Chapter Fourteen
KELLY LOOKED LIKE fucking sex on a stick.
Walter kept his eyes on the road as they traveled down 90/94, but his brain kept playing the mental movie of Kelly coming down the stairs. Kelly in his tight jeans and tight, tight shirt. It was old and soft red. It made Walter want to bite his nipples, which were neatly outlined by the fabric. He hadn’t bitten, though, not even metaphorically. He’d simply told him he looked great and escorted him to the car.
He could see Kelly out of the corner of his eye, though. And those nipples.
“So.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I thought, after we eat, we’d do a little tour. A lot of the shops stay open until later, and there are the bars too.” He glanced at Kelly. “You did bring your ID, right? The one I got for you?”
Cue blush. “I keep it in the back of my wallet, so yes.”
“Thank God. I was ready for you to tell me it was in your drawer at Hope.”
“No, because you always got annoyed when we wanted to go and I’d have to go to our room first. I’d meant to take it out before I left for Minnesota, but I forgot.”
“Well, move it to the front of your wallet. I’ll take you to Roscoe’s later.” He glanced at Kelly again. “Have you ever been to a gay bar?”
“No. I mean, outside that one time you took us to Sparks in Danby.”
“God, Sparks does not count. Hell, we’ll make a circuit then.”
“Okay.” The reply came out nervous.
Walter reached over and squeezed Kelly’s leg. “They’re not scary. I promise.”
“No, I—” Kelly looked down at where Walter held on to him.
Walter let go and put his hands back on the wheel.
“I’m not nervous about the bar,” Kelly said, sounding very nervous. “It’s just…I don’t know. Ignore me. I’m weird tonight.”
Weird? Why? Walter frowned. “We can skip the bar and go back to the house after we eat, if you want.”
“No.” Kelly sighed and sank a little in his seat. “Never mind, really.”
Walter tried not to mind, but it was impossible. Before long they were on the streets of Lakeview, which kept him alert, and then he was on a mission to find a parking spot. On the way, Kelly got an accidental tour of the neighborhood.
“They have rainbow pillars?” Kelly asked, glued to the window. “Oh, and there’s a pizza place.”
“That’s not Pie Hole. It’s on Broadway. There’s a great music store down the street, and we’re going to pass my favorite grocery store here on the left: Treasure Island foods. It’s a dive, but I love it. And there, that’s Pie Hole.”
“Cool.” Kelly looked around at the street crowded with cars and people. “Where are we going to park?”
“That’s always the problem down here. I think I may cave and go back to one of the garages on Halsted, if you don’t mind walking.”
“Sure.”
They didn’t have to go far up on Halsted to find a ramp, and there was still plenty of parking inside, thank God. Walter led Kelly back down toward Broadway again, this time via Cornelia.
And Gaymart.
Kelly laughed when he saw the store. “Gaymart? For real?”
“For real. All the rainbow kitsch you could want, some fun T-shirts and an excellent comic memorabilia collection.”
“But do they have Doctor Who stuff?” When Kelly saw Walter’s nod, his eyes went wide and he headed for the door.
Walter grabbed his arm. “Pizza first. Now I’m starving too.”
Pie Hole was one of Walter’s favorite restaurants, not just because the food was good but because it was fun and quirky and cute and incredibly gay without making the gayness a meme. There was a logo on the window, “Pie Hole” with the O missing and an invitation that patrons “Twitter their hole”, and Walter as usual did as instructed. He pressed his mouth in place of the missing vowel, forming an O of his own against the glass, and he had Kelly take a picture so he could post it online. Kelly wouldn’t reciprocate, but he did let Walter take his picture holding a T-shirt that read, I want a large sausage.
Walter decided he’d buy it later and give it to Kelly for Christmas.
The place was crowded, so Kelly and Walter stood together at the bar along the wall after giving their order. Kelly kept taking in the decor as they waited, pointing things out or letting his gaze linger on talent, of which there was plenty. Most of the patrons were slightly older than Walter, gay men about to hit the town but fueling up on pizza first.
“I wonder if I’ll ever have this kind of life,” Kelly said around his drink straw.
Walter leaned an elbow on the counter. “What kind of life?”
Kelly gestured to the room. “One where I go out with my friends in the city. Laughing and making bad jokes and heading off to the bar.” He paused, tossing a shy smile at Walter. “I mean, we do that. But not this way. Not with jobs and apartments. Real life.”
“I had a taste of that when I lived off campus.” A stool freed up behind them, and Walter passed it to Kelly. “I know what you mean. It felt like air. I had space around me to breathe. Admittedly, sometimes too much space, when Greg and Cara were gone.”
“How did you ever get the school to let you live off campus as a sophomore?”
