During our Jamaican getaway, the four of us are drawn into an unexpected adventure when two strangers lead us to a deserted mansion. What starts as curiosity quickly turns into a night of tension, surprises, and unlikely alliances—a night that tests our trust, pushes our limits, and leaves us with a story we’ll never forget.

Part 1: Beachin' and boozing

Part 2: The Encounter

Part 3: When the Universe Hits Replay

Part 4: A Frozen Moment

Part 5: Behind Closed Doors

You know when you’re sat down all cosy to watch a tv show. It’s dark, your little lamps switched on in the corner and your all comfy ready to start your show. You click play on the remote and the scene opens with complete chaos—smack bang in the middle of a manic situation—and you’re left captivated, instantly thinking- what on earth!? How did we get here?” That, my friends, is what filmmakers call a cold opening. The perfect narrative trick to grab attention and drag you straight into the action. (Film critics, that ones for you).

Cool. But why am I mentioning this? Great question. Firstly, because why not? Secondly—because, dear readers— picture this:

Four girls, three thousand thoughts, two strangers, and one choice we probably shouldn’t have made.

There we were—four girls crammed into one tiny, half-renovated bathroom. Not a towel or soap in sight. Nothing that made a house a home. The door swung shut behind us locking in our racing thoughts. The house around us? Huge. The space surrounding us? Empty. Not a single piece of furniture to break the silence. And the two strangers we'd only just met? Somewhere out there, waiting for us to come out. We had walked into their world now and we weren’t sure how to get out.

Rewind to the beginning...

06.07.25

It was a blazing Saturday morning. We had just hugged the wonderful Cynthia goodbye, ready for her flight back to America. She was off, absolutely thrilled to have survived the catastrophic Hurricane. On one hand we were happy to see her go home, but on the other hand our group was now down to four. It felt like a weird game show, and we were the last four standing—me, Phoebe, Sam, and Angel—and we were going to enjoy every second of it.

The scenes for today were so simple in my mind—pure relaxation, horse riding in the Caribbean Sea, hair blowing in the wind, followed by a cocktail in hand, discussing the day’s antics with the girls. Yes it sounded like a dream, but it was possible. Put it this way, the day before we had bargained with a man named David who worked in the local tourist industry. He’d given us prices, times, and all the details to make the horse-riding experience happen. We were thrilled. Ecstatic- I had all these visions. That was until we spoke with our local contact and programme leader, Jade, who let us in on the actual truth. The slightly darker truth. The unethical treatment of the horses which definitely took us all by surprise. After hearing her vivid description, we collectively decided to bin it off.

After all we had been through, we decided to shift gears. So what did that look like? Well it began with M and ended in ville. A place where nothing could go wrong, where relaxation was guaranteed. A place where the sun always shone and the ocean always sparkled. And do you know where that was?

Margaritaville—yep, you heard me—Margaritaville. A place that’s beachy, boozy, and blissful.

All was swell. It was 34°C, and we were on route in our local taxi. I was sat in my white shirt set, shades on, bouncing around with my face squished up to the window, covered in some guy’s sweat next to me. Normal scenes here in Jamaica. But I didn’t care—because I was on my way to Margaritaville! We all felt confident, knowing exactly where we were going and what we were doing.

A twenty-minute taxi ride later we hopped off at the yellow clock tower in the centre of Ocho Rios. We grabbed some rum punch from the General Store Supermarket (because apparently, I only drink rum in Jamaica) and braved the walk through the different areas of the town centre. First, we had the fruit market where the air was filled with scents of orange and crowds that barged past in hopes of a mango. Next was through the palm tree arch, where we hurried through with our heads down in hopes of avoiding David the horseman. Next was the open beach walk where the sassy hair-braiding ladies gathered in hopes of each grabbing a section of my blonde hair which eventually led us to our destination where tourist reps welcomed us with open arms into Margaritaville.

Beachin' and boozing

Girls’ day had officially begun. We were at the gates of Margaritaville Ocho Rios. I fumbled through my purse, clutching both Jamaican Dollars and US Dollars, mentally battling to figure out which one was cheaper to pay with.

Interception🤚: Now this one’s for my fellow travellers. Jamaican currency—depending on what you’re doing, it matters. Having both Jamaican dollars AND American dollars felt a bit excessive, sure, but trust me, it came in handy. Plus, I could use any leftover dollars for my upcoming trip to America. Not sponsored, but ‘Currency Converter Plus’ SAVED my LIFE. It lets you calculate and convert at the same time— um hello total game changer.

