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, angry look. “Seriously, 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 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.”
“Really. All the way from Northbrook, you know why my roommate is cranky? Let’s hear it.”
“No, because you’re being an ass.”
Walter snorted. “What’s new? Tell me, oh wise one.”
“No, I don’t think I will. Where’s Kelly? He with you?”
“He’s back in the room.”
“I think you should go back to the room.”
“I wanted to get laid.” When Cara was silent, he rolled his eyes. “I can’t fuck Kelly. We’ve been over this.” He was drunk, but he could still put two and two together. “You think that’s why Kelly is mad? You think he does want me to fuck him?”
“Not like that, no.” Cara sighed. “Forget I said anything. Just go find a guy and blow him.”
God, everyone was a bitch tonight. “Fine, I will,” Walter said, and he hung up.
He didn’t blow anybody, though, and nobody blew him. He did get a text from his mother, something vague and desperate and boner killing.
Because he was stupid, he nipped out into the quiet of the back patio at Moe’s and called her.
“Walter. It’s so good to hear from you.”
Some of Walter’s tension bled from his shoulders. His mom wasn’t a drinker, but it felt as if alcoholism was what was coming next. “How are things going?”
“Terrible. I’m giving up my business. It’s a stupid waste of time.”
Oh God, that wasn’t good. Walter was never sure what it was exactly his mother did, some kind of professional perfume party thing, kind of a modern suburban Avon gig. All he knew was that without it, his mother would have nothing to do but mope around.
“Oh,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say.
“Not that it matters what I do. Your sister is always off with Pony Club, and you’re at college.”
That comment dug. “Mom, what do you want me to do, come home?” Again?
He regretted the words as soon as he said them. What if she said yes?
“No.” The sulk went out of her voice, and she was simply sad. “No, that’s not what I meant.” She went quiet for a minute. “I don’t have anything to do, Walter. I don’t know what to do.”
Walter didn’t either. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
They spoke awkwardly for a few more minutes, and Walter had the strong suspicion his mom was going to go off and cry. When they hung up, it was only twelve thirty, but he went back to Porter, horny, guilty, out of sorts, and confused.
Rose was over, and she and Kelly had fallen asleep on the futon, Rose wrapped up inside the circle of Kelly’s naked arm.
Walter stared at them for a long time, trying to sort out why he felt betrayed and angry. The garbage was crammed full of Opie’s pizza boxes, and they’d finished off a six-pack of root beer. Kelly’s laptop was propped on his chair at a perfect angle for the futon, which meant he and Rose had been watching movies when they fell asleep.
Jealousy stabbed him hot and hard, and it wasn’t just because Kelly wasn’t wearing a shirt. He’d seen that a thousand times, and he appreciated the sight of the bare chest his roommate boasted, the slightly toned arms. Arms looped around Rose. Obviously, obviously this was a platonic embrace, and it wasn’t that he gave a damn if it hadn’t been, but—yeah, it bugged him. A lot.
He thought about what Cara had said, about how Kelly wanted him, except that he didn’t, or that Walter shouldn’t do anything about it. Standing over his own bed, Walter admitted he wanted to be snuggled by Kelly. And then he wanted Kelly to shift his hand lower, straddle his thigh…
Grumbling, Walter got undressed down to his boxers and climbed into Kelly’s loft. He was still horny, so he jerked off quietly in the dark.
He told himself he imagined Kelly jacking him because he was in Kelly’s bed, surrounded by the smell of Kelly on the sheets. No other reason would be tolerated.
IN HINDSIGHT KELLY probably should have seen it coming, but seeing Mason making out in the Sandman lounge hurt. He was only glad he’d been able to keep it together in front of Walter long enough to call Rose. He hadn’t cried, but he had been a soppy mess. She’d been a rock and watched The Little Mermaid with him instead of lecturing—though he hadn’t realized she was saving that for the next morning when they ate breakfast together.
“I didn’t even know you were dating him,” Rose said, her tone accusatory.
