Love Lessons (3 page)

“Okay.” Kelly wasn’t sure what else to say to that. “Thanks?”

Grinning wryly, the girl held out her hand. “Rose Manchester, sophomore. Nice to meet you.”

Kelly took her hand somewhat hesitantly. “Kelly Davidson. Freshman. Though you seem to know what year I am already.”

Rose shrugged. “It’s a small school. Anybody you don’t know at this time of year is either a freshman or a transfer.”

“I don’t look like a transfer, I take it?”

“Well, you’re wearing your high school class ring, which most transfers don’t.”

Kelly tucked his thumb over his right ring finger. “Is that uncool or something?”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t know. I’m kind of a geek.”

He did a quick inventory of Rose’s accessories—no rainbow necklace and no class ring. She did have a curious-looking necklace: a black cord bearing a heavy metal circle that read
ERASE HATE
. Jewelry seemed a safe conversation—it was working so far. “I like your necklace.”

Touching it, Rose smiled, and her gaze fell briefly to Kelly’s left wrist. “Thanks.”

Kelly had to fight not to cover his bracelet, and as they stood there not speaking, he felt a weird kinship with Rose. She reminded him of his sister both in looks and her ability to hold graceful silence. He found himself wanting to talk to her, to capture her as a friend, but he had no idea how to do it.

He went with the necklace. “Is that the NOH8 campaign?”

She shook her head. “Matthew Shepard.”

“Oh.” Kelly swallowed a
cool
because obviously Matthew Shepard’s plight was not.

“Normally I don’t advertise,” Rose went on, “but a friend gave this to me, and it reminds me of her.”

Advertise.
Kelly thought of Amy and tucked the bracelet higher, vowing to cut it off the second he got to his room. Then he realized what Rose had said. Wait, did that mean…? Could he ask?

Rose smiled. “I think I officially fall as a Q right now, but yes, I’m gay.”

“Q?”

“Questioning.” Rose shifted her backpack higher. “Somewhere between lesbian and bi at the moment, but honestly, I have no idea. I only know I don’t fit the standard heterosexual mold.” She lifted a knowing eyebrow. “You’re just now out, right?”

He tried to laugh. “How can you tell?”

“Because you look like you expect people to come out of the bushes and start screaming
gay
at you before they pelt you with stones. It’s okay. We’ve all been there. Some days I still am, I think. I’m sure you’ve heard the spiels, but you really can relax for the most part at Hope. Just stay out of Porterhouse, and you’ll be fine.”

Kelly went still. “Porter? You’re talking about the dorm called Porter?” When she nodded, his gut clenched. “That’s where my room is.”

Rose’s smile died. “Ah. Well, I hope you have a good roommate.”

He tried not to panic. “I don’t have one. I have allergies, so they gave me a single for the air conditioner.”

“That’s good—no roommate, I mean. It’s almost all jocks there, and I hate to stereotype, but…well, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She said it in the way people say they hope things will be fine when they’re sure they won’t be. Fishing in her pocket, Rose pulled out a smartphone. “Here—give me your number, and I’ll text you later to be sure you’re okay. I’m across the way in Sandman, and if nothing else, I can flash my tits at them while you run.”

Kelly laughed, but his fingers shook as he entered himself into Rose’s contacts. How, after all his careful planning, had he ended up in the one bad dorm? He wanted to ask stupid questions, lots of them, and he wanted to beg Rose not to leave him, to let him live under her bed. He might have tried if he’d thought he could survive the dust bunnies.

She took back her phone and winked. “It’s going to be fine, Kelly Davidson. I’m a little bit psychic sometimes, and I’m telling you, everything is going to be all right.”

God but he hoped so. “Thanks.”

“Anyway. Sorry for jumping you, but seriously, that Zodiac curse is murder.” Stepping back, she waved. “See you around.”

“Bye.” Kelly watched her head into the union before continuing on his way.

He put off returning to his dorm as long as possible. There was a dinner in the commons for the freshmen, or so Dean Stevens had assured them during her speech, but Kelly didn’t go. He wasn’t hungry, and he still felt overwhelmed and off kilter.

