17. 17
The next morning began with a bright, rude awakening.
I’d slept pretty well, considering the large man-child next to me and the eight other bodies sharing the same air.
I’d give it to production; the beds were extremely comfortable.
So comfortable that I was in a deep, heavy sleep right up until the bedroom lights were thrown on, and I was shocked awake by what felt like my eyeballs being exposed to direct sunlight.
I jerked straight up, looking around in a panic. For a moment, I forgot where I was: that I was not in Blair’s guestroom, not in the dingy hotel room my previous job put me up in, not even in my old bedroom back in New York.
Coming back into my body, I squinted around the room.
The stage lights hung up in each corner of the ceiling, strategically placed to ensure the space was well-lit for the cameras, were on full brightness.
I understood why the girls on past seasons would immediately put their sunglasses on while still in bed every morning.
I had thought it was a funny British thing, but I realized now it was more of a practicality.
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.
“It’s no use,” an annoyingly familiar voice said behind me.
I lifted my head, not turning around yet, and replied, “And why’s that?”
“Because,” Callum said, coming to lean against the counter by my side. He reached across me to grab a loaf of bread. If a shiver happened to go through me at the graze of his arm against mine, I resolutely ignored it.
He carried on, moving away from me and to the pantry where he pulled out more food.
“He’s into Ella.”
“Ella? Really?”
I looked out across the yard to the lounge chairs by the pool. Sure enough, there was Liam, sitting next to Ella, chatting away. It was the most I’d seen him speak the entire time we had been in the villa. It was definitely more than the few words he’d said to me.
I groaned again, and Callum must have heard it because he laughed.
“Looking for a new match?” he asked.
I turned to face him, making sure he could see the daggers I was shooting his way with my eyes.
Ignoring my death glare, Callum walked toward me. He came right up to me, so close that I had to take a few steps back until my butt hit the kitchen counter behind me. All logical thought left my brain, and my heart began to race at our close proximity.
He leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, sending sparks shooting down to my gut and whispered, “Don’t worry. I am too.”
It was like being doused with ice-cold water.
And then he was gone, moving away from me before I could shove him off. He laughed as he took the sandwich he had somehow made in the time we were in the kitchen together and went to sit next to Olivia on the daybeds.
I stayed in the kitchen for a while longer, stewing over the dismal turn of events with Liam and the audacity of Callum.
I would show him. That night at the cocktail party it was game on. I would flirt my little heart out.
I would find a new match if it was the last thing I did.
***
The girl’s dressing room was a hive of activity as we got ready for the evening’s cocktail party.
I blew out my hair and decided on a cobalt blue slip dress. I thought it was rather short until I looked around and saw the micro-mini dresses the other girls were wearing. I looked like a nun compared to everyone else.
Once ready, we made our way out into the hall and lined up at the door, just as we had the night before.
I was thrilled to see Harry was once again the producer cueing us in, and as we waited for the go-ahead, I slid up to his side.
“Poppy!” he exclaimed, grabbing my forearm in excitement.
“Hi!” I said back, happy to see his familiar face.
He looked at the other girls chatting around us and leaned forward, whispering, “You’re doing great! You are an absolute natural on camera.”
Something inside of me warmed at his encouraging words. I didn’t realize how much I needed some positive feedback until then.
I was about to reply when the walkie-talkie at Harry’s hip squawked and a voice sounded from it. “Harry, the girls are a ‘go’ to enter the garden.”
He took it off his belt, pressed the talk button, and said into it, “Copy that.”
“Alright ladies, go on out,” he called out.
As I turned to walk out the door and into the garden, Harry grabbed my arm once more.
“Have fun tonight,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. It was the kind of look that told me he knew something I didn’t.
“What do you—” I asked, but he ignored me and shooed me out the door, motioning for me to follow the rest of the girls, who were a few paces ahead.
I hurried along to catch up and filed in behind Chiara. We walked up to a high-top table set up in the middle of the grass lawn. The boys were already there, standing around waiting for us. The other girls grabbed their wine glasses from the table and slotted between each boy.
Being the last to grab a glass, I turned to find that the only open space for me to stand was between Callum and Liam.
The two guys I was most hoping to avoid.