Love Lessons (5 page)

Kelly hoped he was joking and was very afraid that he wasn’t. “Why do you keep ragging on Hope? If you hate it, why are you here?”

“I don’t hate it. Well, I hate parts of it, yes, in the same way I hate parts of everything. It
is
a liberal hotbed—which is where some of the weird comes from, to be honest—but the professors are great, especially my advisor, Dr. Williams. He teaches Intro to Humanities, so you’ll have him eventually. Also the place really does take overt bullying seriously. Of course, they also have a ridiculously high suicide rate.”

Kelly stopped walking abruptly. “What?”

“It’s true. Look it up. They obviously don’t advertise it, but yeah. It’s just like everywhere else in life: great intentions, grim reality. They started this joint for underprivileged Chicago youth, trying to give them a better shot. Then it became one of the first to actively recruit women. Then they sought out African Americans, and now Latinos. They’ve always got an angle. But it’s just that, a way to look good. Actually being hopeful? That’s hard shit, and it’s expensive. So we get a lot of Disney.”

“What’s wrong with Disney?”

“What
isn’t
wrong with Disney? Cute bubblegum life wrapped up in a politically correct Technicolor corporate bow. Fake acceptance and other bullshit carefully crafted to be swallowed whole and consumed at a premium price.” Walter shook his head. “Hope is nothing but a bad dye job. We can’t live off campus because it looks like we’re a big happy family if we’re all right here, and they get all that income from dorms, even when they shove the two of us in a shoebox and try and kill you over almonds slopped in your oatmeal at breakfast. They don’t let people bully, not where you can see it, so they do it in other ways. Let’s just say we should shower at the same time for awhile, and use the bathroom at the far end until the thugs work out their pecking order.”

Kelly ignored the slam against Disney and fixated on the important things, like Hope not being what he thought it was. “I thought you said they took bullying seriously?”

“Yeah. If anyone calls you a fag and you have even a fruit fly as a witness, they’re paying a big fat fine and doing community service. So they’re never going to call you a fag. They’re going to be really subtle, and there are plenty of shy gay boys who can’t take it. Now, me? Shit, I ate that for breakfast in high school. They learned to give me a wide berth, and I got out of the bad dorms fast. I transferred out of Porterhouse by Christmas break my first year here.”

“But that’s the only underclassmen male dorm where they allow air conditioners. The allergen rooms in other dorms were all taken by sophomores, they said.”

Walter put a hand on Kelly’s arm again. “Easy. Easy.”

Kelly shook his arm off and pointed at himself, leaning forward to whisper angrily, “
I’m
one of those shy gay boys.”

“I know, babe. I know.” Walter held up his hands. “Look, I got your back, okay? Roomies, right?”

“Oh, like you’re not bailing on me first chance you get.” What was Kelly going to do? Classes hadn’t started and he was thinking of transferring. He’d spent so much
time
finding the right place, and now—
God
.

This time Walter put both hands on Kelly’s shoulders. They felt good and solid, and they meant Kelly could smell the incredible scent that was Walter, spice and cologne and man. It calmed him right down, even as it revved other parts of him up.

“I won’t bail. Promise. And hey, maybe I’ll be wrong. Maybe Porter has all changed in two years. Maybe you’re a secret tough guy, or you’ll stab them with that EpiPen or charm them. But if not—no, I’m not bailing on you.”

Kelly glared at him, or tried to. Fuck, Walter smelled good. “Why not?”

If eau de Walter was hard to resist, Walter’s expression turning empathetic and not at all cynical, not even a little, was purely lethal. “Because I would have killed to have that kind of backing when I felt the same way in high school, and it makes me feel good to be able to give it to you now.”

Jesus. “So now I’m a
high school
student?”

Cue sideways smile. Kelly couldn’t help it, he was starting to get hard. In Target. It only got worse when Walter scraped his thumb along the pulsing cord on Kelly’s neck. “No, baby. You’re one hundred percent sweet, delectable undergrad.” He winked, then let Kelly go. “Come on. Let’s go get those covers.”

