BEHIND THE SCENES
LUKE
I shifted uncomfortably in the stiff studio seat, my back sticky against the faux leather. The lights overhead blazed like a furnace, and I could feel the sweat pooling at the nape of my neck. The host’s sugary voice droned on, but it barely registered. I kept glancing at Josh, who looked ready to snap.
When the host cheerfully announced a commercial break, Josh shot up like a spring. “I need a drink. It’s Satan’s kitchen under these lights,” he muttered, striding off toward the nearest exit.
I cleared my throat, trying to loosen the knot in my chest. Beside me, Sarah shifted slightly, her delicate perfume cutting through the sterile air of the studio. She glanced at me, offering a hesitant smile that didn‘ t quite reach her eyes.
“Strange seeing you here, right?” she said softly. “I mean, we
technically lived together for five months, and then I didn’t see you at all.” Her words trailed off, and she looked away, but not before I caught the flicker of sadness in her eyes.
“You look good,” I blurted, the words tumbling out awkwardly. “Better, I mean. You’re eating?”
What the actual fuck was that? My brain screamed at me. You’re eating? Seriously?
Sarah laughed, the sound breaking the tension. It was light, almost musical, and it eased the tightness in my chest. “Yeah, Luke, I’m eating,” she teased, shaking her head.
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I exhaled, relieved she wasn’t offended by my idiocy. “We owe you our
lives,
You know. Both Josh and I.” The words came out before I could stop them, and I watched as her expression shifted. Her eyes glistened, tears threatening to spill over.
“Makeup,” she murmured, dabbing at her eyes quickly. “They’d kill me if I cried on camera.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, my voice low.
Josh chose that moment to stroll back in, his sharp gaze immediately clocking the change in atmosphere. He froze, his brows furrowing.
“Ah, hell,” he groaned, throwing his hands up. “We said no crying, man. We agreed! Sarah, you can’t cry.” He pointed at her accusingly, though his tone was more exasperated than anything. “Please, we need to seem like we’ve got our shit together, or they’ll delay me starting rehab until my so–called ‘mental state‘ is better.”
Sarah chuckled, wiping her eyes again. “Fine. No crying. I’m good.”
Josh plopped back into his seat, the energy in the room shifting with his presence. “Alright, let’s get through this circus. We’re almost done.”
As the countdown to the next segment began, Saraḥ leaned closer, her voice soft but insistent. “Luke–do you mind staying behind after this… to talk?”
I scratched the back of my neck, the discomfort crawling up my spine. “I, uh, actually have somewhere I need to be,” I mumbled.
Her face fell, and the disappointment was so clear it felt like a punch to the gut. Damn it, Luke. I knew I owed her more than a brush–off. She had, after all, kept us alive out there. She deserved five minutes.
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“But sure.” I added hastily, forcing the words out. “I have a few minutes.”
Sarah’s expression brightened, and the guilt loosened its grip just a little. Josh, seated next to me, caught the exchange and frowned, but didn’t say anything.
When the cameras rolled again, the interviewer’s grin was plastered on, her voice overly chipper as she shifted gears. “Now, being marooned on an island for months–cut off from the world–that must have been quite an experience.” She leaned forward, the intensity in her gaze like a predator closing in. “I imagine it brought you all very close. Intimately close, perhaps?”
The air in the studio shifted instantly. My jaw tightened as I felt Josh stiffen beside me.
“What exactly are you asking?” Josh said flatly, his tone cold enough to cut glass.
The interviewer chuckled nervously, waving her hands. “Oh, no offense meant! Just wondering if, given the circumstances, there was… a deeper connection between you all. After all, it’s not uncommon in such extreme situations for emotions to run high.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “We were fighting to survive, not filming a goddamn soap opera.”
“Right,” Josh added, his tone equally curt. “And we’re both married, in case you missed that memo.”
The interviewer blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Of course, of course! But, uh…” She cleared her throat, her grin returning like a mask. “Just now, during the break, there seemed to be some real chemistry there. I guess that’s what happens when you’re marooned on
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an island, right? Bonds form, sometimes in unexpected ways-”
The blood in my veins turned molten. “Are you serious right now?” I growled, leaning forward. My fists clenched against the armrests, the heat of anger surging to the surface. “We’re sitting here talking about survival–about losing people–and you’re fishing for a headline? Screw this.”
I stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as I shov it back. The interviewer’s mouth hung open, but I didn’t wait for he
response.
* \ \#dhv
“Luke-” Sarah’s voice trailed off behind me, but I couldn’t stay.
The cameras were still rolling, but I didn’t care. My patience had stretched to the breaking point, and if I stayed another second, I‘ them a headline they couldn’t fucking air.
