Ryan stood there, jaw clenched, totally spaced out while the seconds ticked away without mercy.
The director was already counting down.
“Five!”
“Four!”
“Three!”
Ella Harris panicked, spinning around to yell, “Ryan! Say something, quick!”
She had fought hard to press the buzzer first.
If they didn’t answer, they’d lose points. Yep—penalty!
“…Because it's a word made by God!” Ryan finally blurted out, his face—already paler than most women’s—flushing red.
He was clearly embarrassed.
The countdown had hit “One”; he couldn’t just stand there like a statue, could he?
His brain went blank, and that dumb line just slipped out.
The second it did, he wanted to slap himself.
How on earth could that be the right answer?
Not a chance. Even he didn’t buy it.