“No. We weren’t. But I thought we were heading there.” He slumped and stuck his spoon in his oatmeal.
“Well, he’s a jerk and doesn’t deserve you, if he’s going to flirt with you and make out with someone else. When was your date supposed to be?”
Kelly averted his eyes and fiddled with his napkin. “We…we had a hard time finding a time.”
“What, between your dueling CEO schedules?”
“Okay, it was more that he kept inviting me to his room, and something about the way he said it made me uneasy, so I kept trying to meet him other places. We did have coffee once. It was nice.”
“So, wait. You’re telling me you did have a date, but then you wouldn’t go back to his room?” Rose tilted her head forward and looked at him meaningfully from beneath the brim of her leather cap. “Seriously, Kelly. This isn’t the Victorian era.”
“I know.” Kelly blushed hotter and ripped off the corner of the napkin. “I just…I wanted to get to know him first, okay? I don’t see that as so bad.”
“You couldn’t get to know him in his room?” She leaned back in her chair, frowning. “You probably came off as a prude.”
The words hurt, but since Kelly had been thinking the same thing, he figured he deserved them. He slumped deeper into his chair.
Rose stroked his shoulder. “Sorry, that was harsh.”
Kelly shrugged. “It’s not. You’re right, I am a prude.”
“No. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re not a prude, but I think you’re going to have a hell of a time, being a shy, virginal, gay man wanting a 1950s-movie kind of courtship.”
Kelly had worked that much out on his own. “So what, I shouldn’t even try? You sound like Walter.”
“Interesting, isn’t it, that your two closest friends are both cynical about relationships. Though honestly, I can’t see what you saw in that guy, outside of his being cute. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re kind. You knew all Mason wanted out of you was a lay, and when you held out, he lost interest. You could do so much better, probably while sleepwalking.”
“I can’t find anyone, though, and I want to be with someone.”
She ruffled his hair. “Well, be smarter about it next time. Pick somebody worthy.”
Walter’s sideways grin flashed in Kelly’s mind, but he quickly snuffed the image out. “And if there isn’t anyone worth my time?”
“Then welcome to the cynical relationship express. I’ll save you a seat.” She nudged his tray with her finger. “Hey, I know. How about you come with me to a party tonight over in the Manors? It’s a bunch of lesbians and bi girls, and while there’ll be drinking, it’s not mandatory.”
Kelly raised his eyebrows, highly dubious. “Why would I want to go to that?”
“Because there’s no pressure, no boys to sigh over. Just music and good times.” She grinned. “Bring your iPod, and you can show off that artist you keep telling me about.”
It still sounded a little crazy, but Kelly couldn’t say no, not when Rose had been so nice the night before. “I’ll think about it,” he said.
She aimed her spoon at him. “You’ll go,” she corrected.
WHILE KELLY HAD every intention of wheedling out at the last minute, he forgot how well Rose had his number. Not only did she text him all day, she promised to come hunt him down if he didn’t show up by nine. When Walter caught him groaning over that last text, Kelly showed it to him, hoping he had a way out.
To his surprise, Walter laughed and looked intrigued. “She invited you to a party at Luna’s? Shit, honey, you should go. And you should take me along.” When Kelly did a double take, Walter waved impatiently at him. “Sometimes I forget you’re a freshman. Luna is a senior on the endless-year program. She’s a crazy lipstick lesbian and absolutely adorable. Every now and again she bribes her floor’s RA and throws a killer party, invite only. I’ve heard about them but haven’t ever been.”
“Then how am I invited?”
“By Rose, it seems. Which means she’s sleeping with Luna, if she’s able to toss out invitations that freely. Very interesting.” He nudged Kelly’s elbow. “Text her back and see if I can come along.”
Kelly still couldn’t get over that Walter wanted to go watch a bunch of lesbians dance, let alone that he needed Kelly’s inside connection to do so. Overwhelmed and a bit confused, he did as Walter ordered, and half an hour later they were both heading across campus, iPods in their pockets and a tote bag of alcohol slung over Walter’s shoulder.