He wandered the union instead, buying a salad in the deli and turning red when he had to ask them to make a new one without cheese and egg, even though he’d told them he was allergic. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for new dressing, though, so he’d thrown the packet away and eaten it dry. As he choked it down, he tried to tell himself there wasn’t anything to worry about, that living in a jock dorm all by himself would be fine.

His self-pep talks weren’t working very well.

During the orientation speech, the dean of students had gone on and on about Hope’s impressive legacy, about their sterling academic reputation and their notoriety for strong social unity. “We are all a family at Hope,” she told the freshmen, beaming at them with slightly crooked teeth. “You are all about to take this journey together, and over the next four years you will make friends that will last a lifetime. Many of you will meet your life partners here. Many of you will send your children here. Hope is your home now. We, the rest of your family, can’t wait to see what you do.”

Her words kept ringing in Kelly’s head as he gave up on the salad and bobbed and wove through the campus pathways toward his dorm. The dean hadn’t said anything different than they touted in their literature and on their website. Back when he’d applied, Kelly had taken comfort in those words, but now all he could think about was what Rose had said about Porter. What if that was only the start of things nobody had bothered to tell him?

Probably he was tired and homesick. Probably he should go back to his room, heat up one of the single-serve vegan meals he knew his mom had snuck into the fridge, and go to bed.

After pushing the ancient key code to get into the dorm door—who exactly that was keeping out was anybody’s guess—Kelly went up the stairs to the fourth floor, trying not to fixate on the smell. He’d been in the other dorms during his tour, but not Porter, and now he knew why: it smelled like feet. It smelled like five hundred pairs of feet and that many jockstraps marinated in tubs of sweat. As he’d moved in, Kelly’s mother had fretted about mold and gone on and on about his allergies, double-checking his air filter about thirty times. Kelly had told her it wasn’t a big deal, but he did worry, just a little. He worried too about all the loud, burly guys he could hear bellowing down the hallways, wondering what it would be like to shower with them when they knew he was gay, thinking it was all starting to fit with Rose’s warning all too well.

How ridiculous was he, thinking being at a liberal university that promised they were all family was protection.

By the time he got to his floor, Kelly was an anxious mess. He kept his head down as he beelined for his door, his key already in his hand. He could feel the stares of his floor mates, could hear the whispers, but his heart pounded too loudly inside his ears for him to hear their taunts. He didn’t know how to handle being ostracized. This had never been his life. How had this happened?

How was he supposed to
live
like this?

Kelly pushed panic aside because it was starting to make his airways constrict.
No.
No asthma attacks now. He’d just get inside, lock the door and curl up in his bed until he felt better.

Except when he got to his door, it was already open.

Just a little, just cracked a few inches, but it was open all the same, and the light was on inside.
Someone broke in,
Kelly thought, feeling sick and violated, and then he heard a voice coming from inside. He pushed open the door, key tight in his hand, heart pushing up at the top of his throat.

An upperclassman who looked like Flynn Rider from
Tangled
put down his cellphone, turned to face Kelly and smiled as he stuck out his free hand. “Hi. I’m Walter Lucas, your roommate.”

Chapter Three

While Walter had fully intended to head to Moe’s and cruise the new blood, once Walter was alone at his apartment, the urge evaporated. He’d wandered around like a caged tiger for half an hour, digesting the cold reality of all the shit he was going to have to move into storage. At the forty-five-minute mark he’d caved and started packing. There seemed no point in putting off the inevitable move. He’d shoved most of his things into storage with Cara’s stuff in the garage to be picked up when she and Greg came back down, gone to the Porter resident assistant for his key and descended back into dorm life.

As he took in his delicious newbie roommate, however, dorm life didn’t seem so bad.

