After dinner they drifted over to Moe’s. It was early, so they could still get a table, and they settled in the back to people watch.
“They have popcorn here now too?” Cara pointed to a machine over by the bar.
Walter swung around, blinking at it. “That’s brand new. Never seen it before tonight.”
Greg stood back up. “I’ll get us some.” He came back with four bowls, two of them balanced precariously on the others. He passed them around, and everyone munched while they waited for the waitress to bring their pitcher.
“So you’re getting married soon?” Kelly asked Cara as he dug into his bowl.
“June.” Cara nudged Walter and grinned. “This goofball here is my best man.”
Kelly smiled. “That’s cool.” He flushed and reached for more popcorn. “You guys have been friends a long time, right?”
“Since kindergarten,” Walter confessed. “I was scared to use the boys’ bathroom for reasons I can’t remember, so she took me with her into the girls’.”
“It was our first scandal,” Cara said, beaming.
“I love that.” Kelly smiled, but his blush was full-on scarlet now. Why, Walter wondered? “You guys have been friends that long?”
“That long, and on to forever,” Walter said.
“So cool.” Kelly still blushed, his whole face bright red now.
Walter narrowed his eyes. Actually, that wasn’t a blush. In fact, he looked blotchy.
“Red? Hon, you’re redder than usual. Did you get into something you shouldn’t?”
Kelly frowned, then looked down at his hands. They’d started to swell. Beneath the blotches on his face, he paled. “Oh shit.”
Cara came to attention. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Allergic reaction.” Kelly’s whole face had puffed up now, especially his lips.
Shit. Walter floundered, not knowing what the fuck he was supposed to do. “Pen, Red. Where’s your pen?”
Kelly pressed a hand against his pocket. “Here,” he said, but his voice sounded funny, like his tongue was thick. His breathing was also alarmingly raspy.
Walter stood, almost upending the table, and hauled Kelly to his feet so he could dig into his roommate’s pocket. He found the pen, which wasn’t anything like a pen at all, more like a sealed syringe. It was intimidating, but even with fat fingers Kelly seemed to know just what to do, wrenching it from Walter’s hand, fumbling briefly with the cap, then jamming it hard into his thigh. Walter watched, terrified and helpless as Kelly held the pen against his leg, breathing labored, until he finally lifted it up and started massaging the area.
“I’m okay,” he said, his voice a little more normal. He fished in his other pocket, pulled out an inhaler and took two practiced hits from the mouthpiece. When he lowered it, he was more like the Kelly Walter knew. His lips weren’t swollen quite as badly either.
Kelly shut his eyes for a second, his countenance a picture of mortification. “I have to go to the hospital. Sorry.”
“Fuck sorry. Jesus.” Walter reached for him, then stopped, not sure that was what he should do. “Can I go get my car, or do you need an ambulance?”
“Car is fine.” Kelly kept rubbing his leg, taking deeper and deeper breaths. “Just have to get there in fifteen minutes.”
Jesus. Walter turned to Cara, who was already shooing.
“I’ll take care of him. You go, we’ll meet you out front.”
Walter ran the whole way to his car, his mind still full of the image of Kelly swelling up like that. He could have died. There was no question of that, not even a little, and it scared him to death. Kelly could have died.
Fifteen minutes.
When he peeled up to the door at Moe’s, Cara was there as promised, she and Greg flanking a miserable Kelly.
“I’m really sorry,” he said as Cara ushered him into the front seat.
“Stop apologizing.” Walter gave up and reached for his hand. “Jesus, Red, that scared the shit out of me.”
Kelly didn’t look scared. He looked weary and embarrassed. But he squeezed Walter’s hand back.
“It was the popcorn,” Greg volunteered from the backseat. “Moe used an organic oil he thought people would think was hip, and it’s made on the same equipment as almonds or something. Or it has almonds in it, I wasn’t clear exactly what that was about.”
“Take Sixteenth,” Cara said as Walter turned onto the highway. “It’s the faster way to the hospital.”
Walter followed her direction and glanced back at Kelly. “What happens in fifteen minutes?”
