A/N: Blah blah blah FFN formatting sucks. Making do regardless. If you're curious about the dress I envisaged Leah wearing, check out "Hollywood Woman Forest Green Satin Midi Dress" at Lulu's. I would link if it wouldn't get deleted! Thank you to ReluctantWriter12 & Riveriver, whose comments are slowly pushing me towards the finish line. Appreciate y'all.

OSCARS SEASON: BEST ACTOR PREDICTIONS & THE STATE OF THE RACE

Posted November 15, 2021 at 5:35 AM PST by ljroseberg

Can Volturi Productions secure a fourth consecutive Best Actor win? It's a question that looms large as 2021 draws to a close, with Volturi darling Caius Bower (From Dusk till Dawn) fending off last-minute pushes from multiple contenders, including Jacob Black (Predator: Reborn), Riley Biers (Hearts & Minds), and Garrett Shepard (Patriot).

Presently, it's Bower leading the odds amongst experts and fans alike, hot on the heels of his two-time Award-winning brother, Marcus Bower. It's the safe bet - "Caius Bower will win that Oscar," declared Guardian critics earlier this week, reflecting on his dynamite performance as a blood-crazed vampiric villain in "From Dusk till Dawn" that rocked cinemagoers.

In recent weeks, the race has tightened - both in public perception and betting odds - with Jacob Black soaring to new heights on the back of four successive record-breaking releases. While his role in "Predator: Reborn" was certainly notable, it is his unfolding relationship with rising star Leah Clearwater (Cherry Blossoms in May) that has seen meteoric growth in his popularity.

This year's Best Actor race is one of the most exciting in recent history, where any number of outcomes could either make history or bestow a long-appreciated star with their first Academy Award.

Lisabeth Jean Roseberg Oscars 2022 Best Actor Predictions (as of Monday, November 15):

Jacob Black, "Predator: Reborn"

Caius Bower, "From Dusk till Dawn"

Garrett Shepard, "Patriot"

Riley Biers, "Hearts & Minds"

Diego Tanner, "Stand by Me"

The night before the Awards, Embry drives Leah to GoldenEye, using the commute as an opportunity to belt out the lyrics to a mish-mash of pop-country tunes. He'd accidentally-on-purpose run into a decidedly adorable crooner while picking up Leah's dry cleaning two weeks prior, and has since spent his days memorising the entire Billboard Hot Country catalogue, just in case he sees the stranger again. They'd spent at least an hour trying to social media stalk him, even going as far as texting Alice a blurry photo of his side profile for her to work her magic, but no dice - Embry simply had to fall for the least famous person on Rodeo Drive.

At the very least, his vocals have significantly improved since his cowboy fixation developed, and it makes the long drive just that little bit more pleasant.

Leah buzzes into the office with practised familiarity, following Rosalie down the winding hallways with Embry trailing behind. It's been four months since she first stepped foot in the building, preparing to sign over half a year's worth of freedom for a career-defining audition, and while little has practically changed, it feels like everything has. She'd primarily signed her name on the papers to torment Jacob, still carrying the anger and hurt and betrayal from when she was Lee and he was Jake, before everything had become needlessly complicated. In the months since, she's spent countless hours playing make-believe with Jacob, just like they did as children. Only this time, she's not quite sure where her acting stops and her feelings begin, when the private smiles and secret jokes and late-night messages become less of performance and more of a reality. Even following the script to a tee is fraught with danger; she'd kissed him as ardently as the screen chemistry test blocking required, giving it her all, and perhaps that was when the line was crossed.

Jacob had meant it.

Had she?

They've hardly talked since - outside of the necessary appearances and preordained online interactions - and the peculiar ache in her chest whenever she thinks of him is hardly comforting. Knowing that the contract is almost over no longer brings the same relief it once did, and trying to rationalise the massive mental shift is a feat she'd rather not attempt, especially not on the night before one of the biggest events of her career. Alice has promised that she'll recommend Leah regardless of whether Jacob wins Best Actor, but the event - and their stage relationship - feels bigger than an exchange for a single, solitary audition.

Alice beckons her into the conference room, handing her a black garment bag and a pair of dangerously high heels. Embry follows dutifully, collapsing with a huff into one of the plush chairs.

"Ready for one last try-on?" Alice trills, tugging the french screen across until it blocks them from view.