ANYWAYS, let’s get back to it.

Imagine, a beachy, boozy heaven right on the crystal-clear Caribbean coast, offering an unmissable blend of tropical fun and carefree relaxation. The reggae beats floating in the air while the ocean hums its constant rhythm, creating a vibe of indulgence and serenity all at once. We wandered through as the sun danced off the colourful decorations hanging from the roof of the thatched beach bar, throwing vibrant, sun-kissed reflections onto the ground. As we continued, the beach opened up to reveal bright loungers dotting the glistening sand. The perfect “island life” setup. A few steps more, and the sound of clinking ice and the whoosh of bartenders shaking up cocktails greeted my ears and eyes.

The waitresses, dressed in shorts and tank tops, glided through the crowd, tanned legs carrying trays stacked high with tropical drinks. Their laid-back, effortless charm made everything seem like it was moving in slow motion. There was no hurry here. No stress. Just pure relaxation. What the locals describe as ‘island time’. Where time happened when it happened. SO different from British culture, especially from my job back home in a frantic luxury hotel. Time was stretching out in the best way possible. I had time to move with ease, breathe with ease and daydream without distractions and everyone just seemed so, well so relaxed. It was weird. I was not used to this.

It was as if Margaritaville had its sense of rhythm, a pace where the only thing that mattered was the next sip, the next laugh, the sun warming your skin, and the salty breeze weaving through your hair. This was paradise. And we diving right into it.

I must’ve looked like a right nut job- grinning in my oversized sunglasses, but I didn't care. I sank into the sun lounger like I was Sharpay in High School Musical 2—carefree and caught in a moment that felt like it could last forever. Each of us held a different cocktail, where the branded glasses each caught the sun’s golden rays, creating a kaleidoscope of colours reflecting on our umbrellas—vibrant pinks, tropical yellows, and ocean blues. My bright green bikini even sparkled in the sun, as a perfect contrast against the deep blue of the ocean. Everything was finally in place. We clinked our drinks together, the sound sharp against the soft hum of reggae drifting through the air. Life felt perfectly in sync. The island was alive, the air scented with salt and sunshine, and the sound of the waves against the shore was like a lullaby, urging us to relax deeper into the chairs. This place? Well, let’s face it—it was better than good. It was paradise.

I went from Sharpay from High School Musical 2 to Cleo from H2O just add water in precisely 30 mins of the Jamaican sun. I was in that ocean STRAIGHT away, Phoebe too. We grabbed Sam’s snorkel and went in and wow somehow that beat slouching in the chairs. We swam further, the ocean pulling us toward the massive inflatable playground, a sea-bound fantasyland floating like a mirage in the Caribbean sun. The closer we got, the more it loomed—like a giant, sun-soaked carnival in the middle of the ocean. My heart pounded with excitement, each stroke bringing the bright pops of colour into clearer view. But of course, just as we reached it, reality rudely crashed the party—how were we meant to get up on this thing? No ladder? No ropes? Excuse me?! Rude much?!

Then, like a scene straight out of a Disney movie, a hand shot out of nowhere, gripping my wrist and yanking me upward. Before I could process it, I was airborne—hair whipping wildly, limbs flailing—feeling like some kind of mermaid-turned-action-hero. I landed with a soft thud, gasping from the suddenness of it all, and looked up to see a guy grinning down at me, his hand still outstretched like he’d just saved me from some dramatic, ocean-induced demise. I let out a breathless giggle, my brain still catching up with my body, realizing I had quite literally been swept off my feet—by both the inflatable and this mystery stranger. He gave me a cheeky grin in return.

Well, this was not how I’d imagined my morning going.

Then came Phoebe. And let me tell you—she got air time. She shot through the sky like a firework, a blur of sun-kissed limbs and shrieking laughter before landing with an exaggerated bounce right beside me. For a second, we just stared at each other, wide-eyed and breathless—then burst into uncontrollable laughter. The ridiculousness of it all only continued. We’d scramble to our feet, attempt to run across the slippery plastic, and immediately wipe out, launching ourselves back into the water. We’d do this over and over with the lifeguard on duty. Like scenes from that early 2000s show Total Wipeout.

We’d then wave dramatically at the girls lounging on the beach, like overexcited kids showing off for their mums, only to immediately lose our footing and crash into the sea again. Over and over. Run, slip, launch, repeat.

