FUNNY GUYS #3
“As opposed to what?” I ask. “What’s wrong with being interested in someone my own age?”
The second the words leave my mouth, I know they landed exactly where I intended them to. Parker’s expression changes. Not much, but just enough that it means something. His eyes darken slightly and his shoulders go rigid.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
“He isn’t good for you,” Parker says quietly. The words sound measured, like he’s forcing himself to stay calm.
I shake my head. “I think I’ve earned the right to decide that for myself.”
Parker’s fingers curl against his bicep.
“And as my friend,” I continue, narrowing my eyes, “I appreciate your concern, but you don’t get to do that.”
His gaze immediately snaps back to mine. Slowly, Parker pushes himself off the counter.
My stomach drops.
He takes a step forward until he’s standing directly in front of me.
My grip tightens around my glass. The island suddenly feels very small.
“I’m not saying this as your friend,” Parker says evenly. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“You’re acting like you’re so full of discernment—”
“And don’t bring another man to my fucking arena.” The words come out sharp and immediate, like he didn’t mean to say them.
Silence crashes down between us. Parker freezes as I watch realization flash across his face. The regret comes first, followed by something more stubborn, like he knows he should take it back but doesn’t actually want to.
My heart pounds so hard I can hear it. “What?”
Parker exhales through his nose. “I don’t care how fucking short he is or how funny he might be.”
“Pet’ka—”
“I don’t care.” His voice stays calm, but there’s something underneath it now. Something that wasn’t there a minute ago. “A guy like that is not your fucking friend.”
I stare at him. “And how exactly would you know that?”
Parker takes another step closer, enough that my knee brushes his thigh. Heat immediately floods through me.
“A guy who looks at you like that only wants one thing, Anders.” His eyes drop to my mouth again. And this time, neither of us look away. “He wants to make you weak. So he can use you like you’re something worthless.”
I shake my head automatically. “That’s not—”
Parker’s hand comes up, firm and controlled. His fingers close around my jaw—hard enough that I stop talking and my breath catches. “I don’t think you’re worthless.” His thumb shifts slightly against my skin, the movement feeling far too intimate for a conversation like this. “Do you?”
“No,” I breathe.
For some reason, I can’t seem to look away. Parker’s eyes search my face, studying me like he’s trying to convince himself of something.
“You’re too trusting,” he says quietly. “And I can’t stand the thought of someone like that taking advantage of you.”
“Okay? Yeah?” The word comes out weaker than I intended. “Fine.”
His grip tightens slightly. “Fine what?”
I swallow. “I won’t see him.”
Parker doesn’t move. For a second, I wonder if he even heard me. But then his eyes flick down to my mouth again. “Say it again.”
“I won’t…” My pulse pounds in my ears. “I won’t see him.”
Neither of us says anything. My entire body feels frozen in place. Parker stares at me for so long that I start wondering if I’ve imagined the whole conversation. But, then I hear him exhale softly. “You’re such a good boy, Anders.”
An audible gasp slips through me, lips parting involuntarily. The look he gives me tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. His expression softens in such a deceiving way, because nothing about the way he’s staring at me feels soft. It feels like one blink away from ruining me.
I angle my chin up without realizing, inching for his mouth to meet mine, but his grip on me is firm and controlled, not leaving me with much give. He should know exactly what I want. If the glossy haze of desire that coats my eyes isn’t enough, then I don’t know what is.
“Please,” I whisper desperately, aching for him to do something as his thumb traces the outline of my bottom lip.
“Tell me,” he breathes, leaning closer. “You don’t want him.”
“I don’t want him.”
“That’s right.” Something flickers in his eyes, telling me he needed to hear me say that. “You’ve always been my special boy,” he whispers. I nearly choke on the breath that gets caught in the back of my throat. “A little growing up doesn’t change that.”
“It hasn’t,” I whimper, closing my eyes and getting lost in the moment.
I nuzzle into his palm, riding on the relief that crosses through me.
My entire body ignites with an electric buzz, and the need to feel the weight of his body pressed to mine is impossible to push away. “I’ll never grow out of being yours.”
There’s a beat of silence before something slips through. “You were never his,” Parker mutters, but it honestly feels like he’s telling himself that. He isn’t talking about Seth, and as soon as I open my eyes, I know the thought terrifies him as much as it should.
Hell, it terrifies me. I guess a small part of me has always felt that way.
He’s my safety, and I can’t explain it, but even as a child I knew.
And as fucked up as I am, I’ve craved this since the moment I knew I could have it.
The older and more involved I get, the easier it is to forget the version of Parker I grew up with over the version of him I have now, especially because it feels so fucking tangible.
There’s no warning before he closes the distance, slow and deliberate at first with every single move.
My brain completely shorts out, and for a second, I can’t move.
I can’t even fucking breathe or think. All I can process is the fact that Parker is kissing me.
Like actually fucking kissing me. He initiated it.
The world narrows until there’s nothing except him.
His warm, slick tongue slips into my mouth without any resistance, crushing itself against mine.
His hold on me tightens, tugging my head up a little to give him deeper access.
I hook my arm around his neck, finally connecting our bodies after all this time.
My warmth meets the hard, coolness of his muscles, meshing together seamlessly.
Parker presses his palm into the small of my back, holding me firmly in place, but it doesn’t stop me from still trying to climb him like a tree. I’m practically throwing myself at him, heat gathering low in my stomach the moment I draw out a bellowing groan from him.
I don’t think Parker means for it to last. I think it’s supposed to be a mistake—a split-second lapse in judgment. But it doesn’t stop. His thumb shifts against my cheek, finally loosening his grip. And then, somehow, the kiss deepens just enough that my stomach flips completely.
My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. I finally gather enough courage to move again.
To do something. My hand comes up and brushes against his wrist. The second I lean forward to kiss him back—Parker jerks away.
The reaction is immediate. Almost visceral, like somebody dumped a bucket of ice water over his head to wake him up from a crazy dream.
“What the fuck.” The words leave him under his breath.
He’s already backing up and putting up walls.
I stare at him. My lips still feel warm. Parker drags a hand down his face, his chest rising sharply. “Fuck,” he mutters again to himself.
“Pet’ka—”
“No.” The word comes out harsher than intended. His eyes squeeze shut for a second. When he opens them again, he won’t quite look at me.
My chest constricts. “What…was that?”
“I shouldn’t have done that.” The words hit harder than the kiss. Parker shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” I stand so quickly my barstool nearly tips over. “Stop. No, don’t do that.”
His jaw tightens. “Don’t do what?”
“Act like it didn’t happen. Don’t take it back.”
“I’m not acting like it didn’t happen, Anders.”
“Then why are you acting like it’s some horrible mistake?”
The question hangs in the air. Parker finally looks at me with something raw flashing across his face, but then it disappears almost immediately. “Finish your sandwich,” are the words he decides to speak, completely avoiding this question I just asked.
I blink. “What?”
“Finish your sandwich and I’ll drive you back to your dorm.”
My chest constricts. “Park—”
“Finish your sandwich.” His voice is calm again in the most sickening way possible. The kind of calm that means he’s already shut a door in his head. Before I can stop him, Parker turns and walks out of the kitchen. The sliding glass door rattles open, then shuts behind him.
I just sit there completely frozen.
Through the window, I watch him cross the deck as he digs a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lights it with shaking hands, taking a long drag like he’s needed it all day. His head tips back toward the gray sky like he’s trying to figure out how everything just got so complicated.
But he of all people should know that this has never not been complicated. Now, it’s finally starting to unravel, which probably scares the living hell out of him.