Page 128 of Untouchable

"Parker—you know I—this isn't just about sex," Harp says quickly. "I'm not—Christ, how do I even—I'm not trying to say that—I'm sorry, I don't know if we're on the same page. I'm so fucking confused, Parker. It can't just be about sex to me. When I say I want you, I mean I want sex with you, yeah. But I want to be a part of your life, too. I want to know about your PRs at the gym, and I want to know what you’re microwaving for dinner, and I want to know the funny joke Mindy told you, and I want to know what the weather was like on the way to your house calls. I want to kiss you first thing in the morning and I want the sight of your car kicking up dust on the path to my house to be something that's so familiar that I don't even think twice about it—and when I really think about it, Parker, I want to protect you from every bad thing, every hard thing—I want to give you everything that you deserve but it doesn't seem like you've had, whether that's rubbing your feet or hearing about a petty work feud."

They're both silent as Harp catches his breath. Harp's hand is shaking as he holds the phone.

"But can you imagine me sitting with you at your Thanksgiving table in a few days? I mean can you really fucking fathom me sitting between a doctor and a lawyer and trying to pretend to your parents that I'm not some sort of fucking pervert there to steal their son away? Can you imagine me trying to make conversation?"

Harp is on a roll now because he's finally found the place where they're not lining up and he has to grab onto it, no matter how painful it is.

"I want you, you want me, but we're not the only two people who exist in your life, Parker. What do you think anyone would think, seeing the two of us together? Whether we take it fast or slow or whatever tempo is least likely to blow up in our faces, I think you're ignoring the reality of what you're choosing. Or what you want to choose. Or what I want you to choose."

* * *

Parker rollsover in his bed. He’s miserable and elated all at once—but Harp has given Parker just enough hope that his brain is going into overdrive. Harp wants all this, too—so, Parker realizes, it’s just a matter of assuaging Harp’s fears.

Right?

“Well,” Parker says after a moment. “For the record, tonight I was microwaving broccoli, but then I got sad so now I’m laying in bed with the blankets over my head. And—and—I want all that stuff, too. And if that makes me happy, and it makes you happy, then—so what? I don’t care what my parents think about you. I like you and you’re the one that matters to me.”

He almost believes his own lie—that he doesn’t care what his parents think. But even as he says it, the nasty voice in his head reminds him that one of the reasons he’d stayed with Cole for so long was that his family had approved of him. But right now, he wants Harp and he wants his heart to stop hurting, and it’s easy to look past pesky things like “facts” and “reality.”

"I'm trying to trust that,” Harp says. “I promise you, I'm trying to listen to what you're saying and not just talk over you. But will you promise me that you'll... think about this? Go home, see your family. I'll still be here in a week and I'll still want you but... I want the best for you more than I want you, Parker. Does that make sense?"

“Yeah, but what if you’re the best for me?” Parker says, before he can stop himself. Harp sighs, but Parker continues before he can say anything. “I’m sorry. I—I see what you’re saying. I mean, I think you’re being dumb but—I guess I can do that. I don’t quite… understand, but… I’ll try to.”

He pauses for a moment.

“So, like… where do we go from here? I see you… for our next appointment and we talk more then?”

Though that’s only ten days away, it feels like it might as well be a decade.

* * *

Harp doesn't wantto go ten days without seeing Parker, but he also doesn't want to set up the expectation that they should see each other sooner. It's hard to pull apart what he wants from what he should do, but he uses all of his might.

"I don't want to tack everything onto our appointments like this is some extension of that," Harp says. "Why don't we say we'll talk when you get home from Thanksgiving? Face to face somewhere."

“I could come up on Friday,” Parker says, and Harp can tell he’s smiling from the tone of Parker’s voice. “I’m staying at my parents’ on Thursday night, but I could come back in the morning and—”

"I was thinking coffee. Maybe after work one day next week. Like normal people have together—just to talk through—"

Parker laughs.

“I guess I could survive waiting that long. What about, um… Wednesday maybe? I finish a little earlier so we could meet up at like… 1 p.m. or something.”

Harp's heart falls a little. He'd been thinking Monday but if Parker can wait until Wednesday...

"That sounds great."

They set up the details, Harp writing down the name of a place that Parker insists has good coffee. He'll set up sticky notes around the house once they get off the phone, just in case.

It all feels... business-like. Strange. He doesn't know how to get off the phone like this but there's something he hates about talking to Parker without being able to see him right now.

"Then I guess... be safe on the roads..." Harp says weakly.

* * *

“Er—thanks,”Parker says. He’s not ready to let Harp go. Parker feels better than he did before, of course, but he still doesn’t feel wonderful. If he had his way, he’d drive up to Storm Mountain tonight, but...

Slow, he reminds himself. For Harp.

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