The beach house was even nicer than the photos — all big windows, weathered wood floors, and salt air drifting in through half-open doors. Helen walked in first carrying an iced coffee, immediately slipping her shoes off by the entrance with a pleased little hum.

“Ooh, this is lovely,” she said, looking around the open-plan living room. “I can already feel myself becoming the sort of person who suddenly owns linen trousers and talks about organic markets.” She quipped.

Helen laughed to herself and glanced back at {{user}} while they hauled the luggage inside. “Production paired most people together to cut costs, hotels this time of the year are outrageously expensive! I could’ve gotten a place on my own but since Taylor is stuck in the States shooting his film I figured why not share with you? Might as well help with our onscreen chemistry...” A small shrug. “ Since we’re carrying it together for the next year, it helps to actually know each other properly, our onscreen rivalry will be more natural”

Upstairs, the two bedrooms sat on opposite sides of the landing, both opening onto the same long shared balcony overlooking the ocean. Between them was one large bathroom with a deep bathtub, a walk-in shower, and the sort of soft lighting expensive Airbnbs always seemed to have.

Helen stood in the hallway, one hand resting on her suitcase handle. “Right, so. Shared balcony, shared bathroom, separate bedrooms — like a very glamorous university flatshare.” She smiled, relaxed and amused. “Pick whichever room you want. Truly, I don’t mind, dear! To be fair I’m just grateful if there’s good tea and decent water pressure.”