's twenty-four seven for two weeks."

"Wow," Tater said.

I nodded and sighed again. "And my character has a boyfriend." I winced. "A long-term boyfriend. Been together a year."

Jimmy's smile was slow spreading. "Lemme guess. The generic guy."

I really hate that word.

"His name is Amos. And he's not generic. He thinks I'm generic. Well, he did. I don't know. He told me he doesn't think of me as generic anymore." Which made me so stupidly happy. "He does like me. I know he does."

Jimmy smiled at me. "So he's finally on the same page. Thank god, because I was beginning to think you were going to pine forever."

"I'm not pining. And it's not... it's not like romance or anything. He doesn't like me like that."

"But you like him like that."

I scoffed because that was ridiculous. "Look, this project is a pretty big deal. I'm gonna have to spend time with him, and he'll be spending time with me, here and around you guys. I need you to not make it weird." I ran my hand over my face. "And there'll be cameras around, so you might not wanna walk around naked..." Then I shrugged. "Or do. I don't care. The editing team is gonna need to learn how to pixelate and blur, so whatever. Although it's being live streamed, so I don't know..."

Tate looked around the house. "There's gonna be film crews? Here?"

Jimmy blinked. "Live streamed?"

I nodded. "Yep. Though I think they wanna try and keep it at Amos's room, mostly. Less distraction for you guys, and he's in the dorms and so are three of the others, so it'll be like Melrose Place or some shit. God, I don't even know. There's minimal outline, minimal script. They just gave us some quick character profiles and some plot lines to make it interesting."

Tater blinked. "What's Melrose Place?"

I resisted sighing.

"And your character and Amos's character are banging?" Jimmy asked. "So you gotta act all lovey-dovey with him all the time, day and night?"

"As long as there's cameras around, I guess. We just need to stay in character. It's about method acting. Capturing the psyche of our characters, their mental headspace."

"And bed space."

I rolled my eyes and sighed, then I groaned. "Pretty sure it won't go that far."

"But you gotta act like you've been together a year. Pretty sure couples who've been together for a year are fucking on the regular," Jimmy said.

I ignored that.

Tater looked confused. "I dunno if I could ever be an actor. Having to kiss your costar. I mean, what if you hated them? What if they ate tuna and pickled onions for lunch?" He made a face. "Or what if they had poor dental hygiene? Or if they were just a terrible person? I could never pretend to like someone who made fun of other people."

He was such a sweet guy .

"That's why it's called acting." But then I conceded. "And there are general rules and etiquette for brushing teeth etcetera before you suck face."

Jimmy's eyes cut to mine. "Have you kissed Amos yet?"

I didn't even have to answer out loud. Apparently just looking at him was enough.

"Oh, this is perfect," he said, clapping his hands. "So did you kiss him? Or did he kiss you?"

That time I sighed. "We practiced," I replied. "They're called intimacy exercises. It sounds dirty, but it's just stuff like touching, holding hands, and just being comfortable in their personal space."

"So there was no tongue?" Jimmy pressed.

"No, there was no tongue. You perv."

There was no way I was telling them how I'd almost given him tongue. How I'd had to stop myself from slipping my tongue into his mouth.

"It's not like that," I added. "We're professionals. Well, we're not paid for this, but we take it seriously. It's worth a good chunk of our semester grade. We have to nail this."

I knew I'd said the wrong thing as soon as I'd said it.

"Shut up, Jimmy," I said before he could open his mouth. He snorted instead.

"So when do we meet him?" Tater asked. "Officially, I mean. Are you bringing him here? And the film crew? Will I be in anything? I'll have to let my mom know to watch."

"I don't know how much you guys'll be in it," I answered. "Probably not much. Maybe just background stuff, like extras. But if we go to the bar or the coffee shop... It's more about us. There are four couples. Three romantic couples, one set of best friends. "

"So, tell me," Jimmy said. "How did you and emo-boy's characters meet? You're not exactly running in the same circles."

"It's in our character briefs," I replied. "We met in drama class."

He grinned at me. "So, do your character briefs say which one of you tops or bottoms?"

"Hey, Jimmy," I deadpanned. "Fuck all the way off."

"I told my friends," I said.

