CHAPTER SEVEN ERIK

Day Eleven

" T he health team's boat just pulled on shore, Drew," I said, shoving his shoulder to wake him. "They're going to see how much weight we've lost." I pinched at my cheeks to get my blood flowing. It was mid-September and the fall nights on the island were cold. Leaves from deciduous trees were turning yellow and other bright shades of orange and red, many of them falling to the ground as the winds picked up. I suffered through the frigid nights by positioning my back against Drew's, both of us facing away. He'd offered to wrap his arms around me, but the intimacy was intimidating.

Most days Drew sent conflicting signals to me and just when I thought perhaps he actually liked me as more than a partner on a TV show, he'd play to the camera and flirt outrageously with the viewers. He was careful to never specify the gender of the audience he was trying to appeal to, and it caused me to question what he was up to.

He had no problem being affectionate on camera, squeezing my shoulders and tousling my hair. He had a strong and towering presence while being gentle at the same time. I ate up the attention and longed for the times when we turned off the cameras inside our tarp tent. Time when he peeled his mask off, letting his guard down a little.

"Drew!" I hissed. "The health team is here." I jabbed him in the side.

Drew winced. "What…? Huh?" he groaned. "What time is it, baby?" he asked, stretching his arms up, yawning. His very obvious morning wood engorged right before my eyes. He grabbed it and gave it a tug, sheepish grin gracing his face. Did he just call me baby? I chalked it up to morning brain fog.

"Stop playing with your dick and tell me what to say," I said, ignoring his use of the endearment. "This is our first visit and I'm not sure of the protocol. What do they ask? What should I say? What are they looking for? Do they do a weird exam or anything?" I rattled off a laundry list of questions before he placed his hand over my mouth. The same hand that had just been wrapped around his dick. I was instantly hard as he pretended to suffocate me, and I tried to turn away from him.

"Calm your pretty face down," he whispered. "I left the pot on the fire outside with the rest of the fish from yesterday. Act like we're eating well," he advised.

The health team was having a conversation outside our thin blue tarp but we couldn't figure out what they were saying. Their hiking boots crunched on the loose rocks on the ground, clearing their throats to announce their arrival.

"Why so fucking early?" Drew barked. "The sun is barely fucking up, guys," he added, scooting out of the open end of the tarp tent and scratching his balls in front of the crew, two of them women. Both seemed unaffected by his egregious act and gave his privates a moments-too-long cursory look before turning away.

I stood up and made my way next to Drew, probably looking down right emaciated next to his massive frame. One of the team, an obvious queen in my estimation, glared at me and handed us each a robe and asked us to sit in folding chairs they'd brought along. Definitely gay, my gaydar pinged like crazy. Maybe he was jealous it was me who had been holed up naked for nearly two weeks with Drew.

Drew immediately picked up on it and placed his hand on my back and gestured for me to sit first, gently moving me toward one of the chairs and dragging his closer to mine. Actions exactly like that made me think Drew knew what he was doing, and that he enjoyed the tease of it all. He wasn't really interested in me or any guy for that matter, was he? But the cameras were always rolling, and he knew how to work a crew and an audience. I didn't feel good about it in the least. This is all for the show.

The medics took our blood pressure and listened to our hearts, placing a freezing stethoscope on my skin, causing me to nearly jump from the chair. "Yikes," I squealed. "Maybe some warning next time?" I added.

"Wait till they put it on your nut sack," Drew teased, causing two of the male medics to burst out laughing.

"Doubt they'll find yours," I wisecracked, causing even more laughter from the team.

"I can see you two numbskulls have made a bond," a producer in tow stated. "The footage is golden, Drew. The test audiences are eating you guys' banter up. The first broadcast is next week, and we're expecting huge numbers. Really good material, boys, so keep up the shenanigans. The executives are loving it."

"It's all Erik," Drew praised, laying his large hand on my knee. "The kid is a natural and he makes me look good."

All I heard was the part where he referred to me as the kid . Apparently that was how he saw me. His teasing and flirting was all part of his master plan to be the first three-time winner.

"Whatever you guys' schtick is, keep up the act," the producer repeated.

The guy I figured as gay muttered under his breath, and Drew didn't take to it kindly, as it was obviously aimed at him. "You got something on your chest, dude?" Drew asked, making a point to lock eyes with him.

"I said, nice work if you like the gay baiting," he stated, writing a note on a clipboard, ignoring Drew.

"Who the fuck are you?" Drew asked, looking from crew member to crew member, suddenly pissed and wondering who this clown was.

"I'm the assistant director is who I am. Bryce Swift to be exact."

"Get this straight, asshole. I don't gay bait. That's not who I am so I suggest you retract that comment," Drew said, standing and moving a step closer to the guy, who by that time had everyone's attention.

That didn't shut the guy up. "I've seen the footage. If what you're doing isn't gay baiting, then tell me exactly what an assumed straight king of the jocks is doing playing to the camera concerning your camp mate here," he replied, gesturing toward me.

"Is that how you see it?" Drew asked. "How about you keep this under advisement, buddy. I'm the star of this fucking show and you get a paycheck because of me."

Bryce rolled his eyes and laughed. "Is that right?" he responded. "Rumor has it your fan base isn't too happy with your latest role, big guy."

Drew moved directly in front of Bryce, towering over him and leaned into his face. "Nice to hear the gossip, suit. What's got your panties in a flutter anyways? You wishin' it was you sharing a tent with me?"

"Hardly," Bryce muttered, blazing red. Drew had called him out on his shit.

The rest of the crew remained frozen in their places as Drew and one of the brass went at it. Drew found his camera angle and motioned with a wave of his hand for the crew to step back. "Hello there, audience. You heard him," he began, pointing at Bryce. "Apparently, I'm pissin' a few of you off, huh? Well, you ain't seen nothin' yet." Drew extended his hands to me and pulled me out of my chair. "What are you doing?" I whispered.

"Hold my arm and follow along with me," Drew said. He stepped back, pulling me with him. "You and your crew can get the fuck outta my face, douchebag. You think I'm gay baiting? Well, you better hold on tight because you ain't seen shit yet."

* * *

Day Thirteen

Because Bare Naked was filmed live with no retakes, and broadcast nightly with only a two-week delay, Drew and I were notified that the entire interaction two days ago was the lead-in story for Hollywood Tonight's top headline yesterday. Excerpts of the exchange and Drew addressing his fans was broadcast on America's number one gossip show. Tongues were wagging all over the internet, but we weren't aware of it because of our seclusion.

Drew appeared to be unaffected by the run-in with the assistant producer. What the hell was former Super Bowl winner, all-American stud, Drew Montana, up to with me, alone on an island, naked. Was he playing to the audience, or was he hiding a secret?