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PEOPLE WE MEET ON VACATION 2026 — dir. Brett Haley

“that’s your fault for always appearing so available. our friends have long given up on pairing me off with anyone.” holly had initially taken offense to this development, but given that her dating history has been colored with almost nothing but disaster and embarrassment, she can’t necessarily blame her nearest and dearest for keeping a wise distance. “was it sarah? she’s, like, obsessed with getting you married off. you’ve got to feel like one of the bennet sisters at his point.” when she’s only truly succeeded in pissing off holly with her cheerful determination to find the right girl for holden. once again, holly internalizes the concept that it’s honestly and truly none of her business, but biting her tongue has rarely ever been one of her strengths. “yes, actually, that’s such a fabulous idea. i want a weekly newsletter and maybe even a message sent by a carrier pigeon, if you don’t mind. meanwhile, i’ll work on assembling my own bat-signal into the sky so you can receive my latest updates.” and as for her own adventures… “i was on a work trip in los angeles, and then i took an extended weekend by the beach. i take it the disco ball has done little to show off my tan.” nimble fingertips drift to her shoulder, tugging the strap of her top aside to better reveal a fresh, freckled tan line, though in the room’s lighting, it’s more like a strip of peach in a neon red glow. “i almost called you one night, but i didn’t know if it’d be too late. or if you had company or whatever.”

                   a grimace washed over his features and for, just a moment, he squirmed. “'so available?'” by the time she'd gotten to the topic of sarah, holden was already folding in on himself, forehead threatening to meet the sticky table as both hands stayed wrapped around the nearly empty tumbler. “of course it’s sarah,” holden grumbles hopelessly into the wood grain. “don’t make that joke to her,” he warns, lifting his head just enough to look at holly. “she won't get it. it’s colleen hoover or nothing.” strangely, he was suddenly reminded of one of his first memory’s with holly. the two of them, surrounded by a group of their mutual friends, getting into a heated debate over men's penchants for preferring indulgent beat authors over typical classics. holly had quoted austen, holden had answered with bukowski. by the end of the night they'd stopped trying to respectively win and started trying to make the other laugh. “oh god,” his shoulders sagged, “does she think i’m mary bennett?” still looking genuinely distressed, holly still earned a small laugh from him. “we make enough money for carrier pigeons and bat signals? no one told me.” his smile lingered as holly reached up absentmindedly tugging the strap of her top aside. the tan line was barely visible beneath the shifting red and violet lights. he looked for exactly one beat too long. holden’s gaze dropped back to the glass, knuckle idly tapping against the crystal, the sound swallowed whole by the noise around them. “you should’ve.” the words left before he thought to dilute them. he frowned slightly, as if only just realizing how quickly he’d responded. “besides, when i have ever not answered?”

THE DRAMA 2026, dir. Kristoffer Borgli

〝 are you kidding? it's a party. i'm not leaving a party at nine - thirty. look, i get that my dad is probably paying you much more than you're worth but can you not be a bore for like, two more hours? it's lame. besides my home girl thinks you're cute so if you let me stay, i'll introduce y'all? 〞

                   hunter managed to hold a flat, unreadable expression on his face — but not without effort. he’d only been working for her family for a few months, yet zoey had managed to get beneath his skin faster than anyone he’d ever met. but he somehow instinctively knew that if he allowed even a hairline crack in his composure, she’d wedge her way into it and make his job more difficult than it already was. as if he wanted the god damn job any way. “i’m not getting paid to impress your friends.” he opened the passenger seat and the car began to chime impatiently. “i’m not getting paid to negotiate with you, either.” a pointed look. “get in the car.”

HALLE BAILEY British Vogue (2023)

"figuring out what you're looking for?" jackie appears from the other side of the selection of records as doc martens shuffle over, it was her job as her family's new record store owner to not run off the customers by scaring them but she couldn't help it. she was interested in what he was up to. and maybe... she was bored. he looked like a good victim. "or are you struggling over here? just checking if you got taste." long dark haired girl teased, gauging a reaction on purpose. clad in a black off the shoulder tank with a shiny rhinestone star, a belt that matched, looped around her black ripped jean shorts and her big shiny silver hoops while eyes fell over his form, quietly checking out what he was wearing because she was big on two things... music and style. of course she has to dissect her victim's wardrobe too.

                   “m’good, than—” jude stops short as he looks up from thumbing through. a few microseconds ago, he was eager to wave this person away. now, having the opportunity to even spare her a glance, he immediately pivoted. “actually,” he started, leaning a hip against the browser bins, “i wondering if you guys had taste.” their gaze deadlocked. “no stone roses.” he gestured toward the alphabetized bins. “what record store doesn’t carry the stone roses?” he swore the corner of her mouth flickered, and he felt a ridiculous rush.

« BUT I'M PLAYING, » she insists halfheartedly, knowing this particular battle is already lost as she obediently trails after him out of the concert venue and back to the car. she is no stranger to odd threats, concerning details of her whereabouts being presented to her by anonymous sources claiming to come see her, but she is also no fighter. it takes everything she has to conjure this feeble complaint. « hunter. please, this — this happens all the time and it never means anything. »

                   hunter didn’t slow. pressing the key fob as they approached the SUV, it chirped and unlocked in front of them. he stayed quiet, if only to be able to hear the steady rhythm of her footsteps from behind him. he pulls open the passenger door and stepped aside, gesturing for her to get in. “until it does,” he argued, the impatience on his face unmistakable. he crossed to the drivers side quickly after she got inside, eyeing the perimeter around them, before slinking behind the wheel and slamming the door behind him. “for someone in your position, with as many freaks and stalkers you have, you make yourself really accessible.”

