Beta Test (#gaymers) (10 page)

“Oh hey, we’re next door to each other,” Ravi said as he stopped in front of a door. Their eyes met and held, and it was the same sort of weird energy as when he’d crashed into Ravi while loading the truck, only this time there was nothing to buffer the heat zinging between them.

If Ravi repeated last night’s invitation for a movie...Well, Tristan might say yes and worry later, and that was not his usual character.

“See you in the morning,” Ravi said instead as he unlocked his door, leaving Tristan slack jawed in front of his own door. He should be feeling like he dodged a bullet, right? But he didn’t. Instead he unlocked the door with clumsy fingers, trying to tamp down the regret coursing through him. He put down his bags in the closet—he hated mess on the floor, even temporarily—and then flopped onto the bed, calling himself a dozen kinds of fool. Across from the bed, a door stood next to the TV, mocking him. A connecting door, to be precise. As in, a link to Ravi’s room, because yes, God truly was that cruel.

And this room stank. Like literally, smelled weird—kind of a funky wet animal smell mingled with garbage and cleaning supplies. He flipped on the AC, hoping that might help, and headed for the shower.

He very deliberately didn’t linger as he washed—somehow beating off with Ravi right next door felt all kinds of wrong. And despite that, he wanted to, way, way too much. He wanted to imagine Ravi’s lips on his, his hands roving down Tristan’s chest, bodies pressed together...

Stop that.
He flipped the shower to cold, which helped not at all as his mental images simply switched to Ravi warming him up. He got out of the shower, half-hard cock still trying to take over his brain cells as he dried off and put on the flannel pajamas he’d packed. Back in the main part of his hotel room, the door still beckoned him and the stench had only gotten worse.

His parents would have totally demanded a new room at this point, but Tristan flipped on the TV, trying to distract himself. It didn’t work.

I
want him.
I
want him so bad my teeth ache with wondering what he’d taste like.

And then his inner monologue shifted, becoming more seductive and tempting.
No one would have to know.
You could get this out of your system...

When that failed, his brain shifted to logic.
Maybe he’s an awful kisser
,
and you’d be free of this stupid crush in thirty seconds.

Tristan snorted to himself. Ha. Ravi was the king of charm. No way was he a bad kisser or bad in bed.

Unlike you...

Oh shut the fuck up.
Tristan couldn’t take any more. He pushed off the bed and stalked to the connecting door. His hand paused right above the white wood. He had no idea what he was doing, only that he needed to do it more than he needed air.

He let his hand fall, knocking hard.

* * *

Ravi had a movie on the TV, but he couldn’t have said what it was, even if someone were to wave a hundred-dollar bill in his face. Heck, he might not even notice
that.
He was too caught up in thoughts about Tristan—the way Tristan’s eyes had lit up at the little Indian restaurant when they brought out the food, the way he’d gamely tried everything, trusting Ravi’s assurances that he’d love it.

And why in the hell Ravi’s body seemed intent on making that sexual, he couldn’t say, but even rubbing one out in the shower hadn’t helped.

Knock.
Knock.
A knock came from the connecting door, startling Ravi into hopping off the bed.

“Tristan?” he called before unlocking the door.

“Yeah,” came the muffled reply.

“What’s up?” As he opened the door, he realized that he didn’t even have a shirt on. After his shower, he’d pulled on a pair of
Star Wars
lounge pants that Avani had given him on his last birthday. He wasn’t a modest guy, but this was a bit...exposed for a late-night encounter.

“Um. Not much.” Tristan stood there in ridiculous blue plaid pajamas and bare feet, hair still damp and sticking up at weird angles. The overall effect should have been one of Tristan escaping from whatever retirement compound Elmer called home, but instead Ravi found it endearing.

You’re so screwed
,
man.

“Not much?” Ravi raised an eyebrow. “But you knocked?”

“Um. Yeah.” Tristan scratched his neck and shuffled one foot. “My room stinks.”

“Your room stinks?” Ravi had to stop himself from laughing. As far as pretexts went, that was pretty darn lame, high-school-campout-worthy stuff.

“It really does.” Tristan gestured, and Ravi followed him in and took a deep sniff. Yeah, the room did smell pretty funky.