Sam and Angel had premium entertainment right in front of them. Every time we resurfaced, sputtering and howling with laughter, they were practically keeled over on their sunbeds, drinks in hand, watching us like we were the headline act of Margaritaville’s unofficial comedy show. The giggles. The chaos. The pure, uninhibited joy. We were healing our inner children—soaked in salt water, slightly tipsy, and not giving a single toss about how ridiculous we looked. This was how life was meant to be lived. And after everything we’d been through, we deserved this.

And then, as the universe agreed—our food was ready. The second we heard our names called, we bolted. The ocean became our racetrack, arms cutting through the waves like Olympic-level competitors as if there was some grand prize at stake. I felt like my six years of swimming teaching had all come down to this moment. Fierce, confident, and feeling like a mermaid, I glided through the water. Although, to the untrained eye, we probably looked like we were fleeing a shark. But in reality, we were just girls desperate for a good meal. The beach grew nearer, the golden sand stretching out in front of us. Sun rays beamed down on our damp, salty skin as we sprinted up the shore, collecting sand between our toes. And then, there it was—my plate, steaming with flaky salmon, coconut rice, and fresh mango slices. I glared at it like I had just met the love of my life. My world was good.

Time had passed—we’d giggled, napped, eaten everything in sight, and snapped endless photos on the rocks. I had accepted the peace; I was happy with the peace. I wasn’t on edge anymore. The hurricane, the travel stress, and the mosquito bites (now occupying a solid 70% of my body) were all a distant memory. It was at this moment that I did what any calm, accepting, and slightly sunburnt woman would do—I ordered the strongest cocktail on the beach. Fittingly named The Hurricane, it was both a nod to our survival and a toast to the universe for getting us here in one piece. I felt like a glowing princess with her life completely in order, clinking my glass with a satisfied grin—when something in the distance caught my eye.

The Encounter

Two guys strolled into view, moving along the beach with easy confidence, their relaxed body language blending effortlessly with the golden haze of the evening. There was an undeniable shift in the air, a fresh energy sweeping in with their presence.

One was tall, his oversized glasses catching the light, his gold chain gleaming like it held a secret. That was Stephen—cool, composed, effortlessly magnetic. Beside him, Suny had a dopey smile, kind eyes, and a touch more facial hair. His black patterned shorts, accented with gold details, hinted at a streak of playfulness, while his half-broken flip-flops gave him a carefree, almost accidental charm. They had the kind of presence that made it seem like they belonged anywhere—beach, bar, or anywhere in between.

A beat passed, the unspoken pause of two groups sizing each other up, curiosity buzzing under the surface. "Hello, ladies", Stephen greeted, his voice a deep yet gentle rumble. "Hey", we all replied, keeping it casual—though intrigue lingered at the edges of our words. Stephen’s eyes flicked to my nearly empty cocktail, his smile tilting knowingly. "Hurricane hit you hard, yeah?". I laughed, swirling the last few ice cubes in my glass. "You have no idea," I replied, lifting the glass. Suny exhaled a slow puff of smoke, adding to the moment’s effortless drama. "How did you lot find the hurricane?" "Rough," Sam jumped in. "Craziest experience yet. Though to be fair, the news made it seem worse than it was." "It was mad," Suny agreed, taking another drag of his cigarette. "We had a pipe explode—water everywhere. Proper chaos." Stephen chuckled, shaking his head. "And yet, you girls look pretty relaxed now. How do you all know each other?"

A quiet siren went off in my head—instincts kicking in, a subtle defence mechanism flickering to life. We scrambled, an unspoken agreement forming between us to keep things light, effortless, and informational. Sam was the first to step in, flashing her confident, easy smile. "Oh, we all met out here," she said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "No way," Stephen and Suny echoed, sounding genuinely intrigued. "Yep! Just a bunch of strangers turned friends on the beach," Sam continued, delivering the line with a breezy charm that made it seem effortless. And just like that, the conversation flowed, an encounter unfolding in the salty air, under the soft hum of the waves. "Amazing," the boys responded, none the wiser to the fact that we were completely lying through our teeth. "Sit down, come join us," Sam invited, the words flowing as if it was a given. "Sure thing," Stephen said, grinning. He and Suny sank beside us like they were part of the group already, their presence as easy as the tide rolling in. It was effortless—the chatter, the jokes, the Caribbean backdrop holding it all together like a scene from some sun-soaked indie film.

