Beta Test (#gaymers) (6 page)

“Oh yeah.” Ravi laughed. “But I think you forget whose fault it was that we were working through lunch.”

“Points needed to be addressed.” Tristan’s voice wasn’t the least bit apologetic. “But I did learn to not mess with your lunch breaks. Notice that I moved my inquiries to
after
you ate.”

“Thanks. I think.” Ravi flipped through the stack of papers. “Okay. Coming up in four exits, we can get gas and there’s a Mexican place with decent reviews and good vegetarian options.”

“You like Mexican food?” Tristan blushed and immediately stumbled on. “I mean, of course, you
can
like it...oh heck, just forget I said anything.”

“I’ve been in Cali a decade now—came out to go to college at UC Berkeley. I’ve had plenty of time to acquire a taste for vegetable fajitas. However, it might surprise you to learn that we have some Mexican offerings in New Jersey too.”

“Sorry. I’m an idiot. Ignore me.”

“Will do.” Ravi laughed. “So no fish, huh?”

“My folks took me on this adventure photography trip in Canada one summer. All we had to eat all week was the fish they and the guides caught. It was torture. And my mom adores shrimp and fish of all kinds. She doesn’t get why it grosses me out.”

“Hey, I’m with you with them being gross. I tried eating meat and seafood my first few years at Berkeley, but that part of the grand Hindu rebellion never took. I realized I feel better eating mainly vegetarian.”

“That part huh? Tell me about this grand rebellion.”

“Let me navigate you to this place first,” Ravi hedged, and started listing off directions as Tristan approached the exit.

Later, over giant burritos and some really amazing guac, Tristan returned to the topic. “So, like, you went off to California as a big rebellion from your folks? They wanted you to stay East?”

Ravi laughed because that was the most simplified version of his family situation ever. “If only it were that easy, man. California was the least of what they didn’t want. But when I got to California, I resolved to be the person
I
really wanted to be. No excuses. No limits. Try everything I wanted, whether it was tacos or kissing the cute guy in my life drawing class.” He was skipping over a lot of ugly stuff in the middle there, and he totally threw that last bit in simply to make Tristan blush.

“Wow. Um. Wow. My dad double-checked my freshman year schedule for me. And um...wow.”

“No cute guys at Stanford? No hot econ majors to turn your head?”

Tristan blushed harder now, and set his burrito down. “No, there were. I just...I don’t share
everything
as easily as you.”

Oh if Tristan only knew how much Ravi was
not
sharing, he’d laugh himself silly.

* * *

Tristan wasn’t used to feeling this full. He mainly ate lunch at his desk, usually some sort of organic frozen entree that he bought in bulk. And talking over lunch? That hadn’t happened much since college. He’d been stunned to look down and realize they’d lingered over an hour for lunch, talking about food and work and nothing much in particular. He felt weirdly jazzed up and worn out at the same time.

“I’ll drive.” Ravi went around to the driver’s side of the truck after they paid.

“Thanks.” Tristan jumped into the passenger seat and saw Ravi’s sketchbook on the floor. He reached for it, but Ravi grabbed it first and firmly buttoned the book back in his messenger bag.

“You’re really not going to show me?” Tristan was super curious about what Ravi had been working so furiously on.

“It’s only scribbles.” Ravi shrugged. “Just something to do with my hands.”

“Ha.” Tristan had seen what Ravi could do to the margins of a memo. Even his “scribbles” were fantastical sci-fi art. He had an ability to craft whole worlds out of only a few lines.

Tristan carefully filed the receipts for lunch and gas in his expenses folder, resisting the temptation to rifle in Ravi’s bag since it was right next to his. Drawing all over Tristan’s carefully constructed agendas might be annoying, but there was no denying there was something utterly captivating about Ravi’s talents.

Including his talent for handling the truck. To Tristan, driving an armored tank might be easier, but Ravi made the rental truck seem as agile as the little Mini Cooper Tristan had seen him getting out of at work. The May sky was a clear, cloudless turquoise blue, almost the same shade as Ravi’s car—the sort of aggressive color Tristan always shied away from. This section of I-5 was flat, the foothills and mountains no more than distant waves against the horizon. The landscape under the electric sky was as faded and tired as Tristan felt. It seemed like they’d been on this part of the journey for days—they still had hours to go before Sacramento even.