“O-
kay.
” Ravi drew the word out. “Why don’t you call the front desk? This is a pretty big place, and it’s the middle of the week. I’m sure they can find you a different room.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.” Tristan did the shuffle thing with his foot again. “Never mind.”

“Tris.” Ravi grabbed Tristan’s shoulders when he tried to turn away, forced him to look at him. “What’s
really
up?”

“Nothing. I was thinking we could watch a movie in your room, but you’re right, I should call for a new room.”

“That’s what you want? To hang out with me?” Ravi took a step forward, not dropping his hands from Tristan’s shoulders. He could feel his warmth even through the soft blue cotton. Their bodies were mere inches apart now. Tristan’s gaze went straight to Ravi’s mouth before he licked his own lips.

Oh fuck.
Killing me
,
Tris
,
you really are.

“I’ve got a movie on,” Ravi said softly, making no move toward his room or to step away from Tristan. There were a thousand reasons why he needed to step away, get Tristan to call for a new room, and stop the energy arcing between them, yet he couldn’t seem to find the one that would get his feet to move.

“Yeah.” Tristan’s exhale ghosted across Ravi’s face. His eyes continued to look as though they had a tractor beam on Ravi’s mouth. “That’s good.”

“I’ve got no clue what the movie is.” Ravi laughed shakily.

“That’s okay.” Tristan moved, subtly leaning forward before retreating a millimeter, like he wasn’t quite sure how to close the gap between them.

Ravi knew, but there were a whole host of reasons why he should retreat and lock the door behind him, put a hotel’s worth of distance between himself and temptation. But he didn’t move back, instead doing what Tristan was shuffling toward and closed the distance between them, claiming Tristan’s mouth like he’d been obsessing about for two days now.

Okay, okay, perhaps a bit longer than that, if he were honest with himself. Tristan was fussy and prissy and so not Ravi’s type, except he was cute and endearing and eager to please and...

Oh fuck it. They were
so
doing this thing.

Ravi’s lips slid softly over Tristan’s, hands coming up to cup Tristan’s face. His skin was smooth and slightly slippery, as if he’d shaved earlier. Tristan gave a little sigh as their lips collided, a happy noise that went straight to Ravi’s dick. Tristan tasted like a minty memory from Ravi’s teen years, a simple, classic taste that totally fit with the rest of Tristan’s persona.

And the way they fit together felt like a different kind of memory—like they’d done this before and yet never before in the same instant. Brand-new and achingly familiar. And far, far too sweet for Ravi’s blood.

I
like him too much to do this.
The realization slammed into Ravi, made him pull back from exploring the contours of Tristan’s mouth. This wasn’t some casual fuck he’d picked up in West Hollywood or even a friend-with-benefits who totally knew the score. This was Tristan, Mr. Serious, king of the spreadsheets and his coworker.
Co.
Worker.
Dude.
Do you really want to fuck this up?

“We can’t do this,” he said against Tristan’s cheek.

“Yeah.” Tristan breathed out the word, but didn’t move away. “Totally stupid.”

And then they were kissing again, tongues dueling, nothing sweet about this clawing. Tristan was hard against him, his hands clinging to him as if they were lost in the desert and Ravi had the last canteen of water. And lost was exactly how Ravi felt.

Ravi pulled away, but this time it was to tug Tristan toward the door, toward his bed and his blissfully stink-free room.

“You sure?” Tristan’s tongue worried his kiss-swollen lips as he stumbled after him.

“Oh fuck. Do
not
ask me that.” Ravi collapsed against the door and dropped Tristan’s hand. “We really, really can’t do this.”

“Yeah.” Oh the world of regret contained in Tristan’s exhale. It made Ravi’s whole body ache.

“Go call the front desk. Get a new room.” Ravi pushed Tristan back into his own room.

“That’s it?” Tristan’s sigh held a world of regret.

“Don’t tempt me. Please. We’ve got a long day tomorrow—”

“Can’t afford to be stupid. I get it. I’ll go call.”