God Almighty, this one had it going on. Just shy of six feet, he had dark brown hair with a kiss of blond highlights—natural, like he’d spent the summer in the sun, and it was teased into a subdued version of a messy faux-hawk. He had a medium build, not twink thin, but not cut. Maybe he worked out, but it was at home and only when he had the time. Cutie had lovely symmetrical features, nice lips with a hint of plumpness and gorgeous eyes that sparkled in hues of pale blue and grey. He sported a suggestion of stubble reaching up to ears that, unlike Walter’s own aural appendages, lay back politely against the sides of his well-groomed head. Best of all, though, was how he was dressed. Button-down shirt with a royal blue tee underneath. Both shirts were snug without screaming
tap this, bitch
, showing off a fine, sculpted, young male form.

Then there were the jeans. The jeans made Walter want to moan, they told him so much. The jeans were tight, tighter than the shirt. The jeans had been chosen to advertise, though only to those who were shopping. The jeans hugged and molded and said,
I am a gay boy with a fine ass and nice package to go with it, and while I’m a nice boy on the surface, I truly want you to take these jeans off and fuck me. Just be nice when you ask, because I have standards.

Walter loved Hottie Freshman’s standards. He wanted to worship those standards. On his knees, with HF’s perfect little mouth open and gasping as Walter showed his deep and abiding appreciation.
Talent.
Grade-A, sweet, biteable freshman talent.

At the moment, however, the talent looked scared and overwhelmed and pretty much exactly like Walter had felt his first night in the door, except Walter had been paired up with a pussy-pounding fuckwad who made his life miserable from the word go, and Walter had never been as shy and prone to blushes as the boy standing in the doorway.

“I don’t understand.” Walter’s roommate tugged on his ear and glanced around nervously. “They said I had a single.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a long story. Short version is, you’ve got a roommate now, and it’s me.” When his roommate still looked nervous, Walter tried for a softer smile. “Want to tell me your name?”

He swallowed hard before answering. “Kelly.”

“Nice to meet you, Kelly. I’m sorry about bursting in on you like this. I don’t even have a bed, as you can see, but happily you have a loft, and I have a futon. Going to have to see a chiropractor after hauling it up those damn stairs myself, but better than asking a jock for help.” He gestured to where he’d made space against the wall. “I have a few more things I’m going to need to bring over from storage, but not much.”

Kelly frowned at the futon and the now very crowded floor space. There was just enough room for him to climb up the ladder to his loft, but he’d have hell getting to his dresser. “There’s only one desk.”

“Yeah. They’d give us a second if we asked, but I don’t know where we’d put it. I don’t really need one, if you can spare me a drawer.” He sighed and glared at the room. “Jesus, they’re kidding themselves if they think two people can live here. What a bunch of assholes. That’s Hope for you, though. If we bitch, they’ll tell us this is part of being a family or some other bullshit.” He glanced at Kelly, remembering he was in the presence of a freshman. “Sorry. You probably still have the postcoital glow of orientation going. Didn’t mean to pop your cherry so fast.”

The kid blushed again. It was kind of cute, if not a little ridiculous. “No, I…” He stopped, looking lost.

Walter began to wish he’d stayed at the apartment after all. “You don’t have to stand in the doorway. This is still your room, and I don’t bite. Not unless you ask nicely.”

He should have known that would make Kelly nervous rather than laugh, but Kelly came in all the same, glancing around uncertainly before making a serious study of the air conditioner, fussing with one of the knobs.

Walter tried to fill the awkward silence. “That’s a nice perk, the AC.”

“I have allergies.” Kelly frowned at Walter. “Sorry, are you…you’re not a freshman?”

“Junior. I was supposed to live off campus, but it fell through. I wanted to move into a different place, but they won’t take a new application. They’re crazy about people living away from the dorms. Everyone else has already been given space, and I’m last minute, so I’m back here in Porterhouse with the meatheads.” He pasted on a smile and settled onto his futon. “But I lucked out and got you instead of them, so it’s not all bad.”

Kelly stayed in the center of the room a few minutes, then moved to sit at his desk, every motion careful as if he might have to bolt out of the room at any second like a rabbit. He reached for one of the meal bars and unwrapped it slowly, keeping one eye on Walter the whole time.