12. 10.
10.
Callie
I bury the beanie past my brows. My hands shake when a gust of cold wind cuts through. I’m told this is the mild season, but my Californian ass is freezing and I’m pretty sure by the glint in Sebastian’s eyes, he’s relishing in my misery.
I usually like filming outside, but this time is different. I hate the cold and wet wind on my face. But I love where we are.
Sebastian was tasked with creating perfect dates to bring each girl and show them around London. And of course, like everything he does, he nails it.
I bite my lip, trying to keep the pure envy out of my face. I’m walking alongside Justin, the boom man, the earpiece secure in my ear as we follow the adorable couple.
Vera and Sebastian.
She looks glorious in a mid-length emerald green skirt and a black jacket that is the elevated version of my own. She laughs, throwing her soft caramel hair back, with an arm looped around Sebastian’s as they talk and walk down the lane.
This little alley, moments away from Leicester Square, is a treasure. And sure, at first, I made a face when he told us to bring poor Vera for a date in an alley, and I had to remind him we weren’t that kind of show. But this date? It’s nothing short of perfection.
The alley is a secret spot for second-hand bookshops that in fifty years haven’t changed their front. It’s like stepping back in time, every single shop front takes my breath away.
Sebastian handed Vera a cup of coffee and now is letting her browse all she wants. Her fingers trail each spine while she makes a comment about each title.
It’s not that I want to be on this date. Of course not.
It’s just that this place is a hidden gem and instead of smelling the books myself, I’m here listening to other people gush about it.
Sebastian is also annoying me.
His accent grew thicker since we landed, and his mannerisms are perfectly timed. He says the right things, smiles at the right cues, and asks insightful questions.
With her, he’s not a sarcastic pain in the ass.
He’s supposed to show her his real self, right? They are supposed to fall in love, but how can Vera fall in love if he keeps her at arm’s length?
That’s why I’m so annoyed. Because clearly, I’m more committed to this whole thing of finding him a wife than he is.
Hiding who he is means not giving Vera a fair chance. And if he’s not going to give Miss Perfect a chance, what the hell is he even doing?
And God, she’s perfect . Like right now, when she’s walking like the most beautiful dream as she talks about her super important and difficult STEM job. Even I want to marry her.
“Sosa, get going.”
I’m ushered inside a bookshop when Jeff announces we have enough footage from the outside. Honestly, this whole thing is a bookworm’s wet dream, and I’m getting more envious at each step.
I can’t even remember the last time I read a book. Like an actual book. Not a script or a magazine. It was probably the Pretty Little Liars books in middle school.
But liking books is a state of mind. I do wish I could read more. I do wish I could stop to smell the pages.
I don’t know why my lack of reading time is suddenly Sebastian’s fault, but it is. And so are my cracking lips and chipped nails. I’m trapped in my bad mood and now even the way I look bugs me.
I pass a storefront and fix my outfit. And then, I need to shake myself off.
This is not me.
I don’t care about any of that. If I did, I wouldn’t be working on a show where everyone is literally beautiful enough to burn your retinas.
I'm Sosa. I’m all about hard work, junk food, and late-night TV. My nail polish is always chipped because as much as I love to see them in color, I don’t have time to keep them up.
My hair plays in a weird mix of wavy and curly, depending on the day’s humidity. My legs are strong because they bring me up and down the set, and everything about my body is about sustaining my brain.
That’s me. But as I walk to Sebastian and Vera, I feel like crap.
A small and ugly pimple on the beautiful canvas of London.
As I approach, Sebastian seems to be the funniest guy in the world since Vera laughs big, her hands clutching his arm for dear life.
I halt by the sound of her laugh. Maybe interrupting them is a bad idea, but it’s too late when Sebastian sees me. His mouth opens in an obscene smile and his eyes twinkle. I bite the side of my cheek and promise I won’t be petty to measure the size of the smile he’s sending me versus the one he was giving to her.
That’s just ridiculous behavior.
I clear my throat, avoiding Sebastian, and look straight at Vera. “They are setting up inside the bookstore now. Maybe you want to freshen up?”
Vera nods, “Is Doris around?”
I point to the side where the makeup artist is waiting, and she turns to Sebastian, “I hope this is ok? The wind is cutting my skin, and I think Doris might have a lip balm.”
