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May 30, 2016
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(#gaymers #2)
by Annabeth Albert
Blurb:
Player vs. Player. Fight!
Brilliant graphic designer Ravi Tandel is ahead of the game—he's just been asked to present a top secret project at a huge conference in Seattle. All systems are go…until he learns his buttoned-up office nemesis is coming along for the ride.
Tristan Jones isn't really the gamer type, but he knows the back end of the video game business inside out. Together, he and Ravi will give an awesome presentation. If they survive the cross-country trip first.
Tossed together in close quarters, Ravi's shocked to see Tristan's sexy, softer side emerge from such a conservative shell. He's less shocked to learn his handsome colleague's prominent family would never support an out-and-proud son. But Ravi didn't struggle through his own coming out to hide who he is now. To be together, Tristan will have to push past his fear and ultimately decide: Does he want a future with Ravi? Or is it game over before they've even begun?
Available for purchase at
Excerpts
Chapter One
Tristan
read the manual. Actually, to be precise, he read the Christopher Exploration Industries Employee Handbook for the second
time as he sat in the conference room the receptionist had shown him to. The
manual had a big space volcano logo on it, along with a small subheading
proclaiming “home of Space Villager,” the flagship online role-playing game
the company developed here at its Santa Monica headquarters.
He’d
read the PDF the HR person had sent over a week ago, and now he was reading the
paper copy while waiting for his orientation to begin. PDF was great, but paper
meant he could use his new highlighter. He might be done with grad school, but
there was something soothing about underlining the most important bits of
information. It made him feel ready on a day when his muscles jangled with
nervous energy. Focusing on highlighting kept his racing pulse at a manageable
level. Even though
he’d been through the intensive interview process and had stacks of research on
the company littering his living room, he still couldn’t believe they’d picked
him to work on the game the whole tech industry was buzzing about.
Even the conference room was
impressively techno-hip with screens on almost every wall, including a huge one
that took up almost the entire front of the room, like a movie screen. A
massive oak table occupied the middle of the room, surrounded by space-age seats
that looked like the progeny of a high-end movie theater and a Mercedes. The
room itself was weirdly dim with track lighting glinting off all the reflective
surfaces. Tristan felt a bit like he’d wandered onto a sci-fi movie set. Any
minute now, a dictator would emerge through a hidden panel and start revealing
the invasion plans to his minions.
Instead of some dark lord,
however, the perky brunette receptionist poked her head into the room.
“And here’s our other new
employee! Tristan, meet Ravi Tandel. He’s a graphic designer, and you guys will
be going through orientation together.” She opened the door wider and a guy in
his midtwenties sauntered in. And yes, sauntered
was 100 percent the right word. The guy wore lime-green skinny jeans, a cream
sweater, and a lime-and-cream scarf draped more artfully than the valances in
Tristan’s mother’s living room. He had poofy Elvis-esque hair, and when he
moved it was with an effortless I-own-this-room confidence and grace.
And something about him made
Tristan feel about as cool and significant as yesterday’s coffee grounds.
“Hey.” Ravi held out his hand.
“Hiiii—whoa!” As Tristan tried to stand, he somehow tripped a mechanism in
the chair, tipping precariously backward, almost flat, and hey, there was a
screen on the ceiling too, but whoops, trying to sit up catapulted the whole
contraption forward, dropping him in a heap right at Ravi’s feet. They were
nice feet, but clad in ridiculous-looking purple loafers with no socks.
“You okay?” Ravi hauled him up,
his grip firm and sure. He was stronger than his thin frame would suggest, and
he was actually an inch or two taller than Tristan.
“I’m fine, thanks.” Tristan
brushed his navy dress pants off before retreating back to a different chair,
one hopefully less out to get him. He pulled his laptop case and handbook over
to the new spot.
“I’ll let you guys chat while you
wait for Rex, the office manager. Anyone need a coffee?” the receptionist
asked. Her eyes twinkled and her tight facial muscles said she was having a
hard time not laughing at Tristan.
I
would be too.
“I’d love one, if it’s not too
much trouble. Black, one sugar.” Ravi’s voice was just as polished as the rest
of him, deep and melodic with a hint of the sort of East Coast accent Tristan
associated with lawyer friends of his mother’s.
“You?” The receptionist looked
expectantly at Tristan.
“Black is fine.” Or at least it
would be today. In reality, he drowned coffee under gallons of cream and sugar,
and on rare occasions he let himself order one of those blended things. But
today he was out to fit in, not make waves, and prove that he could be a team
player. And liking his coffee closer to candy was just one of the things he
wasn’t sharing with his new coworkers.
“So what do you do?” Ravi took a
chair across from Tristan, pushing it back from the table and reclining it to
the perfect conversational angle, no thrashing like a trout on a line required
from him.
“I’m going to be in the marketing
department. Brand management.”
