Page 43 of Untouchable

"Sounds disastrously selfish," Harp jokes. Parker laughs a little. Hearing Parker gush about her is a double-edged sword. It makes him happy to know that Parker has someone he gets along with, and Harp is used to hearing people do nothing but complain about their significant others. It always makes him wonder why they got together in the first place—but that isn't the case here. Parker is obviously smitten, and Harp likes that in a way.

At the same time, it reminds him to take a step back, that he will never be so much on Parker's radar that the kid would gush about him to another client.

"Oh I have the most interesting client up a dirt road! He makes his own jerky and I'm pretty sure he's constantly on the edge of a nervous breakdown!"

Parker nearly bounces as they walk along, though, and Harp is just happy to be there, he decides.

He hadn't been looking forward to their appointment because of the way he’d left things last time, but now that Parker is here and Harp has felt the initial rush of relief at seeing him, at finding Bo, he can't turn it off.

Ah, Christ, what's the harm in it?Harp wonders abruptly. So what if he's more to you than you are to him. He's kind to you. Just enjoy his company.

"The two of you are disgustingly adorable," Harp offers, keeping his eyes on the road. He only realizes what a weird compliment it is once it's out there—and now there's no taking it back.

* * *

Parker tries notto read too much into it. Harp thinks I’m adorable? He bats the thought away as soon as it enters his mind. It’s probably nothing. People at the office or the animal sanctuary where they sometimes volunteer often tease them for being such a matched set—both of them bright and bubbly and perky, often to a fault.

“Yeah, like, the second day I lived here, Mindy and I got absolutely hammered at that bar, Slowpoke’s—have you ever been there? It’s like, really weird and divey, but in a good way. You might actually like it a lot—but yeah, we drank way too much and the rest is history.”

Parker smiles at the memory, of the night when he realized that, even if he wasn’t living with Cole as he’d wanted, finding a new housemate had been a blessing in disguise.

“If anyone could turn a drunken night of debauchery into something that's probably obnoxiously healthy and functional, it's you, Parker,” Harp says.

Parker can’t help smiling. Mindy’s the first best friend he’s had—he’s had plenty of friends in his life, of course, but Mindy is something different, the kind of sweet but honest, ride-or-die friend who helps him be a better version of himself.

“Yeah, she’s great,” he says. “She’s… helped me get through some pretty shitty times.”

Parker falters slightly, thinking of those dark months after Cole had left him, almost a full year ago. After being with Cole for years, Parker had finally worked up the courage to tell him he needed more—to move in together or something to show Cole was as serious about their relationship as Parker was.

But, it turned out, Cole wasn’t.

And instead of a shared lease or an engagement, Parker got dumped.

He shakes himself internally, trying to clear the bad memories.

* * *

Harp quizzesParker for a few more minutes, learning minute details of their relationship that are almost ineffably cute, like how Mindy orders for Parker when they go out for dinner, and how Parker likes to surprise her with perfume when she’s in a sour mood, and the way they’d gone caroling last year because Mindy loves the holiday as much as Parker.

She sounds like the best. Really the best. The way Parker talks about her makes Harp wish he knew her, too. He can almost imagine what it would be like to have the two of them in his kitchen for dinner—but that would be presuming much too much and Harp forces himself back. He's probably been too invasive asking questions about her anyway, but Parker seemed eager to talk once again and Harp found himself willing to keep him on whatever path needed to keep him talking.

“So, she really doesn’t mind that you live with another woman?” Harp asks. He sounds more skeptical than he means to, once the words are out. If there’s anyone who could make something that ridiculous work, it’s Parker.

Parker gives him a strange look.

“Wait, what?” he asks.

“Your housemate,” Harp says. He’s already forgotten the housemate’s name and feels like a real heel for it. He knows he listened to Parker when he was talking about the housemate at the time—remembers quizzing Parker when he’d been so desperate to fill in the missing details. Harp simply hadn’t cataloged the facts that weren’t directly about Parker, and he’d let the details of Parker’s housemate—like her name and profession—fall to the wayside as Harp dedicated brain space to frivolous, Parker-centric details like the list of high school sports Parker had earned letters for, the small bits of conversation Parker had with Bo when he thought Harp couldn’t hear, and the jokes that had caught Harp off guard every time.

Parker’s eyes narrow, as though Harp is making some joke he doesn’t get.

“Yeah,” Parker says. “Mindy.”

“So Mindy doesn’t mind her? Do they know each other?”

Parker starts laughing.

“Ohhh—Harp, Mindy is her. Mindy and I live together.”

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