Beta Test (#gaymers) (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Tristan rubbed his arms, trying to get some circulation going to limbs that felt weighted down by bags of ice.

“You mean you won’t.” Ravi’s voice was chillier than the middle-of-the-night breeze wafting over the deck.

“No, I mean I
can’t.
My mother’s got a big fundraiser on the thirteenth. You can’t tell anyone at work, but she’s about to run for governor, and they need me there for the big announcement.”

“Hold up. Your mom is running for governor? Like of our state?”

“Yes.”

“Your mom...the conservative judge who’s interested in politics...holy cow, your mother is Irene Lily-Jones?” Ravi spoke slowly, like he was doing complicated math in his head.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t surprised that Ravi knew her name. Anyone as politically active as Ravi had heard the rumblings of the news channels.

“How didn’t I make the connection sooner? How?” Ravi sounded like he was mainly talking to himself.

Probably because I didn’t want you to.
“I should have told you all the details sooner.”

“Your mom is the woman all the conservative talk shows are gaga for? The one who penned the vicious dissent last year about religious exemptions to non-discrimination laws and who said that it was okay to fire an employee just because he had HIV?”

“That would be the one,” Tristan said wearily. He’d seriously hoped for more understanding from Ravi. He’d figured they were at the point in their relationship where he could reveal everything, and they’d still be cool. He’d been wrong. As usual.

“And these are the same parents who give you shit for being gay?” Ravi shook his head.

“Yes, okay? Yes. I thought you and I...connected about our family dynamics.” Tristan couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice.

“We did, we did.” Ravi sounded more distracted than sincere, which made Tristan’s throat tighten. Ravi gestured as he continued, “I’m just trying to catch up here. So your mom needs you to go stand on a stage? Show off her perfect family?”

“Something like that.” Tristan’s back muscles stiffened. “And she needs me to...keep discreet while she’s running.” Might as well share all the awful truths at once.

“
Tris.
If you are on the campaign trail with her, that looks like an endorsement.”

“It’s not—”

“It
is.
It’s an endorsement of policies that want to demean and discriminate against
you
.”

“They’re not my politics, but this is my family. I can’t change that.”

“You could not go.”

Tristan stood up, paced away. “You don’t really understand me at all.”

Ravi followed him to the railing of the deck. “How can you say that? You’re a wonderful guy who’s being smothered by a lousy family situation. It’s time to break free.”

“Or what? You won’t want to be with me?” All the nice words Ravi had said moments earlier rang hollow now.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re the same as Patrick. It’s not enough for you that I lo—care for you. You need me at the front of the parade, banner waving like you.”

Ravi strode up behind him. “That’s not fair, and you know it. And stop comparing me to your ex. Your issue isn’t about what
I
need, it’s what
you
need. What you deserve. And what you deserve is to not have to put your life on hold for someone who doesn’t even think you deserve basic rights like health care and a job.”

“It’s like I said earlier—I’m all they have.” Tristan’s voice broke. God, he hated this.

“Why are you so intent to make up for your brother?”

“Because I was there, okay? I was there.” The long-suppressed words spewed forth, leaving him shaking and breathless.

“You were there?”

“It was Maria’s night off. Derek was supposed to be keeping an eye on me, but he had his friends over and they were drinking. They wanted to go get ice cream. I...I didn’t stop them. All I did was tell him that he couldn’t leave me home alone.”

“Oh, baby,” Ravi’s voice broke, and he wrapped his arms around Tristan. “You can’t keep blaming yourself.”

“But I know
they
do. Why didn’t I stop him? Why wasn’t I the one killed? All I got was a couple of scratches. Not even a scar. And the kid with all the potential, the smart one, the social one,
he
had to be the one who died. So you see, I might not be perfect, but at least I can be the kid who shows up.”

“I get that, I do.” Ravi didn’t release him. “And it’s admirable, but you can’t live your life as a martyr. He wouldn’t want that for you.”

Tristan hadn’t much thought about what Derek would want for him. “It doesn’t matter. I need to be there for my parents right now, and I’m sorry you can’t understand that.”

