Page 74 of Unscripted

He smiled then, and in that moment, he seemed lighter than he had since we first met. We’d gotten along well the past week and had stopped bickering long enough to have a real conversation. Not to mention those kisses in the game—the very ones I was still trying to not replay in my mind obsessively.

But sitting here now, it felt like I was seeing a new side of him. Seeing him for the first time, all over again.

Our conversation flowed from there, skirting the edges of anything real and sticking to what was in front of us: the beautiful beach and our fellow contestants.

“You, Chiara, and Jess are really close,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s been one of the better surprises of this whole thing—to find great friends. I hadn’t expected it, but it’s been wonderful.”

He nodded. “Hugh really likes Chiara.”

“He does?” I was thrilled. Chiara was over the moon about Hugh but was unsure if he felt as strongly as she did.

“Don’t tell her I told you, but yes, he’s smitten.”

“Smitten?”

“Smitten.”

He smiled, and for a moment I was struck by how wonderful it would be if this were real life. If the cameras went away and it was just us on a beach, talking about our normal friends in the real world.

The thought was so outlandish that as soon as I realized where my mind had wandered, I had to look away from him. I peered out at the water as I tried to shake it off and swallow down the idea that this could ever be something like that.

We were pretending. Putting on a show for the entire United Kingdom to watch and, hopefully, fall for. Nothing about it was real. Of course it wasn’t.

I don’t even want it to be, I told myself.

Trying to keep the conversation going and lasso my mind back down to earth, I started to ask him for any other gossip about what the other boys thought about their matches.

A squeal from a few beach towels away interrupted me before I could get a word out.

“Oh my God!” Olivia shouted.

I followed her gaze to the rocky shoreline.

There, walking up the beach toward us, hair flowing in the wind and looking like she belonged on the cover of Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit magazine, was Gemma Row.

The dread of earlier seeped back into my being as I looked over to Callum.

“This can’t be good,” he said softly to me.

No, it could not.

32

“Hello, Bellas!” Gemma yelled out.

Behind her, a cameraman struggled to keep pace and not trip along the sandy beach. Gemma was making the walk look easy, even in four-inch heels.

She paraded to the edge of the beach setup and stopped.

“Are you all having a bit of fun in the sun?” she asked.

Weak yeahs were called out. The mood on the beach had turned rather frosty upon seeing her.

“Can you all please join me at the beach lounge?” She motioned for us to follow her before turning and walking back across the beach, away from us.

She made it a few paces before someone called out, “Cut!”