Leah hums in agreement, efficiently shucking her sundress and flip-flops, slipping into the specially-fitted undergarments shipped directly from some ridiculously expensive designer. The dress is snug when she steps into it, turning her back so Alice can fasten the zip and eyelets. It's form-fitting, that's for sure, but it's not on the verge of causing a fashion emergency, which is reassuring.

Alice fluffs out Leah's hair, stepping back to appreciate the combined effect. "Yes, this is the one - excellent choice," she praises, kneeling to lace up the strappy emerald stilettos.

Privately, Leah thinks the crisscrossing laces make her legs resemble a Christmas ham, but she keeps that aside to herself. After all, Alice has been kind enough - it would be mean-spirited to ruin things for the sheer sake of it, and so she complies with Alice's demand for test photographs, twisting to and fro before the stylist.

"When you're ready, walk on out so we can show Embry," Alice instructs, flitting out of the changing space.

Leah smooths her hands over the deep green silk of her gown, trying to summon her brightest smile. It feels more like a grimace, and one look in the ornate oval mirror confirms it. Her dress is divine - there is no denying that fact, especially considering the quadruple-digit price tag - and she should feel like a goddess, clad in what is quite possibly the best outfit she has ever worn. The luxurious material clings to her sun-browned skin, shimmering when she twists and turns to study her appearance with a critical eye.

She's acting as if walking out can somehow be avoided (it can't), and so she takes a deep breath, tossing her hair back as she saunters out into the peanut gallery. Embry wolf-whistles shrilly, goading her into doing an over-dramatic spin. When she's finally facing forward again, it takes a moment for her eyes to take in the changed scenery.

Jacob is standing there, clad in a tasteful black suit that hugs every curve and contour of his muscled frame. His long hair is slicked back into a sleek bun at the nape of his neck, his face framed by strategically positioned strands that she just knows Alice agonised over. Her eyes roam over his figure, taking in every inch of his changed appearance. He's apt to wear jeans and a tee whenever he can get away with it (read: ninety-five percent of his waking hours), making this formal version of Jacob a particularly rare and intriguing sight.

Alice claps her hands with glee. "Oh, you two look wonderful. Don't you think, Embry?"

Embry's smirk makes Leah want to stab him with her stiletto. "Definitely. I'll be surprised if they aren't all over Twitter by this time tomorrow."

She can feel Jacob's eyes on her, and when her gaze flickers across, his mouth is opened, like he's about to say something.

"Right, I'm going to go change," Leah declares, stalking back to the sectioned-off corner.

The room is silent around her, no words spoken aloud after her hasty departure, but she hears the door close with a definitive click and, when she returns, only Embry is waiting.

"Ready to go?" he asks, hooking his elbow through hers. "You looked great, by the way. I think you're safe from the worst dressed list for another year."

"Thank God for that," she proclaims, falling into step beside him. "Did Alice say anything about tomorrow?"

Embry rattles off a list of times and places and itinerary items long enough to stress even the most seasoned actress. He is still explaining after their elevator ride, through the parking lot, and he only cuts off when her phone chimes loudly in the backseat.

Her traitorous heart thuds, hoping for one particular name to flash on the display.

[TEXT] Alice Cullen, 7.42 P.M.

Thanks for the last minute fitting! Here's one of the photos I took - posting a sneak peak would be great for building anticipation.

[MMS] Alice Cullen, 7.42 P.M.

Hold to download image.

Leah clicks on the photo, surveying the contents. Despite her semi-sour mood, Alice has managed to snap a picture where she actually looks good - moody, but in an artful sort of way. In the photo, she's turned away from the camera, her face mostly obscured by a curtain of hair. For a candid, it's surprisingly flattering, artfully framed to reveal a teasing portion of the draping neckline.

Put simply, she looks attractive.

It's a novel feeling.

Instagram | leahclearwater01 just posted a photo.

leahclearwater01 made your mark on me, a golden tattoo #OscarsSzn

Liked by realjacobblack and others

↳ realjacobblack pining & desperately waiting #12HoursToGo

Trending in entertainment | Leah & Jake

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Hands up if you have a degree in decoding cryptic song lyrics after following this duo on Insta…see more. Photo via nikaturner

Belle (Taylor's Version) alltoobelle

if i had a shot w jacob black you can be your whole ass i'd quote dress too

Shelby handsfullofstars

leah quoting the horniest taylor song is sending me into orbit-

Lindsea linisblogging

EVERYONE THINKS THEY KNOW US BUT THEY KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ALL OF THIS SILENCE AND PATIENCE AAAAAAAAAA

"Jacob! Jacob! Over here, please!"

