Page 333 of Untouchable

Maybe Parker knows.

Maybe Harp has miscalculated this whole thing.

Maybe he's asking too soon.

He knows Parker loves him, but they haven't talked about this step. Harp doesn't want to talk about it—he just wants Parker to say yes so they can make it official and start living the rest of their lives together with no doubts in anyone's eyes.

He wants it to be romantic and perfect and everything that Parker deserves.

But maybe Parker doesn'twant to be surprised with this question, an insistent voice nags.

* * *

Parker can’t stop smiling.He has no idea why Harp is being such an absolute weirdo—he wonders if, perhaps, Harp had managed to snag a reservation at some fancy restaurant. There had been one place in particular that every site Harp had found had raved about, but when Harp had tried to make a reservation, back in Colorado weeks ago, they’d been booked all the way through the spring.

Still, though, Harp is wearing The Shirt. And, while it’s technically Harp’s shirt, Parker wears it just as often, at least around the house. It’s become more than just a piece of clothing, of course. It’s a love letter they write to one another. It’s a shorthand for you are important to me, on days when the other person needs to hear it a little louder.

How could Parker possibly doubt Harp’s feelings?

All the insecurity, the anxiety, the fear of abandonment that Parker has carried with him seems far away, today, like a half-recalled childhood nightmare. More and more, Parker has days like this—days where he knows he is good, knows he is loved, knows he is enough.

It’s not an accident, he knows. It’s because they make each other better.

Parker smiles, placing his hands flat on Harp’s chest and pecking him on the cheek.

“You are handsome as hell,” Parker says. “Now, hurry up, you’re making me late.”

Parker yelps as Harp swats him on the ass on the way out the door.

* * *

Harp was onlywrong about some of the details. At the ridiculously picturesque cafe, Parker wanted a latte and a sugary pain Suisse—not a cappuccino. Instead of selfies, Parker takes a dozen pictures of Harp sitting on the terrasse in the morning sunshine with milk froth in his mustache. Harp wrangles the phone away from him, not to delete the goofy pictures but to retaliate with two dozen pictures of Parker goofily vogueing.

It's hard not to keep checking the time but the morning is going exactly according to non-schedule.

Some part of Harp wishes he could relax this morning and simply enjoy their leisurely breakfast and stroll to the tower. Some part of him is now wondering if he's made the completely wrong decision—not in asking Parker to marry him, because of course being married to Parker would be the best thing that's ever happened to him. He wonders if he's made a mistake by not discussing this, not communicating, not finding out exactly what Parker expects out of an engagement.

They're three minutes ahead of schedule when they arrive at the base of the tower to buy their elevator and admission tickets. Harp scans the crowd at the base. Everything down here, at least, seems in order. The real test of Harp's planning will be when they get up there.

* * *

As Harp buys their tickets,Parker stands at the base of the tower and looks up. It’s tall. Like, really, reallytall.

He still wants to go up, of course. Parker has been talking about this for weeks now, since Harp suggested they see Paris since Parker had never been. But now that he’s here, he’s realizing that he’s not going to be able to just turn off his fear of heights.

Harp comes up to him and frowns.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Parker says, still craning his neck to look up. “I just, uh, didn’t realize that… this thing was… quite so… tall, y’know?”

* * *

Jesus.Jesus.

It hadn't even occurred to Harp that Parker might not actually enjoy going up in the tower.

Harp, you absolute moron. What if he changes his mind about going up? What if you get up there and he has a panic attack?

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