“Aren’t we going to be in trouble if someone catches us?” Kelly eyed the bag nervously.
Walter raised his eyebrow. “For what? Drinking? I’m old enough, and so’s Luna.”
“Most people at the party won’t be though, right? Rose and I are underage, and the college knows that.”
“The Manors are pretty small—they’re set up in pods, sixteen units total, and my guess is she invites the whole building to the party. When she lived in junk housing like us, she had to be more creative, but the thing is, even when parties get shut down, everyone just goes home. Campus security shines a flashlight and looks stern, and everyone heads to bed.” He bumped Kelly with his shoulder. “Stop fussing. It’ll be fine, and you can get drunk and have a good time.”
“I don’t want to get drunk. What if something happens?”
“To a gay boy in a room full of lesbians? Nothing. You need to let your hair down, Red. You seem uptight. Tell you what—I won’t get any deeper than tipsy, and I promise to keep your virtue safe. Deal?”
Kelly shrugged, embarrassed but not quite sure why. He didn’t plan to get drunk, whatever Walter said.
That resolve quickly slipped as they went down the steps to Luna’s dorm and Kelly took in the riotous feminine debauchery spilling out of the front door of Ashburn Manor. Kelly hadn’t gone into the upperclassmen dorms during his campus tour, only driven by on the street. They were a little village, four sets of four buildings to each pod, the sections connected by a series of walkways, though each entrance was a sunken pit in front of a kind of communal picnic area. The whole design was so 1970s it might as well have a disco ball hanging in front of it. Though no sooner had he thought that did Kelly spy one spinning slowly inside the lounge of the building where the party was to be held.
He glanced around the quad, taking in the other three buildings in the pod, wondering if any of the residents minded all the noise. He read the names off the individual houses in front of their front doors: Ashburn, Chaney, Clark, Dahmer—
“Dahmer?” Kelly repeated, scandalized.
“Vernon, not Jeffrey.” When Kelly looked at him blankly, Walter winked. “You must not have gotten there in your humanities course yet. All the manors are named after dead civil rights activists.”
“Oh.” Kelly blinked, relieved but still a bit thrown. “That’s…different.”
“That’s Hope, honey.” Walter put his hand on the small of Kelly’s back. “Rose is going to throw her back out trying to wave you over. Go say hi. I’ll catch up after I thank Luna for letting me crash.”
It turned out Walter wasn’t exaggerating—Rose hung out the window of one of the lower floors, a red Solo cup in one hand and a long necklace banging against her cleavage as she gestured wildly to Kelly. For the first time since he’d met her, Rose didn’t have on some kind of hat. Her long hair was curled, even, and she wore makeup.
There was also a lot of cleavage. He stared at it, realizing he hadn’t noticed how well-endowed she was before.
She caught him looking and laughed, leaning heavily on his shoulder. “Kelly, sweetheart! I’m so glad you came. I was too drunk to come get you.” She waved her red cup, sloshing some of her drink onto herself. “Come on in. I’ll get you something.”
“What room are you in? I’ll come around and—” He yelped as she put down her cup and dragged him in through the window.
The room was full of women, all of them as drunk as Rose. Several of them were snuggled together, one group a threesome. They smiled up at Kelly, waving as Rose introduced him. It was the usual get-to-know-you chitchat, Rose’s friends asking where Kelly was from, making the Mayberry joke when he said Minnesota, and they all announced they were from various Chicago suburbs. A few of them started telling random stories about Chicago—at the same time—but when Kelly realized two of the girls in the threesome had their hands down the third girl’s pants, actively getting her off, he shot to his feet and gestured at the door.
“I’m going to go find Walter,” he said to Rose, and beat it the hell out of Dodge.
He found his roommate in the main lobby, sipping water from a bottle as he talked to a cute, short blonde with perfectly applied makeup, more cleavage going on than Rose, and purple streaks in her hair. She waved as he came over.
