The Reunion by Kayla Olson(71)

5. He turned down an opportunity to go skiing with the Canadian prime minister because he’d already committed to working in a soup kitchen. Yes, you read that right: Ransom Joel turned down an opportunity to spend time with the PRIME MINISTER OF CANADA and, instead, spent his time serving soup to the hungry who were spending the holidays alone on the streets of LA. The prime minister was reportedly so impressed that he canceled his own trip and, instead, spent a long holiday weekend working in a soup kitchen up in Ottawa. (They eventually did vacation together up in Whistler, but it says a lot that it was the ski trip that got shoved aside, not the soup kitchen. Bravo, boys!)

And that’s it for now, everyone! It’s one of those days where I wish this bit were called #10Facts, because my well of random Ransom tidbits runs deep. This just means I’ll have to do Part II someday—I know you’re all dying to find out about one of Ransom’s more memorable interactions with his fans! (Spoiler alert: it involves a dazzle of zebras and some cans of whipped cream…)

For now, I’ll let you all get back to refreshing your various internet windows mining for new updates on Ransom and Liv… and I’ll be right there with you!





21




For once, I’m in my own car—a 2022 BMW X4 M in white—navigating the highways of Los Angeles alone. I’ve hardly driven in a month. I can drive.… I just strongly prefer not to. My father always preferred to drive himself everywhere, and it ended up killing him, so I have Jimmy. Jimmy’s off tonight for his daughter’s birthday, though, so I’m on my own.

It’s twilight as I make my way down the Pacific Coast Highway. Malibu to Silver Lake is not a short drive, but at least tonight’s sky is glorious, remnants of storm clouds lit up by the last purple-pink rays of sunlight on the horizon. This stretch of highway calms me like no other, usually.

Tonight, I can’t stop thinking about Ransom.

Even with the sunroof open and some new tracks playing in my speakers, my nerves are on edge. I’ve talked myself in and out of so many potential explanations.

I’ll come over, I eventually replied to Ransom’s text, after workshopping options with Bre.

ok, sounds good is all he wrote back.

Five songs in, I turn the volume down. “Hey, Siri,” I say to my car’s connected dashboard as I turn onto I-10 at Santa Monica and leave the ocean behind. “Call Vienna.”

She answers on the first ring.

“Liv, hi, I was worried!” she says warmly, taking the edge off my nerves. I imagine her sitting cross-legged on her patio, surrounded by plants and sipping on a hot cup of tea, the elusive scent of rain still hanging on the air. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s been a long day,” I admit. “Took a break from my phone all afternoon—so sorry I missed your calls.”

There’s a long pause on the other end, a rustling of papers. Conversations with Vienna are never the linear, rushed sorts I’m used to. She takes time to think, and to answer. It’s much less awkward in person.

“Listen, Liv,” she says. “I got your message last night—now it’s my turn to apologize for missing your call, I was deep in the zone, working on our script.” Only Vienna would apologize for not answering an incoming call at one in the morning. “I’ve been thinking all day about your proposal.”

I try to remember my exact words, but the only thing I can clearly recall is a feeling: an intense attempt at persuasion steeped in urgency and optimism.

“Some rumors have found their way to me today,” she says. “Is it true that you and Ransom Joel are together?”

No use lying about it, not to Vienna. But what’s the truth?

I sigh. “We’ve been seeing each other, yes,” I say. “Not long enough for me to feel comfortable with the whole world knowing.”

“Mmmm,” she hums. “Do you know how I spent my morning?”

“Sleeping, hopefully, since it sounds like you were up all night?”

She laughs. “Sleep, sleep,” she says, and I can almost see her waving the idea away. “I’ll do it again sometime when this draft is finished. But no—I was watching Ransom in Velociraptor X.”

Of all the films she could have picked. I feel the urge to defend him, because there are much better showcases of his acting skills than the one that spawned a thousand memes, but she goes on before I have the chance.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continues. “But you know what? You’re right. He’s good. Far, far better than anyone gives him credit for—it’s in the details, his choices. I can tell he’s making the most of what he’s been given, and I can see in his eyes that he wants more.”

Only Vienna would pick up something like that from a film like Velociraptor X. Despite how this day has gone, despite every unknown right now with Ransom, I feel the sparkle of hope. He is talented. He’s so much more than a beautiful face and sculpted muscles and—

My face flushes with heat just thinking about him, and I remind myself why I’m driving to his place right now at all: I need to hear his side of the story, though there’s a very real possibility it won’t be what I want to hear.

“I can absolutely see him in the role of Evan,” she says. “And I think your chemistry would work well.” There’s another long pause, and I sense what’s next before she says it: “But.”