Page 89 of Untouchable

As if to demonstrate, he puts a hand on Parker's lower back and guides him towards the living room, scooping up the bottle of whiskey as they go.

* * *

Parker shiversat Harp’s hand on his back and lets himself be shepherded into the living room. If touch is really that objective, Parker thinks, the shot beginning to loosen his mind, then how can I read so much into such an innocent touch?

He honestly is ready to slap himself. He keeps trying and trying to talk sense into himself, but apparently his self is having none of it. It’s like he’s trying to navigate the conversation with a bleacher full of high school boys jeering lewd comments in the back of his head at every turn.

“So, um, are you and your ex still close?” Parker asks, to say something, anything, just to get his mind off the echo of heat where Harp’s hand had been.

"Not at all," Harp says, stripping off all of the layers but his thermal shirt before pouring two fingers of whiskey into his glass and settling into his corner of the couch. "Cherry hates my guts and she should. The best thing I could possibly do is to stay the hell out of her way, but I still... God, this is embarrassing. I look her up on Facebook sometimes. She remarried, thank God, and she's had three kids since we divorced. I know practically nothing about her now, other than the fact that she looks happy and her children are beautiful."

Parker lays on the other end of the couch, stretching out. Even though they’ve just spent hours in the snow, he is flushed and warm, and he peels his socks off before putting his feet up on the couch. He stops just short of touching Harp, and in his mind he knows he’s hoping Harp will reach out again, as he had the night before, to pull Parker’s feet into his lap and touch him once more.

Parker is thoroughly disgusted by himself. He sees himself doing these things, and he can’t stop it. It makes him feel pathetic, like a neglected puppy bouncing at someone’s heels, desperate for attention.

He gives Harp an encouraging smile.

“I don’t think that’s embarrassing,” Parker says. “I mean, what’s embarrassing is your friend having to confiscate your phone at a party because you’re crying in the bathroom looking at your ex’s Instagram and seeing him in Cabo with another guy at the resort he was going to take you to. I mean, not that I would know. That was just a hypothetical.”

He laughs weakly.

* * *

Suddenly there'sa lot going on for Harp.

First, the additional talk about Parker's ex, which makes Harp flush with rage. Then, the idea that the best care for Parker going through that was to take his phone, sending a second flush of anger through him. And finally, the three or four inches of Parker's belly that has suddenly been exposed as Parker stretches out, sending a flush through him that has nothing to do with anger.

Parker's shirt has ridden up—his stomach is taut and tan and completely hairless, and Harp realizes that he's never wanted so badly to touch something forbidden in his entire life. It's like standing a few inches away from the unguarded Mona Lisa and being struck with the compulsion that you must run your hands all over that priceless work of art or perish.

"That's terrible, Parker. I can't even imagine. It's good I didn't know you then or I'd have been hunting this guy down—not to be a creep."

But he is being a creep because as Parker shifts, Harp realizes that he can see the shape of Parker's dick through his sweatpants. It's a terrible piece of information, and Harp forces himself to look Parker in the eye.

Parker smiles and sits up for a moment, grabbing Harp’s glass out of his hand and taking a long sip of whiskey before handing it back. The familiarity and ease of the movement makes Harp abruptly glad that he hadn’t pushed them towards anything other than friendship. He likes seeing Parker casual and impulsive.

Parker lays back again, adjusting the pillow so he’s looking up at the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling.

“Not creepy,” Parker says. “Honestly, it’s… nice to hear that. It wasn’t… it wasn’t an easy break up, and I think I spent a lot of time afterwards telling myself to stop being upset and to get over it, and then being mad at myself when I wasn’t, y’know?”

"Well, if it's not creepy, I'd be happy to dictate a list of the different bones in his body I'd like to break," Harp says, raising an eyebrow. He finishes off the rest of the whiskey in the tumbler instead of sipping it, as he told himself that he would.

Harp can't take his eyes off of Parker. He's flushed and smiling and lounging back and it's even more apparent now that he's not wearing underwear.

Of course he's not. You didn't give him any, you fucking pervert.

“Well, I’m not sure I’d wish that on him,” Parker says. “You’d definitely win in a fight, though. You’re way bigger than he is.”

"Yeah, somehow I figured. I'm bigger than most everyone," Harp says with a sigh. "It's not one of my favorite parts about being Harp. I mean, other than it giving me the weight advantage when I get to beat up your ex."

* * *

Parker bites his lip,rolling his sleeves up. Harp’s sheer size is one of the many things about him Parker is so attracted to—the fact that, in terms of strength, Harp could squish him like a bug, but knowing that Harp never would. He is the opposite of Cole, who was sleek, muscular in a very manicured, gym photoshoot way. Cole hadn’t even been Parker’s type—he’d just been the first person to really pay attention to Parker. Well, for the first few months they dated, anyway.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” Parker says. “There’s plenty of times where I’d rather be your size than my size.” He gestures down at himself, highlighting the fact that his legs barely reach across two-thirds of the couch. “Do you know how hard it is to reach stuff on the top shelf of my kitchen cabinets?”

"Do you know how hard it is to find clothes that fit?” Harp counters. “Or how awful it is to accidentally scare somebody just because of how big you are?"

“Okay, good point, I’m not sure I’ve ever been considered intimidating,” Parker says. “And, I’m not going to lie, I was a little bit convinced I was going to die the first time I came up here. Both because of the road and because you looked so pissed. Well, that and the axe. But you’re notscary.”

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