“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—”

“Oh, hi, sir!” he almost shouts.

“King? What’re you doing in my daughter’s room at this hour? And what happened to your face?”

Shit. Of course my dad has to pick this exact moment to drop by. I slip past Kingston, and my nipples brush his arm, causing them to peak more than they already are, especially when the blast of air-conditioning hits me in the hall. I cross my arms to cover them. “He’s having an allergic reaction. He needs an antihistamine.”

“A reaction to what?”

“I’m allergic to strawberries, sir.”

“Shit. That’s right. What did you eat that had strawberries in it?”

“I didn’t eat anything, sir. Queenie had a strawberry shake.”

His brow furrows. “Jesus. This is from a shake?”

Leave it to Kingston to be far too honest for his or my own good. “Can you ask questions later, Dad? I think we need to get King something for the swelling before it becomes an issue.”

“Right. Yeah. Let me call the team medic.” My dad pulls out his phone, clicks a couple of buttons, and brings it to his ear, then motions for us to follow him.

Neither of us is wearing shoes. “Let me grab my purse in case I need to run to the CVS for anything.” I duck behind King, slip on my flip-flops, grab my bag and his dress shoes, and meet them down the hall by the elevators. I pass King his shoes, because there really isn’t another option.

“We just have to go down a couple of floors. You doing okay there, King? That’s a pretty nasty reaction to a milkshake.” My dad frowns as Kingston slips his feet into his shoes. They’re loafers, which I’d usually make fun of, but for some reason they work on King.

The crease in my dad’s brow deepens as he inspects King’s face more closely. His usually neat hair is a mess. Because my hands were in it. And there’s a somewhat decent chance that we smell a lot like sex.

The elevator dings, and my dad turns his suspicious gaze on me. “I’ve got it from here, honey. You can go back to your room.”

“But—”

“It’s all right. It’s late and you should get some rest. Thanks for your help, Queenie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” King gives me a slightly strained smile and follows my dad into the elevator.

I sincerely hope King is alive come morning.

CHAPTER 12

PLEASE DON’T CASTRATE ME

Kingston

My swallow is audible as the elevator doors slide shut. Jake leans against the rail and crosses his arms.

I can smell Queenie on me: not only a faint hint of her perfume but also, and far more pungently, her special scent, completely unique to her, because it’s still all over my face. I glance at my reflection, getting a good look at my swollen lips and chin and my unruly hair. I quickly try to tame it but then realize Jake is watching me, so I clasp my hands in front of me.

“Sir, I—”

The elevator dings and the doors open. A couple in their midthirties gets on, preventing me from saying anything else. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to tell him. Obviously I’d planned to talk to Jake about my relationship with Queenie, but I hadn’t anticipated doing it while having an allergic reaction caused by making it to third base with her.

We get off at the next stop, and I silently follow Jake to the medic’s room. Bill is already waiting for us, his bag of supplies laid out on the coffee table.

He makes a face as soon as he sees me. “Oh, man, that’s one hell of a reaction. Are those hives? Aren’t they itchy?”

“Yes and yes,” I say with a nod. The worst of the itching is below the belt. I’m actually nervous about what things might look like down there at the moment, considering how uncomfortable I am.

Bill ushers us inside, motions for me to take a seat on the couch, and begins by inspecting my face and looking inside my mouth. “Okay, no swelling of the tongue, so that’s a positive. It’s not anaphylactic, but I think we should probably have you retested, since this seems to be a pretty intense reaction.” He holds my chin and shifts my head from side to side. “So this is from strawberries, huh? What’d you do, smear it all over your face? It’s all down your neck too.” He pulls at the collar of my shirt. “How far down does it go, King?”

“I, uh . . . it’s not . . . it doesn’t go too far,” I stammer, and then I glance over at Jake, who legitimately looks like he’s going to murder me.

He pushes off the edge of the dresser. “I’m going to let you two manage this. King, I’d like you to stop by my room before you head back to your own. I’m right next to Queenie, across the hall from you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You sure you don’t want to wait? I’m going to give him a shot and some cream and he’ll be good to go.”

“I’m sure.” Jake nods stiffly and leaves.

“He’s in a mood,” Bill mutters once the door slams shut.

“I’m sure he’s just tired.”

Bill makes a sound and stabs me in the arm with a needle. Then he gives me some anti-itch and cortisone cream to help settle the hives and the swelling. “I’ll get you set up with a new set of allergy tests when we get back to Seattle and make sure we don’t need to be carrying around an EpiPen for you, just in case.”

“Okay, thanks, sir.” I push up off the couch and run a hand through my hair. I try to smooth it out a little more as I head for the door.

“And next time, tell whoever you’re getting friendly with not to eat strawberries beforehand. It’ll save you a lot of discomfort.”

“I wasn’t—”

Bill raises his hand to stop me. It’s not as if I can complete that sentence without outright lying. “Get some rest and stay out of trouble’s way, King.”

I have messages from Queenie waiting for me as I get into the elevator and head back up to my floor. She wants to know how I am and requests that I message as soon as I’m done. I put a hold on that, since I need to talk to her dad before I do anything else.

I decide it’s a good idea to stop in my room first and quickly wash off the strawberry residue and the smell of Queenie before I visit Jake in his room. I have my key card poised over the sensor when the door across the hall flies open. He wasn’t lying about being next to Queenie, and he looks less than impressed.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Jake leans against the doorjamb.

“I’m supposed to wash my face and put some of this cream on, but it can wait.” I desperately want to calm the itch and the discomfort, but based on how unhappy Jake looks, I think it would be a better idea to just bite the bullet. Hopefully not literally. I slip the cream into my pants pocket and take a step in Jake’s direction.

He moves aside and allows me into his room. I notice the adjoining room door. The low tones of music come from the other side. Where Queenie probably is right now.