Kelly sagged into his seat. “The epinephrine wears off. But it’ll be fine. I’ve done this before.”
It became Walter’s new mission in life for this to never happen again.
At the hospital, Cara got out with Kelly and explained what was going on to the nurses, but when Walter would have parked the car, Greg stopped him and said to hand over the keys, to Walter’s great relief. He stayed with Kelly as he checked in, but none of them could go back with him into the exam rooms. Kelly waved as he went away, telling them they could go home and he’d text them when he was done.
Cara didn’t even ask, just settled Walter on a couch in the waiting area and pulled out her phone, heading straight to WebMD.
“It says they’re going to give him breathing treatments and antihistamines. He should be fine. It’s pretty standard stuff, I guess.”
Walter stared after the place where Kelly had disappeared. “That was horrible.”
Cara gave him a long look, then a funny smile.
Walter glared at her. “What?”
“Nothing.” She waved her phone at him. “Get out your ear buds. We’ll watch YouTube.”
They watched quite a bit of YouTube, sharing an ear bud each between them. Greg took field trips to the cafeteria for coffee and bags of chips. Walter wanted to go ask the front desk when Kelly would be done, but they wouldn’t tell him anything, he knew, so he waited, glad that at least Cara was there.
Eventually Kelly came back out, red now from embarrassment instead of hives—in other words, back to normal. He gave them a weary, awkward wave. “Sorry. You shouldn’t have stayed.”
Like he’d have been anywhere else? Walter messed up Kelly’s hair and put his hand on his back to nudge him toward the door. “Come on. You have a date with your bed. Unless you don’t want to climb up into yours? You could have the futon for tonight.”
“I’m fine,” Kelly said.
“You’re shaking.”
“It’s the pen. They had to give me another shot, and I’m jittery.”
Kelly seemed annoyed, and that annoyed Walter. “Well, you scared the piss out of me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Cara slipped between the two of them, linking their arms as they went out the door into the parking lot. “How about we go back to our hotel room and hang out? They gave us double queens. You guys can crash on one if you want.”
Walter didn’t want to go to the hotel room. He wanted to go lock Kelly in the dorm and stand over him like a paranoid idiot all night long, making sure he could breathe. Which Cara probably knew. He sighed. “It’s up to Red.”
Kelly hesitated, then said, “A beer sounds really good.”
“Beer can be had.” Greg put his arm around Kelly’s other side and nodded at the car. “Let’s go.”
Kelly wasn’t sure whether or not it was wise to drink after an allergic reaction, but right now he honestly didn’t care.
He was in a foul mood all the way to the liquor store and back to Cara and Greg’s hotel, and the fact Walter kept hovering only made him surlier. Kelly hated that he’d had an attack in front of everyone like that. Half the school went to Moe’s, and they all saw him turn into a fucking pufferfish. Thank God he hadn’t had to call an ambulance. He’d ruined everyone’s evening too, making them sit in the emergency room while he sucked on a nebulizer and all the usual crap. Even having Professor Williams’s wife as hi
s nurse hadn’t done much to ease the ignominy.
Though he’d had plenty of accidental exposure to his severe allergens, it had been awhile since he’d put on such a performance, and it was his first time at college. His allergies always made him feel different, separate, and tonight they really upset him. He didn’t want to feel separate. He’d felt so good, so normal, included. He couldn’t even finish the evening, though, without being reminded he wasn’t really one of them.
Okay, that was horribly pouty, he admitted to himself. So he drank beer until he didn’t feel pouty anymore.
That took about two and a half bottles, at which point he was giggly, leaning on Walter and half falling off the bed as Greg did Star Wars impressions that really weren’t that funny but made Kelly laugh all the same. The best was the Jawa—utinni!—and the Tusken Raiders. God, they just tickled Kelly’s funny bone.
“You’re giggling.” Walter shook his head and grinned at Kelly.
“Sorry.” Kelly giggled some more.
“It’s adorable.” Cara was half in Greg’s lap, looking relaxed and happy, like she was at home. I want that, Kelly thought.
“Bantha poodoo,” Greg said in his Jabba the Hutt voice, and Kelly giggled again.
