CHAPTER TWO DREW

Day Two

" T he producers are offering you three additional years at five million per year," my manager, Pete Heck, stated. "I suggest we sign before they contact Joe Bronson." Joe Bronson was a star soccer player who retired from professional sports due to injury the way I had. "You're hot, Drew, but we both know that Joe has that something extra," he added, raising his brows for emphasis.

"His dick?" I quipped. Every person on the planet had seen the video his ex-wife had released. Joe had a massive cock as well as the perfect face. We'd swapped places on People's sports cover of the sexiest men in sports once his video was viewed millions of times. He was this year's cover, and I was relegated to the inside of the magazine in second place. It's probably his cock .

"Do yourself a favor and sign the contract, Drew," Pete insisted. "Five million a year is a lot of money even when you have a shitload like you have," he said.

"Think they'll want me when I come out?" I asked, wiping the stage makeup from my face.

"You aren't coming out," Pete said. "Not unless you want to ruin your life and future income, you aren't."

"For fuck's sake, Pete, people are figuring it out already. TMZ is camped out on my fucking sidewalk waiting to spot me hooking up with a dude."

"But you didn't, thank God."

I glared at my manager of ten years. Pete had successfully steered my career and kept my personal life private, while also expanding my image as the boy next door. A facade I hated. But now that my football career was over, I'd decided that I wasn't going to hide the real me anymore. My show was number one in its time slot for the outdoors genre, and my career would survive being an out gay man.

"I didn't, but I plan to," I reminded him. "With or without your support, Pete. Do yourself a favor and remember who else has a contract coming up," I warned. "I prefer a manager who supports my choices and has zero problem realigning myself to one who does."

A knock at the dressing room door interrupted my subtle threat. Pete answered the door and one of the show producers stood outside. "We'd like to film your introduction to your teammate, Drew," she said, peeking inside the dressing room.

"I'm out of makeup," I said. "That still work?"

"Prefer it actually," she responded. "He'll be in the props room looking through axes and bow and arrow sets. It'll be a natural looking meetup."

"Give me five," I said.

"Cool," she said, walking away.

Pete's dick was dragging in the mud after my threat. "You'd really sign with another manager?" he asked.

"Not if you support me, bro, but yeah, I will," I answered. "I'm tired of hiding."

Without another word, Pete left the dressing room and I pulled on a tank top to match my gym shorts, finishing my look with a baseball cap. After a short life of being an athlete and winning the genetic lottery, I wished to be more than just my physical appearance. I wanted someone to like me for being a good guy and a loyal companion. I was a guy desperate for love with the right man. I was more than the things people saw in me and ready to share that with a special person. Someone who would finally fill a part of me that I'd concealed for far too long as I struggled with my identity.

I wandered down the hallway and stood outside the open door. The crew was almost set up and going over the process with my partner for the season before I would step in and act like we'd just bumped into one another.

A slender young male nervously listened to the producers when they tugged on his messy black hair, trying to make sense of his style. I thought his hair was perfect. Thick, long, black hair, hung below his ears, parted down the middle. One side was tucked behind his ear revealing his soft brown complexion with dark brown eyes. His skin was a flawless earthy tone with high cheekbones and full lips. He was stunning. The type of guy I'd fantasized about. A beach boy with a surfer charm. I was in trouble. Naked with that for hopefully several weeks? Kill me now.