Reid blushes and stares down at his open sketchbook like I’ve caught him committing some sort of cardinal sin. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, I was just trying to point out that maybe Reid shares himself with Dante because he feels safe in a way he doesn’t with anyone else. It might upset other people, but it would never upset me. I’m more myself with Parker than I am with anyone else, and sometimes that’s the way the cards are dealt.
Parker interrupts us as he comes down the stairs with a duffel bag tossed over his shoulder. Jacob follows behind him, a miserable, resigned look on his handsome face. I want to say something to make it better. To… I don’t know… apologize, but I bite my tongue because this is Parker’s battle, not mine.
“Hi, Mason,” Jacob says from behind Parker, shoulders hunched.
“Hi.” I shoot Parker a concerned look, then smile softly at Jacob. “We can do weekly dinners at my house. That way you get a break from cooking.”
Jacob only looks slightly mollified. “That sounds nice.”
“Oh my god, you’re all acting like Parker is dying,” Reid cries from his chair, slamming his sketchbook shut. “We should all be more worried about Hayden and his refusal to leave his bedroom.”
Jacob returns to looking distraught at the mention of Hayden.
“He won’t leave his bedroom?” Parker asks in confusion, because for a very perceptive guy, he’s also wildly oblivious.
Reid rolls his eyes and groans, skewering me with ayou deal with thatsort of look. I just shrug and smile, because Parker is a lot of things, but he’s not oblivious when it comes to me. Shoving up from the couch, I pause in front of Reid to tap my nose. Reid sighs and taps his own nose, although he seems personally aggrieved by the entire situation. Where is Dante?
As if summoned by my thoughts, Dante wanders in from the kitchen with his hand buried in a bag of chips. Jacob rolls his eyes when Dante holds the bag out for him. With a shrug, Dante brings the bag back to his chest and surveys the room.
“Lots of tension,” Dante observes.
Parker sighs loudly. “I’m grabbing the last of my stuff.”
Dante winces. “Oh snap. Can I turn your room into my shoe closet?”
“Dante!” Reid screams.
Dante winces again and continues eating his chips. “I’ll let the dust settle, bro, sorry. We’re all a little antsy because there’s no missions. You don’t even have solos?”
Parker shakes his head. “Not even a peep.”
“Damn.” Dante whistles and shoves more chips into his mouth. “We are kind of screwed,” he says around a mouthful.
“Well, on that note, I am going back home.” Parker turns and slaps Jacob on the bicep. “I’ll text you tonight. Make sure you leave food at Hayden’s door, I guess. Waffles always work.”
“He left the plate outside his door all night last night,” Jacob says glumly.
Dante shrugs when I look to him for an answer. Parker just sighs and heads back toward the front door, not even bothering with a response to Jacob. I give everyone a wave and follow Parker out the door, hoping not to add to his stress. The five-minute drive back to the house is silent. Parker didn’t even turn the radio on. My anxiety ramps up a little bit, worried that maybe Parker will change his mind about me, about us, but I try to keep myself in the moment because I can’t control the future.
Burying my hands in the hoodie pockets, I follow Parker into the house, not knowing what to say to make this moment easier or better. Everything is so fucked right now. I don’t know how to help any of them, nor do I know how to help Hayden after his perilous confession to me in the bathroom just last week.
“I’m not upset with you,” Parker says succinctly the moment he drops his duffel bag. “I don’t want your brain to think things that aren’t true. I’m tired and frustrated and I wish Jacob would let me cut the umbilical cord.”
“Oh.”
Parker smiles tiredly. “I knew you were thinking the worst.”
I wince. “Sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry.” Parker takes a step closer so that I canfeel his warmth, smell his delicious aftershave. The anxiety from earlier has softened, and now all I can think about is Parker in front of me, needing comfort, needingme, and suddenly my decision to push myself is a lot easier. “Mason, I?—”
I step forward and wrap my arms around his neck, putting our faces just a few inches from each other. Parker holds his breath, arms hanging loosely at his sides.
“Put your arms around me, hands on the small of my back,” I tell him softly.
Parker immediately does as I said, his hands warm and firm through the hoodie. The touch makes me move a little closer, closing that inch of space between us so that we’re pressed together toe to chest. I can feel his hummingbird heartbeat through his shirt and my hoodie, can smell the soft, warm smell of him, feel the loose hairs from his bun curling over my fingers at the nape of his neck.
“I love you,” I whisper between us.
