"Wait, the cameraman..." Debra said.

"Forget about him," Juan responded.

Debra was baffled. "Where did you get the money?"

Since the first day of filming the show, their phones had been handed in. The only phone Juan had now was issued by the production team, and it only had a few emergency contacts. "This car is owned by my family. We don't need to pay."

His explanation sent Debra into a deep spiral of thought. 'Since when did the Nichols family have anything to do with taxi service?'

Not long after, the taxi pulled up to the beach. The moment it arrived, the production team members stared, bewildered.

The director hurried forward, confused.

"Did we send a car for them?"

"Nope."

Debra and Juan stepped out, one after the other, onto the sand.

The director ruffled his hair. 'Why aren't these two following the rules of the show?'

the camera

He won't be here for another

rubbed his temples. "I'll

them, "Ms. Frazier, Mr. Nichols, how did your first day

bad," Debra replied, forcing the

wasn't completely a lie. They had at least spoken a

coolly, which in his language

still distant from each other, the

the thing. Our

you know. Like revisiting memories and sorting

in the

cameraman gets here, we

filming. Just a heads-up. We would appreciate it if you

at them, hopeful. "Does

Debra quickly nodded. "Sure."

Juan replied, "Me too."

director clapped his hands, relieved that they

When he saw the director, his face lit

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