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SH - Chapter 16: Between laughter and slaps
🕑 Added 2025-09-01 16:33:59 +0000 UTC“Was that real!?” Eric shouted, almost at the same time Alison had said it seconds earlier.
“I don’t know! It must have been scripted,” said Matt, who was no longer slouched in his chair but sitting upright.
“No way… the discomfort afterward felt too real,” Daniel said with a hand on his chin, still shaken by what he’d seen.
Owen, still staring at the screen, raised an eyebrow.
“Do you remember they’re actors?” he said in a calm tone. “Oscar-nominated actors, in fact. Nothing would surprise me.”
“No, that wasn’t acting, you could see it in his eyes,” Sophie murmured, still shocked.
“Yeah… and the yelling was too visceral. I’ve never seen Will Smith like that,” Alison added.
“But what exactly did Chris Rock say? I didn’t get the joke,” Owen finally asked, turning his head with genuine curiosity.
Everyone looked at him, confused.
“You’ve never seen G.I. Jane?” Matt asked, and Owen shook his head.
“Demi Moore plays a soldier with a shaved head. The joke was because Jada’s shaved too. But she has alopecia, a medical condition, it’s not a style choice. That’s why it was offensive,” Daniel explained seriously.
Owen blinked. Processed. Then let out a short, genuine laugh.
“A bald joke, classic. And a little more original since it was aimed at a woman. Creative,” Owen said, analyzing the joke with an amused smile.
Silence.
Sophie, Alison, and Daniel looked at him at the same time. Almost as if he’d just kicked a puppy in the middle of the living room.
“Are you laughing now?” Sophie asked, as if she couldn’t believe it.
“Now you find it funny, after Will Smith’s slap?” Alison added, both indignant and confused.
“I didn’t laugh when Chris Rock said it because I didn’t get the joke. Now that you’ve explained the context… yes, I laughed. Which, I admit, makes it look worse. But come on, it’s just a bit of dark humor. Very mild, really,” Owen said, still smiling.
“Mild, he says…” Daniel muttered, crossing his arms.
“At the end of the day, it’s alopecia. Nothing world-ending. Tons of men have it and live with it, making jokes about it all the time. It’s not like she’s going through chemotherapy. It’s just alopecia,” Owen added, looking at the others as if they were overreacting.
Alison huffed, clearly upset. Daniel said nothing, in fact, he found some logic in Owen’s words, since he himself suffered from alopecia due to age and people often joked about it. So why couldn’t you joke about alopecia in women?
Sophie couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. Owen’s logic was direct and unfiltered, but honest.
“And that’s what you call mild dark humor? Then what would a real dark humor joke be for you?” Matt asked, watching Owen with curiosity and a grin.
“Yeah, now I’m scared… Are you about to drop one and get us all canceled?” Tyler asked.
“Relax, I save my best jokes for funerals,” Owen replied, raising his glass and taking a sip.
This time, laughter erupted all around. Even Alison and Daniel, who seconds ago had been staring at him like he was socially tone-deaf, couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his remark.
Amid the collective laughter and new comments about the ceremony, Sophie leaned in closer, her voice just above a whisper.
“You’re incorrigible,” she said softly, playfully. Her legs and arm brushed against Owen’s with more intention this time. It wasn’t just the lack of space.
“Oh, really?” Owen asked, locking eyes with her.
“Yes,” Sophie replied, not breaking eye contact.
Their faces drew closer naturally. Almost without thinking. And then, it simply happened.
A short kiss. A soft brush of lips. It wasn’t passionate nor clumsy. It was exact.
They pulled apart with the same natural ease, neither wore an expression of surprise.
Matt, Tyler, Eric, and Daniel were still talking among themselves, commenting on the Will Smith incident and watching the rest of the ceremony. Alison scrolled through her phone with a raised eyebrow, and although everyone had seen it, no one said a word.
The Oscars went on, the tension still lingering in the air after the incident.
Minutes later, Will Smith was announced as the winner of the Oscar for Best Actor for his role in King Richard, where he portrayed the father of Venus and Serena Williams, two legendary tennis players.
King Richard, another film Owen hadn’t watched. A biographical, dramatic, sports movie. He had never tried to watch it since sports weren’t really his thing, and from what he understood, it was about tennis. He’d seen the trailer, but it hadn’t drawn his interest enough to sit through the film.
King Richard had a budget of $50 million and a global box office gross of only $39.5 million, a complete financial failure.
And that, despite starring Will Smith, a household name, with large-scale marketing, strong studio backing, and now, an Oscar in hand.
Owen didn’t see it as an artistic failure. But he did see it as silent proof that something wasn’t working.
A movie could have critical acclaim, awards, a big-name actor, and an entire campaign behind it… but if it didn’t move people, if it didn’t spark conversation, if nobody was talking about it days later, then something was missing.
