Love Lessons (10 page)

Kelly lay there, aroused, confused, aching. He wanted Walter.
Wanted
Walter. This ache was new, different than anything he’d felt before. He’d looked at guys and thought they were cute. He’d lain in bed and fantasized about men. He’d fantasized about Walter a few times. He’d wanted Mason when he saw him too, but abstractly. All his crushes had been distant and full of vague longing.

There was nothing vague about the way his whole body ached for his roommate right now. He stared at Walter’s back, silhouetted by the hotel room lighting, and Kelly wanted him
now
. Wanted to touch him. Wanted Walter to touch him back. Wanted Walter to smile while he touched him. Wanted Walter to put his arm around him while he talked to Cara, the same way Greg and Cara held each other. Some of it was that he just wanted somebody to hold him.

A lot of it, he realized for the very first time, was that he wanted Walter to be the one who did that holding. And so, so much more.

Kelly lay in bed, half-asleep, aching, yearning, his beer-soaked mind fueling murky fantasies of Walter sliding under the covers and pulling Kelly to him. In his fantasies neither of them wore any clothes—except underwear at first, because even Kelly’s subconscious was shy, but eventually as they rubbed against each other, those evaporated too.

The fantasies must have become dreams, because abruptly they faded and real-life Walter slid beside him—really wearing just boxers and his T-shirt, which made Kelly want to touch him, to pull him closer. He didn’t though, not drunk enough anymore, too worried what Walter would say, what he would think, whether or not he would laugh.

Walter didn’t laugh. Keeping his back to Kelly, he lay on his side, far, far away.

The next thing Kelly knew, it was morning, and his head was pounding. Walter stood over him looking sleep-rumpled and bleary but a hell of a lot better than Kelly felt.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s head back to the dorm.”

He offered Kelly a hand, and Kelly took it, wondering if the touch would give him the same thrill it had the night before. It was there, just muted, dulled by a reality sobriety provided.

Walter Lucas was hot, sexy, fun and a good friend—and the wrong place to look for a boyfriend.

Kelly vowed he would start looking elsewhere a lot harder.

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 look, like he was angry with
Walter
. “Seriously, just 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 just 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 like that was what was coming next, alcoholism. “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. “Sorry, Kel, but 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.”