Walter grinned and stirred his soda. “I didn’t. I paid for a dorm room but lived with Cara, paying a third of the rent. It was the only way they could afford it.”
“Your parents never noticed you were spending that much extra money?”
No, they hadn’t, not until March. Walter’s smile died. “I told you, it’s a grand before Dad remembers my account is even there.”
Kelly frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Walter tried to brush it off, but Kelly reached for his hand. His fingers were warm against Walter’s cool ones, and he met Walter’s gaze without faltering.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, more firmly this time.
Walter should have pulled his hand back, but, well, he didn’t feel like it. “It’s okay.”
“It isn’t.” Kelly still didn’t let go. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that, paying double just to find somewhere decent to live.” The corner of his mouth lifted up a little. “I’d say I’m sorry they didn’t let you live off campus this year, but I’m not.”
“That’s okay.” Walter squeezed Kelly’s hand, letting his thumb catch the underside of his wrist. “I’m not sorry either.”
“Okay, lovers.” The call came from a waiter as he settled their plates on the space between them. “Order’s up. Don’t fuck in the restroom, and if you do anyway, be sure to clean up, or Doug’ll be pissed.”
This time it wasn’t only Kelly who blushed.
GAYMART PROVED TO be as awesome as Kelly had hoped, and his biggest problem was figuring out what not to buy. He had fifty dollars’ worth of merchandise in his basket at one point, mostly Doctor Who figures, but he ended up putting everything back except for the Rory one. He hesitated over several T-shirts, feeling oddly drawn to one that read Corruptible, but mostly he had to fend off Walter’s offerings of shirts suggesting people Try the Sausage with an arrow pointing to his crotch, or ones with a picture of a rooster and COCK emblazoned over the animal. In the end he got the Rory figure, a Dalek, and a raunchy lesbian card for Rose. They ran his purchases back to the car, and on the way to Roscoe’s they stopped at another store which Kelly never saw the name of but was full of the most awesome club clothing and kitschy jewelry he’d ever seen. When he got to the retro leather in the basement, though, he nearly swooned.
“You’d look good in this,” Walter suggested, handing him a leather motorcycle jacket. “You’d look good in the chaps too, but I know better than to think you’d try them on.”
The chaps were sexy, but Kelly didn’t dare admit that. He couldn’t resist the coat, and when he got a peek at himself in the mirror, he shivered. “Oh God. It’s amazing.”
Walter stepped up behind him, placing a hand on his waist. In the mirror, Kelly could see his admiration. “God, you look fuckable in that. You have to get it.”
Kelly wanted to get it, and now he wished he hadn’t bought anything at Gaymart. It did look amazing on him, and better yet, it made him feel amazing. He fished for the tag, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. He found it, but before he could catch the price, Walter closed his hand over it.
“No. I got this.”
“What? No.” Kelly met Walter’s gaze in the mirror, trying to be outraged, but Walter had such a hungry look on his face, it was hard to focus. “Walter, you can’t buy this for me.”
“Fine, then I’ll buy it for me and make you wear it.”
Kelly started to protest, but Walter nuzzled his ear. Stop, Kelly thought, but couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He let his eyes drift closed, swimming in the sensation of Walter’s touch. The hand on his waist tightened, and Walter’s breath on his ear sent him the rest of the way to fully erect.
“It’s just money.” Walter’s lips were still on Kelly’s ear. “It’s better than that shirt you kept picking up. You don’t look corruptible in this jacket. You look already corrupted.”
Kelly’s eyes blinked open, slowly as if he were waking from a dream, except he didn’t wake, not from his lust. He caught sight of Walter in the mirror, watched Walter ogle him, and he realized, yes, Walter was right. He was already corrupted. He wanted to let Walter buy this for him, and he’d wear it every day because he’d think of Walter every time he did, knowing he’d given it to him. The only way it could be better would be if Walter wore it occasionally so it smelled like him.
Every time he wore it, he’d think about how much he wanted Walter, and how he’d never have him.
Oh God, he was in so much trouble.
Pushing away from Walter, Kelly shrugged out of the jacket. “No. I don’t want it.”
Walter seemed hurt, which annoyed Kelly, and he didn’t stick around to argue with him because he was afraid of what he’d say. He headed back up the stairs and browsed through a rack of costume jewelry without seeing any of it until Walter came up behind him. He didn’t touch Kelly.
“Ready to head to the bar?”
Kelly couldn’t read anything in the tone, if Walter was angry or disappointed or what. Kelly tried to respond in kind. “Sure.”
There was a small line at the door, and Kelly worried he’d have trouble getting in with his fake, but if the doorman suspected, he didn’t say anything. In fact, he winked at Kelly as he stamped his hand. “You boys have a good time.”
