33. 33
Iwas sandy and exhausted when the beach shoot finally ended.
“That’s a wrap on this location,” a producer called out from somewhere behind the monitors.
Just as quickly as we had been shuttled down to the beach, mic’d up, and put in front of a camera, it was all over—the set being broken down, and producers leaving to plan whatever form of torture they had in store for us next.
Any other day I would have lingered on the beach, wanting more time out of the villa and to watch the crew disassemble everything.
But standing here looking at the abandoned set and at the monitors that stood with dark screens, their live feed having been cut, I found myself wanting nothing to do with the show.
I was suddenly bone tired, exhausted from weeks of stress and emotional anxiety that was now catching up to me.
Seeing the physical reminders that this whole experience was being filmed and distributed for public consumption was too much to handle when I was already feeling so drained.
Not waiting to be told what to do, I turned my back on the beach, climbed the stairs up and away from the scene, and got into an idling van that would take us back to the villa.
The car was mercifully empty, and I crawled into the last row. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back on the headrest, savoring the quiet. I kept my eyes closed even as I heard the van’s door slide open and then click close.
When I felt the bench seat dip as someone sat down next to me, I finally opened my eyes.
I was expecting it to be either Chiara or Ella, so when I turned my head and came face to face with Callum, I gasped, startled by his close proximity.
He laughed at my reaction, a genuine laugh, coming deep from his chest, and it dawned on me that I hadn’t heard him laugh the entire time we had been in the villa. Sure, I saw him laugh with the other guys all the time. But it had never been like this—not with me.
I blinked at him in surprise, and, to my own shock, began laughing as well.
Maybe it was his reaction. Maybe it was the day.
Maybe it was the whole ridiculous show. Whatever the cause, something came over me, and all I could do was laugh back.
Both at him and with him. It barked out of me and then, before I even knew what was happening, the laughter caught in my throat, my eyes prickled, and tears were streaming down my face.
Here, in the quiet of the production van, with a man I had only recently become friendly with, I was having what some might call a meltdown.
I covered my eyes with my hands as I took deep, shuddering breaths, pressing my fingers into the sockets as the tears kept coming.
Everything I had been trying to keep at bay for the past three weeks finally hit me.
All the worry and anxiety and unease poured out, my chest heaving with the emotions as sobs racked my body.
I was mortified that my mental state had flipped so quickly.
That it was happening with Callum watching.
But before I could do anything, before I could try to shake it off or make him promise to forget it ever happened or even get myself to simply stop crying, his warm hands were gently covering mine, pulling them away from my face.
His own replaced them, cupping my cheeks and wiping away the tears that were still falling.
As I opened my eyes to look at him, I was surprised to find worry etched across his face. His brows knit together, and he was looking at me as though he was trying to figure out the best way to help.
We were silent, neither saying anything, his hands still caressing my face. Everything else, the show and the rest of the cast and our deal, faded away. Right now, it was just us in this moment, alone.
Alone.
My mind caught up to the reality of our situation, and it hit me that we were completely on our own.
There were no cameras set up in the van and our mic packs were still back at the villa.
I wasn’t actually sure how this was even happening and would bet there was a PA somewhere that had made a mistake in leaving us unattended.
But what surprised me more than anything was that I was grateful for it. That I enjoyed being alone with him.
My tears slowed and stopped, and Callum drew his hands away from my face. We stared at each other, and the silence grew until it felt weighted, until I felt it pressing in all around me, and I finally broke it.
“Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.”
I was suddenly anxious, waiting for Callum’s gentle gaze to turn cold. For his own guard to go back up.
But it never did.
“You don’t have to ever apologize for how you feel. Today was a lot,” he said. “This whole thing is a lot.”
I nodded and let out a breath, leaning back against the seat and, if I was being honest, an inch closer to him.
“We’ll have to lay it on thick now,” I said, looking away and out the window.
We had come far in our partnership, but there was still a part of me—a small part I knew was rooted more deeply in past hurt than in anything Callum had done—that worried he would reject what I said.
Reject me. I couldn’t look at him if he did.
But he simply replied, “I know.”
His easy agreement softened something in my chest, and after a moment I turned my head back to him.
I’d give anything to know what he was thinking.
What he really felt about everything. We weren’t there yet, didn’t have the kind of relationship where I could ask for more than what he was giving me, but I found myself longing to know.
As we continued to look at each other, I felt the urge to be even closer to him.
To lean in and never pull away. Maybe it was the stress of the day catching up to me.
Maybe it was the kindness he had shown me when I cried.
I couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to think too far into it.
Instead, acting on pure instinct, I reached out to the space between us and wrapped my hand around his.
“I’m glad you’re my partner,” I said, in only a whisper even though we were alone.
We stared at each other, holding hands in the back of the van. It felt like we had just crossed some kind of line. Like something had shifted between us.
“Poppy,” Callum breathed out, leaning into me.
I found myself leaning toward him as well. We were close, so close that I could see flecks of dark blue in his green eyes.
A loud, whooshing noise had us springing apart.
The van’s sliding door was pulled open, and James and Olivia loaded in, followed by Chiara and Hugh, and then Ella and Liam.
“Bruvs, what a day!” Hugh shouted, clapping his hands together.
Callum and I were quiet as the van filled with chatter. Despite the drama of the afternoon, everyone was still buzzing at having been out of the villa all day.
Harry slipped into the driver's seat, and Ben into the passenger’s.
Ben turned around to all of us, “What are we all going to talk about on the drive back to the villa?” he asked in singsong, knowing that the answer had been drilled into us.
“Nothing ace!” everyone called out, laughing.
“And what do we save the important conversations for?” Harry asked as he pulled onto the main road that would lead back to the villa.
“Camera!” everyone said again in unison.
No one noticed that Callum and I didn’t chime in, didn’t yell out, didn’t contribute to the chatter around us. We sat quietly in the back of the van, both lost in our own thoughts, staring out the windows on either side of us.
It wasn’t until we got back to the villa, until the van pulled to a stop, that I realized we were still holding hands.