Sebastian nods. “Of course. Go on.”
Vera finally takes her hand off him, but Sebastian grabs it back and kisses it before she goes.
I won’t gag.
Vera giggles like a schoolgirl, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and races toward Dora.
Vera and Sebastian are the perfect couple. The fact slams into me like a ton of bricks. It’s marketing genius, it’s picture-perfect. They are the reason people watch reality TV.
I want to pull my hair out. I try to regulate my breathing because, after all, everything is going according to plan. I hate Sebastian so much right now.
I’m irritated he broke the rules and came to sit with me for almost eleven hours after I ignored him for weeks. I’m frustrated that those hours made me remember how much I missed him.
And now? I’m pissed he’s not the same with Vera. I know this is what we wanted at the beginning, but now that I truly know him, the British robot won’t cut it. I hate the Prince Charming persona who takes over when the cameras are rolling.
I want to scream in his face.
“Do you need a touch-up?” I ask without looking at him.
“Do you think I do?”
I raise my eyebrow but end up looking up at his ridiculously good-looking face. No. He looks perfect, but I shrug instead of complimenting him.
Sebastian’s eyes narrow, and he steps closer. Out of instinct, I step back. His eyes flare, something powerful behind them. I face up to him because I’m not one to cower, but I can’t deny to myself I like how primal he looks right now.
Maybe we need to fight. I’d love to fight him right now.
I bury my hands in my battered jacket pockets and avert my eyes.
“You look upset.”
“I’m cold,” I reply quickly.
Sebastian tsks. “You were right, Calliope.”
“Callie.” I breathe. “I’m sure I was right, but about what?”
He nods in Vera’s direction. “Vera is great. I’m glad I didn’t eliminate her in the first week.”
I grunt. “I’m a genius, Riggs. Listen, now it’s the time for a bathroom break because–”
“And you know, it’s hard to see what you really want in a person right away. I knew what I wanted to feel, but I did not know what this person would look like.”
“Well, she looks like a drop-dead gorgeous Princess with a very complicated job.”
Isn’t kick-you-in-the-crotch-spit-on-your-neck fantastic? I add to myself in Rachel Green’s voice.
He says nothing, so I boldly look up at his face. I’m in for a fight. I want to punish him for something. He doesn’t reply, though. He reaches for his microphone and turns it off while smiling at me.
I frown at it, and he steps closer again, but this time I keep my ground.
“We’re meeting Bea tonight.” He tells me.
“Your sister?”
Sebastian slowly nods. I’m already shaking my head, but he stops me. “She can escape for a couple of hours.”
My throat feels dry, and I still say nothing. But Sebastian keeps talking. “Come on, Callie. You said you’d meet her. I rather think you’ll love Bea.”
“I’m sure she’s great.” I blurt it out.
“So come out for a pint. Just one, even though coming out for one is simply not done.”
I chuckle a little, rubbing my forehead and dislodging my beanie. I want to say no and end this conversation, but instead, I see myself asking; “Why are you so different on camera?”
He frowns.
“Why are you… I don’t know…” I touch my earpiece, as it can make me remember. “You’re so--”
“That’s a lot of tiptoeing around something you’re dying to say.”
“I can’t say it's fake.” I blink. “It’s just something else. I can’t see you when I hear him.”
“Him being the Sebastian in front of the cameras?”
I nod, and he looks at me carefully. “You told me to tone it down.”
I opened my mouth, but he kept going. “You said I needed media training. Remember that?”
“I know I said that,” I reply, smoothing my jacket unnecessarily. “But now I think the opposite.”
“Oh, I see,” he replies wryly.
I turn my chin up, not stopped by his mocking tone. “If you really want to connect and really find a wife--”
Sebastian smiles, stepping closer to me again. “That’s definitely why I’m here.”
“So, you must be yourself. Then Vera can fall in love.”
He clicks his tongue. “But I’m being the Prince Charming. You know better than me that the image sells.”
I swallow the lump down my throat, and I feel bad for ever having said that. The image is nothing compared to the real deal.
It isn’t fair to put Sebastian in a box. He can’t fit in there. Not a man who is larger than life, with a presence that can take all the air out of a room.
“I thought you wanted this for real,” I say to him finally.
“And I do.”
“So, be yourself.”
