The curtain rises to a sunny morning along the seashore. Gulls call to each other as the sounds of the surf rolling in are also heard from offstage. Two cottages stand side by side among sand dunes and sea oats, isolated from the rest of the small seaside village, which can be seen in the distance.

The door to one opens, and a man in his mid-twenties steps out, wearing shorts and a tank top, long, beautiful hair blowing in the breeze. He sits on his porch swing and rolls up his pant legs, muscles on his tanned arms rippling as he does so. He whistles aimlessly he prepares for his morning, looking around and apparently liking what he sees. He smiles into the sun and picks up the buckets and a clamming rake that are sitting on the porch as he prepares to leave. Then, the door of the other cottage opens, and a woman about the same age as the man emerges. Her hair is twisted into a tight knot from which a few dull strands escape, and she's wearing long sleeves and pants, loose, drab clothing, completely not in keeping with the bright, sunny atmosphere of the beach. She hugs her clothes to her body and hunches over slightly, as if not wanting to be seen, and quickly grabs her paper and her milk bottles from her porch while looking around to make sure no one is around. She turns around to go back inside when she and the man see each other. He smiles and gives a little wave, which she sees, but doesn't return.

Harry:
Hello, there! I was wondering when you were going to show up.

Jackie:
You knew I was coming?

Harry:
Well, yes, they told me the cottage had been rented for the off season, so I knew I'd have a neighbor from Labor Day until Memorial Day, if that's what you mean. And it is a one room cottage, so I figured it had to be one person or a pair of elves or something.

(He smiles, but she doesn't smile back)

Harry:
Hey, I'm going clamming, obviously. I usually don't get a lot this soon after the tourists leave, but in case I do, you want some? I can just leave them on your porch when I get back--?

Jackie (pulling her sweater more tightly around her):
Oh. No--no thank you, I don't really like fishy things that much. Thank you, though. (She enters the house without waiting for a reply)

Harry:
They're more of a bivalve than a fish, though-- (He notices she's gone, shrugs, and ambles off down the beach, continuing to whistle aimlessly. He picks a piece of sea oat and puts it between his teeth, enjoying the beautiful day.)

🏖☀️🏖☀️🏖☀️🏖☀️🏖☀️🏖☀️🏖

"Nice job, you two, well done," Cynthia, the director, enthused. "There's almost nothing to work on." She looked piercingly at Cam and Penny. "You work on it together a lot or something?"

They nodded.

"We had a lot of time this week," Penny explained without going into specifics. "So we've been putting in some time, yeah."

"Well, I don't see much to talk about right away, so let's just move on to the next scene, okay?" Cynthia said, sucking on the end of her pencil. Cynthia Maxwell had straight brown hair that she wore in a pony tail all the time, every day, no matter what. It never seemed to get any longer, or need cutting or anything. She had no-nonsense blue eyes and a no-nonsense girlfriend, Megan, who never seemed to talk except to back Cynthia up in whatever she said or did.

The rest of the cast felt like they'd been put on notice. If the leads showed up on the first day unprepared or relaxed and joking around, then they, too, felt like they could take a little license with things. These two, however, were obviously off book and ready to roll, so they themselves better bring their A-game as well. Cam and Penny sat back, smiling at each other, looking pleased with themselves.

The girls in the cast, and quite a few of the guys as well, stared at Cam and nudged each other, mesmerized. Many were already counting the minutes until their first break, so they could get on their phones and google him. They'd never heard of "Cameron Aldobrandeschi," and were blown away not only by his looks, but by his talent as well.

"I thought Frederick Berenson was going to play Harry?" one of the girls whispered to another.

"So--did--I!" the second girl whispered back. "I have no idea what happened. I heard from Natalie that they came in together too, like arrived together? Do you think they're a thing?"

The first girl's eyes got as big as saucers. "Noooo! They couldn't be! She's living with Frederick, isn't she? They've been a thing for two years or something, he discovered her, Svengalied her, took her under his wing or whatever?"

Someone hissed, "Shhhh!" in their direction and they had to stop talking for the rest of the read through, though by break time, everyone was shooting everyone else looks of speculation about the new leading man and where he'd come from.