“I never said that. It’s more that I think you need to think about what you’re giving up—”

“You think I don’t think about that? Every day? You think I don’t realize that this means I’m probably giving up my shot at something real with you?”

“Tris. We
have
something real. And it’s not about you picking your family over us. It’s about you picking your family over
you.
”

Tristan didn’t believe him. This was the Patrick situation again, Ravi wanting more of him than he could give, wanting him to spurn his family just so he could chase some happiness that was sure to be fleeting. Because just like Patrick, Ravi was sure to realize he could do better or find something else shiny to chase.

He shook his head. “I have to go to this thing and that’s just the way of it.”

“
Fuck this.
I hate that you feel like this.” Ravi slapped the railing, frustration rolling over him in big, angry waves.

“Hey guys? Everything okay?” Josiah came out the living room door onto the deck, trailed by two other guys from work. It was clear from the concern on his face that he’d heard at least some of their argument.

Tristan whirled around and much, much too late spotted the open windows.
Oh fuck.

* * *

One look at Josiah, and Ravi knew he was in deep shit. Josiah went to stand next to Tristan, drawing himself up to his full height instead of his usual slouchy self. Damn. He probably thought Ravi was about to pitch Tristan off the balcony. And not that Ravi wasn’t tempted, but he’d probably sounded far angrier than he was.

Because truth was, he wasn’t angry as much as hurt and frustrated. This was what it meant to love a guy like Tristan—knowing that Tristan was always going to choose the safe path of appeasing his family, knowing that he’d always come in second place in Tristan’s life. That cut pretty damn deep.

“I didn’t know you guys were a thing?” Marcus, who worked with Ravi in the art department, peered around Josiah, undoubtedly memorizing all the relevant details to make the Monday morning gossip that much juicier.

“We’re...we’re not,” Tristan stammered and extinguished whatever little ray of hope Ravi had been clinging too.

“Dude. Listen to Ravi. Your mom sounds like a real bitch. I’ve heard about her on the news. Tell her to screw off.” The other guy from work, Kevin something, had the earnest insistence of a guy who’d had too much to drink.

Even in the pale lights of the deck, Tristan’s flushed skin stood out, mottled and red. He swallowed hard. “I...I need to go.”

“I’ll take you home,” Ravi said, because it was the least he could do.

“No,” Tristan said, pushing by him to enter the house.

Undeterred, Ravi followed him to the living room where Tristan grabbed his stuff with jerky movements. It was more than a little disconcerting to see the guy who always had a plan falling apart—hell, Tristan had had a shopping list
and
a packing list for the party.

Ravi waited until Tristan headed away from the group in the living room toward the kitchen to try again. “Seriously. You don’t have a car here. Let me run you home. Surely you can put up with me that much longer?”

“I...I need some time to think. Without feeling your...
judgment
, okay?”

“Tris. I’m not judging you.
You’re
judging you, and it’s killing me to watch.” This wasn’t so much about Tristan failing Ravi or letting him down by choosing his mother’s event over Ravi’s. Ravi could live with that. It was how it felt like Tristan was failing himself that really made his gut twist and cramp.

“Hey, I think you guys need a breather.” Josiah was between them again. He’d clearly appointed himself Tristan’s champion. That and he was totally the kind of guy who hated conflict, and honestly, in the reverse situation, Ravi wouldn’t want big relationship drama in his house either.

“I can run you home,” Josiah said to Tristan. “Marcus and Kevin can keep an eye on things here.”

“How much have you had to drink?” Tristan asked carefully. “No offense.”

“Soda,” Josiah said, grabbing a set of keys from a hook in the kitchen. “I...uh...take some meds that you shouldn’t drink on. So no worries, I’m sober. How about you?” He regarded Ravi carefully. “You okay to drive to your home?”

The message was unmistakable—Ravi was no longer welcome here, and Josiah wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to bug Tristan more that night. Hell, how had Ravi ended up the bad guy in this situation?

“I’m sober,” Ravi said. It was the truth—whatever beer buzz he’d had going on earlier was totally gone in the face of all this drama. Drama that Ravi had tried so hard to avoid. Now not only would his coworkers know about him and Tristan, they’d know about the disastrous way things ended. They were sure to be the subject of gossip for the next week at least.

