“Oh fuck. My scholarship.”
“Don’t worry, asshole,” Elroy said. “I’ll take care of it. I know how to handle his type. I’ve run into them before and I’m sure I’ll run into them again.” He glanced down at his feet and frowned. His toes were smudged with hot pink nail polish and so were the tips of his fingers. “The only thing I don’t know how to deal with is this fucking hot pink polish. So get the fuck over here and get it off me before I change my mind and toss you out the window.”
Kyle tilted his head to the side and smiled. He hesitated for a second or two, and then he stood up and went to Elroy’s bed. He reached for the nail polish remover and a bag of cotton balls and went down on his knees. When he lifted Elroy’s foot and held it in his palm, Elroy looked into his eyes and was amazed at the wonderful feeling that rushed through his body.
Chapter Six
While Kyle removed the pink polish from Elroy’s toenails, he glanced at a small tattoo on Elroy’s right ankle and asked, “What’s that?” He leaned closer and ran his fingers across it.
Elroy was enjoying the way Kyle touched his foot so gently he had to think for a moment before he answered him. He had such a light touch it sent feelings of warmth through Elroy’s entire body. He hadn’t been sleeping well since he’d arrived at Harvard and it was the first time his entire body felt relaxed enough to sleep.
Then Kyle asked about four more identical tattoos to the one on his ankle. They went up the side of his right leg in no set pattern. He slowly ran his fingertips up and down Elroy’s leg and said, “There are more. What are they?”
Elroy knew Kyle wasn’t doing this in a sexually explicit way. But Kyle’s fingertips ignited every nerve ending in Elroy’s body. For the first time in his new adult life he was torn between closing his eyes and taking in all this pleasure in silence, or shoving his dick down Elroy’s throat. He opted for the former and said, “They’re a few tats I got about a year ago in South Beach. They’re bees. I wanted something different. Someone once told me that bees are not naturally designed to fly; they have to learn how to fly. I’m not even sure if that’s true. But I liked it anyway and got the tattoos for that reason. They turn a lot of guys on.”
Kyle’s reaction was not at all what Elroy had expected. People usually complimented his bee tattoos and marveled at his unusual story about how bees can’t fly. Kyle just frowned and said, “I’m allergic to bees myself. One sting could kill me.”
Elroy rolled his eyes. “You’re a fucking mess, aren’t you?” Kyle dabbed a little nail polish remover onto a cotton ball and took Elroy’s foot in his hand again. As he began to rub the messy pink polish off Elroy’s toes, he said, “I had a bad reaction to bees last summer. I’d been stung before and nothing happened. But last summer I was helping my stepdad rip out bushes at the back of our house in Vermont and I disturbed a beehive. They were so small I didn’t even know it until the first bee stung. When I jumped back, about six more stung me from behind. I moved away from there fast and went into my dad’s shed. I didn’t think anything was wrong at first because I’d been stung before and nothing happened.”
Elroy’s eyelids felt heavy. He’d never done yard work in his life and listening about it only made him want to sleep more. He rested his head on the pillow and said, “Your poor little thing. It must have hurt.” He really wasn’t paying attention to Kyle’s story. He was enjoying the sound of Kyle’s voice and the way Kyle was touching his feet so much he had trouble concentrating. The way Kyle rubbed his toes and held his feet left him feeling as if he’d just smoked the most expensive pot money could buy. And Elroy had smoked enough pot to know what he was talking about.
“At first I felt a little strange,” Kyle said. “I felt off balance and I started to sweat. A minute after that my heart started to pound… and I mean pound…in my chest and I couldn’t breathe. That’s when it occurred to me that I was having a bad reaction to the bee stings. So I crawled back to the house and tried to calm down. There was no one around and I was afraid I’d lose consciousness. How I got back there I don’t know. But I wound up in the kitchen, on the floor, banging my fist on the floor for help. My stepdad came in and saw what was happening. He called my mom upstairs and she came running down with Benadryl. I took it and the symptoms began to subside, but not totally. My heart slowed down and I could breathe again, but I wound up breaking out in hives all over my body, itching everywhere, and my mouth and lips swelled up. It only lasted for a few hours, and then I felt normal again. But I read later on the Internet that when someone has a reaction like that they could die the next time they get stung. So I try to stay away from bees as much as I can.” He glanced at the tattoos and frowned.
While Kyle had been talking about his bee experience, he’d managed to remove all the pink polish without leaving a trace on Elroy’s toes. By that time Elroy had a full erection and his eyes were closed. When Kyle stopped holding his foot, Elroy said, “You can rub my legs now with that nail polish remover. It felt good. You have nice hands. In fact, you can take off your clothes, get into bed with me, and rub nail polish remover all over my body if you want.” He was still amazed at how someone so gangly could have such a light, gentle touch.
Kyle smiled and put the lid on the bottle of nail polish remover. He set the bag of cotton balls aside and stood up. “I think I’d better get to bed now, alone.”
Elroy felt so relaxed and so close to falling into a deep sleep for the first time in days he didn’t want to lift his head. “Don’t stop. It felt so good. You have a nice touch.”
“I don’t want to get stung by you,” Kyle said. “I told you I have a deadly reaction to bees and you have them all over your leg. I think that’s symbolic and I’m not taking any chances.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Elroy said. “Stop being such a fucking asshole.”
“I don’t think so,” Kyle said. “You’re trouble, and I’m not an idiot.”
Elroy smiled. “You’re probably right on both counts. But could you do me one favor before you go to your own bed?” He turned over and rested on his stomach, with one leg close to the edge of the mattress.
“It all depends on the favor,” said Kyle.