Page 15 of Take 2
Eleven Years Ago
AnneHathawaylooksjustas giddy and excited as I always feel for the Academy Awards. She and James Franco make light of hosting to appeal to a younger demographic, and her joke that she didn’t get nominated this year despite getting naked inLove & Other Drugsresults in a pinch on my arm.
“Get naked, get nominatedwould definitely work for you.”
I look up and am not remotely surprised to find a shit-eating grin on my favorite lips. “It would actually be quite awkward for the writer to get naked.”
“You may know more about movies,” Ryan says, “but my area of expertise is you naked.”
My cheeks heat. “Can we please not talk about getting naked around your parents?”
“First of all, they’re in the other room.”
“They’ll be back any second.”
“Second, I’m going to do so much more thantalkabout you being naked tonight.”
My brain says there is a possibility of finding myself in a very embarrassing situation with my boyfriend’s parents, even as my body says, yes please. “We are not having sex in your parents’ house,” I whisper.
“We’ve had sex inyourparents’ house.”
“Because I live there. And it’s never when they are present.”
He slides his hand down my thigh, and I slap it away. His groan at the top of my head vibrates through me like I’m a tuning fork. “What movie is going to win best picture?”
“Black Swan.” Not that I’m any more likely to predict the outcomes of these, but I have gotten better at feigning confidence and snapping out quick answers. Honestly, it’s up in the air. This was such a great year. Yes, I think that every year, but really. This year had incredible movies.
“Okay, I think it’sInception.”
“You didn’t even likeInception.”
“Exactly why I assume it’ll win.” Ryan has gotten out of his movie comfort zone with me, and it’s kind of adorable to watch. “If I’m right, we have sex tonight.”
“Ryan! We do not bet on the Oscars!”
“Is it considered betting if there’s no money involved?”
“Yes. This currency never loses its value.” I throw him a mock-seductive bob of my eyebrows.
“I agree.” He squeezes my hip. “You’re not helping.”
“We’re leaving tomorrow. Settle down.”
“IfBlack Swandoesn’t win, we’re having sex.”
I almost spit out my champagne. “Even if we did bet on Oscars, that’s not how any of that works. You don’t even have to be, right? That’s a ninety percent chance I lose!”
“Bella, there’s a ten percent chance you win the award prediction and a ninety percent chance you win later.” His thumb rubs circles on my hip, and heat pools low in my belly.
“You’re impossible.”
“Of course, I’m running late,” Ryan’s mom says as she bustles into the living room, “but I hope this meets your Academy Awards expectations.”
“Oh, Karen, you didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”
She lays out mini crab cakes, filled puff pastries, cheeses, oysters, bacon-wrapped dates, the list goes on. “Oh, it’s no trouble. I know this is important to you, and it was so sweet of you to come out here for Anna’s competition.”
“The show is important to me,” I say, “but this spread is a big bonus. Thank you.”
