Page 24 of Unscripted

Moments ticked by, and I remained seated, trying to simultaneously maintain good posture and appear totally at ease. I had a feeling this would read on camera as a weird stiffness I would regret should I ever watch the show back.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the cameras pointed down. The two operators gave me a thumbs up before heading back outside, closing the doors behind them.

The voice in the ceiling didn’t speak out again, so I assumed that my entrance was done, and they had moved on to the next contestant.

Deflating back against the couch, I let out a breath. I made it. I had no idea what was going to happen next, but I could celebrate the simple fact that I had made it.

As my heart rate calmed and I felt myself coming back into my body, I looked around in curiosity, this time actually taking in the room around me.

It was instantly recognizable from previous seasons of the show, and I was rather awe-struck sitting there. I had been on countless sets over the course of my career, but the villa felt markedly different. To watch something on TV first and then see it in real life was new to me.

Continuing my visual perusal, I began to clock the hidden cameras. There seemed to be one tucked up in every corner. I assumed there were even more placed just out of sight to make the setup appear less invasive. They had probably been recording my entrance along with the handheld cameras. In fact, I would wager they were never not recording.

I ignored the rolling wave of panic I felt over being watched. Better get used to it.

On the table in front of me was a large ice bucket with two bottles of champagne, accompanied by five plastic flutes.

A bit of bubbly seemed like a great idea as I waited for whatever was supposed to happen next.

Unsure if I was allowed to open it, I called out to the ether that was the house. “Can I have a glass?”

There was no response back, and I immediately flushed with embarrassment. Did I really think I could communicate with production like that? They were probably getting a good laugh at me shouting into an empty house about alcohol.

Moments later, after I had given up hope that I’d get a reply, the voice in the speakers rang out, “Yes, just half a glass.”

“Thank you!” I called out. It felt silly, talking to a house. I knew technically that I was communicating with a producer sitting in the Hut, but still.

I was taking the first sip of my champagne when the doors to the villa were thrown open.

Standing just beyond the threshold was a girl with bright red hair wearing a black dress just as short and tight as mine.

Her smile was bright as she walked through the doors, and her eyes darted around to take everything in.

“Oh my God, hi!” she squealed as her gaze landed on me.

She rushed across the entryway and headed my way. I was immediately impressed by how someone could move so quickly in four-inch heels.

She threw her arms open wide and wrapped them around me, pulling me into her. I was immediately caught off guard and, considering we had about a five-inch height difference, almost teetered over and onto the couch.

Before I could get my bearings, she was pulling away and grabbing onto my hands, unknowingly steadying me on my feet.

“I’m Chiara!” she said, squeezing my hands in hers.

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself mirroring her wide smile.

“I’m Poppy!”

“Oh! So you’re the American!”

The surprise at her words must have been written all over my face because Chiara lowered her voice and said, “I heard rumors from the crew there was a contestant from the US. To be honest, I was hoping it would be a bloke that would take me away to the States with him,” she said, winking at me.

Before I could reply, the speaker voice announced, “Chiara, back outside please. We’re going to shoot you walking in again.”

Chiara gave me an eyebrow wiggle before setting back in motion. Dropping my hands, she turned and strutted outside.

I watched as she repeated her entry again, exactly as I had.

Once she had satisfied whichever producer was calling the shots, the villa doors were closed, and she strode back over to me. Going straight for the champagne, she poured herself a glass, took a large gulp, and then plopped down on the couch.