We ordered more drinks, our conversations melting into giggles and tangents until someone (probably Sam) pulled out a deck of Monopoly Cards. And so we sat there, sprawled across the sand, overheating in good company, silently wishing for a cool breeze that never came. The only solution? Jumping in and out of the ocean just to cool off—except Suny, who was, well... terrified of the water.

At first, we thought he was joking. He dipped his toe in and let out a dramatic, "Oh my god!" But then I looked at him. His whole body was tense, his expression caught somewhere between determination and fear. Of course, me being me, I saw this as a challenge—an opportunity to turn that terror into power. "Eves, I actually can’t swim," he admitted, scrunching his face up like a kid who just dropped his ice cream. "Oh my gosh, Suny," I laughed, wading deeper into the water. "But you’re doing so good, though! You’re already shoulder-deep." "This is true," he said, sounding almost confused. Then, in a burst of confidence, he threw his hands in the air. "Look, everyone! I’m in the ocean!" From the shore, a few claps and thumbs-up signs answered him, followed by another wave rolling in.

Cue the imaginary training montage of swimming lessons with Suny.

Several minutes later, progress was showing. "Look!" he beamed, his face lighting up like he’d just received a massive paycheck. He floated on his back, arms spread out like a starfish. "So this is what it’s like to not drown?" he asked, half in relief, half in awe. I laughed, nodding.

"You got it, sunshine," Stephen called out, grinning. "Now come in, you two. Next round’s on us." Suny strutted out of the water like a kid who just learned how to tie his laces, chest puffed with pride. "I did that," he declared, lighting a joint once more. Meanwhile, Stephen leaned against a rock, casually telling stories from his police days, his voice even and steady, almost hypnotic. Suny, now thoroughly relaxed, exhaled smoke beside him, completely mesmerized.

On one hand, we had the cop—strong, serious, but surprisingly sweet. On the other, the free spirit—mellow, muted, and utterly entertained. Juxtaposition at its absolute finest. The four of us were present at that moment—Phoebe wrapped in her little towel, captivated by the stories; Sam, sipping from her tourist sippy cup, cracking jokes; Angel, glamorous yet intrigued by Stephen’s every word. And me? Well, by this point, I was wrapped in my white garments, letting my damp hair cool me down, trying (and failing) to shield my burning skin from the relentless sun. Island life.

But as the evening deepened and the golden glow began to fade, an unspoken agreement passed between us: it was time to go. Jamaica at night was another game entirely, and dinner was waiting for us back home. We had our Cinderella moment—the Serena van der Woodsen-style swift exit, for those who get the reference (congrats, you’re my favourite).

The boys walked us to our taxi like unofficial security, their presence is protective—well, aside from Suny fist-bumping half the population on the way.

Then came the goodbyes. Quick hugs. A lingering pause. The kind of departure that felt oddly significant for a group that had only just met.

Now, I know what you're thinking—how did this start as chaotic and uncertain, only to turn into something so unexpectedly wholesome?

Well, my dear readers, life is funny like that.

But were they the same boys?

You know when people say, "It’s a small world"?

Yeah. Turns out, it’s smaller than you think.

When the Universe Hits Replay

We were actually in search of the James Bond beach, but somehow, we ended up at something even better: Sugarpot Ruins Beach Bar. Hello, doesn’t that sound fabulous? It was this quirky little spot tucked away down a narrow dirt road from a petrol station. And, of course, we saw chickens.

Different beach, different day, different drinks—but same... wait a minute. No way.

"Guys, look over there!" Angel says with wide eyes, her voice filled with disbelief.

"Heeeeyyy, look who it is!!!" A familiar voice calls out from behind us. We turn to see that unmistakable grin, arms thrown high in the air, as half-broken flip-flops scoop up half of the beach. Our jaws drop. "No wayyyy," Phoebe whispers, eyes wide in disbelief. "The Blue Hole was CLOSED," Sonny says in a slightly monotone voice, then perks up. "So, we thought we’d come check out your recommended beach," he adds, his pitch rising with excitement.

"Here we are!" he declares, as if they were simply strolling through our backyard. "Um, we?" I ask, confusion written all over my face. "Is he still trying to find our secret beach?" I giggle to myself, shaking my head at the coincidence. Like it was part of some grand plan, Stephen emerges from the palm trees with a tray of drinks, his bright shorts flashing in the sunlight, and a brighter expression on his face.

"Here I am!" he announces, sporting sunglasses that somehow seem even bigger than yesterday’s.

"Would you look at thatttt," Sam says, her American accent drawing out the words as she takes it all in.

