Page 27 of The Reunion

“Don’t worry about it,” Ransom says as I slip out of the booth. “You can get mine next time.”

I’m quite certain Ransom isn’t hurting for cash, so I take him up on it. “See you tomorrow at Dan and Xan’s,” I say. “Thanks again.”

I feel faintly buzzed as I leave, even though I haven’t had a sip of alcohol all day—only half a strawberry shake and a strong dose of proximity to Ransom. My mind is caught on his last two words to me:next time.

Pull it together, Liv, I tell myself as I slide into the car. We’ve got an entire show to shoot over the next week, and it’s never going to work if I start looking at him as anything but my costar. We’re still relearning how to be friends.

My phone buzzes inside my handbag—it’s a text from Attica that simply says,Brilliant move

Brilliant or reckless, I think. Possibly both.

Spotted: Handsome Ransom + Lovely Liv

By Zenia DiLitto // Editor in Chief, Pop Culture, DizzyZine.com

Hello hello, my lovely Spinners—and thank you all for playing along with my game of ~speculation~ this week re: the Gemma Gardner Situation, as I’ve taken to calling it! It’s heartening to see it’s not just yours truly who suspects things might have taken a turn for the rocky—or at the very least, the murky—between Ransom and Gemma… though I do appreciate those of you who chimed in to assure us that Gemma is looking well as ever in her recent Snapaday posts.

I can’t resist the opportunity to note, though, that there’s still been no *evidence* that she and Ransom have actually been in the same place lately. Regarding that one post that wasn’t a selfie, there’s no proof that the second coffee cup pictured actually belonged to Ransom—THOUGH before you @ me, I will reluctantly admit (a): if Gemma has been through a recent breakup, I want whatever she’s using to still look like the glowing queen she is, and (b): I am aware that Ransom’s drink of choice is a mocha with cinnamon on top, which is exactly what was pictured. BUT STILL. NO *ACTUAL* EVIDENCE OF HIS PRESENCE. Ahem.

Now that we’ve got that straightened out, can we talk about that story drop in Liv’s feed? In case you didn’t see it, check out the photos below. Look how cozy she is with Ransom—and that strawberry shake, could she have *picked* a moreromantic-looking beverage?! It screams “we’re having a BLAST and I want you ALL to KNOW IT!” Well, we know it now, don’t we? Don’t lie to me, Spinners, I know this is what we’ve all not so secretly been hoping for since the episode where we saw Honor and Duke kiss for the first time (and, honestly, we all knew that kiss was inevitable for YEARS before it finally happened)… seeing everyone’s OTP looking legit cozy with each other in real, actual life? I don’t know why it’s so comforting, but it is. It’s like all is right in the world—tell me it’s not just me. Be still, my fangirl heart!

Let the speculation begin below! If you spot anything out in the wild that might be of my interest, you know where to reach me. (Or, if you don’t, it’s [email protected]!)

10

It’s Friday night, more than twenty-four hours since I finished at the costume fitting, and I’m still sore in the spot where Tabitha jabbed me. Fortunately, getting dressed for the cast-and-crew party Dan and Xan are throwing at their house tonight requires zero straight pins.

I’ve picked out the perfect outfit, something that strikes the right balance of cool and casual: black skinny jeans, stylishly ripped at the knees, with a soft gray sweater and a vintage black leather jacket on top. For the finishing touches, I’m wearing a layered silver coin necklace, black ballet flats, and a white handbag from my closet; my hair is down in waves that look natural, as if I haven’t spent an hour getting them just right.

Bre drills me on lines as I get ready for the party, going over scene after scene. Even though the table read isn’t until Monday, I want to make sure to nail the emotional beats, so we’ve been drilling off and on since I got the script. This episode is classic Dan and Xan—solid and streamlined, but with heart, subtle in the way that makes the writing lookeasy.

“Ready for the last one?” she says, flipping to the bedroom scene I’ve intentionally been avoiding.

It’s not like Ransom and I have never filmed anything intimate before—we have. But that was then, before things changed between us for worse and for better. At the moment, my mind is entirely stuck onfor better: the way Ransom’s grown into himself, every inch the blazing-hotaction star who’s single-handedly responsible for a myriad of sold-out midnight premieres. His five-o’clock shadow, permanently there no matter the time of day. That new scent on his skin, citrus and cedar and spice. How warm his fingertips felt as they grazed my bare back the other night on the red carpet—

The world might see images of him—of us—but how itfeelsto be near him? It’s like a secret, something up close and personal that only I can know.

“Liv.”

I look up, startled, and Bre laughs—she’s giving me alook, eyebrows raised, the script facedown on the bed beside her.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” There’s a lilt to her voice just like the other night, on the way home from the Fanline dinner—she knows exactly where my mind is.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” I say, attempting and failing at nonchalance. “Why?”

“I happened to notice the internet going crazy yesterday about a certain photo you posted?” she says casually.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” she says. I’m not looking at her, but I don’t have to be looking to know she has one eyebrow raised and a number of questions—just as I’m certain she knows I’m trying my best to hide the blush creeping into my cheeks, the smile on my face.

“I’ve been in a cave ever since I posted,” I admit. A blissfully silent cave where the memory is mine alone and I don’t have to share it with millions of fans who want a milkshake to mean more.

“People are loving it,” she says, and I finally glance her way. She looks every bit as enthusiastic as she sounds. “Attica’s beyond thrilled, to say the least—she started texting me when you went too long without answering.”

I turn back to the mirror, put one last finishing touch of mascara on my lashes. “Well,” I say, the grin practically plastered on my face now, “thatwasa particularly gorgeous strawberry milkshake.”

She laughs. “Yes, it most definitely was.”

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