Page 93 of Unscripted

“I like you.”

Oh.

“You like me?”

“I do.”

When Callum was in the other villa during Chateau Desire, I had imagined this moment, this conversation, in my head a million times; what I would say, how I would confess my feelings in a romantic yet witty and well-crafted way.

That was all for naught. Because when it was actually happening, all I could manage to reply was, “Oh.”

Callum wasn’t fazed by my lack of brain activity.

“Yes, oh,” he said. “I like you and I’m pretty sure you like me, and I think we should give this a go. For real, not just for the show. Well, also for the show since we've already come this far, but for real as well.”

Everything slowed down, time and space contracting, as it hit me what he was saying: He liked me. He like liked me.

The relief was so overwhelming that all I could do was throw my arms around his neck and press my lips to his.

I could feel him smile as I kissed him, feel the vibration of his laugh as he pressed his own lips back onto mine.

When we pulled away, we were both grinning like idiots.

“So, I’m guessing you feel the same?” he asked, laughing at my lack of response.

“Ah! Yes!” I said, keeping my arms looped around his neck. “I like you too.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

He kissed me again and we proceeded to make out until the pantry door was pulled open.

“Found them,” Ella called out from the other side. She was grinning from ear to ear. I guess someone noticed we had gone missing.

We shuffled out of the pantry, and I blushed furiously, both over being caught and because I couldn’t quite believe that Callum and I were together, for real. That we were actually giving it a go.

As we both got scolded by producers for turning off our mics, and as the day went on and we went round and round the garden again and again, still discussing the events of Chateau Desire, I couldn’t get that faint blush of excitement off my face.

***

The rest of the week passed in a haze of sun and stolen kisses. Lots and lots of kisses. Once Callum and I were together, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

The show, which had once been a fun pseudo-vacation from reality, had become my very own temptation island. I couldn’t get enough of Callum and from the way his hands always managed to find themselves on or near my butt, I knew he felt the same about me. It was like we had been stumbling around in the cold for the last month and now a match had been lit and everything was on fire.

The burn had never felt so good.

For the most part, the producers were thrilled we were suddenly so physical with each other. “Spice sells,” was what Harry had let me know one evening after Callum and I had spent the majority of the cocktail party making out on the daybeds.

That spice, the spark we had that was suddenly undeniable, was only ever an issue for production at one time: night. More specifically, nighttime in our shared bed. Our very small, double bed.

Part of the original briefing I received back in London before coming on the show was about UK television’s standards and practices. I had been surprised to learn that while the Brits were relaxed about swearing on air, they had the complete opposite stance when it came to sex. We could drop all the F-bombs we wanted, but the moment things got remotely sexual, well, you’d better be good at keeping it hidden.

It was a rule that had vexed others over the last few weeks but had never bothered me because there was no one I wanted to be getting physical with.

Oh, how that had all changed.

Since Callum and I made things as official as they came in the villa, it had been an effort in restraint not to have sex. Especially when you added in the summer’s heat and the fact that he spent most of his time shirtless, his broad shoulders and defined abs on display from sunup to sundown. I was so worked up by the end of each day, I wanted to cry some nights. Instead, I’d kiss him goodnight and roll over, trying to put as much distance between us as possible so as not to lose my mind.

Callum and his roaming hands didn’t help the matter. He was always dragging them across my body in some way. A touch there, a caress here. It wound me up so much that by the third night of our being together I couldn’t take it anymore.