DOS Ch-219 & 220

October 2007, Kloves Residence, London

“Do you realize how stupid that move was?” Mum asked, her voice steeped in disappointment. “I thought you were better than this, Troy. Isolating yourself for the better part of the year is not cool.”

I looked across the room at the other two occupants—Dad and Evan.

The latter had wrapped up the joint production of the first two [Twilight] movies while I was away, and was now back in London, enjoying front-row seats to the lecture my parents had decided to deliver.

“Do you realize this was exactly why I didn’t tell you?” I shot back. “I knew you’d make a scene. I love you and Dad, but you need to understand—I’m not eight anymore. I can make my own life decisions now.”

“But—”

“Kathy,” Dad cut in. “He’s right. He’s an adult now.”

Mum glared at him, but he didn’t waver. “He needs to make his own mistakes so he can learn from them. We can’t coddle him forever.”

Then he turned to me. “Was the role important to you, son?”

“Very,” I said firmly. “It was… no, it will be the best role of my life. I don’t think I’ll ever top it.”

Dad gave a small nod. “And what would you do if another role like that came along?”

I stifled a laugh when he tilted his head meaningfully in Mum’s direction, a silent cue to throw her a bone.

“I’ll inform you all before I head off for a shoot like that,” I promised sincerely.

“Good,” Dad nodded, satisfied, before turning back to Mum. “Happy?”

She didn’t respond, but from her silence, I knew the crisis had been defused.

Or so I thought.

“Do you know, because you went radio silent, we had to postpone [The Night Of],” Mum reminded me. “We’d planned a full promotional tour for you, but since you weren’t here, we had no choice. The BBC wasn’t pleased. Surprisingly, HBO had no problem pushing it back.”

I had honestly forgotten about the show’s release. With films, you shoot and wait—it might be a year or more before marketing even begins. But TV is different. Most episodes are produced quickly and released on a tighter schedule.

That wasn’t quite the case with [The Night Of], since Mum and I had hired top-tier cinematographers and editors. The quality had been elevated significantly. Or at least, it should have. I hadn’t had time to watch it yet.

“Have you seen it?” I asked her.

“We all have,” she said, glancing toward Dad and Evan.

“And?” I asked eagerly.

“It was great!” Evan jumped in, taking over. “Absolutely marvelous! Daldry nailed it again—every shot was beautiful. And the tension? I was on the edge of my seat most of the time. Man, you looked amazing. Your body toward the end was unreal.”

“That’s what you noticed?” I asked with a teasing grin. “My looks? Not the performance? That’s kinda gay, bro.”

Evan sputtered, “No! That’s not wha—no!”

“Anyway,” Mum cut in before Evan could embarrass himself further, “the reason I brought it up is because you won’t just be promoting [Superbad]—you’ll be promoting [The Night Of] at the same time.”

I looked at her skeptically. “Are you sure that’s wise? They’re completely different genres.”

“We’ll have to make do,” she said with a sigh. “I know it’s not ideal, and the original plan was to release the show two months ago, but you forced our hand. I knew you’d come out for the [Superbad] promotions, so we coordinated around that. BBC and HBO have already released the trailer and announced the premiere date. It’s set for the same weekend as [Superbad], airing Sunday night.”

Of course, it would premiere on a Sunday. People stayed in to watch TV then, bracing themselves for the Monday blues. Sunday was traditionally the highest-viewership night of the week—HBO releases all its major dramas, like [Game of Thrones] and [Succession], on that day. Honestly, I’d be a little offended if they hadn’t chosen Sunday for mine.

“When can I see the show?” I asked.

“Whenever you want,” Mum replied. “We have a copy in the projection room. You can watch it now if you like. But before that, there’s something you should know.” She exchanged a tense glance with Dad.

When neither of them said anything for a few seconds, I prompted, “What?”

Dad sighed heavily. “Carla Armitage tried to reach you while you were away.”

I froze. Carla Armitage. The woman I’d grown to hate had finally come crawling back.

“What did she want?” I asked wearily. “If it’s money, just pay her off and get her out of my life. I don’t even want to see her.”

I vaguely remembered a clause in our contract that explicitly forbade her from approaching me or my family. If I wanted to, I could enforce it right now—but that’s probably what she was after. Notoriety. It was better to quietly cut people like her out, even if it cost something. Money was not a big issue for me, after all.

