Page 45 of Unscripted

“Thanks, Chi,” I said, squeezing her hand back.

Our moment was interrupted by a producer calling us to head outside. Taking one last glance at myself in the mirror, I decided all I needed was more time.

I would use the night to talk to James. I needed to see if our initial spark was a passing thing or if it really was the possibility for more. If it turned out that we got on well and had a good connection, he could be a real option. I knew that even if I went along with Callum’s plan, there was no guarantee it would work. In that case, I would much rather be with someone I liked than in a strained situation with Callum.

It could all be as simple as that: Talk with James and go from there.

Feeling better now that I had a game plan, I followed the rest of the girls out into the hallway. As we waited to be let into the garden, I leaned against the wall and let out a deep breath, steeling myself for the night ahead.

I can do this.

I could figure out how I was feeling.

I just needed a little bit more time.

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?