The carpet is a wash of pure white light, cameras flashing and whirring and tracking celebrities at an incredible pace. It's overwhelming, the noise, and Leah's thankful that she has Jacob to tug her along, even though he is the reason that everything is so frenzied. The reporters are desperate for a piece of Jacob, and he soaks up the attention, waving and posing for the shots as if he were born for this very moment. Leah tries to focus on the cues Alice and Rosalie have drilled into her - chin down, shoulders back, hand on thigh. She takes a deep breath, settling into position, and the shutter frenzy starts anew, dousing them in a hurricane of bright light.

Jacob ducks his head to murmur words intended only for her, his lips ever so slightly brushing against the shell of her ear. "I think it's meant to be your thigh, not mine."

Mortification floods her brain, but she refuses to let it show - after all, that would be letting Jacob win, and she'd rather die than let him have the satisfaction. Instead, she leans into his hold, smiling demurely up at him as she squeezes his leg. The slight bulge of his eyes is more than enough of a reward, and when the cameras focus on the pair, Leah knows for sure that her wide smile is one-hundred percent real.

"Leah! Leah, look this way!"

The voice is needy and grating and it takes everything in her to hold her tongue, to continue smiling brightly as if there's no place she'd rather be. The broad hand palming her waist squeezes once, twice. A warning. Ordinarily, she'd regale him with the sourest scowl she could manage, but that would be playing into what he wants. Instead, she smiles sweetly, entwining her fingers with his as they continue on down the carpet.

Two can play his game.

She tows him over to the bushy-tailed journalist before he can protest, and the young thing is all too excited to be within their orbit.

"Leah!" she gushes, thrusting a microphone into the actress' face. "Are you excited for the Awards? Tell us, what's coming up this summer for you?"

Leah's got her close-up routine down pat, thanks to rigorous practice with Alice - a sultry smile, a toss of the hair, a teasing wink.

"Just one comment tonight, Shelby," she murmurs, smirking mischievously at the camera. "There'll be plenty of coming this summer for me."

With that, she offers the camera a flirtatious wave, leading Jacob away before he can add fuel to the fire. As if he could, anyway - a single sidelong glance tells her all she needs to know: that he is totally, helplessly, out of his depth.

Just the way she likes them.

When the red carpet ends, they make their way inside the building, hands still linked. He holds her hand while he mingles with friends, acquaintances, even going as far to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. Finally, it is time to find their seats, settling in between other A list stars that are far too famous for Leah to even consider looking at. Jacob waits until she is settled comfortably, legs crossed at the knee, before he leans over to murmur in her ear.

"You look incredible tonight, Lee. Thank you for being here."

Jacob smells like mint gum and the taquitos she made Embry pick up on the ride over, as well as some intoxicating woodsy cologne that smells exactly like home. It's enough to have her knees feeling like jelly, and when he brushes his thumb lightly over her cheekbone, careful to not smudge her make-up, her stomach bursts into swarms of butterflies.

It's a small mercy that the lights dim, turning their attention to the host. It's comfortable, sitting here beside Jacob in the darkness, watching category by category fly by. All too quickly, it is time for Jacob's category to be called - the Academy Award for Best Actor - and she can hardly breathe through her nerves.

Katrina Denali and Eleazar Camargo introduce the nominees, pausing between each actor's name to allow the cameras to cut to each performer. Caius Bower. Garrett Shepard. Riley Biers. Diego Tanner.

Then, the camera points squarely at them, as Jacob's name is read aloud. He grins, holding one hand up in an enthusiastic wave of acknowledgement - the other, still gripping hers, more tightly now.

Katrina rips open the envelope, handing the card to Eleazar to read.

Leah holds her breath, gripping Jacob's hand with both of hers.

"Jacob Black!"

The crowd applauds around them, but Leah can't hear nor see anything that isn't Jacob Black, laughing exuberantly as he leaps to his feet. He hoists Leah up, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and, before reality can hit her like a freight train, he dips her, kissing her passionately in front of ten million Americans.

After Jacob's released her, bounding up to the stage to accept the award, Leah sinks into her seat, shellshocked. The buzzing in her ears drowns out everything else - she'll have to find a clip of his acceptance speech online later - as her mind repeats a disjointed refrain of Jacob kissed me Jacob won Jacob kissed me. There is a one-million percent chance the photos will be trending on Twitter in mere minutes, and she should be okay with it being a publicity stunt, but she isn't.