There were films that weren’t even his preferred type, and yet they had completely won him over. For example, Rocky.
It’s true it wasn’t a biography or a true story, but it was a sports film, deeply emotional, with meaningful lessons.
It was a box-office success. It became a symbol. It spawned more than five films. Rocky still has fans today.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten around to seeing Creed II before he died. And Creed was part of the Rocky universe, which meant he wouldn’t be able to adapt it as his own no matter how much he wanted to. Not just because of money, but because of how exciting it would have been to produce Rocky, to act in it, to attempt a version even better, or at least just as memorable.
Will gave his speech visibly shaken, emotional, and trembling. “Love will make you do crazy things,” he said through tears.
He apologized to the Academy, to his fellow nominees… but not to Chris Rock. In the living room, everyone watched with different thoughts in mind. It felt more like a filmed drama than a real awards show. Something never seen before.
After Will Smith’s speech and the Best Actor award, the ceremony moved on to the final and most anticipated category of the night: Best Picture, which went to CODA. And with that, the ceremony came to an end.
“That was epic in a way I didn’t expect,” Matt said, still staring at the TV even though the Oscars were already over.
“Yeah, it’s trending on Twitter, it’s everywhere. All the other awards were overshadowed,” Eric said, swiping his finger across his phone screen, eyes glued to it.
“Well… you could say it was more exciting than the previous edition,” Owen added.
“The 2021 one?” Sophie asked, fixing her gaze on him.
“Yes. One of the worst. Almost nobody watched it. I think it had something like ten million viewers or so…” Owen replied.
“Ten million? No, it wasn’t that low. I’m pretty sure it was more… like eighteen million,” Sophie said with a slight frown.
Owen fell silent, thinking.
“Maybe,” he finally said, lowering his gaze to the floor, thoughtful.
“I must have confused it with another edition,” he added, but he hadn’t.
In his previous world, the 2021 Oscars had been a disaster in terms of ratings, barely surpassing 10 million. He knew that. He was sure.
But… what if here it was different?
Since he’d arrived in this life, Owen hadn’t stopped to consider how film history had unfolded here. He had only focused on what didn’t exist: the movies and series he had seen and could now recreate.
If those films and shows hadn’t been made, others had.
Other ideas. Other adaptations he had never seen.
A cinematic history that was similar… but not the same. Even during these Oscars, he’d noticed some nominated films with unfamiliar names, but he hadn’t given them much thought, there are always obscure films at award shows.
To confirm, Owen pulled out his phone and searched: Oscars 2021 – Audience: 18.8 million.
Sophie had been right. And that wasn’t what surprised him.
He saw that one film had been the biggest winner: The Name of the Wind. He searched and found it was a novel adapted into a movie. It grossed about $820 million worldwide on a $120 million budget.
A resounding box-office success, even bigger than Dune. It cost less and earned more. It hadn’t won the most Oscars that night, but it did take home two major awards: Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Original Score.
Owen didn’t blink.
His thumb scrolled rapidly. He found images.
“I have to see it,” he whispered, almost without realizing it. It was exactly the kind of film that called to him, just reading the synopsis and seeing a few stills was enough.
And besides, with $820 million in 2021, if it had been released in 2022, or even 2019 without all the problems caused by the pandemic, it clearly would have surpassed a billion dollars easily.
Owen sighed inwardly. Not out of jealousy, but because he hadn’t noticed it before.
He had completely ignored the existence of that film. Not because he wasn’t interested, but because he had been too focused on something else.
Since waking up in this new body, all his attention had been on a single project: Paranormal Activity. He had concentrated so much on it that he had overlooked this gem, and The Name of the Wind likely wasn’t the only one he had missed.
Surely, there were many more stories in this alternate world he hadn’t seen, and now he could binge through them.
Sitting beside him on the sofa, Sophie turned her head just slightly to glance at him from the corner of her eye. She saw him close the phone screen with a restrained, almost resigned gesture.
“Told you. Eighteen million,” Sophie said with a mischievous smile, thinking Owen just didn’t want to admit the 2021 Oscars had drawn 18 million viewers, not 10 million.
“Yes, you were right. Happy now?” Owen asked, leaning his face in a little closer.
“Very,” Sophie said, holding his gaze.
The two of them remained absorbed in their own conversation, while the others in the room kept talking about the Oscars, oblivious to the flirting that made them look like a couple in the making.
“But did you guys notice how Chris Rock kept his composure? That was professionalism,” Matt said, gesturing with an empty beer can in his hand like a drunk uncle.
“Yeah, really professional. Too bad for CODA. They won Best Picture and nobody saw it. Now people will remember it even less, thanks to Will Smith and his slap defending his wife,” Tyler said with amusement, tossing a chip into the air and catching it in his mouth.
