Page 167 of Untouchable

“I don’t mind coming back down,” Harp says seriously. “I’d probably sleep better if I were with you.”

“But you sleep terribly at my place,” Parker says, and Harp nods.

“Exactly.”

“Okay,” Parker says, letting out a long, shaky exhale. “Let’s go home.”

They don’t speak until they’re approaching Parker’s apartment. The air between them has had an uneasy but fond quality, Harp rubbing Parker’s knee, his hand, in between keeping his eyes on the dicey traffic and navigating steep turns.

“Shannon,” Harp says gently, breaking the silence as they pull into the apartment complex parking lot.

“Shannon who?” Parker asks, a smile curling on his face because he assumes, now, that any random thing Harp says like this must be the preface of a joke.

“You said you don’t know my middle name,” Harp says, smiling and looking out of the corner of his eye at Parker warmly. “Now you do. Shannon.”

“Morton Shannon Harper,” Parker says, grinning, trying the name out.

“Trust me, I know,” Harp says. “My parents had a singular talent for picking out the most truly objectionable—”

“I love your name, Harp,” Parker blurts. “My middle name’s Ashley, so, like, I get it too,” he says, laughing.

“Parker Ashley James and Morton Shannon Harper,” Harp says.

Parker waits for him to make a joke about how they both have girl names or dumb names or—

“They’re absolutely perfect,” Harp says. He leans across the bench to kiss Parker gently on the temple, to lace his fingers with Parker’s. “Let’s get you inside.”

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