The air in Paris still hummed with the electric afterglow of last night’s premiere as Lola Tung and Christopher Briney slipped into a quiet corner of the Shangri-La Hotel’s opulent lounge. Outside, the Eiffel Tower glittered against the Seine, a romantic silhouette that felt almost too on-the-nose for the duo who had just wrapped three sun-soaked, heartbreak-laced seasons of The Summer I Turned Pretty. Fans worldwide were still reeling from the series finale – that pulse-pounding, Taylor Swift-scored reunion between Belly Conklin and Conrad Fisher – and the surprise announcement of a feature film to cap off Jenny Han’s beloved trilogy. But for Tung and Briney, it was a moment of quiet reflection amid the chaos, a chance to unpack the emotional whirlwind they’d poured into the show.
“It’s surreal,” Tung says, her voice soft but steady, cradling a cup of chamomile tea as if it were an anchor. At 23, the actress who brought the awkward, yearning Belly to life has blossomed into a poised young star, her signature bob haircut – a bold choice for the finale – framing her face like a frame from a French New Wave film. “We’ve been living in this world for four years now. Cousins Beach, the deb balls, the endless summers… it feels like saying goodbye to family. But the ending? God, it’s everything we’ve been building toward. Messy, real, and finally – honest.”
Briney nods, his easy smile cutting through the intensity. The 27-year-old, with his tousled hair and that brooding Fisher charm that made him a Tumblr heartthrob overnight, leans back in his velvet armchair. “At least they’re honest about it this time,” he adds, echoing the quote that’s already trending across X and TikTok. The line, dropped casually in their joint interview with Deadline just hours earlier, has become an instant meme, a rallying cry for Team Conrad shippers who’ve waited seasons for this payoff. “No more dancing around feelings or half-truths. Belly and Conrad lay it all bare. It’s terrifying, but that’s love, right? Scary as hell, but worth it.”
For the uninitiated – though by now, who isn’t? – The Summer I Turned Pretty is more than a teen romance; it’s a sun-drenched elegy to first loves, family fractures, and the inexorable pull of what-ifs. Adapted from Han’s 2009-2011 YA trilogy, the Prime Video series follows Isabel “Belly” Conklin (Tung) as she navigates the hazy idyll of Cousins Beach summers with the Fisher brothers: the golden-boy Jeremiah (Gavin Casalegno) and the enigmatic Conrad (Briney). What starts as a nostalgic coming-of-age tale spirals into a full-blown love triangle, laced with grief over the loss of matriarch Susannah (Rachel Blanchard), parental secrets, and the brutal alchemy of growing up.
Season 1, which premiered in June 2022, was a sleeper hit, blending To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before sweetness with The O.C.-style drama. It amassed 14 billion minutes viewed globally, propelling Tung from Juilliard freshman to red-carpet staple. Season 2 ramped up the stakes with a surprise proposal and a gut-wrenching betrayal, ending on a cliffhanger that had fans rioting on social media. But Season 3? The 11-episode swan song, which dropped its premiere on July 16, 2025, and finale on September 17, was a masterclass in emotional escalation. With a four-year time jump thrusting the characters into their early 20s – Belly at fictional Finch College, Jeremiah in med school, Conrad grinding through Stanford – it traded beachy innocence for adult reckonings: therapy sessions, career crashes, and a wedding that threatens to shatter everything.
The finale, a sprawling 78-minute epic titled “At Last,” is where it all converges. SPOILER ALERT: After the botched nuptials between Belly and Jeremiah implode in a haze of unspoken resentments, Belly flees to Paris for a year of self-discovery, chopping her hair into that iconic bob and channeling her inner Audrey Hepburn. Conrad, ever the brooding Icarus, crashes her doorstep on the eve of her 22nd birthday, fresh off a professional firing and armed with nothing but raw vulnerability. What follows is a sequence that’s already being hailed as TV’s most swoon-worthy reunion: tentative confessions in a rain-slicked cab, a hallway tumble fueled by years of pent-up longing, and a bedroom scene set to Swift’s “Dress” that had premiere audiences in Paris’ Théâtre Marigny screaming like it was a Beatles concert.
“It’s a role reversal,” Tung explains, her eyes lighting up as she recounts the pivotal moments. “Belly’s always been the one spilling her heart – remember that Ferris wheel confession in Season 1? Or the bonfire blow-up in Season 2? But here, she’s guarded. Paris has given her this independence, this version of herself that’s not defined by the Fisher boys or Cousins. Conrad shows up, all heart-on-sleeve, and it’s her turn to hesitate. She’s terrified of losing that self she fought so hard for.” Briney chimes in, his voice dropping to that signature Conrad rasp: “He’s more prepared than she is. After therapy, after hitting rock bottom at the peach stand – that ‘Icarus moment’ we talked about in Episode 5 – he’s done hiding. He tells her everything: the job loss, the pining, the fear. And when she finally lets go? It’s like the invisible string Jenny always talks about just… snaps into place.”
The “honest” part? It’s the maturity that elevates the finale from fan service to something profoundly resonant. No grand gestures or contrived misunderstandings – just two flawed 20-somethings fumbling toward truth. “We’ve seen them hurt each other so much,” Briney says, gesturing animatedly. “Conrad ghosting Belly in Season 2? Brutal. Her stringing Jeremiah along? Heartbreaking. But this time, they talk. They acknowledge the pain. It’s scary to do that after everything, but at least they’re honest about it this time. No more ‘what ifs’ – just ‘what now?'”
