Chase Soria

Every budding actor knows acting is a difficult gig. There will be grueling auditions and punishing rejections. If you’re lucky, there’ll be roles that pay the bills and even roles that won’t.

Roles we don’t believe in.

But that’s what acting is—acting as if we do believe in them.

So when the semester’s production project is announced and I’m cast as one of the leads, I’m ecstatic. A lot of responsibility, a lot of work, but I’m up for it. Even when I find out what my role is and who my partner is. Amos, the brooding James Dean wannabe, is my on-screen boyfriend. Which is great, except for the fact he hates me.

I can do this. It’s just acting.

Nothing more.

Amos Beddington

The 90s are back, apparently. 90210 and Friends, but with a reality TV spin, which means cameras following us around as if they’re capturing the everyday lives of Franklin U students.

Me, but not me.

Me, with no more than a character description, no script or screenplay. Method acting, being the character 24/7, not just when the cameras are rolling. With a campus boyfriend.

Method acting is immersive and intense, and it can be confusing if the lines begin to blur. I mean, I’ve dreamed of being with the irritatingly gorgeous and annoyingly popular Chase Soria, and now I have to be his on-screen boyfriend?

I’m a good actor, sure. But how can I be convincing when I’m not sure I can even convince myself?