Page 312 of Untouchable

"Whoa, you okay?"Harp asks, steadying Parker after jostling him. Parker doesn't react to his touch, and Harp's gaze follows his to a tall two-seat table next to the bar. There are two men sitting on the same side, leaning in to speak low, and Harp is struck first by how much one of the men looks like Parker.

He's got the same profile, coloring, and body type as Parker—all lean lines and well-accented muscles. But there's something distinctly off about him, too. Where Parker always looks fresh and handsome, the stranger looks frayed around the edges, a little tired and sloppy.

Harp's about to say something about discovering Parker's significantly less gorgeous doppelgänger when he realizes that he actually recognizes the second man at the table.

It's Cole.

It takes Harp a minute to place him, but it's unmistakably Parker's ex-boyfriend. And now, he's looking straight at the two of them.

* * *

Parker’s stomachhas plummeted to somewhere about the level of his ankles. For a moment, all Parker can see is Cole’s eyes, glinting green as beetle wings, and a hot-cold wave of anxiety slides down his spine.

He feels a hand on his low back, solid and centering, and he realizes Harp is speaking to him.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Harp repeats, his voice low and full of concern. Parker pulls his gaze away from Cole and grits his jaw.

“No. Fuck him,” he says tightly. “I like this place and I’m not gonna let him ruin it for me.”

Still, though, as Harp shepherds him towards the bar, Parker’s stomach twists and twists and twists.

Don’t you dare try to talk to me,Parker warns Cole in his head.

Harp manages to find a spot for them as far away from Cole as possible. They settle into a deep leather loveseat with a low table, and Harp catches the attention of a server immediately. Absentmindedly, he asks her for a dessert menu and a cocktail menu, and orders them each a cup of coffee.

Parker looks down at his phone, brow furrowed, scrolling idly through an app without even seeing it, his brain buzzing with a low-grade panic. It’s only when Harp presses a mug of coffee into his hand that Parker realizes he’s been checked out of the present moment entirely. He tucks his phone away and takes a sip of the sweet, milky coffee—Harp’s prepared it for him just the way he likes.

Cole doesn’t get to take anything more from me, he reminds himself. This is my night.

“So,” Harp says, holding the menu in one hand and Parker’s knee in the other. “Creme brûlée, hazelnut toffee cake, or—oh shit, these sorbet flavors sound intriguing.”

Parker leans in towards Harp. He can feel Cole’s eyes on him, like the prickle of a housefly walking across his skin—but, unlike a fly, he can’t shake this off.

“Er—yeah,” Parker says distractedly. “That sounds great.”

Parker sips his coffee with great determination, facing away from Cole and whoever he’s with—probably a new boyfriend. Though he’s trying to stay present, he barely notices when Harp orders.

"Hey," Harp says. "What do you think we should do as sides for the party?"

It takes a moment for the question to filter into his brain. A dozen different voices in his head seemed to be stuck in traffic, honking and yelling over one another trying to get his attention. He wishes he didn’t care that Cole was here.

But he doescare.

His therapist has been helping Parker learn to observe his emotions without judgement—but now he just finds that he’s judging himself for not being able to resist judging himself. He shakes his head to clear it.

"Oh. Whatever you think," Parker says. "You're better at food stuff than me."

"Yeah, but all the people coming are your age," Harp says. "Do Millennials eat coleslaw and baked beans, or is that a cliche now? Or did it get so cliche that it circled around into being cool again?"

Parker gives him a dirty look.

"What?" Harp asks.

"Cole slaw?" Parker says with a raised eyebrow.

Harp laughs loudly but bites it down. "I swear that was an accident. You know I'm not actually funny enough to say that on the fly."

* * *

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