The Reunion by Kayla Olson(20)
A movement catches my eye from the far corner of the room: Ransom. Ransom, looking fantastic in the suit they’ve got him in—he definitely needs to ask if he can keep that one. Its deep navy blue and crisp, tailored cut accentuate his broad shoulders and trim waist; his legs look like they go on for miles. When did he start filling out a suit so well? A petite woman with long dark hair swept up in a high ponytail approaches him, smartphone in hand. Shanti, I assume, pulling him aside for his quotes.
“Liv?” Varsha says, and it has the distinct sound of something she’s had to say more than once. “You with us?”
What was I thinking? I never lose focus like this. “Sorry!” I say. “Just getting a little thirsty, that’s all.”
Varsha checks her watch, then scrolls through the thumbnails of the photos we’ve taken so far. “That’ll work, fam—looking good so far! Why don’t you take fifteen, and then I’ll see Liv and Sasha-Kate back here for the next round.”
We go our separate ways. Fifteen minutes pass in the blink of an eye—it’s really only enough time to take care of the basics in the bathroom and at the water cooler. I quite literally run into Ford on my way back to set.
“Nice dress,” he compliments.
“Nice hair,” I reply. Gone is the man bun he was known for back in the day—now it’s cut stylishly short, with a little more length on top where it swoops up in the front. They also opted to leave him unshaven, and it is definitely a look, one that will sell all the magazines.
“Enjoy it while it lasts, Livvie, because I have no idea how to replicate it.”
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’s almost a 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.