At his fourth beer Kelly was more than a little stupid. He’d slid onto the floor at some point, and now he lay on his back, listening to the sound of the others’ voices, drifting away and coming back occasionally as Walter’s foot nudged his leg. He would admit he did a fair amount of brushing himself, because it felt good. He missed touch. His family was a touchy family, always hugging and snuggling on the sofa, even though they were older. The warmth and pressure of Walter’s foot was a paltry substitute, but it felt heady and bold, and he kept courting interaction with it.
Then Walter himself leaned down, looking bemused. “Hey there, drunk boy.”
“Hey.” Kelly grinned and waved. Drunkenly.
“Maybe you want to climb into this bed, get comfy?”
That was all he said, and he didn’t even say it lewdly. In fact he was soft and quiet, very gentle, the same way he’d been gentle with Kelly all evening. Even so, it hit Kelly like a hammer.
Get into this bed.
Kelly couldn’t breathe, and it didn’t have anything to do with allergies.
Walter reached down to Kelly and pulled him upright. “Up you come, kiddo.”
Kiddo. That hurt, and Kelly wanted to protest it, but the world spun alarmingly as he came to his feet.
“Easy, easy,” Walter said, and Cara and Greg said something too, but all Kelly could focus on was Walter. Walter who, he realized, would go to bed with him. The idea made blood rush to his groin, and he felt himself go hard.
Except Walter only tucked Kelly into the bed on the far side away from Cara and Greg, and though Kelly’d had a moment’s thrill of thinking Walter might undress him, he entered the bed fully clothed. Walter didn’t climb into the other side, only went back to sitting on the edge, talking to the others.
Kelly lay there, aroused, confused, aching. He wanted Walter. Wanted Walter. This ache was new, different than anything he’d felt before. He’d looked at guys and thought they were cute. He’d lain in bed and fantasized about men. He’d fantasized about Walter a few times. He’d wanted Mason when he saw him too, but abstractly. All his crushes had been distant and full of vague longing.
There was nothing vague about the way his whole body ached for his roommate right now. He stared at Walter’s back, silhouetted by the hotel room lighting, and Kelly wanted him now. Wanted to touch him. Wanted Walter to touch him back. Wanted Walter to smile while he touched him. Wanted Walter to put his arm around him while he talked to Cara, the same way Greg and Cara held each other. Some of it was that he just wanted somebody to hold him.
A lot of it, he realized for the very first time, was that he wanted Walter to be the one who did that holding. And so, so much more.
Kelly lay in bed, half-asleep, aching, yearning, his beer-soaked mind fueling murky fantasies of Walter sliding under the covers and pulling Kelly to him. In his fantasies neither of them wore any clothes—except underwear at first, because even Kelly’s subconscious was shy, but eventually as they rubbed against each other, those evaporated too.
The fantasies must have become dreams, because abruptly they faded and real-life Walter slid beside him—really wearing just boxers and his T-shirt, which made Kelly want to touch him, to pull him closer. He didn’t though, not drunk enough anymore, too worried what Walter would say, what he would think, whether or not he would laugh.
Walter didn’t laugh. Keeping his back to Kelly, he lay on his side, far, far away.
The next thing Kelly knew, it was morning, and his head was pounding. Walter stood over him looking sleep-rumpled and bleary but a hell of a lot better than Kelly felt.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s head back to the dorm.”
He offered Kelly a hand, and Kelly took it, wondering if the touch would give him the same thrill it had the night before. It was there, just muted, dulled by a reality sobriety provided.
Walter Lucas was hot, sexy, fun and a good friend—and the wrong place to look for a boyfriend.
Kelly vowed he would start looking elsewhere a lot harder.
Chapter Eight
The week after Cara and Greg’s visit, Kelly was weird. When Walter would ask him what was going on, usually because his roommate had a funny look on his face, something sad and full of longing, the expression evaporated. “Nothing,” Kelly would say, and mumble about needing to study.
