Buddy had spent the better part of an hour scrolling through Beau’s Instagram, then his stylist’s, then looking at the various TikTok edits of his future co-star that people on the Internet had put together to an Olivia Rodrigo song. All of his research had culminated in one glaring conclusion: Buddy really had to dress nicely tonight.
It wasn’t like he dressed like a slob any other night, but the Clevens weren’t much of a designer family. There were only so many things that Buddy could wear if he wanted to look half as put-together as Beau Ramsey. He wasn’t sure that his Wal-Mart jeans were going to cut it, but he paired them with his red jacket, a thrifted number that he’d laid eyes on and had immediately decided would make him look like James Dean in Rebel Without A Cause. He’d brushed his fingers through his curls and frantically sent three selfies to Robbie, hoping his brother would help validate him.
Naturally, Robbie simply sent back the raised-eyebrow emoji and a question of: You look fine boyo?? Why are u so stressed??
Buddy groaned. He wasn’t necessarily stressed, per se, but he wanted to make a good impression on Beau. The other man was a tough nut to crack, remaining cool and a little distant throughout the various DM exchanges they'd had. He’d been nice enough, but maybe more civil than friendly, and by the time they’d eventually agreed to meet up at some non-descript sports bar that Buddy had never been to before, Buddy began worrying that maybe Beau was just treating this meeting like a formality, an obligation. And Buddy? Buddy felt like he was auditioning to be Beau’s friend. And he really, really wanted the part.
He eventually pushed his way into the bar, eyes widening when he realised how crowded it was. His gaze flickered to the TV screens hanging on the walls, all of them playing the same basketball game. He did think he remembered his dad saying something about the Knicks earlier that day, and it felt like every basketball fan in the whole of New York had sequestered themselves into this very bar.
It made it a little harder for Buddy to find Beau, but eventually he reached the back corner of the bar and saw a lone figure sitting hunched over at one of the high-top tables. The man was wearing a baseball cap, but Buddy had spent so long religiously studying Beau’s social media profiles, that he realised he’d found who he was looking for.
“Hi,” he said breathlessly. As good a greeting as any, he figured.
He waited for Beau to look up and then immediately gestured to the man’s hat then pointed at his own curly hair.
“I should’ve read the memo. That’s a good idea. With the hat. To be incognito,” he said, then flushed a deep red. He shook his head quickly. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I don’t need a hat. I’m not as famous as you.”
He bared his teeth in the semblance of a grin, more embarrassed than anything. Quickly, he tried to rectify the situation, nerves slowly creeping up on him as he began to wonder if he was already bombing their first meeting. This was meant to solidify them as friends before shooting, not alert Beau that he was about to star in a movie with an absolute moron.
“What are you drinking?” he asked, clapping his hands together. “I’ll go get the first round.”
Then he spotted the QR code engraved against the table and realised that this was the kind of bar where you ordered on your phone and they brought the drinks to you. Slowly, he lowered himself down on the stool.
“Oh. Right.”