Love Lessons (20 page)

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,” he said.

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 like 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’d like 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,” he said eventually.

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 back 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 pretty cool, 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 like 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 like 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 just like dancing, except he got off. Sure it didn’t feel like his rosy idea of love, but it was better than nothing.

It was better than pining like an idiot 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 just barely sure of his name and that was it. His name and that 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.

Walter likely 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 like 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 like 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. No way, not yet. 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.

Chapter Fifteen

Walter didn’t know what he was doing with Kelly at Roscoe’s, but maybe if he kept moving and didn’t let himself think, maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

He wasn’t drinking—he’d never so much as touched the rum and Coke Kelly bought for him, too busy being green with envy as Kelly made out with every other fucking guy in the bar while Walter watched. Then he’d been busy trying to figure out what the fuck was going on, and then…

Kelly. He’d
kissed Kelly
.

He’d been Kelly’s
first kiss
. Every time Walter thought about that he short-circuited, lost in wonder, victory and sheer, unadulterated terror. What was he doing? Why had he done this—with
Kelly
?

What in the
hell
were they going to do now?

“You’re doing it again.” They had stopped dancing to get some water, and Kelly had lost his languidness, sliding back into his earlier tension. “You’re going to close up on me and things are going to be weird, aren’t they?”

“I’ve never closed up on you,” Walter said, then realized he’d pulled away from Kelly, muscles tightening as he drew his arms against his body as he…closed off. He swore and sat on an empty stool, shaking. “Kelly, I can’t do this.”

“Damn it, Walter,
you
kissed
me.
” Kelly’s fist rested on the edge of the bar. “I was trying to leave it alone, but you kept pushing. This isn’t my fault.”

Walter gave him an incredulous look. “Whoever said it was? This is me being an idiot. I didn’t say you couldn’t. I said
I
can’t.”

Kelly threw up his hands. “I don’t even know what it is we can’t do. Because you’re making it sound like you can’t kiss me or get too close to me, and after months of watching you fuck your way through campus, that hurts. It fucking hurts.”

“This is about a lot more than kissing you.” Walter laid his hands flat on the bar, staring at his fingers. He’d only had water, but he felt drunk. Crazy. Lost. Sick to his stomach. “I don’t want to fuck us up. I couldn’t stand losing you.”

Kelly stilled. “How is kissing me losing me?”

“Because I want to do more than kiss you. More than have sex with you.” Walter’s fingers faded out of his vision as it clouded over, obscured by the haze of his emotions. “I want to have a relationship with you, but I’ve never had one, and I know they’re hard, maybe impossible, and I can’t do
regular
relationships right, so how would I not fuck this up even worse? I can’t do this.
I can’t
.” He dug his fingernails into the slick surface of the bar. “Except the more I try not to do this, to not be with you like this, the more it starts to seem like the only thing I can do.” His throat grew thick, and he shut his eyes, shaking his head. All of a sudden he felt sick, truly sick to his stomach. “I have to get out of here.”