๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐:ย @moonlitely ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: the airbnb
it was only once she โ brianna โ left that olivia noticed the jacket. too late to give chase, not that she has a chance given the other womanโs proclivity for evasion, the blonde resolved to keep it safe. in case she comes back. not at all because she wanted evidence of the night, proof that it happened.
it turns out that she would need that proof, as the days crawl by without any sign of her elusive guest. julia notices a change in her right away, noting that it took the entire day for olivia to return with a response on the script, and when she did, she had notes. โif they want me on the movie, the script needs to be believable.โ only the best lies will do.
the jacket hangs undisturbed at the back of her closet for a week. she's returning from a trip to the venn street markets, baguette peaking out of her tote, when the letterbox catches her eye. the trip marks her last morning of freedom โ tomorrow starting a series of early call times and late nights. for the first time in a long while, she looks forward to it. the start of a new project always elicits a sense of excitement, but this is different. over the last week, she's become somehow more methodical in her approach to the role. the lies that make up shannon sutton have become her own; her wants, needs, and dreams. all are as consequential to olivia as her own. she's even found herself slipping into an accent unbidden, notwithstanding her lack of a linework partner.
itโs only by chance that she stops to check the box on her way inside. few people know she's there, and the ones who do know email is the fastest way to reach her. still, she reaches a hard in, almost startling when fingers brush paper.
โi never said thanks. so, thank you.โ
it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. she's been here. her head snaps over her shoulder, the abrupt motion disrupting the otherwise lazy sunday atmosphere. how long has it been there? she's only been away for an hour or so. long enough. and then, realizing how strange she must look peering about in her sunglasses and baseball cap given londonโs proclivity to sunless skies, she huffs and continues up the steps. the door falls shut with a heavy thud.
on the third day of shooting, olivia reaches the doorstep just after eleven. the note still rests idly on the kitchen island, disregarded even by the cleaners sheโs learned come fortnightly. beside it is her phone, which she left behind after returning home for a lunch break. it buzzes for what is like to be the hundredth time, though sheโs not overly concerned with it; julia was alerted and had been corresponding via her assistant. exhausted yet fulfilled, she collapses back against the couch. she should be responsible and see what notifications sheโs missed, in case one of her siblings needs her. her phone, impatient, buzzes again, this time earning a groan. it can wait.
