Page 271 of Untouchable

“I just think Gil would give you more respect if you didn’t sound so, like, unsure?” Harp says, looking down into his drink.

No, he thinks. He didn’t just say that.

Parker is so horrified he actually leans back, away from Harp, as though a different perspective might change reality. The words could have come straight from Cole’s mouth. In fact, it’s practically verbatim. He shudders, hit full force with a memory he’d thought long-forgotten.

Parker is in Cole’s apartment, sitting on the king size bed, watching Cole get ready. Though there’s plenty of space for two people to live here, Cole is evasive whenever Parker tries to bring up the subject of him moving in. Tonight, they’re going to a graduation party for Cole’s program, and both he and Cole are dressed to impress. When Cole’s in formal wear, he looks almost brutally handsome, as though he’s starring in a James Bond movie instead of going to med school.

“We’re going to be around a bunch of my friends and colleagues and professors,” Cole says, almost lazily. He’s standing at the mirror as he adjusts his tie, but he catches Parker’s gaze in the reflection. “So… try not to do that thing you do, okay?”

“What thing?” Parker asks, frowning.

“The ditzy thing,” Cole says with a sigh. His voice goes high and sing-song, and he cocks his head. “Like, um, you know? I’m Cole’s, like, boyfriend?”

Parker freezes, his face turning bright red.

“I—uh—”

He has no idea how to respond to this.

Cole turns around and moves to Parker, cupping Parker’s face in his hands and tilting it towards him. His expression softens.

“I’m not trying to be hurtful, babe,” he says. “You know I love you. But tonight, maybe, just try not to talk so much, okay?”

When he leans down to kiss him, the kiss feels like forgiveness, though Parker’s not even quite sure what he’s done wrong.

Parker blinks and stares at Harp as a cold chill rolls down his back. He’d fallen so quickly, so hard, for Harp because Harp was nothing like Cole. He’d never made Parker feel stupid or air-headed or shallow.

Until now.

For the first time since he’d kissed Harp, he wonders if he’s made a mistake.

He wonders if he has fallen, once more, for someone who sees him as nothing more than a pretty face to show off in public and a good body to fuck in private.

Parker’s brow furrows, and he feels caught between anger and shame. All his life, he’s never been allowed to be angry. He’s always been the one apologizing, retreating, bending over backwards to appease the other person—usually Cole, or his sisters or his mother or his father. He’s never felt that way with Harp, but they’ve only been together a few weeks.

Maybe he’d rushed into things. Just as his mother had warned.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he says, the words coming out hoarse like he hasn’t spoken in a week. “I didn’t realize…”

He trails off, his whole body blazing brightly with shame—he feels like it’s radiating off him for everyone in the restaurant to see.

* * *

"Harper?"

Harp goes bolt upright, acutely aware of how drunk he is as some stranger calls his name.

"Yes?" he says, looking for the origin of the voice.

It's a petite woman and she marches towards him aggressively. For a moment, Harp is sure she's about to throw him out for some unknown transgression. He's stammering out an apology before she can even get close.

"What's that? Table for three right?"

Oh Christ. Of course. The hostess.

Harp stands from the barstool, pain shooting through his hip, and he does his best not to hobble after the hostess. His foot has fallen asleep strangely and all at once Harp feels like he's limping. Or maybe just visibly drunk.

* * *

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