“Hi, I’m Luna. You must be Kelly. Rose told me all about you. Oh good, I see you already got something to drink.”
Kelly looked down at the glass in his hand, surprised to see it there. “Rose gave it to me, I think.”
Luna laughed—wickedly. “Yeah, she’s been hitting the hard stuff. She’s going to be fun tonight.”
While Kelly tried not to actively recoil from all the lesbian imagery, Walter took the drink from his hands and sniffed the rim. His eyes went wide, and he handed it to Luna. “Babe, do you have something a little less toxic? My boy’s not a heavy.”
“Sure thing.” Luna set Kelly’s glass down and gestured to a makeshift bar in the middle of the room. “Help yourself. Music’s down in my room, number four.”
She drifted away, and Kelly watched her go as Walter guided him to the table of alcohol. “I can’t believe she and Rose are sleeping together. She never even said anything about dating someone.”
“If I know Manchester, and I do, I can’t say I’m surprised. She plays everything close to the vest. My money’s also on this being a weeklong romance at best.” He sipped at his water and frowned at the table. “Hmm. Your options are either hard liquor or white wine. Warm white wine, but it’s shit white in a box, so who cares, right?” He filled a glass and handed it to Kelly. “Drink this and stop looking so nervous.”
“It’s just weird. We’re the only guys here.”
“Oh, more will show up. Trust me. Not our kind, though.” He linked Kelly’s arm through his. “Let’s go find the music. I like dancing with lesbians.”
Kelly thought at first that was either a joke or a euphemism for something, but it turned out Walter meant that comment literally. No sooner did he have Kelly set up with a trio of not-that-drunk (and not making out, thank God) girls on a sofa, he disappeared into the middle of the room, where he began dancing with an abandon Kelly hadn’t ever seen him exhibit, not at Moe’s, not anywhere. Kelly watched Walter move, transfixed.
“He’s so cute.” The girl next to Kelly—Tricia, Kelly thought her name was—leaned her head on Kelly’s shoulder and smiled as Walter shimmied behind a laughing girl who moved in sync with him. “Except he’s gay, dammit.”
“And you’re a lesbian,” the girl on her other side said, and they all laughed.
Kelly felt dazed. God, Walter just…moved. For a long time Walter danced and Kelly watched him, sometimes talking to the girls who sat next to him—they kept getting up and new ones sat in their places—and then after about a half hour, as a song ended, Walter came over, sweat-soaked, and collapsed next to Kelly.
“Shit.” He laughed, relaxed and happy, and he glanced at Kelly’s glass. “You need another?”
Kelly peered into his cup. It was empty. Huh. That would explain why he felt buzzy.
Walter popped back to his feet with a wink. “Be right back,” he said, and he was, with a new glass for Kelly and another bottle of water for himself. He was about to sit down when a girl grabbed him and hauled him back onto the floor.
Kelly had half a minute to observe them, that odd feeling of longing stirring in him again, and then someone grabbed his arm too.
He danced stiffly at first, but soon the wine and the gentle teasing of his partner relaxed him, and he began to loosen up. It was fun to dance with a bunch of lesbians or nearly lesbians, because yeah, nobody gave a shit about what he looked like or how badly he danced. Even when a girl with shock-red hair plastered herself tight against him, her tits mashed to his chest and his—limp—cock squashed along her thigh, it was so clear neither of them were turned on at all, and as such they could both let go and be total sluts. Laughing, he tossed up his hands and danced. Someone handed him another drink, this one smelling tart and intense, but he drank it anyway.
He was having fun. So much fucking fun.
When he heard the familiar thumping beats of “Wild Ones” begin to play—they’d finally picked his iPod, apparently—he gave a hearty woot and threw himself into his boogie with an abandon he didn’t know he had in him. Somehow he’d become the center of a circle—he could see the straight boys now, mingled in amidst the girls, all of them looking slightly lost and out of place, and it was funny so he laughed. Hands slid down his arms, making him shiver, and as someone pressed against his back, he caught the familiar scent of cologne.
