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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