Amos and I were sitting on the floor in the drama room. We were supposed to be acting as if we were home alone watching TV. He had his legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles. I tapped his knee. "Open your legs."

He did a double take. "I beg your pardon?"

"Move your leg," I said, physically moving his legs apart so I could lay down between his legs, my back to his chest. I snuggled in a little, using his upper pec as a pillow. "That's better."

"Are you comfortable?" he deadpanned.

"I am now. And shush, we're supposed to be watching TV." I pointed to the non-existent television. "I love this episode."

He leaned back on his hands, and I did my very best to feel any particular hard bits that might have jabbed me in the lower back, but I was disappointed...

"So you told your friends about what?"

"About us. "

"What exactly about us did you tell them?"

"That we're on-screen boyfriends, and if you come around to the house, they have to be nice to you."

"Oh." He paused. "Would they have not been if you didn't ask?"

"Yeah, of course they would. They're nice guys. Well, they can be dicks to me, but they'd never be dicks to you."

"Dicks to you? You call Tate Tater Tot. I'd consider that you being a dick to him."

"Everyone calls him that." I shrugged. "Because he has the brain function of a potato."

"You're a bully to him. And he puts up with you, why?"

"No, I'm not a bully..." I sighed. "Maybe..." Christ. "I didn't make the name up. I didn't start it."

"Well, maybe you can stop calling him that."

I felt duly admonished. Probably rightfully so, but I was nothing if not petulant. "You can't talk. You called me generic."

He sounded amused. "Did I touch a nerve?"

Yes.

"No."

I hated that we were having this conversation while I was lying on him with his knee raised. "You know, if I was ever going to be lying all over someone like this, I would've thought they'd be saying nice things to me." I pulled at a thread in the hole in his jeans. "Say something nice to me."

He sighed. "You're not generic. Feel better now?"

"Yes."

I did. Immediately.

"So about my friends," I began. "I know you're not a fan of anyone who doesn't meet your cool-recluse vibes, but they're good guys."

"Hm."

"Well, you're gonna have to spend time with them at some point, so maybe work on acting like you can tolerate them," I said flatly. "What about your friends? You tell them yet?"

"You might find this hard to believe, but I don't have a lot of friends. I try not to socialize. It's exhausting. There are people that I work with, people that I have classes with."

Figuring we were doing the whole get-used-to-touching thing, I took his hand and brought it around to rest on my belly, threading our fingers. "You don't hang out with anyone?"

"Not really. I do sessions with the study club. Sometimes we go to Bean Necessities afterwards."

I played with his fingers. It all sounded so sad to me, even though I understood his social battery depleted easily.

"So does hanging out with me like this tire you out?"

He didn't answer, and when I tried to turn around to see his face, he held me in place. "Shush," he said. "I'm trying to watch TV. This is my favorite episode."

I chuckled and settled back against him, surprised by how comfortable this was. Me sitting between his legs, resting my back to his chest, his arm draped across my stomach.

I thought maybe I could begin to feel the press of something against my lower back... maybe it was his jeans. But then he brought his right leg up.

"You're not very comfortable," he said.

"You're very comfortable," I replied .

"You're too heavy. And bulked up. Are those muscles from hard work or genetics?"

I wasn't even offended by that. "Both. My dad's a big guy. And my mom's brothers are all over six feet. But I do work out and swim. You should come along one time."

"And swim? Are you insane?"

He sounded like I'd asked him to give me one of his kidneys. "Swimming's good for you." I took his hand and brought it up to my pec, giving myself a squeeze. "See?"

He pulled his hand away and gave me a shove. "Ew. You have moobs."

"I do fucking not." I half turned around, leaning against his bent knee, and pulled up my shirt to show him my pec. I poked it. "This is a pectoral muscle. It's not soft. It is not a moob, thank you very much."

"Christ, put it away," he mumbled, but not before he'd copped a good eyeful, his cheeks pink. "Do you have to get naked every chance you get?"

"I'm not naked." I pulled my shirt back down, then eyed his chest and stomach. "You're so skinny, I bet you got abs under there."

Then I made the mistake of trying to lift his shirt, and he did some lightning-fast maneuver with his legs that half turned me inside out, and before I knew it, I was on my stomach, one leg bent up in some kung fu lock-hold and my hand pinned to the floor above my head.

