Read Online Beta Test (#gaymers) by Annabeth Albert - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Annabeth Albert
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Tristan younger and earnestly in love—almost too easily—and that image made his chest ache. And made him want to kick this Patrick guy for not appreciating how rare and precious trust like Tristan’s was. And you are a sappy fool. Better put on the emo 80s songs because that’s totally what you are today—a teen anthem waiting to happen.
* * *
Two and a half hours later, they stopped for gas and to switch drivers in Redding, a picturesque small city nestled in the shadow of Mount Shasta. The landscape had shifted from scrubby brown to greens and blues—crisp sky mingling with pine trees and gleaming rivers and lakes. Ravi’s fingers itched to hold his pen again, maybe send his Tristan Junior Space Officer character to a verdant planet.
“This is probably our last chance for decent food before Oregon,” Tristan warned. “It’s just tiny towns until we hit Ashland.”
“Does your mountain of data tell us where to eat that’s not all eggs and bacon this time of morning?”
“Of course.” Tristan sounded mildly put out that Ravi would question his powers of Google-fu. “Can you do vegetarian biscuits and gravy? Or maybe scrambled tofu? This one place has both. And it’s all local and organic stuff. But will you be offended if I have bacon or eggs—I mean I don’t have to.”
“Tris. Eat all the bacon. Just don’t force it on me.” Ravi laughed. “Now guide us to the food and help me find a place to park this monster.”
Ravi tried to focus on Tristan’s directions and not the weird fluttery sensation in his stomach. He should not be looking forward this much to sharing another meal with Tristan, and definitely should not be plotting how he was going to goad Tristan until he ordered exactly what he wanted without caring what anyone thought.
Yup. Such was Ravi’s life—plotting how he might get that blissed-out expression on Tristan’s face without anyone losing clothing. Still a perv , man.
* * *
Tristan was a bit more confident behind the wheel the second time. That and a seriously awesome stack of chocolate-chip pancakes from the place in Redding had him in a great mood.
“Be sure and tell me when you get the sugar crash. We don’t need you falling asleep behind the wheel,” Ravi lectured as they headed back to the interstate.
“I would never.” Somehow Tristan had managed to triumph over the sheer terror he’d felt driving at sixteen, but he still never relaxed enough to even understand what others meant when they said they “zoned out” when driving. And really, Ravi shouldn’t be ribbing him about the sugar because ordering them was his fault. Ravi had made him a stupid bet about being able to guess his favorite order with Tristan having to order it if he was right.
And now Tristan was hyped on sugar and feeling far more relaxed than usual. He and Ravi settled into companionable silence for the next hour with Ravi’s music playing, and Ravi making happy little noises as he sketched.
“You ever going to let me see what you’re working on?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Come on. People pin your doodles to their cubicle walls. I want one too.” After spending five months carefully avoiding even a hint of begging for one of Ravi’s sketches, Tristan found he couldn’t contain the impulse any longer.
“You want a drawing for your hotel room tonight?” Ravi’s voice was pitched low with mock seduction. “Something to warm you up?”
“Um.” Tristan coughed and schooled himself to keep his eyes on the road. Even when Ravi was pretending, his sexy voice raised goose bumps on the skin of Tristan’s lower back. He had never even thought about Ravi doing X-rated drawings before, and now he wasn’t going to be able to get the idea out of his brain. And no way could he actually put the doodle up in his cubicle—might as well announce his membership in the Ravi fan club on the employee listserve. “I was thinking more one of your aliens. One of the retro-looking ones.
* * *
Two and a half hours later, they stopped for gas and to switch drivers in Redding, a picturesque small city nestled in the shadow of Mount Shasta. The landscape had shifted from scrubby brown to greens and blues—crisp sky mingling with pine trees and gleaming rivers and lakes. Ravi’s fingers itched to hold his pen again, maybe send his Tristan Junior Space Officer character to a verdant planet.
“This is probably our last chance for decent food before Oregon,” Tristan warned. “It’s just tiny towns until we hit Ashland.”
“Does your mountain of data tell us where to eat that’s not all eggs and bacon this time of morning?”
“Of course.” Tristan sounded mildly put out that Ravi would question his powers of Google-fu. “Can you do vegetarian biscuits and gravy? Or maybe scrambled tofu? This one place has both. And it’s all local and organic stuff. But will you be offended if I have bacon or eggs—I mean I don’t have to.”
“Tris. Eat all the bacon. Just don’t force it on me.” Ravi laughed. “Now guide us to the food and help me find a place to park this monster.”
Ravi tried to focus on Tristan’s directions and not the weird fluttery sensation in his stomach. He should not be looking forward this much to sharing another meal with Tristan, and definitely should not be plotting how he was going to goad Tristan until he ordered exactly what he wanted without caring what anyone thought.
Yup. Such was Ravi’s life—plotting how he might get that blissed-out expression on Tristan’s face without anyone losing clothing. Still a perv , man.
* * *
Tristan was a bit more confident behind the wheel the second time. That and a seriously awesome stack of chocolate-chip pancakes from the place in Redding had him in a great mood.
“Be sure and tell me when you get the sugar crash. We don’t need you falling asleep behind the wheel,” Ravi lectured as they headed back to the interstate.
“I would never.” Somehow Tristan had managed to triumph over the sheer terror he’d felt driving at sixteen, but he still never relaxed enough to even understand what others meant when they said they “zoned out” when driving. And really, Ravi shouldn’t be ribbing him about the sugar because ordering them was his fault. Ravi had made him a stupid bet about being able to guess his favorite order with Tristan having to order it if he was right.
And now Tristan was hyped on sugar and feeling far more relaxed than usual. He and Ravi settled into companionable silence for the next hour with Ravi’s music playing, and Ravi making happy little noises as he sketched.
“You ever going to let me see what you’re working on?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Come on. People pin your doodles to their cubicle walls. I want one too.” After spending five months carefully avoiding even a hint of begging for one of Ravi’s sketches, Tristan found he couldn’t contain the impulse any longer.
“You want a drawing for your hotel room tonight?” Ravi’s voice was pitched low with mock seduction. “Something to warm you up?”
“Um.” Tristan coughed and schooled himself to keep his eyes on the road. Even when Ravi was pretending, his sexy voice raised goose bumps on the skin of Tristan’s lower back. He had never even thought about Ravi doing X-rated drawings before, and now he wasn’t going to be able to get the idea out of his brain. And no way could he actually put the doodle up in his cubicle—might as well announce his membership in the Ravi fan club on the employee listserve. “I was thinking more one of your aliens. One of the retro-looking ones.
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