9. 9
In movies and TV shows and romance novels, it all happens the same way: A guy and a girl accidentally bump into each other, he smiles at her, she smiles back, and boom—instant connection. Immediate chemistry.
Reality is a bit different.
When I rounded the corner and found myself in the same space as the man with the green eyes, I froze.
I was shocked to see him again. The rational part of my brain knew that at some point I would actually meet him.
He was a contestant, after all, and we’d be spending a good deal of time living under the same roof.
But to run into him here and now, when I should have been hidden away per Harry’s instructions, was too much for my already exhausted brain to process.
So, I froze. I simply stood there, staring.
He turned from where he was leaning against the boat’s railing, stood up to his full height—and by full, I mean a very real, no joke, six-foot-three inches—and looked down at me.
If he remembered me from the hallway, I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t get a read on him at all as we looked at each other.
Slowly, as if he was trying to make me squirm, his eyes raked down my body. The air grew heavy as he took me in, but when he looked back up, my stomach dropped. His eyes, the same ones that were so full of joy just yesterday, were filled with what I could best describe as contempt.
“What?” he said with a clipped tone, as though I was the only one staring. As though he hadn’t just given me a solid once over.
What had been a nice breeze off the water suddenly felt cold as ice.
I was about to open my mouth to ask him what his problem was when a voice from behind him yelled out.
“Poppy!”
I peered around the broad shoulder of the man I was suddenly coming to dislike without having even spoken a word to, and found Harry standing there, eyes bulging, shaking his head frantically.
“You weren’t supposed to leave your spot!” he cried.
Next to Harry stood a pale, blond guy with round-framed glasses. He was trying to hold back his laughter at Harry’s distress, the edges of his mouth quirking up in a barely restrained smile.
The blond guy turned to the man in front of me.
“Callum,” he said.
“Ben,” Callum said back.
Callum. A nice name for an annoying guy. And the blond man was Ben, the other producer Harry had gone to meet with.
“You two are not supposed to have met yet!” Harry exclaimed, shooting me a reproachful look.
I was about to tell him the moment could hardly qualify as having actually met, but Ben turned to him first.
“Haz, it’s fine,” he said, giving Harry a squeeze on the arm.
That they were already on a nickname basis was something I would definitely be bringing up to Harry later.
Ben turned back to Callum and me.
“Let’s just go our separate ways now, and when you both walk into the villa in a few days, promise us you’ll pretend you’ve never met before.”
“Easy,” Callum said, his tone laced with cutting rudeness.
The smiling guy from yesterday was clearly a one-off. This person standing in front of me was a total dick.
I couldn’t believe I had ever thought twice about his eyes.
“Fine by me,” I said, trying to match his icy tone with my own.
Not wanting to be near Callum a moment longer, I pushed past him and made my way to Harry.
“I’m going back to my side of the boat,” I said.
I walked away without looking back.
I shouldn’t have felt anything other than slight annoyance over the interaction. I didn’t know the guy. Why would I care how he acted?
But as I settled myself back into my little nook for the rest of the boat ride, I couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit of disappointment that Callum had turned out to be a prick.
***
I spent the rest of the ferry ride alternating between being annoyed at Callum for being so rude and annoyed at myself for not having said anything about it to his face. I replayed our entire interaction over and over, coming up with better and better one-liners I could have said to him.
My fantasy world of revenge occupied me enough that I didn’t even notice when we had docked on Ischia.
Harry poked his head into my tiny alcove and said, “Well, come on. We’re here.”
I jumped up, happy to get off the boat and away from the weirdness of the afternoon.
Everything had happened so fast since I said “yes” to doing the show, and I had tried my best to be ready for what was to come. What I had not prepared myself for in the days leading up to my departure from England was the contestants being intolerable.
If Callum was a dick, would the others be the same? Would I even meet anyone I liked? Would I make any friends?
These thoughts plagued my mind as we deboarded, and I was ushered into another waiting car. Out the window I could see a second sprinter van that Callum and Ben were climbing in. They were laughing with each other, which only made me more annoyed.
It was just me, apparently, that he was frosty toward. He wasn’t being rude to Ben.
I let out a sigh and turned away from the window. Soon enough, we were off and headed to a hotel I would stay in for the next three days.
“Why aren’t we going right to the villa?” I asked Harry as the van coasted along Ischia’s winding roads.
“The villa is strictly for filming,” he explained.
“Once you’re in, you don’t leave and you’re on camera twenty-four seven.
Before that starts, we need to get you all in one place.
The other Bellas will be arriving throughout the day and then everyone is sequestered until it’s go time.
The first day of filming will primarily be entrances.
It’s the biggest shoot of the season, aside from the finale.
They bring in extra production assistants, two full camera crews, the works. ”
“I thought there were camera crews in the villa the whole time?” I asked.
“Nope, we primarily shoot on hidden cameras planted throughout the house. It enables you lot to feel more relaxed, not having a camera crew in your face all day.” I couldn’t imagine I’d be all that relaxed still knowing that I was being filmed, but Harry did have a point.
If I couldn’t see a camera, it might be easier to pretend it wasn’t there.
“They bring in a small crew with a shoulder cam for certain matchings or big nights, but day-to-day everything is broadcast from the cameras around the villa to what is essentially a video village on steroids. The senior producers sit in front of the monitors day and night, flagging what gets put in each episode,” Harry said.
He continued, explaining that over the next few days the villa would be properly lit and the hidden camera angles tested and moved around if needed.
As he chatted away, I focused on my breathing, trying to suppress the overwhelming wave of frustration churning in my gut. I would give anything to trade places with Harry and be a part of the behind-the-scenes work. I’d prefer that to being on camera any day.
I was quiet the rest of the ride to the hotel, trying to rein in my ever-shifting emotions. Harry’s commentary on the production process was harmless, but it triggered a sense of regret that was becoming all-encompassing as the minutes ticked away.
What had I been thinking? What kind of grand adventure did I expect from being locked away in a villa? From participating in a reality television show. I didn’t even like watching the genre. Who did I think I was participating in it?
I was about to turn to Harry and tell him I couldn’t do it, that the van should just turn around and head back to the marina. I’d swim my way back to Naples if I had to. Anything to get me out of here.
But before I could, the car rolled to a stop, having arrived at the hotel, and Harry was hopping out, making a beeline to a young woman standing by the entrance. She was wearing a headset and holding a clipboard, and I could only assume that she was another production assistant.
Remaining in the rapidly warming van, I peered out through the open door at Harry and the young woman. Seeing the two talking, coordinating my arrival, felt like I was once again watching a livestream of my old life.
I was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to cry.
Maybe it was fatigue from traveling all day.
Maybe it was the lingering disappointment I felt over Callum and the trepidation of what the rest of the cast would be like.
Whatever the cause, a bone-deep exhaustion settled over me, and I suddenly didn’t have it in me to have any kind of conversation with Harry. I just wanted to be alone.
I didn’t wait for him to come back and get me and instead climbed out of the van myself.
Walking over to Harry, I lingered next to him as he finished talking logistics with the PA and then followed as he led me into the hotel lobby and upstairs.
He chatted the whole way, but all I could do was nod along and pretend I was listening.
When we got to my room, Harry opened the door and let me in. He gave me a hotel key but told me it was for emergency use only, as I was under no circumstances allowed to leave the room without him present.
I promised I would stay put. He nodded, turned, and walked back the way we came, and then I was blissfully alone.
I crawled under the bedsheets, not bothering to change my clothes or even check to see if my suitcase was in the room.
Closing my eyes, I let the sweet darkness of sleep pull me under.