Page 75 of Unscripted

Gemma paused mid-strut, kicked off her slip-on platforms, and walked past the cameraman. Onto the next setup, I guessed.

Harry, Ben, and a few other producers quickly descended on the scene, ushering us from our current spots back to where we shot introductions earlier.

“Just walk that way,” Harry called out. “The cameras are going to capture some b-roll, so don’t be weird.”

And then we were all walking down the beach, cameras trailing behind us.

A second set came into view as we approached the patch of beach where we had filmed earlier. It looked exactly as Gemma said: a lounge on the beach. Teak flooring had been brought in and laid out in a large square on the sand. Five high-top tables were arranged around it, with two bar stools and glasses of champagne at each. Tiki torches lined the edges of the deck, casting a soft glow over everything, even with the sun still high in the sky.

I was amazed by the set but even more amazed production had managed to build it so quickly. We couldn’t have been at our beach chats for that long.

There was no time to mull over the logistical details as we were instructed to sit one matched pair per table. Soon enough, the cameras were up and rolling again.

“A toast,” Gemma called out from where she stood in the middle of the deck. She was backlit by the sun and looked so beautiful that, for a moment, I wondered if she was real or some kind of animatronic. “To connections!” She raised her glass, and we followed suit.

I clinked mine with Callum’s, and we exchanged a look. Something bad felt like it was lurking just around the corner.

“Not all connections are built to last,” Gemma continued. “Bellas, this past week the public has been voting for the connections they believe to be the strongest”—she looked around at all of us—“and those they think to be the weakest.”

Here it was: the bad I had been waiting for.

“Today, there will be an elimination. Two matches have been voted least compatible by the public and will be going home.”

My stomach dropped as my heart squeezed in my chest. They were going to send home four people. Would that include Callum and me? Could this all be over in a few moments?

On After Amore, Gemma had read positive messages about us, but those could have been in the minority—only a few nice ones pulled to sound good on TV out of lots of bad. Even still, that had been a whole week ago. Did the public still care?

Gemma produced a gold envelope from out of nowhere and opened it.

There would be no time for new set ups or reshoots, it seemed. We were getting right into it.

“Bellas, the match who has been voted most compatible and are therefore safe is . . . ”

She glanced around for effect. It was a tactic that was probably taught in TV hosting school, one that I had grown to particularly loathe. I wanted her to get on with it.

“Chiara and Hugh!”

Everyone clapped, and I beamed over at Chi. There was relief in knowing that at least she was safe and would have more time with Hugh.

“The next matches the public have voted most compatible are . . . ”

Another pause, another anxious waiting game.

“Olivia and James, and Ella and Liam.”

My stomach dropped as my brain did the math. Callum and I were in trouble.

“The remaining matches received the least number of votes,” Gemma pressed on. “Callum and Poppy, Jess and Mike, and Adam and Amy, can you please come stand by me?”

I slid off my bar stool and crossed the teak deck to stand next to Gemma. Callum followed close behind, his hand on my lower back. His touch was a comforting presence, anchoring me in the moment.

We lined up on either side of Gemma, facing the cast members who had been deemed safe. Across from us, Chiara was wiping her eyes, tears already starting to fall.

There we were, the bottom couples on display for all to see. Harry’s words from earlier in the week, teasing me about having not kissed Callum again, echoed through my mind. Had that hurt us? Could it have been what led to this moment?

Callum moved his hand up from my back and gently placed it around my shoulder. I couldn’t help but lean into him, absorbing his warmth and taking comfort in the embrace.

When Callum had chosen me over Sara, I thought it had bought us some breathing room; time to settle into our deal and give ourselves a good shot at going all the way. I didn’t think that only one week later I would be back on the chopping block.