“I already made that offer,” Dad said. “I know how your brain works. She declined. Said she just wanted to talk. I think she heard ‘If You Could See Me Now.’”

“That song wasn’t for her—or about her,” I said flatly. “It doesn’t matter if she heard it. I’m not going to meet her because of that.”

Mum scooted closer on the couch and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Believe me, no one hates that woman more than I do, for everything she put you through. But I think you should meet her. Just once. It might do you some good. What’s the harm?”

“My mental health,” I retorted, closing my eyes. “Listen, Mum, Dad—I respect you both a lot, and I’ve followed your advice most of my life, but this is something I don’t want in my life anymore. At all.”

With that said, I got up and walked toward the movie room. As an afterthought, I turned to Evan and asked, “Do you wanna come watch the show with me again?”

He shrugged and got up to follow me.

“You shouldn’t have talked to them like that,” Evan said quietly when it was just the two of us.

I shook my head in frustration. “You don’t understand, Evan. That woman is—”

“I would give anything to talk to my parents one last time,” Evan cut in. From the vacant look in his eyes, I wasn’t even sure he’d realized I was speaking. “At least you’re lucky enough to have your mother willing and able to talk to you.”

I stayed silent as we reached the movie room in my parents’ place. All the while, one thought kept circling in my head.

One big reason I kept avoiding her was that every time I thought of her, it felt like something was missing. Like there was a crucial piece of information just on the tip of my tongue—but I couldn’t quite reach it. That alone gave me a headache every time.

Let’s just push all this mess out of my head for now and focus on what’s in front of me.

(Break)

“Jonah!” I clasped hands with the man casually, then turned to the boy beside him. “Chris!”

“Woah,” Christopher Mintz-Plasse said in amazement, taking in my appearance. “What the hell happened to you? Did you fall into a river of protein? Or maybe steroids?”

I laughed at that. Because we were promoting a teen movie, I had opted to wear a t-shirt, just like my two co-stars. The one I had selected was skin-tight and showed my hard work perfectly. I had one philosophy: If I am working hard on myself like that, I will make damn sure to show it off.

 “It was for a role. I’ll be back to my lanky self before the next [Harry Potter] starts shooting.”

Wasn’t that a sad reality? Harry was muscled in this universe, thanks to me, but not bulky. It won’t make sense for him to go swole after Dumbledore’s death, while being on the run from the Death Eaters.

“Man, I just read the book,” Jonah said conversationally. “It was so good—I can’t wait for the movie’s release.”

J.K. Rowling had finally released the last [Harry Potter] book, a full decade after the first. Pottermania had reached its peak, turning the release into a cultural event. Fans even camped outside bookstores overnight. On launch, it shattered sales records for any book in recent memory.

“Did you know what would happen in the book before everyone else?” Chris asked.

I shook my head. “Nah. My dad knew, and so did the director of the last movie—Rian. I could’ve found out if I really wanted to. Dad would’ve at least told me Harry’s fate, but I thought it was better to wait like everybody else.”

Jonah and Chris stared at me like I’d grown a second head.

I hadn’t pushed to read the book for obvious reasons. Besides, I was too busy with work to make a fuss about reading something I’d already gone through years ago. When I finally returned home after my self-imposed isolation, I discovered that Rowling had kept the promise she made back when I was first auditioning for [Harry Potter]. She’d sent me a personally signed copy of the book a few days before it hit shelves, just like she had done for every book. A package I didn’t even open until it was already too late.

“Well,” I said, steering the conversation away, “how do you guys feel about going on your first worldwide press junket?”

Jonah smiled. “It sure won’t be as fun as going on some spontaneous adventure with you across beautiful landscapes, but I think it’ll be fine. Don’t you think so, Benji?”

My assistant, finally back from an extended stay in New York with his family, looked up like a deer caught in headlights.

“Don’t drag me into this,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.

I raised an eyebrow at Jonah. “You’re still on about that? I told you—it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I couldn’t have called everyone I knew.”

“Whatever you say,” Jonah replied with a grin. “I just expected more from you. Unlike Chris here—he knows he’s not getting invited anywhere with a face like that.” He clapped a hand on Chris’s shoulder. Chris shrugged it off, clearly about to say something, but hesitated.

I closed my eyes for a moment. I’d stayed silent on this issue long enough. Now that the film was finished, it was time to speak up.