“You do that.” Ravi shut the door softly. And locked it. And double-checked the lock. Not because he didn’t trust Tristan but because he no longer trusted himself. He’d known kissing Tristan was a terrible idea, but he’d let himself get swept along in a haze, and now he had to deal not only with the prospect of a most-uncomfortable tomorrow, but also knowing exactly what Tristan tasted like—exactly what he was turning down. He moved away from the door and flopped on the bed, but it was hours before sleep finally found him.

Chapter Ten

The next morning wasn’t a little bit awkward. No, it was an epic masterpiece of awkward. A yacht full of awful. And it started with both of them arriving at the truck with two coffees.

“I...uh...thought...” Tristan stammered, holding out the Americano he’d ordered for Ravi.

“Yeah. Me too.” Ravi held out a blended drink, and then they had to juggle so that they each ended up with two identical coffees.

“I like Frappuccinos, but I’m not sure I can drink
two.
” Gee, they were masters of conversation that morning.

“Yeah, and there’re not enough cup holders in the truck.” Ravi looked away, shoulders slumping. He was nothing like his usual self—no jokes, no twinkling eyes, no easy laughter. Tristan hadn’t realized how much he liked those things until they were gone.

They each ditched the surplus drinks in the trash can near the truck, eyes still not meeting.

“So...uh...we cool?” Tristan asked even though they clearly weren’t. By unspoken agreement, Ravi was driving again, and Tristan buckled up to resist the urge to leap from the truck and get to Seattle via plane, train or rent-a-mule.

“Yup.” Ravi gave him a searching look before he started the truck, like he too couldn’t believe the stupidity that came out of Tristan’s mouth.

Join the club.
Ravi had undoubtedly decided to not even allude to last night. That was smarter. Tristan shouldn’t have given in to the flippy-floppy feeling loosening his tongue. It wasn’t like he was a virgin. He’d done mornings-after before, even kind of stilted ones, but this was different because it was a...

Heck. What
was
Ravi? Colleague to be sure, but they were sorta-kinda friends now too, right? Except, weren’t they supposed to dislike each other? When had that gone and changed? And if they were friends, they really, really shouldn’t be kissing. Except they had and Tristan would do it again in a heartbeat even if it was the world’s worst idea ever.

“We’ve got about five hours left. What do you say we grab some snacks when we get gas and just push straight through? We can get real food in Seattle.”

“Yeah. That works. As long as you eat enough to not...” He trailed off because no amount of snacks could make this less weird. And honestly, snappy Ravi might be preferable to the cautious guy who clearly couldn’t wait to be rid of him in Seattle. And Tristan, who
should
be needing alone time like crazy, had no business feeling hurt about that. If they got to Seattle in the early afternoon, he could hole up all evening in his hotel room and somehow figure out how to deal better with Ravi for tomorrow’s booth setup.

* * *

Hours later, Tristan truly hated I-5. Back in Santa Monica, when he’d warned about construction and delays, he hadn’t fully understood how I-5 was the
only
interstate for most of their journey and how when I-5 got clogged, they were screwed. But now, on day three of their journey, he was intimately familiar with the infuriating interstate and its ability to add extra hours onto what should be a straightforward stretch.

“I think your parents have the right idea about flying everywhere,” Ravi said in hour seven as they finally approached the outskirts of the Seattle metro area. And of course, they were arriving right in time for the evening rush.

“Have you checked your work email yet?” Tristan asked. He’d driven most of the Portland-to-Olympia stretch, but had been only too happy to switch back to Ravi driving for the Seattle traffic.

“Um...” Ravi laughed nervously.

“I’ll take that as a no. Anyway, Katya says she and Mark are feeling better. They’re flying up for the weekend, and most likely they’ll drive the exhibit back, get the road trip they were planning, and you and I can fly home Sunday night or Monday morning.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Hey. You don’t have to be
that
eager to be rid of me.” Tristan’s voice had an edge to it that he instantly wished he could remove.

“I’m not...I’m just...
fuck
, this is complicated.”

“Yeah. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have knocked last night.” Tristan had been waiting all day to say those words.

“Don’t feel guilty. I was right there with you. And things don’t
have
to be weird.”

“Yeah,” Tristan said shakily. “Maybe we can be...friends?” He wasn’t so sure why he was obsessed with getting a label for Ravi. And Ravi had more friends than hairs on his artfully styled head. He didn’t need Tristan or his complications.