Page 48 of Unscripted

I also begrudgingly realized that I couldn’t just float by in here, hanging out with the girls and not talking to the guy I was supposed to be dating. The decision to choose Callum, to agree to his plan, didn’t mean that we could call it a day and see each other at the finale. We’d have to work at it; really sell the slow burn journey to love I’d been telling everyone we were on. If the contestants and producers clocked our iciness, then the viewing public had to have as well and that, above all else, was the kiss of death.

I felt rather silly now, thinking that I could get by like I had been. For goodness’ sake, I was sitting in front of inflatable palm trees, talking about my feelings. Nothing on this show was subtle or under the radar.

“I’m a bit shy,” I said, spitting out the first thing that came to mind. I could play “shy.” Maybe that would be my angle. “But I really like Callum, and I’m enjoying the slow burn,” I said.

Saying that I liked Callum out loud seemed to appease Harry as he only asked me a few other questions after that. It would be a good soundbite, I thought as I left the confessional room.

Harry walked me back down the hallway, and when we stopped at the door that led out to the garden, he paused. Lowering his voice, he said, “You’re doing great, Pop.”

I let out a sigh and leaned back against the wall. Harry had a crease in the middle of his eyebrows that told me there was a “but” coming.

“But,” he said, “you need to pull Callum more. Get some one-on-one time with him. The public loves a love story, and I think you two have real potential.”

I was absolutely sure we did not, but I simply nodded. Harry was right; we needed to ramp it up and actually act like we wanted to be together.

“Yes, totally,” I said.

“Ace,” Harry said. “Oh, and wear blue tonight. Our socials data is tracking that the public has been loving you in blue.”

With that, he patted me on the back and walked away, as though he hadn’t just dropped a bit of insider knowledge.

“Wear blue and talk to Callum,” I repeated to myself as I walked outside to the garden. Those weren’t horrible directives.

Gazing around, trying to appear nonchalant about tracking down Callum’s location, I found him crossing the lawn and heading to the smoker’s area. I really must have not been paying close enough attention so far, because I didn’t even know he smoked. Needing to speak with him alone, I saw this as my chance and followed after him.

Heading to the far edge of the yard between the fire pit and Bungalow, I stepped through a row of waist-high bushes and pushed open the ivy-covered gate that led to the smoker’s area. The whole thing was a bit annoying to get to, but I suppose the production designers tried their best to camouflage the hidden exit from cameras.

I didn’t smoke, so there was no reason for me to have come back here before, and I was surprised to find that it was simply a narrow dirt pathway, no more than four feet wide. If I followed the path, it looked like it would lead me along the side of the villa and out to the front driveway. The only thing denoting the space was even for smokers was a small bench and an ashtray.

Callum was there, sitting on the bench, looking up at the sky.

“Hey,” I said.

He looked at me and nodded. “Hi.”

It was the first time we’d been alone since the pantry, when he made his offer of sticking together. I was glad there was much more space between us than before, but I still didn’t want our conversation heard.

Walking over to where he sat, I gestured to my mic pack, showing him I was clicking it off. He did the same.

“We need to spend more time together,” I said, getting right to the point. It was only a matter of time before production realized we were missing with our mics off again. “If this is going to work, if you were serious about trying to make it to the end, then we need to sell it more.”

“Yeah, fine,” he replied.

His easy acquiescence unnerved me, and I pressed on, feeling the need to explain myself further.

“I got asked today by both the girls and Harry why we didn’t talk more or have any one-on-one time. If they’ve noticed, then the public must have picked up on the fact that we are never alone together.”

“Relax,” he bit back. “I said yes already.”

And there he was, his normal rude self, back in action.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” I said, my annoyance flaring.

He didn’t say anything back, and instead we stared at each other, neither wanting to blink first, until I finally had enough.

Why am I wasting my time on some idiotic plan that is bound to get me sent home?

I suddenly felt very stupid that I’d been so desperate to stay in the villa I had agreed to go along with this.