“This your first job in the
software industry?” Ravi’s dark eyes swept over him as if he found Tristan’s
new white shirt, dress pants and microchip tie somehow lacking. That last bit
had been a touch of whimsy, a graduation gift from a friend who’d heard about
his job, and a nod to the fact that the hiring manager said this was a fun office. But the way Ravi’s eyes were
sparkling had Tristan reconsidering every wardrobe choice.
“No,” Tristan said, because
technically it was his first job anywhere
where he didn’t have intern after
his name.
Ravi shrugged like he didn’t
quite believe Tristan. “You’re young,” he pronounced.
“I’m twenty-four.” Tristan tried
to sit up straighter without accidentally tripping the chair’s desire to hurl
him toward Ravi.
Or
maybe that’s just you.
And he couldn’t be that much
younger than Ravi, who looked to be in his midtwenties as well, maybe a couple
of years older. But Ravi simply shook his head like he couldn’t fathom Tristan
being old enough to drive, let alone work here. Tristan knew it was his
face—pale skin, blue eyes, blond hair, and he looked like he never needed to
shave, even if he totally did.
“Man, I needed this.” Ravi smiled
as the receptionist came back in with two steaming cups. “I swear I’m still
fighting a hangover from New Year’s.”
Tristan felt his eyes go wide,
and he looked to the receptionist to see if she was equally horrified. But she
laughed like Ravi was a man in one of those campaigns for expensive whiskey—the
sort of guy people couldn’t wait to have a drink with, and the sort they’d let
get away with all sorts of bad behavior because he was so interesting.
And
hot.
Okay, that too, but hot and stupid because really, what kind of guy
admitted to having a hangover on his first day at a new job? Not to mention,
New Years was almost two weeks ago.
“Rex is on a call with the Austin
office, but he should be right in.” The receptionist backed out of the room,
eyes lingering on Ravi. And seriously, the guy wasn’t that hot, even if he did look as if he belonged on the cover of one
of those romances Tristan’s old nanny used to sneak.
Liar.
Okay, maybe he was, but Tristan
wasn’t supposed to be noticing such things at
work. He forced himself to return to his highlighting.
“Hey, that’s a great idea.” Ravi
dug out a bright green pen from his pants pocket that perfectly coordinated
with his outfit. He opened his handbook, only he didn’t start underlining and
taking notes in the margins like Tristan. No, he used the blank inside cover to
sketch an entire intergalactic war, complete with exploding meteors and futuristic
ships darting between planets. Tristan found himself hypnotized as the drawing
unfolded over the course of their wait. Ravi’s pen flew over the page, first
doing rough outlines of elements, then adding more and more detail. Unlike
Tristan, who kept glancing up at the clock, Ravi seemed totally immersed in his
drawing, but he would have to hide that art fast when—
“So sorry I was delayed. I’m
Rex.” A short, portly man bustled into the room. Here was the dictator Tristan
had been waiting for, complete with commanding voice and thinning black hair
and…dragon slippers. Tristan glanced down a second time.
Yes, the man seriously was
wearing plush fire-breathing dragons on his feet.
“Ooooh! What are you drawing?”
Rex stepped around him to get a closer look at Ravi’s drawing. He picked up the
manual, turning it one way then another. “Oh my God. This is fucking fabulous.
Wait until Robert sees what you can do. And our fans are going to love your style. I can’t wait to get you
on a podcast.”
Oh.
My. God. Indeed.
Tristan had woke up an hour early
to iron, studied the manual like there would be a final exam on it, and this
guy who was nursing a hangover while defacing the handbook got all the
attention? Stop being a whiny toddler.
Not their fault you’re still shocked they even picked you.
“Can’t wait.” Ravi beamed at Rex.
Damn. The guy really did have a million-dollar smile. But still, Tristan
clenched his fists. There was no fairness in the world.
“In fact, I think he’s in today.
I want to show him. He’ll get a kick out of this.” Rex motioned for Ravi to
follow him, turning back to Tristan at the last moment. “We’ll be back soon.”
Crap.
Mr. Cool Jeans got to meet Robert
Christopher minutes after his arrival, because of course he did. No biggie.
Wasn’t like the game founder was one of Tristan’s personal idols or like he had
danced around his apartment when he got the job. Wasn’t Tristan’s pulse that
was galloping at the thought of getting to work with the guy responsible for
some of Tristan’s favorite games. And it wasn’t like Tristan was dying to gush
about how the guy had practically saved Tristan’s life as a teen. That last bit
was absolutely true—Robert Christopher’s games had been his salvation at a time
he desperately needed it, and he’d never confess that fact.
Heck, there was so much he wasn’t
sharing with his coworkers on this job that he’d had to make a list for
himself, along with his list of how to conduct himself and be indispensable.
And now he could add a new item
to the list: Avoid Ravi Tandel at all costs.
He was simply too attractive, too confident, and too distracting.
His plan shouldn’t be too hard,
right?
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.
The Gaymers Series
Status Update
(#gaymers #1)
Available for purchase at
About The Author
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.
You can find Annabeth at
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