“You know,” I said, just as Chris opened his mouth, “that’s one of the biggest reasons I didn’t invite you. You’re an asshole to people you think are beneath you. Everyone I took on that trip were people I knew to be genuinely nice—people who don’t need to put others down just to feel better about themselves.”

Jonah and Chris both stared at me, wide-eyed. I noticed a hint of a smile tug at Chris’s lips.

“It was just a joke between friends, man,” Jonah said weakly.

“You two aren’t friends,” I replied flatly. “You made damn sure of that from the first day of rehearsals. I didn’t say anything during the shoot because Greg asked me not to. But now that we’re done filming, I have to say this: grow up. You won’t last long in this business if you don’t. And as a producer—if I have a role? I won’t hesitate to give it to Chris. But I won’t be so sure about you.”

Jonah looked visibly shaken by my words. But honestly, I didn’t care what he thought. This was his first major role, and he’d spent the whole time acting like the world owed him something.

Asshole.

I had been thoroughly annoyed by him during the shoot too, but afterward, I’d forgotten all about it. If I had another role that suited him, I might’ve considered him. But not now.

“I’m sorry,” Jonah bit out, stiff and reluctant. It didn’t take a genius to see the apology was anything but heartfelt.

“You’re apologizing to the wrong person.” I tilted my head toward Chris, who was now sporting a shit-eating grin, silently daring Jonah to say it to his face. That reminded me—Chris was only marginally better than Jonah. Then again, he’d just entered the business and had barely turned eighteen. His behavior was still excusable.

Jonah clenched his fists tightly. It was clear he had no intention of apologizing to Chris anytime soon.

He was spared from having to respond when our first interviewer of the day walked in.

“Hey guys! Wow, you look amazing, Troy.”

Christine. A beautiful blonde in her early thirties, wearing a cheerful yellow floral dress, and a very obvious baby bump.

“Thank you, Christine.” I inclined my head, grateful. “You look radiant yourself. Congratulations on the baby, by the way.”

She beamed, patting her belly. “Thanks. Just one more month to go.”

Christine had interviewed me several times over the years. She was sharp, funny, and easy to talk to, something that made her one of the better reporters, in my opinion.

As the crew outfitted us with mics and set up the cameras, Benji stepped aside to stay out of frame. I was given the middle seat, with Jonah and Chris on either side.

“This thing on yet?” I asked, tapping my mic.

“Not yet,” the sound guy called from behind the camera. “Just give me five minutes.”

I nodded, then leaned toward Jonah and whispered, “Smile. Don’t act like a sourpuss. If you come off as unlikeable in interviews, people won’t like you either.”

He gave me a mild glare but forced a smile onto his face. Chris, on the other hand, didn’t need the reminder—he remembered everything from yesterday’s media training.

A few minutes later, the red light blinked on.

“Hey guys!” Christine began with her usual cheer. “How you doing?”

“Great,” I answered for all three of us. “Thanks for doing this.”

“It’s always a pleasure talking to you,” she smiled. “I’ve seen the movie, and it’s so damn funny—I couldn’t stop laughing.”

“Thank you.”

Then she turned to the others. “Jonah, Chris—tell me, how does it feel working with someone like Troy for your big break?”

“Troy is a total sourpuss on set,” Jonah declared the moment he had the chance.

In that instant, I wanted to strangle him—but instead, I burst out laughing. Chris joined in too. Appearances had to be maintained. If I laughed it off, no one would care too much about Jonah’s words.

“Why?” Christine asked, amused.

“Because the entire time we were shooting,” Jonah explained, “I kept trying to break him—just once! But he never cracked. Not once. It’s hard to know if what you’re doing is funny when the guy across from you won’t even crack a smile. He’s a total nightmare to work with.”

Jonah’s tone had been mocking and exaggerated—just enough to pass as a friendly jab—but I knew the truth. He was retaliating for what I’d said earlier. This behavior only reinforced what I already knew: he was immature as hell. Maybe if the interview hadn’t started right after our exchange, he would’ve cooled off a bit. But it is what it is.

That’s when Chris decided to chime in.

“Troy is the best person you could have as a co-star in your first film,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t feel like I was working. He’d invite me over to play video games or take me out for late-night drives in his Lambo after shooting. It felt like hanging out with a cool big brother. I didn’t know a thing about filmmaking, but he never made me feel left out. I loved it so much that if he ever asks me to do another film, I’ll say yes without even reading the script.”