Daniel, arms crossed, was talking about violence as repressed emotional expression, while Alison scrolled through her Instagram in silence, laughing as she found the first memes of Will Smith’s slap and showing them to the others. The internet had already done its thing.
But none of them were paying attention to the sofa where Owen and Sophie remained in their own little world.
Little by little, the group began to stand up, yawning, mentioning that tomorrow was Monday. The first to leave was Daniel, followed by Alison, who said goodbye with one last glance at Matt, who didn’t seem to notice much. Finally, Eric and Tyler left.
Only Owen, Matt, and Sophie remained.
When Owen noticed that Matt was alone, sipping slowly from a beer he’d found in the fridge, he straightened on the sofa and gently shifted his focus. He wasn’t the kind of guy to abandon his friend for a girl. A few more minutes passed until Sophie stood up.
“Well… I should get going too. It’s late. My mom will kill me if I get home ten minutes later than agreed,” Sophie said as she adjusted her dress naturally.
“I’ll walk you out,” Owen said, standing up from the sofa.
“Really? That’s not necessary,” Sophie said.
“It’s Los Angeles, and it’s nighttime. I’ll pay for the Uber… or we can split it, unless you’re one of those feminist girls who fight for equality even in transportation and won’t accept a simple gentlemanly gesture,” Owen said with a faint smile.
“You’re going to get canceled any minute if you keep that up,” Sophie replied with a laugh, accepting that Owen would accompany her. In fact, she had been hoping he would.
Sophie said goodbye to Matt and walked to the door with Owen.
“Don’t take too long, Casanova. There’s still beer left,” Matt said from his chair.
Owen rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back. Don’t drink them all.”
“No promises.”
Owen ordered an Uber on his phone, and they stepped outside, the cool night air wrapping around them as they walked in silence.
The car arrived quickly. Just five minutes separated them from the building where Sophie lived.
For the first time, Owen saw the façade of her apartment building: a simple three-story structure, well-lit, in a quiet but not luxurious neighborhood.
When the Uber pulled up to the entrance, Owen turned to the driver.
“Can you wait a minute? I’ll be right back.”
The driver nodded silently.
Owen got out with Sophie, walking her to the door of the building.
Since the first time they’d met, they hadn’t had an immediate excuse to see each other again. The shoot was over, and so was the party.
Just when the silence threatened to stretch too long, Owen spoke.
“Do you want to come over to my place next Friday?” Owen asked.
“Any particular reason? A party or something?” Sophie asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No… I was thinking we could watch The Name of the Wind. I haven’t seen it yet,” Owen replied.
“You haven’t seen it yet?” Sophie asked, surprised. It had been a hugely popular movie that moved masses the previous year.
“No. I keep meaning to, but I never find the time,” Owen answered.
“Just the two of us? Or will Matt be there?” Sophie asked, wanting to be sure this was some kind of date.
“Just us,” Owen replied without hesitation, looking straight at her.
Sophie nodded slowly, smiling, though with a slight blush. The idea of being alone, at his place, watching a movie made her more nervous than she expected.
“Friday. Works for me,” Sophie said without hesitation.
“That’s great,” Owen said, and before leaving, he leaned in and kissed her again.
It was longer than the first.
When they pulled apart, Sophie said nothing. She just smiled.
“See you, Owen.”
“See you, Sophie.”
Owen returned to his apartment. Matt was still on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table and a fresh beer in his hand. He didn’t even look over as Owen entered, just raised the can in silent greeting.
Owen dropped down next to him and, without a word, grabbed another beer from the pack by the sofa. He cracked it open with a sharp snap.
They didn’t talk right away. They spent several minutes watching the TV, replays of Oscar highlights flashing across the screen.
Then the words came naturally, and they talked about the night. About the party. About movies. About the Oscars. And eventually, about Sophie.
Matt, with his blend of emotional clumsiness and genuine enthusiasm, threw at Owen a string of advice about women that ranged from absurdly wrong to surprisingly wise.
When it was his turn, Owen shifted the focus.
“Did you know Alison had her eyes on you all night?”
Matt frowned, confused… and then remembered. The looks. The smiles. The comments. The casual, playful touches.
The realization hit him with a comical delay.
And in a reaction he couldn’t control, he slapped his own cheek lightly, as if he wanted to be his own Will Smith.
“You should’ve given me some kind of signal!” Matt complained.
“I did, but you weren’t paying attention…” Owen defended himself. Maybe he should’ve sent a text message.
After the women-and-Oscar talk, the conversation turned more serious. They spoke about Paranormal Activity.
They talked for almost two hours. Until Owen finally went to bed.
As for Matt, he slept on the sofa. He had already brought over blankets and a pillow.
