Christmas Kitsch (Hol) (MM) (7 page)

And there went my stiffy again.

“I’ll be back at six,” I said, and grabbed my porta-scanner, my computer, and boogied.

Hey, O—how you doing?

I’m bored. My homework’s all done, your sister can’t come play today, and I don’t have work. How about you?

My roommate’s having sex again.

How many?

One. But she’s got handcuffs.

Nice. Did you tell him about the sock?

I think he forgot. I’ll remind him when I bring home pizza.

You’re bringing this douche-pickle pizza?

It’s better than eating alone.

How’s class?

What’s the difference between exposition and narrative?

Okay, get off the phone and open your computer. I am no longer bored.

Hey, Oliver—

Yeah?

Did you ever need handcuffs and dildos and all that shit to have sex?

Wouldn’t know. Never had it.

Don’t worry. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

Maybe you were having it with the wrong person, you think?

Too close for missiles, switching to guns.

You’re going to have to answer that question sometime, even if it’s only to yourself.

I’d rather answer it to you. Email. Now.

Sigh.

I brought Rex pizza—two of them, in fact. Enough pizza that we’d be dining on takeout for days. I brought his date rice cakes and hummus, and she kissed my cheek in thanks. When Courtney was dressed (or, well, wearing one of Rex’s T-shirts, sans underwear) she was actually a very pretty girl. She had brownish hair and freckles, and those plump lips and sort of a wide face. Well, maybe pretty wasn’t the word—but she smiled at me, and made me feel welcome, and sort of laughed away the awkwardness of eating dinner with a girl I’d just watched fucking my roommate, so she
felt
pretty to me.

“So,” she asked, crunching delicately on a rice cake, “who’s Oliver?”

“My friend from home,” I said. I was eating a big slice of combo pizza; I’d discovered the campus gymnasium and had started working out again. I missed the days in construction where my body was always active.

“What kind of friend?” she asked, all curiosity.

What kind of friend? “The kind that helps you study for your SATs and doesn’t mind when you text him at four in the morning begging for help on your trig.”

Courtney gave Rex a sardonic, sideways look. “You told me you wanted to have sex to help out your roommate!” she accused, and Rex gestured to himself, all innocence.

“I did. It was all an attempt to help him, you know, decide what he likes.”

“He already knows what he likes. He’s gay.”

I almost choked on my pizza. We were all sitting on the indoor/outdoor carpeting, and I bent double over my crossed legs so I could cough out that last freakin’ piece of pepperoni.

Courtney waited patiently until I was done and had cleaned up my mouth and set the pizza down with a depressed look at it. I’d totally lost my appetite.

“You didn’t know you were gay?” she asked, like it wasn’t the sort of thing that got kids beaten up and written out of wills and completely demoralized all the fucking time.

“I’m undeclared,” I said stubbornly, and Courtney’s look at Rex was softer this time.

“Oh,” she said, nodding. “I see. Rex, honey, I think you’re going to have to try a different direction.”

“The only thing I wish he’d try is a sock on the frickin’ door!” I protested, not wanting to think about how many directions I could see Rex fucking around.

Rex snorted. “I’m sorry, my man. We’re out of socks. Now eat your pizza.”

I thought he was kidding, too, until I had to get dressed the next day. I opened my sock drawer and there was nothing in there but a check for seventy-five dollars.

“Rex?” And how did he end up with all the classes that started at noon? Seriously. “Rex, wake up. Where in the hell are my socks?”

“Threw ’em away,” he muttered, and my jaw dropped.

“You
what
?”

“Threw ’em away.” He woke up a little more, sat up in bed, and rubbed his eyes.

“Well, can I borrow some of yours?”

“No,” he said, smirking. “I don’t have any either.”

“What am I supposed to wear on my feet?” My brain was starting to hurt. And, yes, my feet were cold.

“You can buy footies. That’s why I left you the check.”

“But footies won’t fit on . . .” Oh yeah. “The door. You bastard. Do you get off knowing I’m going to walk in here while you’re living
Boogie Nights
in our dorm room?”

He actually had to think about it. “I can’t lie,” he said, stretching his arms above his head. He had a truly magnificent chest and armpit hair that was oddly red in color. I swallowed, feeling an unwelcome punch of desire in my stomach. “I
do
like it when you walk in on me. But part of that is I want to see you whack off—man, even if you’re not into guys, that thing . . . I mean, it doesn’t get any smaller, does it?”

“I don’t know, I think I can feel it shrinking every time you bring another girl in here.”

Rex’s smirk went nuclear. “Well then, I’ll stop bringing girls in.” He sighed. “Except maybe Courtney. I
like
her.”

“Awesome. Do you think you could give
her
the check, and have
her
go get footies? Today’s a three-class day.”

Rex’s grin relaxed, and he nodded. “No worries. I’ll get them. We wear the same size. God, if only our
dicks
were the same—”

“I’ll wear flip-flops,” I said, to cut off that sentence. “You lay back and enjoy that thought.”

He was ahead of me, actually, and I watched with a combination of revulsion and arousal as his hand moved under the covers. With a sigh, I turned around and left, adjusting myself uncomfortably as I went.

Oliver, can I ask you a personal question?

Yes, I do floss regularly, why?

It’s about sex.

Ooh—I’m suddenly interested.

What do you think about when you jerk off?

You.

I’m serious.

You really aren’t a quick study, are you? Who do
you
think about?

I swallowed. I hadn’t jerked off in almost a year, and for once, I was smart enough about myself to know why.

I’ll let you know the next time I jerk off.

Excellent! Can I watch?

You’ll have to get in line. Rex made it his life’s mission.

Rex can kiss my skinny brown ass. You were my friend first.

I’ll tell him that.

But you’ll let me know if you do, won’t you?

Jerk off and think of you?

Yes. Please.

I was alone here, and I missed him. Who would know but us?

Yeah. I promise.

Good.

I was up late studying that night so I could go to bed after Rex did. I fell asleep thinking about Oliver, about his smile, about the funny, quick way he moved, and how he always let his bowl-cut bangs grow into his eyes before he trimmed them, so those darting hands were always pushing it out of the way. I remembered his kiss, and the heat of his body, and the way his mouth had felt under mine, and just when my groin started to ache and tingle a little, I fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning
literally
with my dick in my hand, and Oliver still in my head from my dreams. It took one, two, three strokes, and I was coming, biting my other hand to keep Rex from hearing, the orgasm boiling up from my balls with so much heat and pain that tears slid through the creases of my eyes.
Oliver
. Oh God. My body wanted him so bad, my skin ached because he wasn’t there to touch me, or, hell, even talk to me. My breathing was fierce, and I spurted hard, hot, spattering into my underwear again and again until I could only roll over to my side and groan softly.

“
Oliver
.”

Oliver?

Yes?

I did it.

And?

I miss you so bad I can’t talk about it.

I miss you too.