By 
Together Forever (2023)
College is hard. Love is harder. And apparently, lip balm — or rather, branded cosmetics — are impossible to escape when watching Together Forever. EOS (Evolution of Smooth) shows up so frequently it feels like a co-star, with Brat TV leaning into the kind of shameless product placement they’re already known for.
The premise is classic teen-drama fallout: high school sweethearts Lily (Rachel Brockman) and Aidan (Taite Hoover) arrive at Provincetown College ready to start their future — only to implode almost immediately after Aidan’s botched marriage proposal. From there, they crash headfirst into the messy reality of college life, stumbling through self-discovery, heartbreak, and the awkward grind of figuring out who you are when the “high school sweetheart” label gets ripped away. Breakups suck — but a breakup in week one of college? That’s a fast lesson in identity, independence, and regrettable decisions.
At its core, the show plays with themes of young love, heartbreak, and the awkward rollercoaster of emotions that hit when you’re tossed into dorm life with new friends, new rules, and way too many choices. Friendship, miscommunication, and that desperate need to belong all bubble up here, sometimes sweet, often generic. And the style? Lively, casual, and intentionally over-the-top — very “college energy,” very “this would 100% be a viral TikTok.” Across ten breezy episodes (about 1 hour 54 minutes total), the story spins through roommate clashes, social disasters, half-hearted apologies, cringe make-ups, and “did-they-really-just-do-that?” clichés. It’s like someone tossed every theme of freshman year into a blender, hit purée, and poured out ten mini shots of melodrama.
That ‘do I tell her or not’ face.
As with most Brat TV shows (the Gen Z-targeted digital network known for short-form dramas on YouTube and Tubi), the cast makes or breaks it. And let’s be honest: this is Rachel Brockman’s show. A TikTok breakout who built her name on lip-syncs and dances, she brings a bright, natural charm to Lily — bubbly but vulnerable, funny in awkward beats, and believable in quieter emotional moments. She even sells the sillier scenes, like stopping mid-conversation to swipe EOS lip gloss in a shot framed so blatantly you half expect a jingle.
Even better, the series leans into wild subplots, like a tarot reading that spirals into full-on “tailing your ex” nonsense — the kind of ridiculous, over-the-top drama that makes you laugh even as you cringe. These bursts — half melodrama, half product commercia — are what Brockman sells with such ease, elevating what could have been throwaway filler into something genuinely fun. In truth, Brockman is the reason this series works at all. Without her, it’d risk fading into the background of Brat TV’s already crowded catalogue. With her, you find yourself actually caring about Lily even as she stumbles through every predictable plot beat.
Hoover, as Aidan, has the thankless job of broody ex. He’s fine — sometimes sympathetic, sometimes frustrating, mostly there to sigh and look conflicted until the script hands him a monologue. The supporting cast — internet personalities Monroe Capri Bryant (Jada) and Jojo Sims (Taylor), along with fresh talent Michael Ticknor (Wes) and Jaia Lyne (Billie) — come and go, serving as comic relief, love interests, or the occasional cheer squad, adding drama to the mix. Their arcs are thin, but these characters serve their purpose, and Taylor’s frat-boy subplot adds some goofy chaos. It’s a shame the hinted Jada–Taylor romance fizzles without proper closure or payoff.
Crouching twenty-somethings, hidden drama.
Budget limitations are obvious: a handful of sets redressed endlessly (the boys’ dorm becomes the girls’, the classroom becomes a café). But the thrift has a scrappy charm, like a stage play swapping backdrops.
And then there’s EOS. Products appear so often they turn into an accidental running joke. Balms pop up mid-conversation, lotions sit prominently on desks, and by episode three you’re playing “spot the placement.” It’s blatant, yes, but in a show this feather-light it almost adds to the kitsch appeal. Thankfully, the barrage eases in later episodes.
As a whole, the writing is predictable, the dialogue cheesy, and the situations telegraphed from a mile away — but that’s the point. With such short runtimes, nothing lingers long enough to grate. The series is easy to binge in one sitting, the kind of show you could half-watch while folding laundry, only to find yourself paying closer attention because Brockman is so watchable. The only real frustration? It annoyingly caps things off with a semi-cliffhanger, the kind that feels less like a bold narrative choice and more like a nudge to make sure you come back if a second season drops.
What makes Together Forever work is its unapologetic embrace of what it is: glossy, escapist fluff. No layered commentary, no profound themes — just snack-size college melodrama with a wink at its own ridiculousness. The vibe is closer to a TikTok highlight reel than a sitcom or rom-com, but that fits perfectly with its intended audience. The EOS plugs might make your eye twitch, but they’ll also make you smirk. The writing won’t wow you — but it’ll keep you binging. And Brockman? She’ll win you over, even when the show doesn’t.
By season’s end, you probably won’t remember who wanted to date who or whatever Aidan’s latest crisis was. You will remember Brockman. She radiates charisma, elevates every scene, and proves she can carry a show even when buried under clichés and product plugs.
Together Forever isn’t essential TV, but it doesn’t pretend to be. It’s bright, disposable fun carried by a star who makes it feel worthwhile. Ten episodes, ten minutes each, and about ten EOS lip balms later, you’ll walk away knowing Rachel Brockman can outshine a frat party, a failed proposal, and even the most in-your-face beauty sponsorship.
3 / 5 – Good
Reviewed by Stu Cachia (S-Littner)
Together Forever is released through Tubi