Kelly glanced at Walter, who wasn’t touching him, wasn’t even looking at him. Something told him a good time wasn’t on his agenda.
“You drinking?” Walter’s voice made it clear he was still annoyed.
Kelly wasn’t exactly happy either. “I’m drinking.” Why not? It wasn’t as if if he got drunk and threw himself at Walter anything would happen. It wasn’t going to happen if he stayed sober, either.
It wasn’t going to happen, period.
“Yes. I want a drink,” Kelly said, more forcefully this time. “But not beer.”
Walter’s eyebrow lifted. “What do you want, then? A Mike’s?”
Yes, a Mike’s Hard Lemonade sounded good, but the mockery lacing Walter’s tone pissed Kelly off. “No, I don’t want a Mike’s.”
Now Walter seemed amused. “What do you want, then?”
Kelly had no idea. He tried to think of the names of drinks he knew. Not whiskey, that was for sure. Rum and Coke? He’d had a sip of Walter’s once, and he’d hated it. What else was there? Bloody Mary? Martinis? “Gin and tonic.”
Walter was still amused, but he was surprised too, so Kelly counted it as a win. “Gin and tonic it is.”
He started for the bar, but Kelly pulled him back. “No. I’m getting it.” He glared at Walter. “What are you drinking?”
Now Walter looked annoyed too. “Is that what this is about? You’re pissed because I tried to buy you a jacket?”
“No,” Kelly shot back.
“Then what the hell, Kelly?”
Kelly turned away from Walter before he could get a good look at his face and figure anything out. “I’ll get you a rum and Coke.”
He bought the drinks, not even feeling nervous this time, he was so angry. A cute guy tried to flirt as he waited for his order, but he was older and from Chicago, so Kelly just nodded at him and went back to glowering. When he got his drink, he took a liberal sip before returning to Walter. The burn of the alcohol helped a lot, but he still felt moored in the dangerous waters between angry and desperate.
He drank more, hoping for the best.
The bar was nothing like Babylon on QAF, but something told Kelly nothing ever was. The music was good, and as the gin forced him to unwind and the music crawled under his skin, he felt better.
“I’m going to dance,” he declared, and headed out onto the floor.
He had no idea if Walter followed him or not, and he didn’t let himself pay attention. He didn’t know the song being played, but it had a good beat, and he let it lead his body. He didn’t hold back either, not even a little—he danced as he had in his bedroom back home, back when he’d been afraid if he looked too into it people might suspect he was gay somehow. He danced the way he hadn’t danced even at Luna’s. That night he’d still been partially aware of Walter’s presence, but tonight he was so pissed at Walter he didn’t care.
Pissed and hurt, and he knew he didn’t really have a right to feel either emotion.
Stop thinking and dance, he scolded himself.
He did.
Kelly danced with abandon, first by himself and then with anyone who put their arms around him. Young guys, older guys, hot guys, and guys who were so far from talent it wasn’t funny. He wanted none of them, but he appreciated their bodies to dance against, so he shoved aside the part of him that felt lonely and let down and made himself let go. Maybe Walter was right. Sex with strangers was the same as dancing, except he got off. Sure, it didn’t match his idea of love, but it was better than nothing.
It was better than pining foolishly for somebody he knew wasn’t ever, ever going to be that rosy person for him.
When the arms came around his back, Kelly knew it was Walter behind him. He meant to treat Walter like just another guy who danced with him, to enjoy it quietly, almost perversely, but he got a whiff of Walter’s aftershave and couldn’t. No, if he danced with Walter, he’d give away all his secrets. He faltered and tried to step out of Walter’s embrace.
Walter’s arm tightened and kept him close. “So you’ll grind against everyone in the room, but you won’t dance with me?”
He sounded pissed, which made Kelly that much angrier. He spun around, ready to say no, he wouldn’t, but then he got a good look at his roommate’s face.
Walter wasn’t just pissed. He was hurt.
What?
Walter’s jaw was tight as he spoke, making his words come out clipped. “I didn’t buy you the jacket, okay? What more do you want?”
The jacket? “I don’t care about that.”
Walter only got angrier. “Then what? Why are you so pissed?”
Kelly tried to be angry, tried to retreat, but he couldn’t. Maybe, he decided, he shouldn’t. Maybe the only way out of this was the truth. But when he opened his mouth to speak, the words choked him, and he deflated.
“I can’t,” he whispered.
“Can’t what?” Walter’s grip loosened even while it seemed to pull him in closer at the same time. “Kelly, baby, tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”
Oh God. Kelly’s hands tightened against Walter’s shirt. “Stop,” he whispered. “Please. I can’t.”
“Kelly.”
