23. 23
Ihad chosen safety and security in the matching, but if I thought my time in the villa would be wildly different after doing so, I should have known better.
After the Matching Ceremony, things went right back to the way they had been before. Other than sharing a bed at night and exchanging small talk here and there, Callum and I didn’t spend any alone time together and only hung out in groups.
Part of me thought maybe we could keep going along like this: being paired up but staying under the radar.
I should have known that was delusional.
Two days after the matching, during the girl’s morning coffee debrief, Ella was the one to say something first.
“You and Callum don’t really spend a lot of time together,” she commented, her perfectly arched eyebrows raising in suspicion.
“Oh?” I said, unsure of how to proceed. It wasn’t like I could lie and say we hung out a lot alone. When you were living in a house with nine other people, with nowhere to be but in each other’s space, a lie like that was laughably flimsy.
I looked around the group hoping someone else would jump in and say something. Instead, the girls all looked back at me; the same question Ella asked reflected on their faces. Apparently, she wasn’t the only curious one.
“We just,” I said, trying to find a diplomatic answer that wouldn’t prompt any follow-up questions. “We’re still getting to know each other. It’s a bit of a slow burn, I guess.”
“Everything happens in the time it’s supposed to,” Chiara said, giving me a reassuring smile before turning the conversation away from me and onto her. I would have to thank her later for that.
The girls weren’t the only ones who noticed that Callum and I were not spending much time together. Later that afternoon, I was called into the Love Shack to film my producer interview for the day.
“So, Poppy,” Harry said, sitting across from me behind the camera and tripod.
“Yes?” I asked, leaning back on the red cushioned loveseat. Although I had judged the room when I first saw it, not understanding why a show that was so popular couldn’t afford a more professional setup, I now understood that it was all intentional.
The small space was cozy: the loveseat comfortable and the lighting soft and soothing.
The small camera was unthreatening, and sitting in front of it felt as if I were simply making a home video.
I’d go in there, get asked a few questions, and before I knew it, I was pouring my soul out to the camera.
It was all designed to project the illusion of comfort, as I should have known it would be.
“How are things going with Callum?” Harry continued, getting right into it.
“Good, yeah. Things are all good,” I said.
My words hung in the air, the silence that followed amplifying just how empty they were.
Harry wasn’t buying it.
“You two haven’t spent a lot of alone time together,” he said. I nodded in reply as he continued. “No kissing, no holding hands. Some of the other matches are a bit further along than you two. Does that bother you?”
He was really going there, and I didn’t blame him. I knew it was his job and that as my producer, his success was directly tethered to my actions.
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.
Turning my back on Callum, I stepped towards the garden gate, ready to get back out there and “crack on” with anyone and everyone in hopes of salvaging my chances in here.
“Wait, Poppy,” he said, and I heard him stand and follow after me.
I turned around and let out a small yelp. He had taken more steps toward me than I anticipated and was now mere inches away. I cleared my throat, ignoring the way his proximity made my heart pound.
“Look,” he said, undeterred by our closeness. “I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t aware you even knew what that word was,” I replied.
“Funny.” He said, raising his brow. But this time, his tone wasn’t laced with ice or indifference. It was softer and more amiable.
He carried on. “This whole show thing it’s . . . it’s just not where I thought I’d be in my life right now. But I don’t need to take that out on you. And you’re right, anyway. We need to be better. Try and sell it more.”
It wasn’t the world’s best apology, but I could tell that he meant what he said and that he was being honest with me, just as he’d promised in the pantry.
It also helped that I understood where he was coming from, more than I had expected to.
I didn’t think I’d ever be on this show either.
I guess we had at least one thing in common.
We stood there for a minute longer looking at each other before I broke eye contact.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” I said, aiming for levity. We’d said all we needed about our deal. I might as well start the whole "getting along" thing right away.
“I don’t,” he replied. “But this is the only outside area in the villa where there aren’t any cameras. It’s nice to have a bit of a break from everything for a moment.”
I looked around and realized that he was right. There was not a camera in sight.
“It’s kind of peaceful,” I observed. There was something nice about the small, secluded space. It somehow felt worlds away from the chaotic villa.
“It is,” Callum agreed.
“Well,” I said, walking backward toward the gate. “I’ll see ya.”
“See ya,” he said.
“Tonight,” I said, immediately feeling like an idiot for rambling.
But Callum just looked at me, the corners of his mouth turning up into something almost resembling a smile.
“Tonight,” he said.
Deciding to keep it at that, I turned and walked back into the garden, clicking my mic pack on and jumping back into the role of “Bella” again.