Page 17 of Unscripted

I let out a sigh and turned away from the window. Soon enough, we were off and headed to a hotel I would stay in for the next three days.

“Why aren’t we going right to the villa?” I asked Harry as the van coasted along Ischia’s winding roads.

“The villa is strictly for filming,” he explained. “Once you’re in, you don’t leave and you’re on camera twenty-four seven. Before that starts, we need to get you all in one place. The other Bellas will be arriving throughout the day and then everyone is sequestered until it’s go time. The first day of filming will primarily be entrances. It’s the biggest shoot of the season, aside from the finale. They bring in extra production assistants, two full camera crews, the works.”

“I thought there were camera crews in the villa the whole time?” I asked.

“Nope, we primarily shoot on hidden cameras planted throughout the house. It enables you lot to feel more relaxed, not having a camera crew in your face all day.” I couldn’t imagine I’d be all that relaxed still knowing that I was being filmed, but Harry did have a point. If I couldn’t see a camera, it might be easier to pretend it wasn’t there. “They bring in a small crew with a shoulder cam for certain matchings or big nights, but day-to-day everything is broadcast from the cameras around the villa to what is essentially a video village on steroids. The senior producers sit in front of the monitors day and night, flagging what gets put in each episode,” Harry said.

He continued, explaining that over the next few days the villa would be properly lit and the hidden camera angles tested and moved around if needed.

As he chatted away, I focused on my breathing, trying to suppress the overwhelming wave of frustration churning in my gut. I would give anything to trade places with Harry and be a part of the behind-the-scenes work. I’d prefer that to being on camera any day.

I was quiet the rest of the ride to the hotel, trying to rein in my ever-shifting emotions. Harry’s commentary on the production process was harmless, but it triggered a sense of regret that was becoming all-encompassing as the minutes ticked away.

What had I been thinking? What kind of grand adventure did I expect from being locked away in a villa? From participating in a reality television show. I didn’t even like watching the genre. Who did I think I was participating in it?

I was about to turn to Harry and tell him I couldn’t do it, that the van should just turn around and head back to the marina. I’d swim my way back to Naples if I had to. Anything to get me out of here.

But before I could, the car rolled to a stop, having arrived at the hotel, and Harry was hopping out, making a beeline to a young woman standing by the entrance. She was wearing a headset and holding a clipboard, and I could only assume that she was another production assistant.

Remaining in the rapidly warming van, I peered out through the open door at Harry and the young woman. Seeing the two talking, coordinating my arrival, felt like I was once again watching a livestream of my old life.

I was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to cry.

Maybe it was fatigue from traveling all day. Maybe it was the lingering disappointment I felt over Callum and the trepidation of what the rest of the cast would be like. Whatever the cause, a bone-deep exhaustion settled over me, and I suddenly didn’t have it in me to have any kind of conversation with Harry. I just wanted to be alone.

I didn’t wait for him to come back and get me and instead climbed out of the van myself. Walking over to Harry, I lingered next to him as he finished talking logistics with the PA and then followed as he led me into the hotel lobby and upstairs. He chatted the whole way, but all I could do was nod along and pretend I was listening.

When we got to my room, Harry opened the door and let me in. He gave me a hotel key but told me it was for emergency use only, as I was under no circumstances allowed to leave the room without him present.

I promised I would stay put. He nodded, turned, and walked back the way we came, and then I was blissfully alone.

I crawled under the bedsheets, not bothering to change my clothes or even check to see if my suitcase was in the room.

Closing my eyes, I let the sweet darkness of sleep pull me under.

10

Iwoke with a start, jolting upright and taking in a gasping breath.

I had the distinct feeling I was missing something. Like I was running late for a very important event, and I needed to get going. Looking around, I remembered where I was and that I actually had nowhere to be. Nowhere I was allowed to go.

The clock on the nightstand read 2:30 a.m. Laying down again, I tried to fall back asleep but only succeeded in tossing and turning.

Frustrated, I sat up and pushed the covers off.

Walking over to the hotel room window, I threw back the curtains to find that my view was of the parking lot two stories below. I grabbed the window frame, hoping to try and crack it open an inch and let some air in, but it wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard I pulled, it was no use—it was sealed shut.

A hot flush began to spread up my neck as it clicked into place that I was trapped in this room. I tried taking a deep breath, willing my lungs to expand and focusing on the rise and fall of my chest.

You’re okay. You’re okay.

But it was no use. The frenzied panic I was fighting remained, my pulse racing and the tips of my fingers starting to tingle.

Peering out the window at the dark night just behind the glass, trying to focus my attention anywhere other than my spiraling brain, it was suddenly clear that all I needed was air. Just a bit of fresh, non-hotel room air and I would be okay.

Harry’s instruction to stay in my room no matter what flashed through my mind, but I quickly ignored his missive. It was the middle of the night, and no one would be around to see me breaking the rules. Plus, I’d consider an impending panic attack an emergency situation and therefore grounds to leave.