The Brazen Boys Series Box Set Books 1-4 (MM Romance) by Daryl Banner

Author:Daryl Banner [Daryl Banner]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-09-06T07:00:00+00:00

[ 2 ]

The weeks seem to drift like dreams. For the first few weeks, I take my Basic Acting students through exercises and script-reading skills. Baby steps. I literally feel like I’m teaching them to read. “This is what a character is,” I hear myself say. “Find your motivation.”

“Don’t highlight your lines,” I say once. “Every word uttered by every other character is important and vital. Highlighting your lines tells your brain that the only important thing in this play is you and your pretty face. ‘Oh hey, look at me, I’m so fucking important.’ If I see a highlighted script, I’m burning it.”

Through the simple exercises, I have them stand in front of the rest of the class. One exercise involves them telling a personal story and the class having to decide whether it’s made-up or real.

I take deep pleasure each time it’s Justin Brady’s turn. He always takes the stage like he already owns it, but when he starts to perform, I spot and take note of a hundred different things to fix. I feel stings of pride when I see his flaws, no matter how pretty he is.

Each time he finishes, he gives me a piercing look, then smiles like the cat that’s just caught the fish. “Joke’s on you,” I mutter once under my breath after class. “You’re the fish.”

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I don’t have but one advanced acting class to teach, so I have lots of time to plan and catch up on paperwork before the evening rehearsals. Auditions for the first shows have already come and gone, but I’m unconcerned, as I don’t have a show to direct until the spring, and my auditions aren’t until the end of October.

It’s one of these lazy Tuesdays that I’m troubling over a half-eaten sandwich and an unopened bottle of Diet Coke in the University Center cafeteria. I think it’s October already, but can’t be sure; might still be the end of September. “Has it really already been a month?” I ask my half-eaten sandwich. I feel a ball of sadness, thinking about the freshman again. You’re so obsessed, I tell myself, annoyed. I’m sad because I realize I only have a few more months with him and then he’ll be gone. Fine Arts credit nabbed, he’ll move on and I’ll never see his pretty face again. There will be other pretty faces, I reason with myself. Hotter faces. Older faces. More appropriate faces to lust after.

Then again, with his current inability to take my class seriously, I wonder if I’ll even pass him at all. Unbeknownst to him, I’ve already given him two F’s and a D on some of his exercises. He doesn’t give a fuck, he makes light of everything, and he isn’t affected in the least by my warnings and criticisms.

You’re so obsessed, I repeat to myself.

And I’m also fuming over the fact that I wasn’t permitted to direct the show I’d wanted to direct, but instead pushed to take some old, tired piece of work that everyone’s seen a thousand times.

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