The Reunion by Kayla Olson(75)

ZDL, 9:05 p.m.—Yiiiiiikes she almost busted her gorgeous face, did y’all see that?! Honestly hate this for her right now :(

ZDL, 9:06 p.m.—More convinced than ever that this is NOT just a publicity stunt… Liv’s good at acting, but that look on her face on her way out the door 100% screamed “we were a thing, but now we’re not” and ughhhhhh this is SO DISAPPOINTING, I ship them SO HARD

ZDL, 9:07 p.m.—Dude, our live-feed camera guy better get out of her way—I have a feeling Liv’s not in the mood to play right now, and honestly, I don’t blame her one bit. Like, yeah, we want to see what’s going on, but now I kinda feel like we’ve walked in on someone’s bedroom in the middle of the night, where she just needs to be alone for a minute with her FEEEEEELINGS (along with the various pieces of heart that have just chipped off thanks to whatever happened inside that house). Liv clearly doesn’t want company right now… I wouldn’t either… but gahhhh, why is it so hard to look away??? I hate that I can’t look away right now, what is wrong with me?

ZDL, 9:08 p.m.—And—oh. Well. There goes the live feed. I know a lot of you will probably be Team Broken Camera, but for the record, I’ve decided I’m firmly Team Liv.

1Full disclosure: Spotted, Live! is sponsored by Pop It Like It’s Hot popcorn, but let it be known that we here at Dizzy were fans first—our love for their organic heirloom blue corn (not to mention their punny inspirational messages on the packaging) is as pure as it gets!





22




The drive home is a blur. Streetlights, taillights, and—eventually—a bit of starlight once I turn onto PCH. If anyone was attempting to follow me out of Ransom’s neighborhood, I’ve lost them by now.

On my front porch, I find a pint of coconut almond chocolate chip gelato tucked into a petite cooler. The note on top is in Bre’s handwriting: I hope this is melted by the time you get home. If not, please enjoy while bingeing Flower Wars, okay? Call me if you need me to come over. xB

I strip off the day as soon as I’m inside, trading my T-shirt dress for silk pajamas, my makeup for moisturizer. My mascara is a mess; my eyes are as empty as Ransom’s looked in that final glance he gave me. That look haunts me, the blankness of it. I don’t feel powerful, leaving like I did. I just miss him—I miss us. I miss the us of yesterday.

Thanks for the gelato, I text Bre on my way back downstairs.

Sorry you found it so soon, she writes back immediately, punctuated by the droopiest sad emoji there is. Want to talk about it?

Gonna take your advice and drown my thoughts in gelato and Flower Wars, I write. But I could totally use some company if you want to come over.

On my way!

Bre arrives in record time, an extra pint of gelato in hand, pistachio this time. “Just in case,” she says, grinning. “And for some extra good news, Bryan called off the crack-of-dawn shoot he threatened earlier, so you’re off the hook until eight tomorrow morning.”

“That is very good news,” I say. “And wow, that looks amazing.”

I rummage around in my kitchen, find a pair of old-fashioned sundae dishes Vienna let me take from the set of Love // Indigo, and give us each a healthy sampling of both flavors.

She perches on one of my kitchen island’s barstools, takes a bite of pistachio. Her messy topknot tilts precariously as she leans her head back in delight.

“You’re going to die, Liv, this gelato is so good!” She pulls out her phone and snaps a photo of it, presumably to post on Snapaday.

I tuck the half-empty pints into my freezer, then join her at the island. I try a bite of the coconut almond chocolate chip, let it melt on my tongue: it’s velvety and creamy, not overly sweet. Slightly nutty, with flecks of chocolate so dark they could possibly rebrand it as health food.

It’s perfect.

“This is exactly the night I needed,” I say, and like the best friend she is, she lets me revel in the moment.

I don’t want to dwell on today. For just a little while, I want to be Happy Liv with her happy gelato, in some sort of alternate universe where everyone’s trustworthy and no one gets hurt.

“Liv,” Bre says a moment later, eyes wide, pulling me straight back down to reality. “Did you see this? This is the girl Ford’s dating, right?”

She turns her phone so I can see—it’s open to a Snapaday post on @YouHeardItHereFirst featuring Juliette Wells, on set in Iceland, looking extremely cozy with Jonathan Cast. His arm slung low around her, hand on her hip, her head resting on his shoulder. The time stamp is from an hour ago.

My stomach flips, secondhand heartbreak kicking in on Ford’s behalf—I feel it like it’s my own. The aftertaste of gelato is bittersweet on my tongue.

“That’s definitely her,” I say. “Not sure if she and Ford will still be dating after this, though.”

There’s no good reason for a photo like that to exist. It would be one thing if Juliette were shooting a scene, making eyes at a costar—but Jonathan Cast is her director. They’re clearly between takes, and from the angle of the shot, they don’t seem to realize anyone’s caught them in the moment.

Still, I know all too well how snapshots don’t always tell the full story.

I slip my own phone out, shoot a text Ford’s way. Just saw the Juliette photos—here if you need to vent.