The Reunion by Kayla Olson(41)
When we’re back inside with fresh refills and dry clothes, we settle into a corner of the couch and get comfortable. For this not being a date, I’m sitting a bit closer to him than is strictly necessary—and his arm is stretched out along the back of the couch, not quite touching me, but almost.
“Have you ever seen The Goatherd?” Ransom suddenly asks.
“That’s the one with Ford in it, isn’t it? The mockumentary?” An image flickers in my mind: dozens of goats chasing Ford—clad in head-to-toe Gucci and a pair of oversized sunglasses—down the side of a mountain. “I’ve only seen the trailer.”
We’ve got an early call time tomorrow for our first day on set, but we queue it up on my big screen anyway. It’s only half past eight right now, more than enough time to watch the entire movie and then some. Ransom will head home by eleven at the latest, we agree. I set an alarm on my phone just in case we get… distracted.
Halfway through the movie, we’re curled up under a thick blanket, my back pressed up against the hard muscle of his abdomen. His arm migrated from the back of the couch at some point and is now wrapped around me; I lean my head back on his shoulder, and he rests his head on mine. It feels perfect; it feels right. I’m so at home beside him, so comfortable and warm, that I drift off before the end of the movie—which I will absolutely not tell Ford—and wake up to total darkness.
“Ransom,” I whisper, nudging him awake, trying to find my traitorous phone, which I now see is buried under a pile of blankets on the floor, battery completely dead. “It’s one in the morning—Bryan will kill us if we’re late tomorrow.”
He mumbles a curse, still half asleep. “Why must this industry insist on six a.m. call times?”
“Any chance you packed your script in that backpack? You can just stay here, if so.” An unexpected thrill courses through me at the idea of him spending the night—and at the semiconscious realization that I just spent half a night curled up beside him on my couch.
“No script,” he says. I don’t even have to look to know his eyes are still shut tight, resisting the inevitable.
Even though it wouldn’t be hard to obtain an extra copy, I know him well enough to know he’s got notes penciled in every margin—and on top of that, word would get back to Bryan, and that would be a disastrous start to the shoot. We’re at the top of the call sheet and want to stay there. Tardiness, unpreparedness? Neither is an option.
His arms tighten around me. “I should go,” he mumbles, still half asleep.
“You should,” I agree. “Otherwise, you are definitely going to get stuck here, which would be terrible.”
“Awful,” he says into my hair, breath hot on my skin. He lingers there, long enough that I’m well and truly tempted to blow straight through our call time—we both are, clearly—but then the clock hits 1:15, and reality sinks in.
“Tomorrow is going to be brutal,” he says, finally extricating himself from our little nest on the couch.
“Brutal, yeah.”
And yet, right now, it feels anything but.
A “Garden” Party to Remember: Ransom Joel Superfan Ejected from Gemma Gardner Bookstore Event
By Lila Lavender // Staff Writer, You Heard It Here First!
Well, hello, my sweets: we meet again! And can I just take a minute to say THANK YOU for the outpouring of messages that hit my inbox after That One Article I Posted, in which I spilled the beans about the split heard ’round the world? (Except you, Dave. You can stop it with the daily emails shaming me for my true and timely reporting on actual facts that everyone but you is clearly interested in. Readers, I’m not saying you should do a scavenger hunt through the thousands of comments on that last post just for the sake of finding Dave’s inaugural problematic comment and telling him how very much you appreciate what we do here at YHIHF!, but… I’m not not saying that, either. Dave, you reap what you sow!)
Ahem. ANYWAY.
You may recall, from said previous post, my speculation that sweet-as-cherry-pie Gemma Gardner has a certain amount of tartness to her, too—after her supposed “friend” sold her out and the incident I’m about to share with you, it’s not hard to see why a stronger, more forthright side of her is starting to come out.
Case in point: the restraining order she just took out against one of Ransom’s more… enthusiastic… fans. Did it ever occur to you, dear readers, that the best way to express your displeasure at someone for breaking the heart of the stranger you love might just be to show up to the independent bookstore she runs (Snapaday: @thegardenbygems), dressed in custom-designed fabric printed with said heartbreaker’s face all over it AND HER EYES X-ED OUT, and proceed to make a gigantic idiot of yourself while trying to make a point? No? Well, good for you, because that means you won’t be sharing a restraining order with this, er, special someone (pictured below in numerous Snapaday posts from eyewitnesses).
Around here, we’re alllllllll for a friendly roast—as you know—but please think twice before actually entering someone’s space in a way that threatens both their business and their existence. (Keep that in mind while roasting Dave, please.) Let me just say, in case it isn’t clear: I have nothing but respect for this no-nonsense Gemma and fully support the actions she’s taken to protect herself.