Page 18 of The Reunion

I laugh. “Just watch, this is totally going to be your look for the reunion special!”

Ford and I make our way over to set, where Sasha-Kate is already waiting. “Looking sharp, SK!” Ford says, pulling her into a hug.

Ransom is still over in the corner talking with Shanti, looking very intense, and—dare I say, as objectively as possible—exceedingly handsome. Varsha motions for them to wrap it up, then takes a moment to tweak the lighting for our next shoot.

Ransom joins us a moment later, and we lock eyes on instinct. He grins, and that’s it. I have to look away.

“Now, for this one,” Varsha says, “we’re going to start with a pinwheel-type pose with your heads at the center, an overhead shot with all of you looking up at the camera. Liv, you’ll be here”—she motions for me to lie down on a plush white blanket—“and Sasha-Kate, you’ll be her opposite. Ransom and Ford, you’ll each take a side. Does that make sense?”

When we’ve positioned ourselves, it’s like our faces are the center of the pinwheel, our bodies the paper curls extending out from its axle.

“Won’t this mean my face is upside down on the cover?” Sasha-Kate says, in a tone that says,It very much better not be.

Varsha gives a noncommittal hum. “If this arrangement turns out to be the favorite, that’ll be up to the art department. Now, let’s get a few where your faces say,I’m on top of the world, everyone knows it, and I deserve to be there.”

The photographer is on a rig above us, his massive camera lens pointed straight down.

I take the direction as best I can, settling on fierce eyes and a playful smirk that’salmosta smile but not quite. Varsha seems pleased, and we move quickly on to a few poses where we’re not lying down, all of which Sasha-Kate seems much happier with. The final arrangement is my favorite, with me looking straight at the camera, flanked on each side by Ransom and Ford. My arm brushes against Ransom’s as we settle in; it’s the lightest touch, but more than enough to spark a current of heat just under my skin. Sasha-Kate has her arms around Ford and her head resting on his shoulder. It’s by far the most natural shot yet,and Ford keeps making little comments under his breath that have us in stitches, the sort of dumb jokes that hinge on his perfect delivery. I have a feeling Sasha-Kate won’t have to worry about being upside down on the cover—these last ones were our money shots for sure.

We break for thirty, and it’s not a moment too soon. I’m not sure I could have handled another moment of being so close to Ransom, hyperaware of the narrow space between us. It was always second nature to slip into Honor-and-Duke mode on shoots like this—but it’s been a while, and the chemistry that made it so easy back in the day has taken on a new dimension with age.

“Ms. Latimer?” I turn, and see Shanti behind me; her alto voice radiates confidence. “Ready for your interview? It won’t take long—we appreciate your time.”

I follow her to a comfortably appointed corner outfitted with a pair of buttery leather chairs, a low coffee table made from the cross section of a tree trunk, and a woven black-and-white rug. None of the questions require me to dig too deeply for answers—the main article will be a spotlight on the show itself, and they’ve done more lengthy interviews with Dan, Xan, and Bryan. The rest of us will be featured in sidebar sections throughout, all giving our own perspectives on a series of the same questions.

When we’ve finished, I get a brief touch-up, then head back to work. Ransom’s already there, chatting with Varsha. I stop short when I see the set: in the time it took to do the interview and refresh my makeup, the crew has switched the backdrop to bright white, and there’s now a bed covered in a plush white duvet. It’s a little confusing because Ransom’s still in his perfect suit and I’m still in my green dress—we look like we’re about to go to a fancy dinner party, not climb under the sheets.

The idea of both thrills me more than I care to admit.

“Liv, hi!” Varsha says when I walk up. “I was just telling Ransom my vision for this one. Here’s what I’m thinking: The last time everyone saw you on-screen together like this, your characters were both eighteen. I want to do a headline that saysALL GROWN UP”—she spreads her hands in the air, like she’s revealing the words as she speaks—“butit has to be the perfect balance of your new maturity mixed with the relative innocence your viewers are used to in the original series.”

She goes on to direct us into position, both of us side by side on top of the thick white duvet. It’s a bit intimate, even in our formal clothes—I haven’t shared a bed with anyone in quite some time.

“Okay, now, Liv—turn on your side to face Ransom, yes, like that, only bend your knees a little more!” I feel someone spreading the skirt of my dress out behind me so it looks like it just happened to fall that way naturally. “Ransom, can you take one of her hands in yours, then put your other hand under your head and cross your ankles like you’re living your best life?”

Ransom takes my hand in his, his gaze flicking toward mine. The corner of his mouth quirks up. A shiver courses through me, very much without my permission, at odds with the warmth of his hand intertwined with mine.

“Yes, yes,” Varsha says. “Perfect!”

We try a few more poses, shifting the details along the way. By the final shot, we’re shoulder to shoulder, my bare skin pressed up against the fabric of his suit jacket.

“Last one, guys, and then we’re done,” Varsha says. “Liv, can you tilt your head a little—yes, like that, just rest it on his shoulder, perfect. Snap a few of those, Ryan.”

We stay there, breathing in the silence. It’s comfortable, more comfortable than it should be after so many years apart. I guess that’s how it is with someone you’ve known practically forever, who once knew your every shade and shadow: no matter how many ups and downs and detours creep in along the way, in the end, it’s not hard to slip back to a baseline level of ease.

I need to be careful not to slip too quickly—someone could get hurt.

“Okay, great work, everyone—that’s it for today! Take your time in the dressing rooms, Ransom and Liv, it’ll be a while before our team is out of here.”

“I think I’m stuck,” Ransom says, still beside me on the bed. “This thing is like a cloud.”

“Same here,” I laugh. “I think it’s softer than my bed at home.”

He grins. Our eyes meet, and for a split second I’m sixteen again, the girl who was only just starting to realize she was falling in love with the boy in front of her and not just acting out the part.

I shake the memory off before it takes hold. I’m not sixteen anymore, this isnotmy bed, and even if it were, I’m not ready to consider the implications of the very real thought that just crashed through my mind:I kind of wish it were.

“Better get back to my dressing room,” I say, a little more abruptly than I mean to. “They really caked this foundation on!”

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