22. 22
Ishould have known better than to try and plan anything rationally on Bella Amore.
It only took a few minutes for my “more time” plan to be rendered useless.
Seconds after finishing our nightly toast, and moments after we all clinked glasses, a producer’s voice called out from the hidden speakers.
“All Bellas, please leave your glasses and head to the fire pit,” someone, who I was pretty sure was Ben, announced.
This can’t be good.
Historically, in every episode of the show I’d seen, whenever the whole cast gathered around the fire pit it was either because someone new was coming in or someone was about to get dumped and go home.
Getting dumped was not something that I could afford. I wasn’t ready to face the reality of my real life and was desperate to continue to exist in the bubble that was the villa rather than deal with the unavoidable I knew waited for me on the outside.
I grasped the glass in front of me and knocked it back, hoping the wine would aid in calming my nerves. Instead of soothing Sauvignon Blanc, however, the fizzy bubbles of ginger ale infiltrated my taste buds.
“Damn it,” I said, coughing from the unexpected carbonation. The producers weren’t kidding about the “no alcohol” punishment for the previous night’s rule breaking. I’d been hoping they would have forgotten all about it.
I threw an annoyed look toward the cameras I knew were hidden in the bushes and followed the rest of the group across the yard. Any qualms I had about not having a drink were soon forgotten, though, and a chill of anticipation ran through me as soon as we approached the fire pit.
Once we were all seated, the lights around the yard dimmed and a spotlight—one that I did not know existed, and that must have been rigged up specifically for this type of occasion—shone out on the grass lawn in front of us.
Weighted moments passed until a sparkling, shining figure walked into the garden, heading right toward the middle of the spotlight.
Gemma Row, hostess extraordinaire, stood there, shimmering like a disco ball as the bright light reflected off her sequined silver mini dress.
“Hi Bellas,” she cooed from her spot in the middle of the lawn. The spotlight followed her as she walked forward, up the two steps, and onto the fire pit’s deck.
“How are we all feeling tonight?” she asked, looking around at us and beaming in anticipation of what only she knew was about to happen.
Murmurs of “good” and “alright” passed through the group.
“You guys have been in here a few days now, and you’ve had a new Showstopper come in. James, how’s it been so far?” she continued.
“Yeah, it’s been massive. Great times all around,” he said, nodding his head in enthusiasm.
“Any lucky ladies you’ve gotten on with so far?” she asked.
“You know, it’s still early days, but I’ve had my eye on one or two,” he said, and for the briefest of moments his gaze glanced my way.
Was he talking about me? Or was he just looking in this general direction? He hadn’t been acting like he was particularly into me since our date. Could I have been reading him all wrong?
“Alright, well since you came in, we have a bit of an uneven number of Bellas, don’t we?” she asked, looking around at all of us.
I suddenly knew where this was headed and didn’t like it one bit.
“Ladies, if you could please come and line up next to me,” she said.
We all stood and did as instructed, no one saying a word, everyone too lost in their own thoughts.
“Now girls, you have been getting to know the boys, and tonight we’ll see who you’ve liked the best as you pick who you want to pair with,” she said, confirming what I had suspected.
While it was a relief I wouldn’t be at risk of going home this time around, the reality of what my decision would mean erased any joy that came with it.
I wouldn’t get the time I needed to talk with James again, to see if our connection was worth ignoring Callum’s offer.
I had to make a choice, and I had to do it. Now.
Take a risk with James or play it safe with Callum.
Confusing feelings or potential security.
My palms were sweating, and I tried to wipe them discretely on the sides of my dress.
“Ella, you’ll go first,” Gemma continued.
Looking over at Ella, a new anxiety jolted through me.
What if she picked either Callum or James?
If not her, what if one of the other girls did?
I had been going about my day as if the decision came down entirely to me, but what if someone else felt a connection with either of them and got to pick first?
Would I be relieved if the decision were made for me?
A tightness in my gut told me I would not.
Ella stepped forward, “The boy I would like to match with is,” she said, quick and to the point, “Liam.”
Liam stood, and she walked toward him, kissing him on the cheek and sitting down next to him.
“Chiara, you’re next,” Gemma said.
Chiara stepped forward, and I wondered what she would do; I was not the only one with a difficult decision to make.
“Adam,” she said before joining him around the fire pit. I could have sworn I saw Hugh deflate a bit. I had to admit, I was surprised as well. Throughout her back and forth, I had begun to root for Hugh to come out on top.
“Poppy, you’re next. Who would you like to match with?” Gemma asked.
I stepped forward on shaking legs.
This is it. Time to decide.
Take a risk or play it safe.
James or Callum.
“The boy I want to match with is . . . ”
I looked around the fire pit. Chiara’s encouraging smile peered up at me.
James’ expression was confusingly neutral, and he sat with a friendly smile on his face, as though he didn’t have a worry in the world and my choice wouldn’t matter to him at all.
Maybe he really didn’t care, and his glace over to me earlier was just a tick.
Finally, my eyes landed on Callum. He looked nervous, staring across the fire pit’s flames at me, his gaze piercing and intense. The weight of my impending decision was clearly affecting him as well.
“Is . . . ”
I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump off. I was hyper-aware that the next word out of my mouth would alter the course of my time here.
I took a deep breath, let it out, and made a choice.
“Callum.”