He rubs at his bottom lip and exhales a long breath. “Uh, I’d like to talk to your dad first.”

“Why? It’s not like you’re going to ask him for permission to have sex with me.”

“Well, no, but I’d at least like to get his consent to date you.” He runs his palm down his chest and back up.

“Oh. Right.” I guess he’s taking me seriously about convincing my dad it’s okay for me to get involved with him. “But I don’t see what that has to do with us having sex.”

“I’d like to take you out for dinner first.”

“What if we order room service?”

“I mean, I’d like to take you on a proper date, where I pick you up at your house and bring you flowers and chocolate. Then I’ll take you out for a nice dinner.”

“It’s kinda late to do that tonight, don’t you think?” I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s already ten. It’s way too late for a dinner date.

A grin tips up the corner of his mouth, and he scratches his neck. “It is.”

“So . . . does that mean you don’t want to have sex with me tonight?” He’s already getting hard again. I poke his semisoft penis and frown. I’m not sure if it’s the lighting or what, but it looks a little red . . . and bumpy.

“No. I mean, yes, of course. I want to be inside you more than I want my next breath.” He skims my cheek with his fingertips. “But I want to do things in the right order, and so far it’s all been very backward. Let me put the effort in, Queenie. I want to show you you’re worth it.”

“When you put it that way . . .” I prop myself up on an elbow, ready to barter for a round of wet Slip ’N Slide, but I’m distracted by the blotchy red patches that have appeared on his chest and stomach. “Uh, is this normal?”

He glances at my hand, which is right by his now mostly erect, hot-pink peen. “We’re talking about sex, and you’re naked, and all I can smell and taste is you, so yeah, getting hard is normal.”

“No, I mean this.” I poke one of the raised red welts below his navel and follow the visual trail that extends all the way up his chest, to his nipples, over his neck, and to his mouth. I can actually see it growing progressively worse with each passing second. “Are you having an allergic reaction? Oh my God, are you allergic to me?”

“What? Oh hell!” King sits up in a rush and runs a hand from his pecs to his peen.

“Do you have any allergies?”

“Just strawberries. I get hives if I eat them or touch them.”

We both look over at the takeout cup sitting on the desk on the other side of the room. I slap a hand over my mouth. “Oh God, I just had a strawberry milkshake. What should I do?”

“I need an antihistamine. And some cortisone cream and possibly some EMLA cream.” King grimaces as he rolls off the bed and gets a good look at his dick. It’s sizable on a good day, but right now it’s swelling and bumpy and very much the wrong color.

“I don’t know if I have any antihistamines, or any of that other stuff.”

“I have some in my room. The antihistamines anyway. The sooner I take it, the less severe the reaction will be. And I need to shower.” He yanks his boxers on and hops around as he tries to put his pants on.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve asked about the milkshake. I was too caught up in making out to really think about it.”

“There’s a CVS down the street. I can always run out if you don’t have all the things you need.” I hurry to put on my clothes.

“The team doctor always has stuff on hand.”

“Right. Okay. That makes sense.” His face is getting progressively worse. His normally full lips are puffy, like he’s had collagen injections or something, and half his neck is covered in red welts. “It’s not anaphylactic, is it?”

“No. Just the hives. At least that’s what happened the last time I had a reaction.”

“When was that?”

“I think I was a teenager.” King pulls his polo over his head, forgoes his socks and shoes, and crosses over to the door.

“Is it possible for an allergy to worsen over time?”

“Maybe?”

I don’t bother with a bra, pulling my shirt over my head as I follow on his heels. It’s not like I can do anything constructive, but with the amount of swelling around his face and mouth, I sure as hell won’t be leaving him alone.

Kingston throws open the door but doesn’t rush across the hall like I expect him to, so I slam into his back with an oof. “What are you waiting for? We need to get this under control before your di—”