Page 179 of Untouchable

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Harp wondersif the lobby is going to be as crowded as it was before, now that he and Parker are walking towards his epicenter of stress.

Harp almost manages to walk off without his jacket and room key, but Parker laughs at him and tells him to go put on something warmer. A moment later, they're back on the rickety, gilded elevator, which suddenly seems much smaller than it had on the way up.

“They have, like, a big garden in the back, right?” Parker says, taking Harp’s hand and sidling a little closer to him. “I wonder if it’ll still be nice even in the winter. Though, I guess this is Colorado so… they’re probably used to snow, so I’ll bet there’s a bunch of evergreens—oh my god it’s probably decorated a bunch for Christmas too—okay, I know this is dumb, but like… can we take some selfies together? I just, um… I dunno. I know it’s stupid, but… I like having it, y’know? Mindy’s going to make so much fun of me, but whatever. She can eat my shorts.”

Parker's words wash over him and Harp agrees, reminding Parker he'll do whatever he wants. He can hear the sound of the crowded lobby even before the doors open, and he braces himself for it this time.

Harp doesn't even look around as they walk out. There's someone to his right—tall, wearing gray—and he almost collides with them, gripping Parker's hand and walking as briskly as he can without looking like an idiot. His concentration blurs and all he thinks of is the shortest path between the elevator doors and the fresh air outside.

It's as if there's no one else staying at the hotel, just goddamned perfectly manicured architects and the two of them. Harp feels eight feet tall and 500 pounds as he strides to the front of the building.

"Do you want to look around the hotel a little?" Parker asks, walking fast to keep up.

"In a bit," Harp breathes out. Music from different parts of the hotel bleeds together, half Christmas and half jazz and it's strangely maddening layered over the babble of the people in the room.

They push out into the crisp evening air, the lights of the building already twinkling, and while they’re still on the stately porch that wraps around the front of the building, Parker flings his arms around Harp and hugs him.

“Thank you so much,” he says. “I just love this place. It’s so—it’s so fancy and wonderful and I can’t believe I’m here.”

"Thank you for... being here," Harp says absentmindedly as he lets Parker guide them. There's more activity outside than there was when they first walked up earlier and Harp feels exposed, even more obvious than he'd felt inside.

A glamorous-looking pair of young men in suits and sunglasses get out of a Jaguar together and direct a hotel employee to their luggage. One of them says something to the other as Parker and Harp pass hand-in-hand and they both smile as Harp tries to shuffle past.

He hates this. He wishes he could disappear.

* * *

“It’s still soweird to me that you grew up in Florida,” Parker says as he tows Harp around the building. He sees a sign and points. “Oh, look! There is a winter garden, hell yeah. For me Christmas time is always snow and pine trees and stuff, and it’s weird thinking about, I dunno, whatever Florida’s like. Did you even have a Christmas tree? Was it just a palm tree with lights? Instead of Santa, did you have to battle a gator to get your presents or something?”

They round the corner and a gorgeous garden is laid out before them, a vision in red and green and white.

“Oh my god,” Parker says, clapping a hand over his mouth. “It’s so beautiful.”

He throws his arm around Harp, who automatically turns towards Parker to hug him, but Parker squirms, laughing. "No, c'mon, you said you'd take a dumb selfie with me."

Parker tries to set up a picture but frowns at his phone.

“Hm, wait… no, hang on.” He drags Harp with him over to a large evergreen that’s been decorated with shimmering silver ornaments. “We used to go to this botanical garden every year and they’d have this big Christmas display every year and it was like, my favorite thing to go to—I mean that was before like, I really knew I was gay and I could tell my dad was like, hm, why is my son so excited about Christmas, that’s not manly enough, which is really gross, you know, because it’s like, uh, what, only girls are allowed to like Christmas? Fuck that, you know? Christmas is definitely my favorite season. Once I came out he kind of… let go of that stuff because I guess he’d given up on having the son he’d expected to have anyway by then, because I clearly also wasn’t a good student, but, yeah. I forget where I was going with this. Anyway, smile!”

He throws his arm around Harp once more and kisses him on the cheek as he takes the picture. He holds it up to see how it turned out and starts laughing.

“Oh my god, Harp, you look like I’m kicking you, not kissing you,” he says. “C’mon, let’s try again.”

* * *

Harp takes a deep breath.He is here with Parker. He is safe. It's okay that he's not used to crowds. It's ok that he's not used to a swarm of fucking architects.

Parker will forgive him. Parker will forgive him.

Harp puts his arm around Parker and he tries.

But he knows he's making the same goddamned face. He feels himself make it.

Parker takes the picture again, and this time, Harp still has the same tense, forced smile, like he’d really rather not be taking the photo but is too polite to say no. Parker smiles weakly and puts his phone away.

“Okay, good enough for now,” he says, his voice overly cheery. “C’mon, let’s go look at that little fountain thing.”

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