"hiii, don't mind me. i'm not even here. this is just a dream, you're dreaming." elena shyly shuffles in, bambi eyes flicker up on him briefly with a sheepish smile, pretending to hug herself like it's cold outside to keep her hand hidden. "you look niii-- too." she quipped, making playful fun, finding that sleep in his voice cute before feeling guilt she's woken him up. again. the petite brunette hands him her heels then scurries away to his bathroom because her hand is throbbing and immediately needs fixed or at least somewhere she can stop forcing the smile and let out that wince she's holding back. hoping he's sleepy enough she can keep it hidden from him. "i'll just be here a sec and then i'll leave you alone." she loudly promises on her way to finding his bathroom.

                  he, of course, was far from dreaming. the scent of her perfume wafted through the air behind her, unmistakably real. marcus holds each heel in one hand, confusion carved between his brows. for several long seconds, he stays there, his mind struggling to catch up, still heavy from the brink of sleep. “elena,” he calls after her, finally finding his voice. he sets her shoes to the ground, quickly trailing behind her to make up for his stupor. “what the hell is going on?” this encounter felt entirely different to their others, with a quiet undercurrent of urgency. he crossed the threshold into his bathroom to find elena cradling her wrist. “what happened?”

Inde Navarrette ph. by Rona Liana Ahdout for Cosmopolitan

               the scoff that rolls out of his mouth is barbed, tongue swiping across his bottom lip for a brief moment. “you have a lot of unearned confidence for someone fresh out of law school.” a beat. “i’d watch that.”

HAVANA ROSE LIU as ruthie in tuner (2026)

“absolute monsters. the ghastliest of the ghastly.” holly never could help herself, feigning sincerity for a moment before a broad grin overwhelmed her face, silhouetted in kaleidoscopic colors thanks in part to the five buck disco ball she’d brought along in lieu of any decent party fare — her own version of i carried a watermelon from dirty dancing. sadly, nobody got the joke. “no, i don’t know. i’m not often cataloging the women you date, i just didn’t expect that you were here with somebody.” because she’d actually missed holden on her work trip, wanted to talk to him alone, not necessarily to flirt because they’d never been great at that whole thing, but because it often felt like he could effortlessly ensconce her in easy banter. “well, that soils everything. i’ve got ‘don’t stop believing’ queued up after her, and i don’t do that alone.” an obvious joke, she’d never pick such an obvious option. “exactly how long has the sweetest guy in the world been seeing our new friend?”

                   holden tried to keep a level expression, but holly’s grin cracked straight through his resolve until he’d become her mirror. colored light skittered ribboned across her features. he looked down to the cheap disco ball tucked beneath her arm, and they lingered here. holden didn’t ask. this was certainly a reference he’d miss, but he knew their routine: another drink and his curiosity would win; she’d launch into an explanation with an enthusiasm he had never possessed; he’d groan on principle, then quietly watch or listen to whatever it was. before he realized, his gaze had drifted back to her. “... yeah,” he mutters, another long pull from his drink. “it’s new.” he pushed the glass a couple centimeters against the wood grain, glancing across the room just long enough to feign interest, then back to holly. “if you’ve got don’t stop believing coming up on that thing, then i have a cab on standby.” a small smile hangs from the corner of his mouth before fading. light still danced across holly's face, shifting each time her disco ball caught a beam. he cleared his throat. “first date, if you must know. we got set up.” the admission sounded heavier out in the air. it was just a date. one single evening. “and we’re clearly inseparable,” he adds dryly, gesturing to his date who’d become engrossed in conversation with another guy across the room. holden's attention returned to holly almost immediately. “should i send out a newsletter next time? … and where have you been, anyway?”

“listen, i’m not as — familiar with all of this,” georgie does her best to excise any semblance of judgement from her tone, hopes that he’s learned that the flustered, nail-biting thing she’s doing is, unfortunately, just the kind of person she is. “i’ll do my best to unclench, if that helps.” and she tries, attempting to school her anxious grimace to an easier smile and only vaguely feels like shrek. “that’s just the first half, there’ll be more, you know, after.” and depending on how complicated it all gets. “you have all the travel details set?”

                   davis takes her in for a moment, observing more than staring, trying to get a sense of what exactly he'd signed up for. he only nods, deciding to save his assumptions for later. she had hired him after all. “that's fine.” he waves the details away with little enthusiasm. “i do. my seat should be right behind yours — 3B.” their day of travel included only seven hours in the air until they were dropped straight into a long weekend of wedding festivities. he’s still studying the twist of her face, thinking they could have used more time. “is there anything i should know about your family? about you — if i’m asked?”

MARGARET QUALLEY House Tour Music Video

no care bear slippers tonight or pjs for a change of events. instead, elena quickly pats on marcus' door in the middle of the night standing in a black dress and a heels with her hand that wasn't throbbing, hiding that one behind her back. how was she going to hide it if he hasn't decided to shut her out tonight, well she hadn't thought it through. too concentrated on her paranoia that her boyfriend would be on her heels and literally, since she just ran out from the party they were at that he decided to flirt with the girl she got into a fight with earlier at. "please, hurry, open up marcus!"

                   sleep had almost pulled marcus under. that feeling of falling through himself, weightless but heavy.  almost.  he hears the quick raps against his door as if they were underwater at first, until his eyes are snap open, and they ring out crystal clear. looking at the clock at his bedside, he already knows exactly who it is. the only person who could make him tumble out of bed with an eagerness he worked hard to conceal. he scrubbed a hand through his hair before pulling the door open. any attempt to not stare at elena dissolved. this version of her was a stark contrast from what he’s used to. clad in a black dress that hugged her perfectly, hair artfully undone, heels in hand. “hi.  …  you look ni—” he starts, sleep thick in his voice as elena slipped past him, crossing his threshold.