And then, like a well-rehearsed performance, we all burst into a clap chain, screeching with excitement like we were at the theater, completely flabbergasted by the sheer randomness of the situation.

What were the chances?

INTERCEPTION 🤚🏽

Let me explain. Turns out, it wasn’t some twist of fate that they’d somehow ended up at our super-secret, luxury beach. No, they didn’t just magically stumble upon us or bump into us. Sam had invited them, not expecting them to actually show up. Yep, I'll always keep you on your toes in this series!

ANYWAY, back to it...

Stephen drifts over to our wooden table, balancing his tray of beers, pulling up a log to sit on. “Beer for you, you, you AND you!” he says with a cheeky grin. Suny, confident as ever, jumps in. “You’re not going to believe what we have!”

We all pause. “UNO!” he screams, flapping his hands in the air.

“Wheyyyyyy!” we all cheer in varying pitches. Let the games begin.

Fourteen games of UNO, ten swims in the ocean, and seven minutes of chasing a crab later, we gather to catch up on our 18 hours apart. “You didn’t join us at the club last night!” Stephen says. “You missed out—it was mega!” He continues with exhilaration in his voice. “You guys HAVE to see Jamaica at night—it’s a whole other vibe!”

‘Yeh, that was the vibe we were afraid of,’ I thought to myself.

“Where have you guys been out to eat?” Stephen asks, breaking the flow of excitement.

A frozen moment

We all looked at each other and froze.

“Oh you know, here and there” Sam said trying to hide the fact we have a strict Jamaican hosting us meaning we hadn’t actually eaten dinner out yet. “Have you been to Ocho Rios Jerk Center yet?” he questions like it was a known place. “Tell me you have”. “Errr” we all just sat on our little logs unsure which direction we were taking this one. “Nope” I said quickly defusing the thick air. “OMG” Sonny says. “OMG!” Stephen follows. “Right that’s it, that’s the next plan” Stephen continues, speaking like were investors in his boardroom. “We are taking you to our favorite Jamaican restaurant” he says proudly.

“Taking us out for what now” Angel says running out of the ocean with wet hair splashing us all. “We’re taking you girls out”. Sonny announces. “Yes, what do you think?” Stephen askes. “Sure” Sam says while the rest of us all nodd with smiles on our faces.” “But wait, not to state the obvious but we’re all wet and gross- we can go out like this” I say standing there with knotted unbrushed damp hair blinking back at the boys. “No worries, you can come back to mine dry off and freshen up” Stephen says. “I’ll drive you, I’ve only had one beer”. Admittedly, he was right he did only have one beer but still, bold move.

Before we could all think about it our bottles, salty towels and half shut sunscreens up were shoved into our now damp rucksacks quickly following Stephen to his car all in one long line like little penguins. We then lobbed our bags into Stephen boot taking off our wet sandy shoes one by one and shut the sandy boot behind us.

We walk around to the side of the car. “Oh hang on, how are we going to fit?” Angel says. “Excellent point” Sonny adds. Stephens black mini car just starring us right in the face. “In ya get” Stephen calls out plonking into the drivers seat. “Just rolling a quick zoot while you ladies figure it out” Sonny helpfully adds. The four of us look at each other for a second. I’m sure in this exact moment we all had all sorts of interesting thoughts in our internal monolog. But somehow, much like most of this trip we figured it out and squeezed into this car all on top of one other.

We’re smushed in this car like squashed flies all intertwined with the hot Jamaican air filling up the car. In front of me was Suny swaying to some reggae, to the left was Stephen singing along and to my right was Angel braiding her hair. When a bright light hits me right in the face. Are we all comfortable with what is happening right now Sam’s notes app reads. We all look at each other and nodd.

Behind Closed Doors

The neighbourhood around us grew fancier, more exclusive. Stephens car then makes a fast turn, now winding up a hill. Before we could even process what was happening, there it was. A massive house at the edge of a cliff front. The car slowly rolled to a stop in front of the house, sorry MANSION. It felt like something from a movie. The four of us exchanged looks, each of us trying to mask our unease with forced smiles. Were we really doing this? I thought to myself. The boys got out of the car and opened our doors like it was all planned gestured us to come out.

I took a huge swallow as my little feet hit the gravel floor where tall turrets stared back at me. We walked slowly up to the front door. Stephen almost seemed nervous here. Like, we were all were all waiting for him to get the door- but he was struggling, why was that? Had he not opened this door a hundred times? I remember that panic rush inside of me here. OMG maybe this wasn’t even his house- I thought to myself.

