Free Beta Test (#gaymers) by Annabeth Albert Page A

deserved—and wasn’t afraid to stand up for it, and that was way more appealing than the guy who had a hard time ordering his favorite pancakes. And okay, maybe that trait was a bit endearing too.
    Is there anything about him you don’t like?
    Hell. Ravi was developing some serious blinders where Tristan was concerned. And that was not good at all.
    “What should we do for the next hour?” Tristan asked Ravi, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to hang around Elmer any longer than absolutely necessary.”
    “Agreed.” Ravi looked around. Killing time in the truck cab for that long sounded like torture. The smart thing would be to suggest they go their own ways and meet back up in an hour, but Ravi’s brain cells were overridden by impulsiveness yet again. “Want to play tourist? Walk back toward downtown and poke around in some of the shops? You could find a souvenir for your nanny like you were talking about.”
    “Yeah.” A slow smile spread across Tristan’s face. “I’d like that. Let’s check the lock on the back of the truck and give Elmer my cell number.”
    A few minutes later, they had Elmer’s grudging assurance that the replacement truck was on the way and his promise to call if the truck got there before they came back. Ravi wasn’t sure he trusted promises from a conspiracy theorist, but he wasn’t left with a whole lot of choices.
    The curving main street led them back to the heart of the small town—a collection of brick and concrete block buildings with storefronts far older than him or Tristan. While he’d passed through a lot of small towns in his travels, this sort of quaint Americana was a far cry from his suburban New Jersey upbringing, and it always put him a bit on edge. He was aware that Elmer was far from the only person who wanted to read his ethnicity as Middle Eastern, and there were still plenty of people uncomfortable with any racial diversity, regardless of precise origin.
    “Man, this is all so... low and open.” Tristan marveled, looking around. “And so quiet . I am totally all antsy without traffic and close-in buildings.”
    Ravi laughed because it was kind of comforting knowing he wasn’t the only one feeling a bit out of place. “Hey, look—it’s The Weed Store. On Weed Boulevard. I think we’re like honor-bound to go in.”
    “Wait.” Tristan stopped him with a hand on his sleeve and lowered his voice. “What do you think they sell in there?”
    This time Ravi’s laugh came from deep in his gut. “What? You nervous they might try to sell you some weed chips or weed gummy bears?”
    Tristan scratched behind his ear. “Maybe. I don’t exactly imbibe. Or see the humor—”
    “ Tris. We’re trapped in a tiny town called Weed. It’s all about the humor. Come on, let’s go in.”
    The store proudly proclaimed its World Famous T-shirts on a sign in the front window, and the contents of the crowded store did not disappoint. There were word plays everywhere he looked.
    Weed High is the Best High, a mock football jersey advertised while ashtrays, flasks and lighters overflowed from a nearby display. Dozens of shirts lined the walls advertising everything from Weed Police to Weed University to Weed Makes Me Happy.
    “Do you see that one?” Tristan asked, his eyes darting in the direction of a Weed Brownie Company shirt.
    Ravi didn’t bother to stifle his laugh—this whole place was designed to make people chuckle, and the smiling woman behind the counter looked a whole lot more welcoming than Elmer.
    “I’m totally getting that one for the guys I volunteer with.”
    “I’m not sure there’s anything I could get Maria,” Tristan hissed, but not quite low enough.
    The clerk glided over in worn sandals, long gray hair flowing behind her. “You need something for a girlfriend? We’ve got shirts in pink or maybe a water bottle, or if you don’t want something with the town name, I’ve got earrings and necklaces over there.”
    “I...uh...”