Page 44 of Unscripted

“We were just chatting about snacks,” I lied, hoping I was selling it. “I didn’t even realize my mic was off, I must have bumped the switch by accident.”

I could have told them what Callum really said. Could have gone right to Harry and the other producers and exposed him for trying to rig the game. But I knew as soon as I thought it that I would not be doing so. His offer was too tempting. It would be a solution to the one overriding worry I’d had since walking into the villa: staying as long as possible.

The real question was: Could I actually do it? Could I pretend to be with Callum for the next six weeks? Would we be able to act like we liked each other enough to make it all the way to the end? Would anyone even buy it?

It seemed impossible and yet I couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t dismiss it outright.

I thought about it long after the cocktail party was over, and everyone had gone to bed. It kept me up through the night, until finally, in the early hours of the morning, I managed to turn off my brain enough to drift off to sleep.

21

Iwanted to talk to somebody about Callum’s proposition. Wanted to discuss and dissect it until I knew where I stood; until I could suss out my feelings and figure out what I wanted to do.

All of that was, of course, impossible.

Callum had taken a risk getting me alone, away from cameras and microphones that caught our every word. Regardless of how weird our history had been so far, I respected the lengths he went to suggest his idea to me.

So instead of talking about it, I silently stewed all day: during the morning catch up with the girls; while I was making lunch in the kitchen with Hugh and Olivia; as I floated in the pool on a raft; the entire time I was getting ready for the evening.

I thought about it.

And thought about it.

And thought about it some more.

I must have been obviously distracted because as I sat finishing my makeup before the cocktail party, Chiara leaned over from the vanity next to mine.

“You okay?” she said softly to keep the conversation between us. Well, between us and the dozens of producers watching and undoubtedly trying to pick up on what was wrong with me so they could craft it into some kind of storyline.

“Yeah,” I said back, smiling at the concern on her face. “Just tired today. I didn’t sleep well.”

“I’d also be knackered if my pillow was inches away from Callum. The boy is smoking,” Chiara said. She wiggled her eyebrows at me suggestively.

“I guess,” I said.

“You guess? Oh please, you and him were totally making crazy eye contact today,” she said back.

We were? It had felt like I kept catching his eye. Like everywhere I turned, there he was. I chalked it up to his proposition playing like a loop in my mind. I had been thinking about it so much—of course it felt like he was everywhere.

Had it come across as something else to the rest of the villa?

Belatedly, I wondered what James thought about it.

Confusion must have been written all over my face, because Chiara leaned in even closer.

“Seriously, is everything okay?” she asked.

I let out a sigh. I could at least tell her part of the truth. I did desperately need someone to talk to about it. “I’m just a bit confused,” I said. “Callum is just . . . ” I trailed off.

What was Callum? That seemed to be the million-dollar question.

“I just don’t know!” I continued. “Callum is Callum. And then there’s James, who I have no idea what to think of. We had a great first date, but it’s been sort of strained since. I just don’t know what to think about anything anymore.”

I leaned back in my vanity chair, exhausted before the night had even started.

“Oh, babes,” Chiara said, squeezing my hand. “Just keep getting to know them. Both of them! I don’t know what James’ vibe is yet, but I definitely know that Callum is into you. He’s barely talked to anyone else.”

That I knew to be factually untrue. Still, something in her reassurance made me feel better. At least she couldn’t figure out James either.