He pinned me to the floor, his lips at my ear. "You do not have permission to do that."

Then a bunch of feet came through the door and stopped. Well, I could assume there were bodies attached to the feet, but from how I was being pinned down, I couldn't really see...

"Well, I see you two are getting along just fine," Deirdre's voice said.

"Need some more private time?" Max asked.

"We were just discussing consent," Amos said.

"I can see it's going well," Deirdre said. "Chase, are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm great," I squeaked out. "This is kinda hot, actually. Not gonna lie."

Amos gave me a shove before he got off me, but when I got up and caught a glance at him, he was smiling.

I sat up and swung my leg around him, grabbing him and giving him a back-hug with my chin on his shoulder. "That was fun. You've got some kung fu moves."

He sighed. "You're lucky I'm allowing this."

I chuckled. "I am lucky you're allowing this." Then I sighed. "But this is nice." I gave him a bit of a shake. "Relax. I'm not going to do anything to you."

He exhaled and some of the tension left his shoulders. "Only because you know you'd lose."

"Letting you win isn't technically losing."

"You didn't let me win."

"No. But I will from now on. I had no idea how much fun wrestling was. I'm forlorn to think about all the hot body rubbing I've missed all these years by not being on the wrestling team."

He snorted. "Forlorn."

"It means pitiful and forsaken."

He growled. "I know what it means."

"Ooh, do that again. That was hot. "

"Deirdre? I'd like to request a partner change."

I laughed and tried to do the leg maneuver he did to me, but it failed spectacularly and he ended up pinning me to the floor again, this time on my back with my hands on either side of my head. Our faces just two inches apart. He was actually smiling. "You lose again."

"I'm letting you win on purpose."

He gnashed his teeth at me, then jumped up to his feet. He offered me his hand, which I stupidly took—thinking he was helping me to my feet—only for him to let go of me so I fell on my ass.

"Deirdre?" I said from the floor. "I'd like to request a partner change."

I don't know why no one took me seriously. Even Amos laughed.

The next day we spent the day with the camera crews. It was one thing getting familiar with Amos and being partnered with him, but it was another thing getting used to having cameras on us in a reality TV sense.

Being aware of angles and the camera without any stage direction wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. The reality-television aspect of this meant candid filming, and not looking down the barrel of the lens was difficult given there was no fixed camera angle.

We acted out scenes from Friends , just small skits, as a group of eight. Our designated camera crew was Daniel and Bridgette. Daniel held the camera with a stabilizer and Bridgette was his assistant. He did all the filming, she walked behind him, guiding him so he didn't bump into poles or people.

We'd need to get very comfortable with them being our shadows and in our faces, while pretending they weren't there at all.

Amos seemed to be able to do it a lot easier than me.

"I'm surprised you struggle with it," Amos said with a frown. He packed up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, ready to leave now that class was done.

"Why?"

"Because you always have eyes on you," he said. "Wherever you go, people watch you."

"No they don't."

They did, but I wasn't admitting to knowing that.

He rolled his eyes. "For an actor, you can't lie for shit."

"You know, contrary to popular belief, I don't actually ask people to look at me."

"I never said you did. And I get it. You look like a young Brad Pitt. People are gonna look."

"Are my genetics a crime now?"

"Sure. Looking like generic Hollywood is a federal offense."

I glowered at him. "I hate that word. And you took it back. No returns."

"Should I just call you Hollywood?"

"I'd rather you didn't. And anyway, you look like Keanu Reeves from My Own Private Idaho ."

He considered that and smirked. "Thanks. He was hot in that."

I sighed. "My point is, people look at you too. "

He held the door for me as we walked out. "And my point is," he said, "just pretend the cameras are people. The people who watch you. You know they're there but don't act like you know. They're the extras on your stage, not the other way around."

I thought about that. "That actually makes sense. I dunno why it's so different for me," I admitted. "I'm used to having a stage or a set, an audience or the camera that has a fixed location, ya know? This is random."

"Like freeform," he said. "You've done that before."

True. "Jeez. Are you right about everything?"

"Mostly."

I stopped walking when I realized where we were—at the door to his dorm. "Oh. What are we doing here?"