That was so sweet of him, I could die of diabetes.

“Stop it, Chris, you’ll make me blush,” I grinned, punching his arm lightly before turning to Christine. “This guy is such a natural that I couldn’t believe he was for real. No training, no experience—he’d just show up and steal the scene. Every. Single. Time. It was unbelievable.”

“Aww, your friendship is adorable!” Christine gushed. “I love hearing these kinds of stories from set.”

Then she turned her attention to me. “So… can we address the elephant in the room? When did you get so buff? You’re pretty lean in [Superbad].”

“That’s for a mini-series I did for HBO and BBC called [The Night Of],” I answered. “It premieres this Sunday.”

Christine’s grin widened. “Knowing HBO, they like to keep things… spicy. Should we expect something like that here?”

I shrugged. “Watch the series and find out. For now, let’s focus on [Superbad]. I’ll give you a separate interview later for that show.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said with a playful wink, then turned to Jonah. “I have to say—your character was probably the one I disliked the most. But you played him really convincingly…”

The interview went on for another ten minutes before the very pregnant Christine wrapped things up and left with her team.

As soon as the door closed behind her, I turned to Jonah and snapped my fingers, pointing toward the exit.

“Get out.”

The room froze. Even the crew paused in the midst of adjusting the equipment, their eyes darting between us.

“What?” Jonah blinked.

“I said, ‘get out,’” I repeated, slowly and clearly—as if explaining to a five-year-old. “I’m not doing press with you. You think you’re clever, hiding your jabs behind jokes, but you’re not that smart. Get out and wait for Seth. His interview’s in an hour, and Chris and I have real work to do.”

Then I turned to my assistant. “Benji, get someone to give him another round of media training while he waits for Seth.”

Jonah didn’t need to be told again—he stormed out of the room without another word.

“You could’ve handled that better,” Benji said with a trace of worry. “What if he refuses to participate in promotions?”

I shrugged. “It won’t have much impact. He’s a nobody. Still, call his agent. Make it clear: if Jonah doesn’t promote the film on our terms, he can forget about any post-release bonus. And media attention? Not even a chance. I’ll pull his name from every promotional asset. Personally. And I’ll make sure every major studio hears about his behavior.”

Benji gave a short nod and pulled out his phone.

“Oh,” I added, “make a note to send Christine a gift when she delivers next month.”

As Benji stepped out, the interview crew quietly removed Jonah’s chair and adjusted the shot to center Chris and me. A few moments later, our next interviewer walked in—this one a sharply dressed man in his forties.

(Break)

“No, I’m not going back in there, Paul!” Jonah snapped from the backseat of his car. “That asshole humiliated me in front of everyone! At least ten people saw him tell me to get out like I was nothing. So yeah—I left.”

His agent didn’t flinch. “If you don’t go back in there right now, you may as well kiss your career goodbye. Troy Armitage is a very powerful man in Hollywood. If he tells studios you’re difficult to work with, they’ll believe him. You mean nothing to them. He means a lot.”

Jonah scoffed. “No one person has that kind of power.”

Paul gave him a flat look. “Wrong. All he has to say is, ‘If you hire Jonah, I walk.’ You think a studio’s going to gamble millions for you instead of him?”

Jonah opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. No good counter. Just the quiet sound of his pride deflating.

“I don’t know where it all went downhill,” he muttered. “We got along fine during the shoot…”

“Maybe it was the part where you called him a sourpuss and a nightmare to work with,” Paul deadpanned.

Jonah winced. The moment he was out of the interview room, he regretted his words. Initially, he’d thought it would be a harmless jab—air it out in public where Troy couldn’t retaliate. Big mistake. Troy had retaliated. Instantly.

“Look,” Paul said, resting a firm hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “This is your lesson. In this town, there are people you do not cross. Ever. Troy’s one of them. You want to fix this? Go back in, smile like it’s Christmas morning, and talk about Troy like the sun shines out of his ass.”

Jonah still looked unsure.

Paul sighed, then pressed the final button. “You like money, right? Troy gives post-release bonuses—completely outside the contract. He gave everyone on [Little Miss Sunshine] two million dollars.”

Jonah blinked. “How the hell do you know that?”

“Alan Arkin’s also my client,” Paul said, deadpan.