“How’d you learn to draw?” he asked, trying to shove aside the urge for a post-lunch nap. He did
not
sleep in the middle of the day.

“Cartoons.” Ravi gave him a winning smile. “That and I had an awesome art teacher in middle school, but mainly I blame the fact that my mother had very strict limits on the amount of TV we could watch. So I’d watch my favorite cartoons, then when she flipped off the set, I’d draw my own stories. It kept my little sister happy, so I kept doing it.”

“And you just knew you wanted to be an artist when you grew up?”

“High school art club is where I met most of my friends. It made me want to keep taking art classes, and yeah, I kind of did know that I wanted to keep creating stuff, whatever form that took. How about you? Did you start spreadsheeting in preschool?”

“I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little. It was only after Derek died that I got really into computers and organizing stuff. I know it’s a bit weird, but my spreadsheet software keeps me sane. It relaxes me even as it provides this framework for my life.” Tristan almost never talked about Derek—the subject was strictly off-limits with his parents and made Maria all weepy when he visited her. But somehow it felt natural and right working him into conversation with Ravi.

“I get it.” Ravi nodded. “I feel the same way about my design tools. But, and don’t take this the wrong way, why the computer gaming industry? With an MBA from Stanford, I imagine you could have gotten a job at any Fortune 500 company you wanted.”

“The job market’s tighter than you think.”

“Come on, dude. You’ve got mad skills. You can’t tell me Wall Street wouldn’t welcome you with open arms. Heck, my sister Avani works for a big entertainment law firm. You’d fit right in with that crowd.”

“Are you saying I don’t fit in at
Space Villager
?”

“I didn’t say that!” Ravi’s dark eyebrows made twin Vs of disbelief, but Tristan didn’t buy it.

“It’s okay. I know I don’t. I’m not a hipster like you or Adrian. I’m not a techie like most of the other people there.”

“But you keep the place running. Even the big bosses have taken notice,” Ravi said, more kindly than he needed to. His words felt like how Tristan’s dad would pat him on the head after he obliterated Tristan at tennis.

“My parents are horrified I took this job,” he volunteered. “They said I’d never fit in. Maybe they were right.”

Ravi snorted. “Somehow I doubt you fitting in
here
was their big worry. And hey, go you for doing your own thing and not going along with what they wanted for you.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Tristan admitted. “You talked about college being your big rebellion. Well, this is mine.”

“Well, then I salute you.” Ravi gave him another encouraging smile. “And seriously, come to Josiah’s LAN party.”

“Maybe.” Tristan worried his bottom lip with his teeth. It wasn’t exactly news that he’d never fit in to Ravi’s world. He shouldn’t be feeling bad that he and Ravi weren’t destined for friendship, no matter what Ravi offered out of pity.

Chapter Six

By Sacramento, Ravi was ready to stab something. They were in hour ten of their drive thanks to all the road construction and an awful accident that had diverted traffic to the outer road, which had crept along before rejoining the packed highway. Ravi had done Santa Monica to Sacramento in six hours plenty of times, but now he really was running up against exhaustion and not sure whether he wanted to keep pushing on, especially not at the plodding speed the truck was capable of. He’d hoped to be approaching the California border by this point, and that
so
wasn’t happening. At least Sacramento had plenty of hotel options, and they could get a decent late dinner.

Tristan, of course, had highlighted all the locations of the chains that
Space Villager
preferred they use, and had called ahead for rooms when Ravi had made the executive decision to stop just north of Sacramento and get an early start the next morning.

“Would you be offended if I wanted to eat alone?” Tristan asked cautiously as they pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. His voice was so tentative that Ravi had a feeling merely asking was a huge deal for him.

“No problem. This is a lot of togetherness. I’m going to do a run, then get some pizza. Call me if you need anything.” To be honest, Ravi needed a bit of a break as well. While he’d surprised himself by enjoying Tristan’s company more than he thought he would, ten hours was still a long time to be one-on-one with anyone.