He nodded to the building. "Well, I'm going to get changed for work. I have a shift in twenty minutes. I don't know what you're doing."

I checked the time on my phone. "I can hang out at the coffee shop while you work," I said. "I need to study anyway."

"Well, it's a public space. I can't technically stop you."

"Gee, thanks."

"Are you aware that Daniel has been filming us since we left the rehearsal hall? Don't turn around. Keep it natural."

Shit.

"Uh, no, I wasn't aware."

"See? You can do it. Like the dozen or so people who watched us walking to my dorm together."

"I wasn't aware of them either." Goddammit. "You distracted me with arguing."

He damn near smiled. "Well, if we're gonna give them something to talk about, you should maybe come up to my room."

I wasn't sure why that gave my heart a little kick. "I do like being propositioned."

He sighed, turned, and walked inside. I had to rush to catch up before the door closed. "You know," I said, taking the stairs behind him. "If we're gonna convince people that we like each other, it might help if you actually like me."

"I'm an excellent actor."

"You also have a great ass," I said.

He stopped walking and I gestured to his said great ass. "What? If you waited for me to walk with you, your ass wouldn't be in my face." I shrugged with zero shame. "I'm not complaining."

He pursed his lips and gestured ahead of him. "Be my guest."

I grinned at him as I went in front of him. "If you want to look at my ass, you just gotta ask. Because I am not opposed to being checked out."

"Have you considered not being a douche?"

I groaned. "Have you considered using the elevator?"

"Stop your whining."

"Stop looking at my ass."

By the time we got to his floor, I stood at his door as he unlocked it and pushed it open, and I was pretty sure he either wanted to kill me or kiss me.

It was hard to tell.

He dumped his bag and took his work uniform into his bathroom to get changed, so I sprawled out on his bed and checked my phone.

Sure enough, the first thing to pop up on my socials was a photo of me. And Amos, walking across the courtyard, not even five minutes ago.

The caption read Soooo is this new?

Damn, people were fast.

The first comment was, Saw them together the other day, and the next comment was, Chase just went into the dorms with him.

Oh great.

"Uh, Amos?" I said, loud enough for him to hear. "They're talking about us."

A second later his door opened. "Who is?"

I showed him my screen. "People. There's a pic of you and me taken just now, walking across the courtyard, and into your dorm."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Really?"

"Fast, huh?"

He didn't seem too surprised. "I guess it was bound to happen."

Another comment appeared. Hope Amos knows Chase doesn't date.

Next comment. He only ever nails and bails .

"Oh, that's not very nice," I said. "I do not nail and bail."

Amos raised an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

I held up my phone like the incriminating evidence it was. "User Aprilshower05 would like to protect your honor, advising you to please be aware that I don't date anyone, to which LochVanessMonster said no, I only nail and bail." I held up my pointer finger. "In my defense, I do not nail and bail. Expectations are outlined prior to any nailing and therefore the bailing is more of an anticipated departure."

Amos snorted. "Right. That's a nicer way to put it."

"I thought people liked me," I said, pouting, genuinely kinda hurt over the nail-and-bail comment. "I've never been dishonest to anyone about anything like that. Everyone knew what they were getting into, and they agreed before anything began."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it matters," I said. Because it did matter. It mattered to me. "Nice that they wanted to warn you though," I said, still pouting. "But they make me out to be a bad person just because I don't want a long-term relationship with every person I meet, and like I'm some kind of manwhore. Which I'm not. It's not like that." I finished with a shrug. "I don't want you to think bad of me."

"I don't think bad of you," he said quietly. "And I don't care what they think. But for the sake of the performance, now you're supposed to be serious about being with me."

"Which is fine. We can make it believable, right?"

He pulled his other shoe on and laughed as he nodded to my phone. "Apparently I'm not the one who needs to be convincing."

"I'll be the best boyfriend ever, you'll see." I glanced at my phone again, and seeing more comments, I groaned and turned it off. "I don't want to see what else they say."

He went to his door so I followed him. "I don't know what you're worried about," he said. "If anyone around here does the nailing, it will be me."

I was so stunned, I couldn't speak. So he opened the door and shoved me out of it, laughing.

And there in the hall was Daniel, camera rolling.