He gathered up his belongings, trying to not watch as Josiah spoke to Marcus and Kevin about leaving, to not notice as Josiah shepherded Tristan to the garage, still acting like he was afraid Ravi might go all
Fatal Attraction
any moment.

Fuck this noise.
He headed home, turning up the music in his car to try to outrun the silence. But the first song that came on was an 80s hit that immediately reminded him of Tristan and the road trip that had changed everything. Eyes burning, he switched to a rap station, but it was no use. The guy rapping about missing his girl and needing her all night still made him yearn for what he might never have again.

As soon as he got home, he went for the big guns to defeat the silence and the recriminations rattling around in his head. He was just pouring himself a generous shot of Jack, when a knock sounded at the door. He knew who it was even before he opened the door to find Meena there, hugging a fuzzy brown sweater to her body.

“Josiah call you?”

“Text.” She gave him a tight smile as she followed him into the apartment. “Said you might need a friend.”

“I don’t.” Ravi downed the shot for emphasis.

“So...Tristan?”

“Josiah needs to really learn to keep his mouth shut. One of these days, he’s going to have something
he
wants private, and payback’s going to be a bitch.”

Meena snorted. “Josiah in love? That I can’t see.”

“I’m not in love.” Ravi hadn’t missed her implication.

“Do you feel ill? Or like you really need to do something stupid like drive over there?”

“That’s love?” Ravi flopped onto his couch. “And that’s why Josiah texted you. He just wants to make sure I leave Tristan alone so he can console him.”

“I seriously doubt Tristan would have any of that.” Meena laughed, not denying that Josiah wanted him to leave Tristan alone. “But the fact that the mere mention of it has you clawing at your cushions is a big sign.”

Ravi hadn’t even realized his fingers were digging into the couch until she pointed it out. “I’m not going to go over there. We’re through.”

“And
that’s
why I came over. You’re going to need to run damage control at work on Monday—”

“I
know.
But I can’t think about that now.” He got off the couch and gently steered Meena back to the door. She was right, work was going to be awful and everything he’d wanted to avoid was sure to happen, but if he dwelled on that, the pressure behind his sinuses mounted to near unbearable levels. “Right now, all I want is to walk you back home so that I can get righteously drunk. Alone.”

Huh. He really
did
want to be alone. And he never wanted to be alone. Ever. Ordinarily, he’d be begging Meena to stay and drink with him and let him complain about his boyfriend woes, but everything Ravi could say felt too raw, too personal.
Maybe I do love him.
Like really
,
really love him.

That thought stuck with him even as he walked Meena back to her townhouse, even as he returned home and downed another shot, even as he dug out his sketchbook and pencils and did the only thing that seemed to make sense and drew. This didn’t feel like an ordinary situation at all. He’d had plenty of breakups and not a single one had made him feel so hollow, so much like he’d lost an arm. Meena was right. He’d lost something he might never recover.

Chapter Twenty-Two

When Tristan broke up with Patrick, his shame had been largely private—a lot of wallowing alone in his room, and it had sucked, but other than all his parents’ I-told-you-so lectures, he hadn’t had to face real,
public
humiliation.

No, that was reserved for the week after the LAN party, when his misery was the constant subject of office speculation. Ravi had been right to want to avoid being the office gossip
du jour
. Knowing people were talking about them was horrible—the way people quickly got quiet when he passed in the hall or dropped their voices when talking near his cube. And then there were the condolences and questions. Those were way worse than the whispers.

Even the offers of lunch that he’d started enjoying from Josiah and Adrian and others felt both like pity socializing as well as gossip-collecting missions.

“How
are
you doing?” Adrian asked as they walked back from getting coffees.

Ugh
. “Fine.” Tristan took a sip of his blended mocha. How was he? A better question might be
who
was he? He was a guy who had coffee breaks with friends. A guy who now fearlessly ordered the girliest of coffees in front of his coworker. A guy who could volunteer to drive the truck on a work mission to pick up more swag.