We look at each other for a beat. The wind doesn’t annoy me anymore. The whispers from the rest of the crew don’t even register.
“Meet me at eight down the atrium.”
After Vera’s date, Sebastian brings Abby to a famous vegan restaurant, but I don’t have it in me to follow them. I murmur to Anya I’m feeling sick, and since I never get sick, she lets me go, even though I know she doesn’t trust a word I say.
In a way, I’m not lying. I do feel sick. My head is a mess, and I know I made a mistake.
Weeks ago, Anya asked me to keep my head in the game. I knew I was getting too close to Sebastian, so I stepped back.
But it made it worse. Way worse.
Sebastian became this candy bar I wasn’t allowed to have. The prize after my run, the glass of wine after a stressful day. I wanted to speak with him, listen to him. Be with him.
I lay my head on the pillow every night, thinking about how much I ached to talk to him just to reprimand myself a second later.
It was torture and even after all that; I was back to my old habits the second he sat beside me on that flight. No time has passed, no walls have been built.
Feeling like a failure, I sit on the bed looking at nothing.
I can’t move.
I can’t call and cancel, but I can’t go either. In my head, I know it’s not a big deal. I became friends with other contestants before. I offered my shoulder for girls to cry on. I go for drinks with the season seven cast at least once a year.
I inhale deeply and tell myself that. I’m allowed to have friends. Sebastian is just a really hot friend. People have those. I have a bunch of those.
As I survey the clothes I brought with me, I remember that never in the history of my employment has Anya called me out like that. She never needed to ask me to keep my head in the game.
Annnd I’m back to overreacting.
I groan, feeling pathetic. I grab a Metallica tee and dark jeans. There. That’s me. Tee, jeans and boots. I refuse to dress up to meet his sister.
But Beatrice is a fancy name.
I bet my arm Sebastian’s sister is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
I really want her to like me. She’s escaping her mother’s clutches just to meet little me.
So, I have no choice, really. I need to change. For Beatrice, of course. I grab the one dress I packed, black, but tight on my body and it looks good paired with my boots, too.
I throw everything on and fix my hair to the best of my abilities, and before I start to rethink the whole ordeal, I go to the elevator without looking back.
It’s just a drink.
One.
Just a quick hello and nice to meet you, so sorry you won’t be on the show. Oh sure, it’s a pleasure to see the girls throwing themselves at your brother.
Me? I’m peachy. I love this damn weather. It’s doing wonders for my hair and complexion.
I close my eyes and step in the elevator, pressing the button for the atrium. My fingers drum over my legs with anxious energy and I let go a long breath right when the doors click open and I get the full vision of the man waiting for me
My body freezes as I take him in.
I falter. Oh God!
Sebastian awaits in a blue shirt that, for some magic, is the exact shade of his eyes. The first button is open over his neck, and the sleeves are folded three-quarters of the way. God, why are forearms so damn sexy? His are veiny and thick with golden hair all over. And does it do it for me? Shit, yes, it does it big time.
The elevator door starts to close on me again and he chooses that moment to look up from his phone. Our eyes lock and I spring back to life, using my hand to stop the doors from closing.
This is a bad idea.
Because Sebastian looks like that . I do not know how the girls can walk toward him in heels every episode. I’m wearing my Doc Martens and I’m walking like Bambi on ice.
I gulp. I can’t look into his eyes. They are too damn beautiful. I can’t look at his smile because his white teeth are blinding. I can’t look at his forearms because they make me want to fall just to see if he’d catch me.
So, I look down.
This is ridiculous. Of all the times we put him on camera, nothing compares to this. He pockets his phone and turns his body to me, coming in my direction with strong and certain steps, watching me from head to toe.
I clutch my bag, not trusting my knees anymore, and halt to a stop. He smirks when we are a foot away from each other, rubbing his chin as he looks me up and down.
“Darling, you look incredible.”
Calliope Sosa would let no one call her darling . But the way Sebastian says it? I melt like an idiot.
He smiles like it’s a secret and I stand there licking my bottom lip with no words coming out. Sebastian’s hand tugs mine toward the doors and I follow, knowing fully well how much trouble I am in.
He calls a car and puts me in the backseat, sliding in after me. His smell, his voice, and his presence fill the backseat and raise the hair down my arm.
And that’s when I know for sure I have a crush on the star.