Page 42 of Wish We Were There

“Do you still want to get lunch?” Parker asked softly.

“Maybe we can order delivery,” Taylor replied with a faint laugh. “Can we go to your place? I don’t... I don’t want to be in the house yet, I think.”

Parker was quiet for a minute, as if the request had taken him by surprise, though it didn’t show on his face.

“Yeah,” he finally replied, nodding. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you want. Taylor, I...”

He trailed off, color rising in his face as he glanced up at Taylor. He still had one arm wrapped around Taylor’s waist, their fingers intertwined; his grip on Taylor’s hand tightened as their eyes met.

Taylor wanted to kiss him again, and the way Parker was looking at him made him think the other man wanted it too, but he was certain his face was smeared with tears and snot, so he held back. Instead, he forced a watery smile.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said softly, and Parker smiled in return.

Chapter Sixteen

Parker

Parker watched quietly as the doctor examined Taylor’s arm, then explained the process of getting a referral for physical therapy. She seemed confident that any residual stiffness would go away easily, and he’d be playing piano again soon, which seemed to comfort Taylor a bit. But he still had a worried expression as they walked out of the clinic and back to Parker’s car.

Taylor remained quiet and pensive during the drive back, this time heading for Parker’s apartment. Parker’s arms still tingled with the warmth of holding Taylor; they would talk about that, too, when they got to his place, or at least he hoped they would.

Anticipation buzzed in his chest at the thought. He kept glancing over at Taylor, curled in on himself in the passenger seat, wondering what the other man was thinking—if the ghost of their embrace still clung to his body, too.

Halfway there, Taylor finally seemed to shake himself out of whatever stupor he was in and pulled up his phone, still favoring his left hand.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll put in an order to your apartment now,” he said quickly, sounding self-conscious. “What should we get?”

“Whatever you want,” Parker replied quickly, shaking his head. “I’m not picky. Plus, you deserve to get whatever you want. Just let me know what you decide, and I’ll find something on the menu I’ll eat.”

Taylor let out a half-hearted huff of a laugh. “Okay. I know it’s basically lunchtime, but I keep thinking about all the brunch stuff we talked about. Is it weird I really want a chocolate chip waffle like my mom used to make?”

Parker laughed. “Not weird at all. I’m not sure of any places that do a chocolate chip waffle, though.”

He paused, thinking as Taylor scrolled through his phone. “Actually, I have a waffle maker at home... No promises on chocolate chips, though. Or waffle mix, to be honest.”

This time, Taylor really did laugh. He looked over at Parker with a watery smile, some of the tension in his body relaxing. “No way. I’m not letting you cook for me after taking me to this appointment. I’m getting you lunch, my treat.”

Parker’s heart skipped a beat at Taylor’s laugh, seeing his mood improving. “Alright, alright. Just something to keep in mind if you can’t find your chocolate chip waffles.”

By the time they arrived back at Parker’s apartment, Taylor had put in an order with a brunch cafe that did, in fact, have a chocolate chip waffle, plus some eggs, bacon, and a sandwich with fries for Parker. The food was set to arrive in half an hour, leaving them with some time to kill; not that he didn’t enjoy hanging out with Taylor, but the anticipation of it was making Parker nervous now. They had so much to talk about, so much he wanted to say, especially after everything that had happened with Kylie and the rest of the band—but he didn’t think now would be a good time to bring it all up. But if not now, when?

Maybe Taylor would start the conversation. Maybe he should let Taylor take the lead... But that was what had gotten him into such hot water with Kylie in the first place. Maybe he would just wait until after they had their food and see how Taylor was feeling then. Surely he’d be feeling better after they’d eaten, right?

The thoughts were swirling in his head as they walked in silence from the parking lot up the stairs to his apartment, but luckily Taylor seemed just as absorbed in his own thoughts. When Parker unlocked the front door, though, Taylor finally said,

“Do you have some lotion I could use? And maybe some painkillers? My arm is really bothering me.”

“Yeah, of course!” Parker replied quickly, then busied himself with getting Taylor water and some Advil first. Then he dug through his bathroom cabinet, unsure of what kind of lotion would be best—he only had a light face moisturizer and a thicker hand cream he used in the winter. He brought them both to Taylor, who had settled on the couch.

“I’m not sure what would be better,” he confessed awkwardly, placing both of them on the coffee table. Taylor chuckled, looking them over.

“Probably this one, I think,” he said, picking up the tub of cream. He started to pull his arm out of his hoodie, wincing as he moved stiffly.

“Here,” Parker said quickly, helping him pull it off. His heart squeezed at the dismayed expression that came across Taylor’s face again as he caught sight of his arm. “Do you need help?”

Taylor flinched, shaking his head. “No, it’s alright. I got it.”

Parker stood there awkwardly for a moment as Taylor started to slather his arm with the lotion, then left to put the unused tube back in his bathroom, taking longer than he needed so Taylor would have some privacy for what felt like a strangely intimate activity.

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