Jonah groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He closed his eyes for a beat, then opened them slowly. “Fine. I’ll go back.”

“Good,” Paul said, opening the car door. “And don’t forget—Troy Armitage is the second coming of Jesus.”

(Break)

Rod Meyer looked around curiously. The theater was absolutely jam-packed. It wasn’t a proper premiere, but a screening meant for film critics and other media professionals.

“What do you think?” asked the woman sitting beside him, Jane. “Will this be another failure from Troy Armitage like [Disturbia]?”

Rod had first met Jane at the premiere of the same movie she was now criticizing, and even then, he’d felt her views were a little extreme. To some extent, he suspected her opinions had influenced his review of the movie—because when he watched the film again a month later, he actually enjoyed it.

And now, he was unlucky enough to be seated next to her again.

He shrugged in response. “Was it, though? The film made more than $200 million globally. Calling it a failure shows your short-sightedness.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Not everything is about money, is it? The film has to mean something beyond that. By your logic, [Wild Hogs] was also a great film because it made even more money than [Disturbia].”

Rod cringed at the thought. He’d been unfortunate enough to be forced to watch that abhorrent film. He hated it so much he’d given it zero stars out of five.

“You’re missing one important thing here,” he said. “While Troy was credited as a producer on [Disturbia], that film was more or less a studio production. [Superbad] was produced under Troy’s own film banner—not Paramount.”

“He didn’t direct it himself,” Jane countered. “Don’t forget, this is a sex comedy like [American Pie]. I saw the trailer, and…” She shook her head. “Let’s just say I don’t have a lot of expectations from this film.”

Rod decided not to say anything else. It was clear Jane was here to spread negativity—just like last time.

Luckily, the lights in the theater dimmed just then.

After some really cool opening credits, where silhouettes of Troy and his two male co-stars danced in the background, the movie finally began.

The fat guy, Seth—played by Jonah Hill—is driving his car over to Evan’s place, played by Troy Armitage. And the topic they’re discussing is quite interesting: porn.

“I’m sick of all this amateur stuff,” Seth says. “If I’m paying top dollar, I want a little production value.”

“Well, I’m sorry the Coen Brothers don’t direct the porn you like to watch,” Troy—as Evan—replies with deadpan brilliance. “They’re hard to get a hold of, okay?”

As soon as he said that, Rod couldn’t control his laughter. It helped that Troy’s delivery elevated the humor even further. He wasn’t alone—the entire theater was chortling like crazy.

Even the woman sitting beside him.

The hilarity continued as the boys talked about porn websites and how to choose the least dirty one so their parents wouldn’t get suspicious.

“How about Perfect 10?” Evan asked. “It could be a bowling website, for all we know.”

“Nah,” Seth shook his head, “they don’t show the dick going in, which is a huge concern. Plus, have you seen a vagina by itself?” He shook his head. “Not for me.”

Evan gave him a deadpan look before saying, “Why don’t you go for Raging Sword?”

“Which site is that?” Seth asked. “That does sound pretty tame.”

“You won’t see any vaginas there. At all.”

It took a few moments for Seth to get the joke, and by that time, the audience was already howling with laughter.

The duo of Seth and Evan was simply too funny.

“You’ll have sex in college. Everyone does,” Evan said in a convenience store.

“But the point is to be good at sex by the time you get to college. You don’t want girls thinking you suck dick at fucking pussy.”

Evan gave him a mischievous look. “Or you could just suck dick, since you hate vagina so much.”

“Fuck you!”

The movie shifts to the high school the two guys attend, where Evan has a crush on Becca, played by Anna Kendrick, while Seth wants to get with Jules, played by a newcomer, Jennifer Lawrence.

It’s obvious that Seth and Evan are isolated from the rest of their peers because they’re ‘uncool’ and never invited to any high school parties—but they don’t need anyone else, because they have each other. Now, they just need the girls.

“I hate Becca!” Seth announced.

“Why?” Evan asked.

Seth closed his eyes and said reluctantly, “Fine, Evan, here it comes. When I was a little kid, I had a little problem. It wasn’t even a big deal—somewhere around 8% of kids do it or whatever.”

“What was it?”

Seth took a deep breath before saying, “For some reason, I don’t know why, I would just sit around all day… and draw pictures of dicks.”

Evan gave him a disbelieving look. “Like a man-dick?”

“Yeah, like a man-dick.”

