Page 35 of Unscripted

Relaxing back against my pillow, I was confronted with a second shocking reality of the morning: Callum and I had moved in our sleep and were significantly closer than when we went to bed.

In fact, we were more than close. We were physically touching. His thigh was pressed against mine and my butt was nestled against his nether region. A zing of shock ran through me.

Before I could register what else I was pressed up against and what that might have felt like, I immediately sat back up and scooted over to my side of the bed.

Forcing out a “Good morning” to the general space around me, I threw back the covers. I had just set my feet down on the carpet when a producer called out through a speaker in the ceiling: “Poppy, get back in bed. Everyone needs to debrief with their match about yesterday and what they want to do today.”

Suppressing a groan, I sank back into bed and pulled the comforter up. If I kept to my side, I could avoid any and all contact with Callum.

Looking over at him for the first time this morning, I found he was already watching me, a smirk on his face. He was probably thrilled I had gotten in trouble before the day even started.

I was not in the mood. I needed to get it together and remember why I was here. What the stakes were and why I could not go home right away. It would be great if I were to end up paired with someone I liked but, more importantly, I needed to find a match that could keep me here as long as possible.

After his confusing behavior over the last few days, Callum was most definitely not an option.

Leaning back against the headboard, I looked around, pretending to take in the room but really scouting my prospects.

Adam seemed great, but I could already tell Chiara liked him, so he was out of the running. I knew that friendship would be invaluable during this whole experience and pertinent to getting by each day. Chiara and I had already become fast friends, and I refused to do anything to sabotage that.

Glancing over to the next two beds, I considered Liam and Bradley. I had talked to Liam yesterday, and he seemed to be a nice, if not shy, guy.

Bradley I was less sure of. I got the sense from him and his veneers that were bright even from two beds away, that the show was his ticket to a nice fifteen minutes of fame and a few brand deals.

That left Hugh. He seemed to be into Olivia, but I also saw him flirting with Ella. Did I really want to focus my attention on someone who was already interested in not one but two other girls? Being in a love triangle only ever ended with one person being the odd man out. The risk of becoming entangled in one was too high to consider him a real possibility.

I sighed, already feeling defeated. By a simple process of elimination, it seemed like Liam was my only option.

I picked at my nails for a bit, continuing my silent protest of being the first one to start a conversation with Callum. He seemed to be doing the same thing, and so we lay there, not speaking, until the producers told everyone they could get ready for the day.

I shot out of bed and booked it downstairs to the dressing room. As I got ready, I tried to think about all the ways in which I could pursue Liam.

I most certainly did not think of Callum at all. Not even when I could smell his scent, still lingering on my pajamas.

***

It took me about five minutes to realize that Liam and I would not be a match.

I was not an adept flirter, hadn’t really ever needed to be since I had been in the same relationship my entire adult life. I knew, though, I couldn’t be that horrible at it. I was confident in being able to hold a conversation. The rest, I assumed, I could make up as I went.

None of that seemed to matter.

I had been trying to talk to Liam for the better part of the day, but it became increasingly clear that he was either oblivious or ignoring me.

In group settings, I would turn my body toward him to ask direct questions, only to be given one-word answers in reply. I had trailed him from the fire pit to the pool loungers, up to the daybeds and then back to the pool, all by midday, trying to strike up conversation and get a bit of flirty momentum going.

It was no use. He was always somehow chatting with someone else. Finally, after swimming around for an hour, he went to the kitchen to make himself lunch. I quickly followed. This was it, my chance to get him alone.

“So, Liam,” I said after entering the kitchen behind him, “how’s your time in the villa been so far?”

I knew this to be a great question with solid reply opportunities because I had seen it asked about five hundred times a season during my binge watch of the show.

Liam seemed to be the lone exception to this observation.

“Yeah, fine. I’m buzzing to be here,” he said.

He finished making his sandwich, turned, and walked away.

I let out a huff of frustration, grabbing onto the kitchen counter and dropping my chin to my chest in defeat.