Free Status Update (#gaymers) by Annabeth Albert Page A

me, we don’t want to get it wrong—we give a rocky planet too many characteristics of a water-rich one, someone will complain.”
    “That someone would probably be me. One of your early promo videos didn’t have dirt blowing accurately, given the rest of the landscape—”
    “Holy crap! That email was you?”
    “Um...”
    “Robert—the founder—sent that to everyone in graphics with a big TRY HARDER in all caps. We’re aiming for the sort of realism that’s never been done before. We live for emails like yours. You say we can’t replicate sand buildup? We say watch us.” Adrian was all fired up now, and he punctuated his words with his hands landing on Noah’s shoulders.
    “What are you—”
    “Oh man, I would kill to have my laptop with me. I want to show you what I’ve been working on planet-side for the last few weeks. It’s a mining colony.”
    “Yeah?”
    Adrian started to fill him in on his project but still hadn’t moved his hands. Or rather, he was moving his hands, but not away. Instead he was rubbing and squeezing Noah’s shoulders, big thumbs digging into his tired muscles. The more Adrian talked, the more his hands danced over his back, until Noah could no longer register anything other than Adrian’s pleasant tone—every single brain cell was zeroed in on Adrian’s hands and what they were doing to his overheating muscles.
    If there was any doubt remaining about Noah’s orientation, his instantaneous response to Adrian’s touch would have erased all suspicion and replaced it with the irrefutable proof of his aching erection.
    When Adrian paused for longer than a breath, Noah realized he was supposed to say something. All he could do was swallow hard.
    “So? Does that sound plausible?” Adrian didn’t sound one bit put out at having to repeat the question. Cocky bastard.
    “What are you doing?” Noah didn’t bother with faking a response to Adrian’s question.
    “This?” Adrian rubbed harder, palms working over the ache in Noah’s shoulder blades. “It’s called a massage.”
    “I know what it’s called. Why are you doing it?”
    “Because you need it. You have possibly the worst ergonomics I’ve ever seen here, all scrunched into this tiny booth and bent over your little laptop.”
    “Don’t you work all day at a computer?” Noah shook loose of Adrian’s touch so he could actually form a thought. “You probably log more computer hours than me. This much writing is actually a bit of anomaly for me—”
    “Ah. You’re more of a fieldwork kind of guy, eh, Indy?”
    “Well, that and teaching. And these ergonomics have served me just fine for five years now.”
    “I wish I could show you my setup. I’ve got triple monitors and a sit-stand desk. After watching my dad have some bad repetitive stress injuries, I’m a huge ergonomics fan.”
    “And this evangelical belief in ergonomics gives you the right to hand out massages to near strangers?”
    “Friends.” Adrian sounded wounded. “Friends. And family. I give shoulder rubs to my mom and sisters all the time. You know, if you weren’t on red alert for flirtation all the time, you might enjoy life more.”
    “Not all the time. Only with you,” Noah muttered.
    “Oh, in that case I’m flattered. Should I continue?” His fingers hovered over Noah’s shoulders.
    “Adrian?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Come eat.” Noah tried to sound extra firm and not like he wouldn’t mind several hours with Adrian’s magical hands all over him.
    “Tell me more about the different planets planned for the game,” Noah ordered as Adrian slid in across from him. They talked about the game long after their plates were empty.
    “I better let you get back to work,” Adrian said finally, clearing their plates. “I should probably bundle up and take the dogs out anyway.”
    Noah looked out the window at the mounds of white snow gleaming under the campground’s streetlights. More flakes rained down in a steady stream from the inky