The door eventually swung open and an eerie silence greeted us. No laughter, no music, no life—just an empty, expansive house with oh my god no furniture. WHERE IS THE FURNITURE? I thought to myself. Of course, I couldn’t verbalise quite like that. Keeping my cool I walked in slowly wondering if the others felt it too . We all just looked up, mouths open with the white marble being the only thing to look back. It was at this point us girls all drew quiet, taking the boys lead. “As promised” Stephen says, ushering us into a bathroom “get yourself sorted in here and we’ll be in the kitchen when your ready” he says closing the door behind us with a smile. And here it was.

Four girls, three thousand thoughts, two strangers, and one choice we probably shouldn’t have made.

“We had walked into their world now- and we weren’t sure how to get out.”

— Evie Olivia

There we were—four girls crammed into one tiny, half renovated bathroom. Not a towel or soap in sight. Nothing that made a house a home. The door swung shut behind us locking in our racing thoughts. The house around us? Huge. The space surrounding us? Empty. Not a single piece of furniture to break the silence. And the two strangers we'd only just met? Somewhere out there, waiting for us to come out. We had walked into their world now and we weren’t sure how to get out.

“Girls, I don’t know how you feel but this feels sketchy”, Phoebe says confirming my concerns. “I can’t lie, the big empty house… kinda threw me off” I reveal nervously. “But what’s really scaring me is that this door may not open again” Angel says. Our hot, gross, sticky selves all look at each other and freeze. Everything seems to catch up with us here. The free drinks, the dinner offer, the kindness and driving us to a deserted rich neighbourhood where no one would suspect anything. The perfect set up.

Was this even his house? Was Stephen his real name? Was Stephen a copper or just pretending to be? Was Sonny, the cool, chilled character or a great actor? The two guys we’d met on the beach had led us here. But now? It felt like we were the only ones inside. And the biggie- would this door open again? We all looked at each other with anticipation, trying to find a light switch and something in this bathroom to prove they did live here, but there was nothing- NOTHING!

Sam reached for the door handle, sweat ran down her soft yet clearly panicked face. “Guys, I’m scared, what if it doesn’t open again” she says with a quiver in her voice. When I tell you it took courage to open that door. My god.

Luckily, the door swung open and Stephen and Sonny were. Oh my God, OH MY GOD.

Nowhere to be found.

Sam peered out the door, all of us sighing with relief. They were actually around the corner, smiling , laughing and oh clinking their drinks? And what’s that? Sonny’s- dancing? “I think we’re all good” Sam confidently reports to the rest of us with a straight face. “What did you see?” We all hassle her with questions. “Guy’s I don’t think their a threat” she confirms, just look at this”. “Yes sunshine, go sunshine” Stephen sings in Sonnys face moving and kicking their feet. “see- we’re good” Sam says.

Now let’s get sorted cuss god we stink!” she says, shifting the Ominous vibe. It was at this point that we went from scared girls with damp hair and wet clothes terrified for their lives with the “Jaws theme” tune playing in the background to four girls stressed for different reasons- for smelling like sweat and looking like sunburnt wet fishes frantically trying to get ready with the limited resources. The background song went from Jaws to oh whats that- "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper. Hello?? Contrast much!

Sam’s deodorant shared between four, Phoebe’s towel shared between three. Evie’s mirror shared between two and Angel’s hair mousse shared between one. It was like a scene from a horror movie, but instead of being captured and potentially locked in a tiny bathroom with no light- we were now phone light in eye, elbow in face and dripping sink water on body, frantically trying to look presentable for our now dinner date.

Yes this scene went from ah scary to ah cute get ready with me. It was hilarious- in fact this exact moment was my favourite core memory of the trip. The three girls I had only met a week ago were now in a mini, bare bathroom laughing, trying to try fit into each others spare clothes and look presentable while falling over and getting ready in the dark. THIS was my favorite moment. Right here in this messy, disorganised present moment. Just like that the shaken scenes went to scenere and sweet. The script had offically been flipped.

Bar raiding, table dancing, bat- shit crazy vibes- and we had no idea what the night would entail. How did six strangers end up in a whirlwind of chaos, cocktails, and questionable dance moves?

We had no idea.

But as we stumbled out of that tiny bathroom, makeup half-done, hair mousse still in hand, and laughter shaking the walls—one thing was certain:

The night was just getting started.

TO BE CONTINUED.