“Hahaha! Oh my God! Hahaha!” Evan started laughing uproariously, and the laughter was echoed all across the hall. “Now it makes sense why you hate the vag so much!”

“Shut up, Evan,” Seth grumbled. “Do you want to hear the full story or not?”

He quietened before miming zipping his lips. “Go on then. What did Becca do?”

The story that followed was crass, yet immensely hilarious—where Becca found one of the dick drawings and showed it to a teacher. It probably wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but it was funny as fuck for Rod.

When Jules asked Seth to buy them alcohol, he readily agreed and asked their third friend, Fogell, to do it because he had recently gotten a fake ID. Only the fake ID was not… as good.

“McLovin?” Evan asked incredulously. “You changed your name to McLovin? What kind of stupid name is that? Are you trying to be an Irish R&B singer?”

Rod had to say—Troy’s comic timing was absolutely brilliant. Who would’ve thought that the boy known for his intense dramatic performances would make such a great comedian?

And then came one of the best scenes of the movie. McLovin actually managed to buy alcohol for the party using his fake ID. He successfully fooled the cashier into believing he was older, and just as he was about to pay for it… he got punched in the face when a man came in and robbed the liquor store.

To take the scene even further, the comedic geniuses Seth Rogen and Bill Hader entered as policemen investigating the crime.

Seeing them there, Evan and Seth ran from the scene, thinking Fogell had gotten busted—right when Seth got hit by a reversing car. Since Fogell had all their money, they blackmailed the man who hit Seth into giving them $100 to cover the alcohol that was probably lost.

The broke man, who had an arrest warrant against his name, agreed to get them alcohol at a party instead.

Seth and Evan went with him to the party, where Jules called Seth. Since the music was too loud, he went upstairs to take the call after telling Evan to get some drinks. He did—but a girl ended up dancing with him rather intimately.

One thing led to another, and Troy as Evan ended up getting a period stain on his pant leg.

One moment, he was perfectly normal. “Why would I be bleeding?”

And then realization hit him all at once. As soon as it did, Rod couldn’t control his laughter. He laughed so hard he wasn’t even able to enjoy the following scene. And it wasn’t just him. Throughout the theater, everyone had gone absolutely insane after that scene. Even prim and proper Jane beside him, who had done nothing but criticize the idea of a sex comedy, was unable to contain her laughter.

“I don’t even care about the ending,” Rod said between fits of laughter. “I’m giving this film a full five stars just for this scene.”

Back with the policemen, Fogell was having the time of his life, riding around in the police car, jumping red lights, catching criminals, and drinking beer. But finally, his life came crashing back to reality when Seth Rogen, the policeman, accidentally rammed his car into Seth, the teenager. To hide their mistake, they tried to arrest them, but the three teenagers ran away.

They had all the alcohol that Fogell had gotten, plus the alcohol Seth and Evan had stolen from the other party. When they reached Jules’ party, they were welcomed like kings, and finally, all three guys got what they wanted: girls.

Fogell with Nikola, Evan with Becca, and Seth with Jules. Fogell was the only one who got some for real, but the party was interrupted by his two police friends, who escorted him away like a criminal to give him some street cred.

Evan, being the good guy, grew a conscience and said no because they were drunk. Becca ended up puking beside him.

Seth, on the other hand, was simply pathetic. He made a move on Jules, thinking she must be drunk, but she wasn’t. Only for her to reassure him that things were still possible between them—just not now. It was only then that Seth accidentally headbutted her in the nose, and passed out in the backyard.

“What the fuck!” Jules cried out, summing up the scene.

The rest of the movie slowed down a bit to tie up all loose ends. Seth and Evan accepted that they had to move on to different colleges. Fogell got to shoot a real gun, and finally, the two boys ran into their lady loves at the mall and escorted them to get what they wanted.

The movie ended on a hopeful note that things would be good between them all.

Rod liked this ending a lot. Usually, movies like this end up becoming caricatures about sex where everyone loses their virginities, but here, the two main characters didn’t even have sex, and it gave a good message: a wholesome relationship is always more important than meaningless sex.

When everyone stopped clapping for a well-made film, Rod turned to the woman beside him and asked, “Still think it was bad?”

She snorted, “It was [Superbad]. But I loved it.”

_____________________________

AN: Do watch Superbad if you haven’t. It’s a great movie.