Walter’s thumb brushed Kelly’s wrist. “You’re having a good time.”
“Yeah.” Kelly tried to smile over his shoulder, but Walter’s hand skimmed his hip, and he jerked, glad Walter couldn’t feel the sudden erection that sprang up at the contact.
Walter gripped Kelly’s hip more firmly, holding him in place. “Hey—it’s just me, goofball. What, you can’t dance with me the way you were dancing with Sally?”
No, Kelly couldn’t. Except as Sia’s voice boomed out over the room and Walter led him into a sway, Kelly started to wonder if maybe he could. It’s only dancing, he told himself. Because the truth was, he did want to dance with his roommate. He wanted Walter to dance with him the way he’d been dancing with the girls, and Kelly wanted to let go enough to be the way he’d been with his own partners. He wanted to be able to feel that relaxed with Walter.
He couldn’t do that, though, because then Walter would know. Hell, he’d feel, because even this subtle contact had Kelly hard as a rock.
“Hush.” Walter’s lips grazed his ear, making Kelly shiver. That made Walter laugh, though not unkindly. “Is that it? You’re being self-conscious because I’m turning you on?” When Kelly said nothing, Walter snorted and pulled Kelly against his body.
Kelly shuddered. Hard—Walter was as hard as Kelly was. “Walter,” he croaked, his entire body turning to jelly. Except his screaming dick.
Walter kept them moving, his touches gentling, soothing, even as they kept in time to the beat. “Babe, it’s fine. We’re both guys. We both like guys. We’re both hot, so we get turned on by each other. Big deal. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.”
He turned Walter on? He was a hot guy? Kelly angled his head around, needing to see Walter’s face.
Walter looped his arms around Kelly’s neck and shook his head. “Oh, Red. You’re precious, you know that?”
No, Kelly didn’t. “You confuse me,” he confessed, because he’d had too much to drink.
Walter laughed, but it wasn’t a mean laugh, not at all. “You confuse you, Red. Turn your head off for ten minutes and dance with me. I don’t care if you come in your pants. Just let go for ten fucking minutes.”
Kelly’s whole body felt hot. “I can’t do that. Not with you.”
“You can’t flirt with me?” Walter gave him a come on look. “Red. You can totally flirt with me.”
Wait, what? Kelly shook his head, trying to clear it.
Walter sighed and began to speak in the tone of someone teaching a child something simple that they’d made complicated. “Walk it through, babe. You’re tipsy. You’re turned on. You’re having a good time, and it feels good to be turned on. You’re at a party full of lesbians, and me. Is there anyone here you’re going to let take you to bed tonight?”
“What? No.” It came out so automatically he couldn’t stop it, but rather than be upset, Walter seemed to be waiting patiently for Kelly to figure something out. Kelly frowned, still not getting it.
Walter rolled his eyes, but he laughed too. “Jesus. Red—you can flirt with me, you can do whatever you want, because we’re not sleeping together. So stop worrying about it. Just have a good time.”
The music slipped into the chorus, and Walter dragged Kelly bodily back into the dance. He forgot to be upset or confused or anything else, and within a few bars he was moving in time to the beat with his roommate, brazenly sliding his arms around Walter’s body. He tried to stay loose, to not think about how hot Walter made him, how bad that was. We’re not going to sleep together kept ringing in his head, though, annoying him.
The music shifted to Pink’s “Raise Your Glass”, and the room erupted in drunk, enthusiastic people singing and dancing along.
Most of the girls jumped up and down and did some drunken version of headbanging while they belted out the chorus, but Walter kept tight hold of Kelly and pulled him close, alternating between sensual thrusts with his thigh into Kelly’s groin and shimmying them in deep dips that nearly ran them into their neighbors. Kelly could feel Walter’s hard cock against his hip, and he knew Walter could feel his erection too. He could smell Walter’s sweat, could sometimes taste it on his tongue. The wine and whatever else he’d been drinking filled his head, heightening his senses, making him think he could feel Walter on his tongue.
