Love Lessons (12 page)

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. Like, 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 liked 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 was kind of queasy.

Really 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 like 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 like 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.

Chapter Nine

Things were a little weird between Walter and Kelly after the party at Luna’s, but Walter told himself it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Kelly had been drunk. Really, stinking drunk, and Walter felt like a shit heel for not watching Kelly’s glass. It was too bad, because if not for that Everclear, it would have been a magical night. Walter hadn’t ever had that much fun dancing—and that included what he’d done with Kelly.

Right up until Kelly had licked his neck.

Licked it.

Every time Walter let himself think about that moment, every bit of wiring in his brain short-circuited, and he stood still, motionless while the memory played again and again. Once it happened while he was in line for a soda in the cafeteria, Kelly standing right beside him, and he caught a whiff of Kelly’s cologne as he stuck out his arm to put his cup under the ice maker.

Except he knew Kelly didn’t wear cologne and had unscented, non-allergenic, all-natural, hippie deodorant. Which meant he was smelling Kelly straight up and getting hard. And thinking about Kelly running his tongue down his neck.

Over. And over. And over.

“Walter?”

He blinked, coming out of his trance right before the Dr. Pepper overflowed his glass and spilled all over his fingers. Swearing, he tipped some of it out, set the glass on his tray and shook off the sticky residue.

Kelly gave him a wary look. “You okay?”

Walter rolled his eyes at himself, grumbled under his breath and headed for their table.

The one good piece of news was that Mason Jar had moved permanently out of the picture. The texts had stopped, and when Mason walked past them in the union, Kelly went stiff as a board and quickly fixed his gaze on an external window. Mason didn’t even seem to notice Kelly was there.

“Everything okay?” Walter asked, just to be sure.

“Fine,” Kelly replied, in a very not-fine voice, but he didn’t offer anything else, and Walter didn’t push.

He was still worried about Kelly, though, so the next time he Skyped Cara, he brought it up. What did
she
do?
Laugh.

Walter didn’t, and he glared at the screen. “What the hell is so funny?”

She gave him a long-suffering look. “Oh please. You’re practically a mother hen over Kelly. You didn’t fuss this much over me.”

“I’m not fussing.”

“You’re not just fussing, you’re obsessing.” She rested her chin in her hand, looking wicked. “Walter, do you have a crush on your roommate?”

Walter refused to dignify that with an answer, only crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to stop being an idiot.

Now she looked wistful. “Oh, Wally.”

“Oh, Pickles. I think your veil is on too tight. Be reasonable. Just because it would make you feel better if I were trotting off into the sunset like you are, don’t go hooking me up with whoever you think makes me a cuter matching set.”

Their conversation ended shortly after that, and now Walter felt frustrated and guilty in addition to feeling confused. So he did the only thing left he could do. He went to Williams.

It was Saturday afternoon, but Williams was in his office. Two of his kids were making iMovies in the studio across the hall, and Williams was at a command viewing performance when Walter stuck his head in.

“Walter!” Paul, the youngest, beamed and waved him over. “Come watch this. We’re turning a bug into a bird.”

“Oh yeah?” Walter stood behind the table with the professor, not faking much of his praise as he watched a cockroach morph into a chicken pecking at the ground. “Wow, how’d you do that?”

“A five-dollar app,” Williams murmured. “Don’t tell the dean.” He clapped his hand on Paul’s and Mary’s shoulders. “Okay, guys, I’m going to go into my office with Walter for a bit. Don’t break anything, and don’t do any more shopping.”

“Okay,” they said in chorus and made the cockroach morph again.

Williams poured Walter a cup of coffee and nodded at the chair beside his desk. “Sit. I can tell something’s up. You’ve been off in class too. Please tell me it’s not your mother.”

He’d been off in class? “It’s not.” Walter took the mug and sipped. The coffee was almost warm today, but it was still rotgut. “Well, she’s not great, but no, that’s not it.” He put the mug down and shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. “It’s Kelly. Or really, it’s not Kelly. It’s everyone.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Williams cradled his mug, leaned back in his chair until it creaked and waited.

Walter tried to explain about Kelly’s desire to date and the near train wrecks Walter endured on a daily basis. “He’s going to get his heart broken, and it makes me insane. When I say that to other people, they have knowing smiles and tell me I’m falling for him. I’m
not
. Even if I were, that’s not what this is about. He’s so fucking clueless it kills me. He doesn’t notice when people do flirt with him, and the only guys he gives the time of day to are the ones with bad pick-up lines who want to get in his pants. Which would be fine, except he acts like he lives in a goddamn Taylor Swift song.”

“He does seem a bit hung up on the ideal in pretty much everything. I’ve noticed that in how he responds in class.” Williams cocked his head to the side. “Wouldn’t you consider that part of his relationship evolution, though? Maybe he has to get his heart broken a little bit in order to have those rose glasses adjusted for clarity.”

“Yeah, well, then I have to watch it happen. I don’t want to.”

Williams’s gaze gentled. “Walter, you
do
care for him. He’s your friend. More so than Cara, I think.”

Why did Williams saying that make Walter’s skin feel tight? “I’ve known him a few months.”

“And you talk about him constantly.” When Walter stiffened, he held up a hand. “No, I’m not going to make cutesy comments about how you’re in love with him. It’s worse than that. You love him, period. Friend or lover is irrelevant. You care for him, and the people who fall under that category for you have a horrible track record. They all leave you or go crazy. Especially lately.”

Walter swallowed hard and averted his eyes.

A heavy hand rested briefly on his arm, squeezed, then lifted. “Talk to me about your mom. You haven’t mentioned her, just keep telling me she’s fine, which is the biggest pile of bullshit this side of your sister’s horse barn.”