They both double-checked the truck was secure before heading into the hotel. On the way up to his room, Ravi noticed a gorgeous patio and in-ground hot tub area. That would be the perfect reward after his run and dinner. Thank goodness he’d thrown a suit into his bag during his last-minute packing rush. His apartment complex had a great pool and hot tub, and hanging out there was one of his favorite things when he didn’t have other plans.

You can’t bear to be alone.
Keeping himself busy and having a really broad social network wasn’t a
problem.
He just wasn’t an introvert like Tristan.
Stop letting him under your skin.

Two hours later, he’d had a blistering run in the hotel gym and a great pizza thanks to texting a friend from the area who had recommended his favorite joint.
Friends are awesome things to have.

He checked his phone as he let himself back into his room. Three text messages from Avani, all increasingly urgent.

Sorting reply cards from the wedding invitations today. Why don’t I have yours?

Then a while later, another message. Ravikar! Why does Lakshmi say you’re not coming to the wedding? What does she know that I don’t?

Finally the third message took on a more commanding tone. You will come to my wedding. You will do all the tasks of my bhai. You will NOT leave me alone to deal with the family. CALL ME.

Instead of immediately calling her, Ravi rubbed his temples. Avani’s impending wedding gave him an ache right behind his sternum every time he even thought of it.

He typed out a quick reply. I’m on a work trip. Will call when I’m able. Calm down and focus on the parts of the wedding that make you happy. Dinner when I’m back in LA?

There. That sounded moderately upbeat and supportive. They’d do one of their dinners, something they’d made a tradition of since she’d taken her job with an LA entertainment law firm. He still wouldn’t commit to the wedding, but he’d manage to hold her off a bit more. That would have to be enough.

He thought about turning on a movie, but the hotel room seemed oppressively quiet and empty. Putting on his swim trunks, he headed to the hot tub. Two couples sat talking at the picnic tables on the patio area, while another couple and a guy were in the hot tub.

Wait a sec.

That wasn’t some random guy. Tristan lounged on the far side of the tub, away from the cozy couple, his head tipped back, eyes shut.

Fuck. Should Ravi head back upstairs? Leave him to his alone time? Not perv on him? That last bit should be a given, but Tristan contented was becoming a bit of a turn-on. The way the tension and lines in Tristan’s face softened and his lips curved in a hint of a secret smile—it was enough to make anyone want to be the one to put that look there. Or see if they could make him even
more
content. Surely, he wasn’t alone in his curiosity over what Tristan’s orgasm face would look like...

No.
That’s just you.
Fine, fine. Maybe he was a bit obsessed, but it was hard not to be, especially seeing Tristan shirtless for the first time. He was way more muscular than he looked in his usual preppy clothes, with wide shoulders and a solid chest. A smattering of freckles over his shoulders made Ravi lick his lips and...

Fuck this.
Go back upstairs before you embarrass yourself.

Right as Ravi had decided to back away from the patio, Tristan’s eyes popped open.

“Hey,” Ravi said lamely. “Didn’t know you were here. Want me to...” He made a vague gesture of leaving with his hand.

“Nah.” Tristan scooted over, making room for Ravi at that end of the hot tub. “Sorry if I was rude earlier. I just really needed time to decompress a bit.”

“You used up all your socialization power pellets. I get it.” Ravi lowered himself into the churning water, letting the warmth invade his tired muscles.

“How was your run?” Tristan asked.

“Felt awesome to move my legs after all that time in the truck. Did you eat?”

“I ended up just getting a burger from the restaurant next door. I was too exhausted to do much else. I never realized how tiring simply riding can be.”

“Oh yeah, it can. Some people can do more than ten hours straight, but I find I hit a wall around that many hours every trip. You have to pace yourself.”

“Yeah.” Tristan laughed. “Of course that’s funny coming from you—most days you seem to have one speed and that’s hyperdrive.”

“Nah. I’ve always believed in work hard, play hard. Life needs balance.” He gave Tristan a pointed look. He’d been serious earlier about finding Tristan more work friends because he had all the signs of a workaholic with no outside life.

“Hey. I have balance. Look at me relaxing.” Tristan gestured, indicating the hot tub.