Suddenly he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.
Raise your glass, the room shouted as one, Walter too, his shout reverberating in his chest beneath Kelly’s hands.
Kelly shut his eyes, drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils and buried his face in Walter’s neck.
He thrilled when Walter stilled, and he laughed, the sound rolling in his belly before he opened his lips over the throbbing pulse and sucked. Walter gasped, his knees wobbling, and his hands tightened against Kelly’s hair and waist.
Running his tongue along Walter’s skin, Kelly felt his cock pulse inside his jeans at the sharp, salty taste of his roommate’s skin.
Walter jerked and tried to pull away. Fuck no, Kelly thought, and turned his grip into a vise. He stopped kissing Walter’s neck, but he nipped at his jaw, heady at the thrill of making Walter the awkward one for once.
“Stop thinking,” he murmured, and ran his tongue along Walter’s stubble.
“Jesus.” Walter sounded shattered. He turned his head, and for a second their mouths almost brushed together. Walter kept that from happening, pulling Kelly’s head away from his own mouth. “Kelly, don’t.”
The refusal shafted Kelly, and all the self-consciousness alcohol had kept at bay returned in a tidal wave. “You drive me crazy,” he said to Walter’s chest, because he couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Sweetheart, you’re drunk. Really drunk. If I let you do what you’re doing, you’ll hate me tomorrow, and I’m not going there.”
Some distant, wine-slogged part of Kelly acknowledged Walter was right, but that didn’t mean Kelly enjoyed hearing it. “You think I’m a stupid, dumb kid.” He just wanted Walter to kiss him, to push him onto the couch and…do stuff.
Walter drew Kelly in close and kissed his hair. “I don’t think you’re stupid. Or dumb. Or a kid.”
Could he stop being so reasonable and nice for a second? Kelly sank against his shoulder defeated. “I’m so confused.”
“I know, baby.”
Walter was stroking Kelly’s back, and his butt, and it felt so fucking good. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered.
Though Walter stilled, he didn’t let Kelly go. “I want to fuck you too, baby,” he said at last. “But we can’t.”
Why couldn’t they? Kelly wanted to ask, but he was starting to feel dizzy. Were they spinning? He opened his eyes, which helped, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he felt queasy.
“I don’t feel good.” Kelly’s stomach gurgled, and he clutched at Walter, all thoughts of fucking forgotten. “I think I had too much to drink.”
Something brushed his hair—a kiss?—and Walter patted his butt. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you home.”
Kelly thought that was a good idea.
Halfway across campus, he threw up. Into a bush, and Walter held his head as he knelt and puked.
“I’m sorry,” he slurred as he tried to wipe his mouth on his sleeve. God, he was gross.
“I think you got some of that Everclear they were passing around, hon. Sorry, I should have paid closer attention.”
Kelly tried to point out Walter didn’t have to babysit him, and then his stomach heaved again.
He wasn’t sure what happened after that—it was as if there was a sort of gap in his memory—and all of a sudden he was lying on Walter’s futon, sweating like a pig and opening his eyes blearily. Someone kissed his forehead, someone sweet and gentle.
“Mom?” he whispered, but then Walter chuckled, and Kelly drifted back off to sleep.
When he woke in the morning, he wished he were dead, feeling as if someone had dragged him backward through dog shit. When he remembered what he’d done with Walter, he nearly got sick all over again.
“Oh my God.” Kelly would have covered his face with a pillow, but he hurt too much to move.
Walter only laughed, gently, and passed him some water. “Congratulations, roomie. That was quite a bender you put on last night. Though from what I hear, it’s nothing on what Manchester tied on.”
That was all they spoke of their night out—Walter brought Kelly a meal bar to nibble on as his stomach would tolerate it, kept the water coming and acted as if everything were perfectly normal.
Except every so often Kelly remembered Walter whispering, I want to fuck you too, baby, and some part of Kelly knew, no matter how they pretended, things wouldn’t ever be the same.