During the break, the girl Natalie managed to find him online, even with most of his name missing, and was brave enough to go up and ask him if he was in fact really a prince.

Cam, who was talking to Cynthia, gave a self-deprecating laugh. "In name only, I'm afraid," he responded before turning back to Cynthia.

This answer was as enigmatic as it was useless, and Natalie returned to her friends to tell them what he'd said.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Does it mean he is or he isn't?"

"Go ask him again!"

"No! You go, if you're so hot to know!"

"I don't even care, he is so hot!"

"Makes Frederick Berenson look like Shrek."

"Are you kidding me? He makes Frederick Berenson look like fucking Frederick Berenson!"

"Seriously, he can give me love's first kiss any day!"

"Jesus, Kim, say it louder, I don't think they heard you in New Jersey!"

And the girls laughed.

Penny heard them and knew what they were talking and laughing about, and for some reason it annoyed her. Who cared how good looking Cam was? Theatre was about the acting, goddammit. Looks didn't matter, that was the point. Look at her. She wasn't particularly attractive, but she'd played a beauty queen in her first major role on Broadway three years ago, and gotten raves for it. And Frederick had won his first Tony for playing a philandering playboy who was known for his suave good looks.

She gave the giggling girls a stern look, and there was enough of a sense of hierarchy on Broadway that they stopped laughing and took their seats immediately. No one wanted to be on the leading lady's bad side on the very first day.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" a voice asked right next to her, making her jump.

"So sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Cam continued with a laugh, putting a hand on her arm to steady her. "Are you all right?" He leaned forward to look at her, brows pursed with concern.

Penny had had it with his perfect face and perfect manners, his parallel cheekbone and jaw and dark red lips.

She yanked her arm out of his solicitous grasp.

"Oh, I'm fine," she said, barely hanging on to her annoyance. "It's barely the first day and you already have a fan club, I see." She gestured toward the girls, who were sitting in their seats, giving Cam surreptitious looks over the tops of their scripts.

Cam waved at them with a grin.

"I'm sure they'll get over it," he said with a laugh. "We're going to be together for 15 hours a day for the next six months, and then for six performances a week for six months after that, aren't we? The stardust will fall from their eyes quickly, I'm sure, once they've heard me burp a few times."

"Well, I just find it ridiculous that we're all equals here and they're practically asking for your autograph before they've even seen your work." She gave the girls one last evil glare before turning away. "They're definitely not impressed with your stage craft, are they? They haven't even seen it yet. They just want to get into your pants."

Cam stared at her. "My my, the vulgarity, Ms. Patrick!" He gave her a merry smile. "First of all, who cares what they want? They're my coworkers, nothing more. I have a girlfriend, who is the only person who, erm, gets into my trousers with any regularity." He chuckled. "Just because they're into me, or into my looks or whatever, doesn't mean that I'm into them or theirs, does it?"

"And why should it matter to you?" He asked in a quiet voice. "I thought you didn't like me much, anyway? Haven't we spent most of this past week while you've been my houseguest bickering over pretty much everything?"

Penny blinked and looked down. This last was true. From choosing a program on the TV to hiring practices of actors for commercials to the existence of the entire modeling industry, they seemed to argue about everything.

"I didn't say I didn't like you," she objected, shaking her head. "I just don't like that, even here, on Broadway, the pinnacle of theatre, which I'm so passionate about, I have to deal with something as superficial as looks, as physicality, as 'who's better looking, him or him?' you know?" She gave Cam a look. "I wish looks didn't exist here, that theatre could be a pure thing, just about the acting, that's all, and I don't like being reminded of it by a bunch of giggling schoolgirls, that's all."

"I understand." Cam nodded. "And like I said, give it a few days, they'll get over it, once they realize I'm just a human being like they are, that this is just a face, you'll see."

But what a face, Penny thought to herself as they sat down, their break over, to continue with the read through. She'd known him for nearly a week, and she still wasn't used to it herself. Even morning when she came out of her room, she felt a zinging sensation all the way to her fingertips and her toes when he smiled at her and said good morning. The way he blinked, the way his lashes brushed the area under his eyebrows, the way his shallow dimples popped when he was really amused. She supposed eventually his beauty might fail to move her, but she wasn't there yet.

Not by a long shot.