The Reunion by Kayla Olson(54)

“I’ll text you later,” Ransom murmurs, his back to the girls, with a mischievous grin that doesn’t help anything, not one bit. I can’t hide the blush in my cheeks, can’t stop myself from grinning back in response.

“What was that?” Sasha-Kate asks when I’m settled in beside her on the golf cart, one eyebrow artfully raised. Millie’s in the row behind us, attention firmly on her phone.

“What was what?” The breeze picks up as we pull away; I tuck a wayward bit of hair behind my ear.

I feel her eyes on me, studying me. She doesn’t press it.

She knows, though, I can tell—and from just that single, tiny exchange with Ransom. In hindsight, how did I ever think we could hide it? I forget that she knows us every bit as well as Ransom and I know each other. Every mood, every subtle shift of our expressions.

I only hope she keeps it to herself.

I can think of a million reasons why she won’t.





New Vienna Lawson Project on the Horizon


By Gregor Ives // Senior Editor, Books & Film, West Coast Daily

It’s been more than two years since indie darling Vienna Lawson’s stunning debut Love // Indigo made waves at Sundance, Tribeca, and SXSW, with not so much as a hint as to what she’s dreaming up next—a longer wait than her devoted fans hoped for, but hardly a surprise to anyone familiar with her creative process.

Soon, that wait will be over. After hearing whispers around town about a potential new project on the horizon—boosted by the fact that Liv Latimer (Lawson’s starring-actress-turned-close-collaborator) was spotted leaving Lawson’s Silver Lake residence this week—we went straight to the source: the filmmaker herself.

“It would be a dream to work with Liv again,” Lawson said. “When that sort of magic happens in a partnership, the kind we had for our first project together, you just sort of hold your breath a little and hope things will fall together for you to do it again sometime. It’s taken a while to figure out the perfect follow-up to my debut, but I think I’ve finally found it. I love it; Liv loves it. Nothing’s official yet—but I’m hopeful we’ll get the chance to make magic together again.”

We hope so, too. Liv Latimer is in high demand, thanks to all things Girl on the Verge and another potential film in the works (an adaptation of a survival novel set in futuristic Antarctica), and for good reason—the daughter of three-time Academy Award winner Patrick Latimer has inherited his innate talent in spades. Whatever projects she takes on, it’s safe to say they’ll be worth the wait.

We’ll be bringing you the latest updates as they develop; follow us @WestCoastDaily for up-to-the-minute news.





17




When I arrive at Ransom’s place, I’m struck by two things.

One, how I couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect house for him if I’d tried: black painted brick, accents of pine stained the color of dark honey, raised flower beds dotted with cacti and lush greenery spilling over the edges. His property is tucked behind a gate, one that requires a code. Aside from that, his two-story home is subtle, not your typical sprawling Hollywood mansion—anyone could live here. It’s perfectly modern, perfectly stylish. Perfectly Ransom.

Two, the car parked in his circle drive is anything but subtle, at odds with its surroundings.

I’ve been anticipating tonight ever since I last saw him on set. His touch on my wrist was so light, barely there in the moment, but it’s stuck with me all day. We haven’t crossed paths since—while I had two more scenes to shoot and am coming straight from the studio, he had a light schedule this afternoon.

Ransom answers almost as soon as I knock, swinging the door open wide. He grins.

“You look amazing,” he says. “Come on in.”

He looks pretty great himself, and I almost manage to say so, but then an intense urge to kiss him kicks in and I barely make it inside before giving in. He goes along with it, his lips hot against mine—and now that we’re finally together, alone, I can’t get enough. It’s such a relief to finally do this after only having a handful of minutes together this morning.

He settles his hands at my hips and tugs me closer. His five-o’clock shadow is delightfully rough under my fingertips, sending a current of sparks straight through me. I taste a hint of basil on his tongue, or maybe it’s mint—something earthy and sweet. I could stay right here all night.

“You feel good, Liv,” he murmurs between kisses.

Clearly, we are on the same page.

My hands find their way down to his chest, solid muscle beneath his soft cotton shirt. “You too,” I reply, barely more than a breath. I kiss him harder, deeper—

But then Ransom suddenly pulls away, at the exact same time I hear someone clear their throat from the far side of the room.

Oh. Oh no.

“Nice to see you again, Liv,” says the throat-clearer. Time has been kind, to put it mildly: Ransom’s father has hardly aged a day. If this is any indication of what Ransom will look like in twenty-five years, he’ll undoubtedly be gracing magazine covers for at least the next few decades.

“Hi, Mr. Joel,” I say, glancing from him to Ransom. I’m calm on the surface, but just underneath I’m frantic—what is his father doing here?

“Dad was just leaving,” Ransom says with a pointed glance.