Walter didn’t press, but he tracked his roommate carefully from then on, trying to work it out. Kelly was almost dopey, really. He stared at the wall at odd moments, and when Walter called out to get his attention, he blushed, like he’d been doing something he shouldn’t.
One day Walter caught Kelly checking his phone, blushing at texts, and recognition dawned.
Oh. Red had his eye on someone.
The realization didn’t sit well with Walter. He wondered who had captured Kelly’s virginal interest, and he did his best to discreetly find out. It wasn’t easy. No one was overtly flirting with Kelly, not when Walter was watching. A few times Walter even made sure no one knew he was watching, and he still couldn’t see anything.
Who the hell was this loser?
One night Walter stole Kelly’s phone after he’d gone to bed, took it to the bathroom and read the messages. When he saw the name of Kelly’s mystery texter, he swore.
Mason. What was he, a set of jars? Mason. Mason Gallagher. God. Walter rolled his eyes. He pulled out his own phone and did a Facebook search too, lip curling when he saw the smarmy freshman’s grin. At least he was talent. Walter scanned Mason Gallagher’s public posts and looked him up on Twitter. Well, he was boring all around, wasn’t he? Cute, maybe even good in bed, but boring.
Walter stilled at the thought, then relaxed. No. He’d know if Kelly had gotten laid. Hell, he practically had a neon sign when he’d masturbated.
Had there been a date, though?
A thorough scan of the texting exchange said there hadn’t been, only lots of near misses. Gallagher never dropped a chance to invite Kelly up to his room, the perv. Jesus, what did Red see in him? The guy was about as interesting as a mixed drink. Conceptually a good time, but the actual consumption wasn’t worth much more than getting off.
Seriously, why did Kelly swoon over him? They weren’t making jokes. They weren’t having fun, just flirting like awkward junior high girls and not hooking up.
Walter pondered the situation long after he’d replaced Kelly’s phone in its charger and gone back to bed. He watched Kelly even more closely over the next few days, and when he spied Mason Jar outside the campus deli one day, he lingered to inspect. No, Mason live wasn’t any more interesting than Mason the text.
Mason caught Walter watching and gave him a coy smile.
Rolling his eyes, Walter pushed off the wall and headed to class.
Still
, the limbo of dreamy Kelly without an actual date lingered the rest of the week, alternately making Walter feel relieved and tense. Should he say something? Give flirting advice? Point out this was going to be a disaster? He didn’t know the answer to this one, and it was driving him crazy.
Then he realized how obsessed he was with his roommate’s lack of a sex life and took a pause. What the hell? Shaking his head at himself, he vowed he’d go out to Moe’s as soon as possible—alone, though he wouldn’t stay that way. He needed to get fucked, and right now, thanks. He needed to clear his head.
Unfortunately, when he was getting dressed to go, Kelly came back to the room. He looked a little rough, though when he saw Walter getting ready, he seemed almost relieved, if not still off his game. “Oh, are you going out?”
Walter swallowed a groan. He’d thought Kelly had been on one of his joiner benders, heading to campus film night. “I can stay in.”
Kelly glared as he collapsed into the rocker. “I don’t want to wreck your plans.”
Now Walter stared at Kelly, hard, because that was way out of character. Had something happened with old Mason Jar? “You okay?”
Cue blush. “Just a frustrating day.”
Definitely something with Mason Jar. “I can stay. It’s fine, really. I don’t mind.”
Kelly gave him a long look, like he was angry with Walter. “Seriously, just go. It’s not a big deal. I’ll call Rose.”
Walter hesitated, still not sure, but Kelly was already on the phone, waving Walter impatiently away. Walter threw up his hands and headed out the door.
When he got to Moe’s, though, he was almost immediately bored. A few guys flirted with him, and they weren’t ghastly or anything, but he just wasn’t interested. He felt restless and cranky and, after a few drinks, lonely. Since his friends here were part of the problem, he called Cara.
“Where are you? It’s so loud.”
“Moe’s.” He slumped on the bar. “Something’s wrong with me. I can’t find anyone to sleep with. And Kelly is being cranky.”
Cara laughed. “Well, I think I can guess why Kelly is cranky.”
Love Lessons Page 7
