Page 59 of Unscripted

We stared at each other, but I was in no mood for a showdown so early in the day, so I looked away first.

The rest of the conversation flowed from there, but I wasn’t paying much attention. Glancing across the lawn to the fire pit where the boys were all gathered, I wondered what Callum was saying to them about our situation. What he thought about everything. I supposed we were in a love triangle now, as Sara wasn’t backing down from pursuing him.

I knew I could simply ask him where we stood and if he liked Sara. Hadn’t he just asked me the same about James?

But something deep down in me wasn’t ready to hear his answer. Not quite yet at least. I was already wildly embarrassed about kissing him last night. The boldness I felt in the moment had morphed into pure mortification at the way I all but pounced on him out of nowhere. If he were to tell me, after that kind of gesture, he didn’t want to stay together, it would simply be too much.

As the girls’ catch-up wrapped and we headed inside to get ready for the day, it dawned on me that I wasn’t sure what was worrying me more: that Callum could ditch me for Sara or that I cared so much if he did.

27

Iloved a Bella Amore love triangle. The drama, the suspense, the mystery of who would end up with who. As a viewer, I ate it up.

Living it, however, was proving to be the absolute worst.

All day long, wherever I looked, it seemed that Callum and Sara were together.

Talking on the pool loungers, making lunch in the kitchen, playing the standard villa game of rock, paper, scissors that kept everyone from total boredom.

They were everywhere, all the time, and I was not a fan.

I could have talked to Callum. Could have pulled him for a chat to ask about his feelings or simply see how his day was going. Anything a mature, normal adult would do in this situation.

Only I wasn’t feeling very mature.

I was actually feeling a bit reckless, which I blamed on being locked up in a villa, day and night, with nothing to do but obsess over boys.

Looking across the garden, I found Callum and Sara together, yet again. Night had fallen, and the cocktail party was well underway and there they were, still hanging out.

Callum was making a cheese toastie—a staple of the villa in which cheese is melted on a piece of toast in the microwave, resulting in an unhealthy yet delicious snack. Sara had been flipping her hair about nearby for the better part of twenty minutes and had now made her way into the kitchen.

She hoisted herself up to sit on the countertop, bringing her closer to eye level with Callum. He did not move away and continued to stand about a foot from her.

It was enough to spur me into action. I refused to spend my evening staring at the two of them, wondering what she was going to do and what he was thinking.

Getting up from the fire pit where I had been sitting with Chiara and Jess, I made my way over to the daybeds where Hugh and James sat.

“Can I join you two?” I asked, not waiting for their answer before sitting down.

It so happened that the seat I chose was the one right next to James. Fancy that.

He gave me a smile and a slight raise of his eyebrows. I’m sure he wondered what I was doing, sitting so close to him when I had chosen Callum over him at the last Matching Ceremony.

I didn’t care. I was tired of overthinking everything. Tired of sitting on the sidelines, trying to figure out Callum and our deal and where we stood. I wanted to do something without thinking it to death, and if talking to the very hot British man next to me was that thing, then I was going to run with it.

Hugh looked between us and quickly excused himself.

“Poppy,” James said, shifting his body toward mine.

“James,” I replied, giving him a playful smile that I hoped signaled I was happy to be here with him and not that I was maybe using him to get back at someone else in the villa.

James either didn’t want to know or didn’t care why I had come to talk to him. We chatted for a while about an array of things: the weather, what it was like in the villa so far, our families back home.

It was nice.

We talked through to the end of the cocktail party, and, while the whole conversation had been strictly platonic and once again reaffirmed that I had no real feelings for him, if his hand happened to end up resting on my knee by the time we got up to head inside, I certainly wasn’t hard pressed to stop it.

I had done my best to push out all thoughts of Callum during my time with James, but as I stood in the communal bathroom brushing my teeth, I couldn’t help but dive back into them. Did he see us talking? Did he care? Did I care if he cared?