Chapter Four

The kid was cute. Like, really damn cute, outside and in. Kelly was shy and quiet and naive and Walter was very, very afraid might be a closet Republican, but everything except for the last part was win. Making him blush was fun too. It was so easy Walter kept doing it to explore the depths of how red the guy could get.

Kelly wanted Walter too, that was clear as day, which was fun because he was embarrassed about that like he was everything else. Slightly helpless about it, though, which really turned Walter on. He felt like he could drag Kelly into the bathroom by the pharmacy and blow him right there, and at best Kelly would put up a token
we shouldn’t
before giving up all those reserved, shy moans for Walter’s mouth. He was a
pretty
boy too, and no doubt every girl in his high school had been fapping over him and imagining they’d be the one to be shy Kelly’s girlfriend. Fuck, any boys unwittingly sharing Kelly’s closet were right there with the girls, except whatever lucky bastards caught his eye in the locker room.

Now Walter was living with him. Fuck yeah. He could handle some shy pretty boy on tap.

“You know, sometimes I think I shop at Target because of the color scheme,” Walter confessed as they trolled down the aisle. They had a cart full of anti-dust-mite bedding and a new comforter for Walter and were now simply wandering. “It’s horrid suburban hell, but it has nice design, so I don’t mind.”

“Target’s from Minnesota.” Kelly pushed the cart, something he seemed to take great security in. “Headquartered in Minneapolis.”

“Which I heard is now one of the gayest cities in America. Now it all makes sense.” Walter elbowed him. “So, we’re here, we’re queer, and I have a gold card. Let’s trick out our humble abode. What are you feeling? Patio lights hung around your loft? Beanbag chairs that match your lampshade? I draw the line at mirrors on the ceiling, though a few positioned artfully on the closet door wouldn’t hurt my feelings.”

Kelly bit his lip. “It’s fine. Whatever you want.”

Walter rolled his eyes. “Seriously, I have to blow a grand a month before my dad even remembers I’m alive. Here. How about these cute mugs? They say ALOHA. I think we each have to have one, don’t you? And the serving tray to match, naturally.”

Kelly frowned and protested no matter what Walter put in his cart, though Walter thought his roommate secretly loved the pea-green floor rocker, and maybe the mirrored ALOHA tray Walter planned to hang on the wall near the door. Mostly Kelly seemed determined not to be a bother and to under no circumstances spend Walter’s money.

Naturally, this cemented Walter’s determination to pay for dinner.

They ditched the car in the lot, leaving their stuff for the way back, and walked to Moe’s. It had an age minimum of nineteen to get in, but it was still early so nobody gave a shit. They ate on the restaurant side, if the handful of booths and the burrito bar could be called a restaurant. Though as Walter saw Kelly scouring the menu, he remembered the food-allergy thing and felt like a dick. “Shit, I didn’t even think. Can you eat here?”

“I think so.” Kelly was still scrutinizing the laminated sheet. “No cheese and no sauces except the salsa, and I need to double-check everything because I’ve learned otherwise I run too high a risk of hitting the hospital, but they look safe enough. It’s all customized, so it’s actually probably one of the better places I can eat.”

“You can do all the burritos as salad, if you have the gluten thing or just don’t feel like a tortilla.”

“I thank God on a daily basis I don’t have a wheat allergy.” Kelly stepped forward to order, and Walter found himself hoping like hell that God thanking was ironic. If Cara found out he was living with a
God-fearing
Republican, he’d never hear the end of it.

As predicted, Kelly had a fit when Walter paid for their meal, though it was nothing compared to when Walter ordered a pitcher of Pabst and two glasses.

“I’m only eighteen.”

“Do not tell me you haven’t had alcohol. I won’t believe you.”

Kelly glared at him. “Yes, I have, but not like this. Not out in the open where anyone can see me.”

“What do you think they’re going to do? Storm in with a SWAT team and haul you off to the gulag?” He glanced at Kelly’s hand, noticed the jewelry and laughed. “Though here’s a pro tip: don’t wear your high school class ring. It doesn’t do you any favors in the age department.” He studied Kelly with a critical eye. “You do look young in general. We’ll make sure it’s a good fake.”

