Page 10 of Take 2
The former wiggles her fingers at him, and the latter nods in a way that IhopeRyan can’t read as him agreeing about how hot our new guest is. “Nice to meet you.”
“Are you all from Madison?” Ryan asks as he puts the bottle on the counter.
“No.” Morgan takes the bottle to the fridge. Thank God she’s a natural hostess. I’m too frazzled to be useful right now. “They all hail from who-cares-where Wisconsin places, but I’m from Florida.”
“Who moves from Florida to Wisconsin?”
“Ryan,” Cece says, “we ask that all the time.”
Morgan rolls her eyes as she fills two flutes. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Ryan takes the glass she offers and hands it to me.
“I, for one, am thankful for your questionable decision-making.” I blow Morgan a kiss, and she flutters her lashes at me.
As I take a sip, she says, “You should try making some questionable decisions,” and I almost choke.
We turn the volume up on the TV when the show starts. The Academy Awards does wonders to calm my nerves. I needed this to focus on instead of Ryan’s presence. Best animated feature is easy enough to predict.Upis only the second animated film in history to be nominated for best picture. Tina Fey begins the presentation of best original screenplay by saying, “Great movies begin with great writing,”earning cheers from my friends and flutes tipped toward me. Her banter with Robert Downey Jr. is golden. She takes the side of what writers want in actors, and the list of things actors want in a script could only be delivered with such deadpan humor by RDJ. When he says, “It’s a collaboration between handsome, gifted people and sickly little mole people,”we all laugh.
“You want to be a sickly little mole person?” Ryan asks.
“Absolutely.”
Cece is still giggling. “You’re going to be an awesome mole person.”
The Hurt Lockerwins it, and I do everything I can to subdue my excitement.
Ryan realizes that the same movies are nominated for a lot of the awards, and unsurprisingly, he’s never watched most of them. “Okay, I’ve seen these,” he says when visual effects comes up.
“Which one was your favorite?” I ask.
“District 9.”
Avatarwins, and Ryan claims that was his second favorite from the list.
As the night winds toward the grand finale, Ryan asks which movie I think will win best picture. I blow out a long breath through pursed lips. “I can’t comment. I don’t want to jinx it. But they’re all great. Really, it’s a toss-up.”
“Sounds like a nightmare for gambling.”
I gasp. “We do notbeton the Oscars, Ryan. They are sacred.”
“Okay.” He holds his hands up in defense.
My knees bounce as the award for directing is presented. My heart pounds either because I’m holding my breath or from the anticipation. When Kathryn Bigelow’s name is announced, I leap off the couch. A screech tears out of me, and I jump up and down a couple of times before physics, clumsiness, and stilettos catch up with me, and I fall practically into Ryan’s lap.
“Oh, sorry!” I brace myself on his shoulders, and his hands support my waist. I sniffle and blush and move back to my spot next to him.
“I wouldn’t thinkThe Hurt Lockerwould be your favorite kind of movie,” he says.
“It is a great film.” A few rapid blinks clear the tears that were threatening to make a fool of me. “More importantly, this is the first time a woman has ever won best director. And it’s for an action-packed war movie! This is monumental.”
Bigelow doesn’t even have time to get back into the audience before she has to come back out to accept the award for best picture. My heart is going to explode.
“Some people think she rode James Cameron’s coattails to get here,” I say. “She was only married to him for two years, and I wish there wasn’t any drama to shadow this, but holy crap, she just beat him for the two biggest awards!” I sit there, awestruck, as the show comes to an end.
Stephen and Cece leave the second it’s over. Morgan starts cleaning up despite my protests. And I sink back against the couch to let the eighty-second Academy Awards settle into me. Since Cece isn’t here to complain, I tie my hair up into a bun.
Ryan leans on the armrest, looking at me like I’m way more interesting than I am. “You’re really into this.”
“I want to be there someday.”