Fans, predictably, lost their collective minds. X lit up with #BonradEndgame trending worldwide, clips of the cab kiss racking up 50 million views in 24 hours. “FINALLY,” one user posted, attaching a screenshot of Conrad’s teary confession. Reddit threads dissected every frame, from Belly’s red lipstick (a nod to her “f–k it” epiphany, as Tung calls it) to the epilogue photos hinting at Christmases in Paris and a shared future. Even Team Jere devotees found solace in Jeremiah’s arc: post-breakup, he rebuilds in Cousins, mentoring a new generation of beach kids and honoring Susannah’s legacy with a community art program. “It’s hopeful,” Casalegno told Deadline at the premiere. “Jeremiah’s not broken – he’s evolving.”
But the buzz isn’t just about the romance. The finale weaves in threads for the ensemble: Steven (Sean Kaufman) and Taylor (Rain Spencer) solidify their quirky, supportive bond, with Taylor emerging as Belly’s unflinching confidante. Laurel (Jackie Chung) and Cleveland (Alfredo Narciso) navigate a tentative rekindling, while Adam Fisher (Tom Everett Scott) confronts his absentee-father guilt. And Susannah? Her ghost lingers like sea salt on skin – in flashbacks, voiceovers, and a poignant beach scene where the kids scatter her ashes properly, finally.
Tung credits much of Belly’s growth to Han’s vision. “Jenny wrote her as this mirror for young women – messy, impulsive, but always striving. In the books, the epilogue is just a few pages, but she expanded it into three episodes. It’s Belly honoring herself, not just choosing a boy.” Han, in a separate chat with Deadline, elaborated: “The ending is hopeful because it’s about agency. Belly worries she’ll lose herself in Conrad, like before. But she doesn’t. She chooses him and her dreams – Paris, writing, independence. And those back-to-back Swift drops? ‘Dress’ for the passion, ‘invisible string’ for the fate. It’s the soundtrack to her heart.”
Reflecting on their journeys, Tung and Briney can’t help but get meta. Tung, who was 19 when cast, recalls the nerves of that first table read: “I was a theater kid from Maryland, thrust into this love triangle with two guys who’d become like brothers. Lola, meet Belly – the girl who’s all feelings, no filter.” Her performance evolved with the role; early seasons captured Belly’s wide-eyed wonder, but Season 3 demanded nuance – the quiet strength of a woman reclaiming her narrative. Off-screen, Tung’s found her own Paris: studying French cinema, advocating for Asian-American representation (her heritage shines through Belly’s subtle cultural nods), and even directing a short film about intergenerational grief.
Briney, a New York University alum with indie cred from Daliland and Fear Street, approached Conrad as “the guy who feels too much, says too little.” “He’s my opposite – I’m a yapper,” he laughs. “But diving into his therapy scenes? Life-changing. We worked with real counselors on set to get the language right. Conrad’s not just brooding; he’s healing.” The actor’s own “Icarus moment” came during filming: a spontaneous beach bonfire with the cast, where they shared vulnerabilities, mirroring their characters’. “It bonded us. Gavin, Sean, Rain – we’re family now.”
The chemistry between Tung and Briney? Undeniable, and deliciously layered. Onscreen, it’s that slow-burn spark: stolen glances at deb balls, rainy arguments that end in embraces. Offscreen, it’s platonic ease – finishing sentences, teasing about golf habits (Briney’s obsession, Tung’s eye-roll). “People always ask if it’s method acting,” Briney quips. “Nah, it’s just trust. Lola makes it safe to go vulnerable.” Tung blushes: “Chris brings out Belly’s fire. That cab scene? We choreographed it for weeks – the hesitation, the pull. But when the cameras rolled? Magic.”
As for the steamy bits – yes, that extended reunion sequence had parents at the premiere averting eyes (Tung’s mom included, bless her). “Intimacy coordinators are MVPs,” Tung says firmly. “It was about emotion, not exploitation. The hallway tumble? Choreographed like a dance, but the vulnerability? That’s us.” Briney adds: “Fans screamed so loud, we heard it from the green room. Worth every awkward blocking session.”
The elephant in the Paris lounge? The movie. Announced hours after the finale dropped, it’s Han’s “final chapter,” with her directing and co-writing alongside Sarah Kucserka. Details are scarce – Briney jokes, “I don’t know sh*t” – but teases abound: a Cousins reunion, new stakes for the brothers’ fragile peace, and “happy, healthy Bonrad,” as Tung puts it. “It’s not tying up loose ends,” Han hinted to Vanity Fair. “It’s what happens after ‘happily ever after’ starts – the real work of love.” Production won’t start until 2026 at earliest, giving the cast breathing room. “I’m eyeing theater,” Tung muses. “Maybe a rom-com. But Belly? She’s etched in me.”
As our chat winds down, the duo poses for photos against the Seine, the city of lights winking conspiratorially. Fans swarm outside, chanting “Bonrad!” – a testament to the show’s cultural grip. The Summer I Turned Pretty wasn’t just a binge; it was a mirror, reflecting our own summers of longing, loss, and luminous possibility. In giving Belly and Conrad their honest shot, Tung and Briney didn’t just end a series – they immortalized a feeling.
And as Briney whispers to Tung before they step out, “At least we’re honest about missing it already.” The invisible string? It’s got us all tangled, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