Kelly tucked the ring’s stone into his palm, blushing yet again. “What happens if they figure out it’s a fake?”

“Here? They’ll just take it away. Tonight you’re not going to need it though. If they card us, it’s me they’ll fry for buying beer for you.”

“With
your
fake ID?”

“Actually, it’s my real ID. I’m turning twenty-two next month. And yes, before you do the math, I’m older than most college juniors. I believe I mentioned my parents’ divorce? Well, let’s just say my mother did not take it well. At all. I was enrolled at Northwestern, and I got about a month in before I withdrew and went home because I had no idea what was going to happen. She did go to the hospital for a while, so it’s probably good I pulled out when I did. I have no idea who would have kept my sister from foster care or worse.”

Kelly looked at him like he’d confessed to pulling his family from the ocean in some kind of hi-res film moment. “Wow.”

“Not even close to wow. Anyway, when it was all sorted, they asked me where I wanted to go. At that point, nowhere, because I felt so old, but my best friend was here, and she loved it, and I’d visited her and thought it wasn’t bad, so I said this joint. Which brings us to now.”

“Is your friend still here?”

Walter shook his head. “Graduated in August. I’m two years behind my high school peers. Cara and I rigged ourselves a room together midway through my freshman year, and last year I lived with her and her fiancé off-campus, which was great. I was supposed to stay in their place this school year, but the landlord fucked that up. It’s too bad. It’s a great place. I should take you by to see it, since I still have the key.”

“Who’s living there now?”

“Nobody, and nobody will. Bank will try to sell it, which they won’t be able to do because it’s too close to campus. They’ll probably make it a parking lot eventually. Crying shame.”

“Couldn’t you lease it from the bank?”

“Yes, but the college didn’t like that it wasn’t a year lease, which is part of their ‘protect the family’ bullshit, which is really them playing Big Brother. Every now and again when the crazy right-wingers bitch about socialist lefties, they get it right. This would be one of those cases.” He let out a breath and gave up. “Okay, I have to ask because it’s making me nuts. You’re not Republican, are you?”

Kelly looked surprised and a little amused. “Does that matter?”

“Oh fuck, you are.”

Now he laughed. “No. I’m not anything. Neither is my family. We vote in whatever way works at the time. Or rather they do, I haven’t voted yet. Though I know the last few times my family have voted Democrat because of LGBT rights.”

“Because now it’s personal?” Walter sipped at his beer. “Sure, I get that. Well, are you going to hold it against me for being a card-carrying member of the radical left?”

God, the kid had a cute smile. It made his eyes twinkle and made Walter want to suck on his chin. “I think I can live with it.”

“What about religion? I have an atheist card too, and I use it.”

Kelly didn’t seem moved. “I’m Lutheran, but I don’t care what other people believe, or don’t.”

“You going to go to church on Sunday mornings?”

“Probably not, but don’t tell my mother.”

“Fair enough.” God, Walter felt a lot better. He nudged Kelly’s beer at him. “What about wild sex parties? I assume those are on the menu, if we can figure out how to stack people into our—shit, you’re white as a sheet. They slipped an almond into your burrito, the bastards. Where’s that EpiPen?”

“No—” Ducking his head, Kelly stared hard at his plate, color coming back to his face. “I’m fine.”

Kelly was, Walter realized, mortified.
Oh.
That pale expression was
extreme
embarrassment. “So no sex parties, huh? The room really is too small anyway, and we’d have to smuggle them into Porterhouse first. Do we go with the old towel-on-the-door routine, or in this century, text message? I’d crack a joke about liking an audience, but I don’t want to see you pass out.”

Kelly pursed his lips, then sighed so hard his shoulders drooped a little. “The thing is, I don’t have sex.”

“What, ever? I didn’t think Lutherans were that harsh.”

It was supposed to make him laugh. It didn’t. “No. I would like to. I would love to, honestly, but—” He glanced up at Walter, then away.

Holy. Fuck. First the boyfriend question, now this. “Red, are you trying to tell me you’re saving yourself for marriage?”