Jacob was never a stunt to her.

He tries to take her hand when he returns to his seat, gleaming trophy under his arm, but she tucks both of her hands under her thighs, stubbornly staring straight ahead. She can feel his hurt gaze burning a hole in the side of her head, confused at the sudden change of pace, and so is she.

How could he be so cavalier about using her as a prop?

The rest of the ceremony passes by in a haze - hell, she can hardly think straight through all of her frustration and confusion and hurt - and they're finally free to trickle into the afterparty, to drink and dance and feed the carnivorous media machine. Jacob slips away with a muffled apology and a promise to return soon, intent on finding and congratulating his co-stars. Leah's not overly bothered - the kiss has given her a splitting headache, and she's sure that somewhere in this atrium there is an old fashioned with her name on it.

In fact, she is four old fashioneds deep by the time Jacob catches up with her, his face flushed deep brown from the liquor he's undoubtedly consumed. His brow wrinkles as he takes in her mussed hair and smudged lipstick, curling his arm protectively around her waist.

"Jeez, Lee, how much have you had to drink?" he asks, guiding her towards the balcony doors. "Let's get you some fresh air."

It's a credit to her teenage years that she can still balance on her heels, clicking her way over towards the railing. The air around them is frigid, raising goosebumps on her exposed flesh, and she's grateful for Jake's warm hand pressing against her back. They stand side by side in silence for what feels like an eternity, staring out into the dark December night. Out here, she can almost pretend they are two ordinary people, teetering on the edge of something wonderful. His hand against her back is a clandestine gesture of attraction, perhaps long-concealed from an over-protective brother, and the zap-zap-zap in her belly is a materialisation of a want grander than anything else she has ever known. When she turns her head to study his face, he is already looking at her, his dark eyes wide as if he knows every thought that has danced through her inebriated brain.

He lifts a hand to cup the back of her neck, his calloused fingers gently stroking the notches of her spine. She closes her eyes, set adrift by the sensation of his skin on hers.

Then, his lips are pressing against hers, gently at first, and she remembers what it feels like to soar. His mouth tastes of whiskey and sugar as his tongue tangles with hers, kissing her in a way she has never been kissed before. She's kissed boys, kissed men, even kissed a woman once, and none have made her breath come in short, sharp pants that reverberate in her eardrums. She makes the mistake of sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, and he moans low in his throat, boosting her by her thighs until her body is held entirely against his, pressed against the balcony railing.

"Fuck, Lee, I've thought about this for weeks," he groans, lowering his mouth to the junction of her neck. "I can't believe this is finally happening."

His words are like ice water; she wrenches back, wriggling until he sets her down on the parquet. She studies his crumpled expression, searching for something that will make this whole mess make sense.

"Why did you kiss me?" she rasps, raking a hand through her dishevelled hair.

Jacob blinks, mystified. "Because I wanted to kiss you?"

"No, you didn't," she growls, pushing uselessly at his chest. "You kissed me for everyone else's benefit - what the fuck was that, when they called your name?"

"I thought…I thought I was celebrating with the woman I'm head over fucking heels for," he mutters, his chin jutting downwards. "I want this to mean something, Lee."

She laughs bitterly, turning away to stare into the freezing darkness. "I'm not stupid."

"Well, you're acting pretty fucking dumb right now," he argues, gripping the railing until his knuckles turn white. "Don't you get it? The contract's as good as over - we can turn this around, make it right."

"It's done, Jacob," Leah scowls. "Go ahead and forget about me for a second time. I'm used to it."

"A second time?" he asks, before realisation dawns in his eyes. "Lee, please - I know I've messed up before, but I'm different now. We're different."

"Is that why nobody from home hears from you these days? Are you too different to call your fucking father?" she spits.

Jacob recoils as if slapped. "Don't bring him into this."

"Why? You know he's been asking about you," Leah says defiantly, crossing her arms across her chest.

His eyes harden as he glares at her. "You have no right," he says, his voice dangerously low. "I don't know what I expected….I can't believe I thought that this would actually work."

Leah straightens up, running a shaking hand through her hair. "Embry will call tomorrow about the contract," she mutters, spinning on her heel to stalk off into the afterparty.

At least this time she is the one leaving, and it is him being left.