Fingers pushed Kelly’s chin up, and he gave in, looking Walter dead in the eye. Let him see whatever he would, let him laugh or be disgusted or whatever he was going to do, just so it could be over with.
Let his heart break, so he could move on.
Except Walter didn’t laugh, and he didn’t seem disgusted. Kelly didn’t know what that look was, but he did know that when Walter’s thumb scraped gently along his jaw, he thought it was an outright miracle he didn’t melt into a puddle on the floor.
Then the hand fell away, sliding back to his waist. “Come on,” Walter said. “You should dance. It’s your favorite song.”
It was? Kelly glanced toward the DJ, not so much that he thought he’d see the name of the song flashing above his head but that he could maybe focus when he wasn’t distracted by Walter, and it did help. They were playing “Titanium”, the David Guetta mix with Sia, which was, yes, his favorite song. Ever, in the whole world.
As the soft guitar opening bled into the first verse, Sia’s voice drifting pleasantly into Kelly’s ears, Walter pulled him closer, swaying to the beat.
It wasn’t an easy song to dance to, too many shifts in tempo, and Kelly was surprised the DJ played it at all. Walter didn’t hesitate, though, just kept them sliding together on the floor expertly. He bled Kelly’s nerves away, all but the center core of his tension, his uncertainty over what was happening, what would happen next.
Because it felt like Walter was doing a hell of a lot more than flirting with him, and he knew that would never happen.
Except that maybe it was happening right now.
“Relax,” Walter whispered, pulling him closer.
Kelly couldn’t. “Walter,” he began, then broke off. His heart was clogging his throat again. He shook his head, clearing a bit of space for speech. “Walter, I can’t. I feel things when we do this that I shouldn’t.” He shivered as Walter’s hands skimmed down his body. Say it. Get it out, so you can get it over with. “You don’t feel those kinds of things, not with anyone.”
Walter nuzzled Kelly’s neck, then his ear. “Maybe I do, with you.”
Kelly’s legs all but folded beneath him.
Walter caught him, bore him up and pulled him closer. The song drifted into the bridge, and Kelly melted into Walter as their dance turned into a slow, sultry sway as Walter’s words echoed crazily in Kelly’s head. He knew he couldn’t have heard right. He had to be dreaming, except he knew he wasn’t. This was happening. Walter had said those words, and they were dancing, and this was happening.
“I know you dated a couple guys. Stupid Mason Jar at the very least.” Walter’s lips brushed Kelly’s ear. “On any of these dates with those losers—did any of them ever kiss you?”
Kelly’s heart, still at his throat, swelled, rose and fell, and did a backflip. How did Walter know about Mason? Except he didn’t, because he thought there had been dates. There hadn’t been any.
“Did any of them kiss you?” Walter asked again.
Jesus. Unable to trust his voice, Kelly shook his head.
Walter pulled Kelly tighter against him. As the song drifted back into the chorus, he nuzzled his way along Kelly’s jaw.
Kelly was so lost he was barely sure of his name. Walter—Walter—was holding him, asking him about kisses, and maybe, maybe, working up to one. Slowly, sultrily. He was, Kelly realized, waiting for the moment in the chorus when the music swelled.
Probably Walter was the reason the song had been played.
Maybe I do, with you.
The music shifted into its climax, and Kelly turned to meet him.
Walter’s lips were soft, and wet, and when his tongue stole out into Kelly’s mouth, Kelly forgot to breathe. He let go of everything, his fears, his inhibitions, his guarding of his heart, and he threw his arms around Walter’s neck, opening to him, inviting him deeper. Walter dove in, slanting his head and tipping Kelly’s in the other direction as their lips made a seal.
They didn’t stop dancing. They broke the kiss a few times to change direction, to move arms, to let Walter press his thigh between Kelly’s leg for him to ride it. Kelly did, with abandon. The music screamed in his ears, the beat pushed against his soul, and Walter held him so tight they felt as if they were one person.
Kelly never wanted it to end.
Eventually, of course, it had to. The song finished, bleeding into another club tune without a break, but the spell that had held them in place on the floor broke with the shift. They kept dancing, but they pulled back enough to look at each other. Kelly didn’t know what he looked like, but whatever it was prompted Walter to stroke his face.
“It’s okay,” Walter whispered. Kelly wondered if he was reassuring himself too.
Kelly slid his hands back up Walter’s chest. He felt as if he should say something, but he was too wild, too raw.
Walter brushed a kiss against his eyebrow. “Want to go home?”
The very idea filled Kelly with terror. He didn’t trust the magic to last. Even if this didn’t all turn out to be a dream, at some point they were going to have to talk about what this meant, what they would do now. He had no idea what would happen then, and he was afraid to find out.
He shook his head. “Dance with me some more?”
Walter smiled and pulled them back into the music again.