10. Nicholas

10

"Here. One for you and one for me."

Parker's voice was singsong as he slid a homemade apple cider across the kitchen island. "Think of it as a thank you for taking me snowmobiling today."

I smiled over at him before I took the mug into my grip. "What did you think I was going to do? Leave you here all alone?"

"Hey, I just appreciate the invitation," he replied. "Especially since it was you and your friends. Some guys are weird about that."

"Weird about what? You hanging out with their friends?"

"Weird about inviting me to hang out with their friends," he corrected, his expression shifting into one a lot more somber. "That's kind of a serious thing to a lot of people. And… admittedly… I haven't been the best about getting serious with a lot of people. Not romantically, at least."

"Not the serious type?"

"Life is too short." He beamed over at me before he took a sip of his cider. "And there's way too much good TV, nowadays. You can never keep up with all the best shows if you're going on dates, falling in love, moving in with someone, planning an extravagant wedding, adopting a puppy together, et cetera."

"Very funny, Parker." I playfully rolled my eyes, even as a tinge of concern made its way through me. I knew Parker liked to use humor to cope with more serious discussions, but I didn't like that he was doing it now, that he was doing it with me.

I'd thought we were a lot closer than that.

But how could we be?

It wasn't like we'd known each other for very long, despite the way being around Parker made me feel. Besides, maybe it was a good thing that Parker was trying to keep me at an arm's length, that way it wouldn't hurt as much when it was time for him to head home, when it was time for me to snap out of it and remember that I was the one who suggested we kept things practical in the first place.

"Seriously, though," Parker continued, his voice low. "I really appreciate you letting me tag along. It's always been hard for me, coming into a new situation and feeling like an outsider."

"Wait. You? Feel like an outsider?" I quirked an eyebrow over at him. "But you're such an extrovert?—"

"True but that doesn't mean I feel like I really belong a lot of places." Parker let out a harsh laugh. "It just means that I'm super loud and opinionated. And I probably drive a lot of people crazy, but the ones who stick around for the Parker show tend to enjoy it for the most part."

Just then, a small smile came across his face.

"You're thinking of someone, aren't you?" I smiled back at him. "Someone who stayed around for the show?"

"Two someones, actually," he replied. "The guys I started Wild Woods HQ with. Damon and Jacob. We all met in high school when I transferred to Virginia from a school out in Ohio. My dad got a job on an oil rig out here so one day I was freaking out about who to go to a dance with in Cincinnati and the next I was on a plane headed for the wilderness."

"Wild Woods HQ?"

"Right…" Parker paused for a moment, like he was searching for the right words. "Remember when I told you that I came out here to prove something?"

"Yeah?"

"That's because I'm a co-owner of a wilderness camping experience. Our whole thing is offering people a chance to reconnect with nature, have an authentic time in the woods, really get the whole Virginia wilderness thing for themselves."

"That sounds like an interesting job," I replied, with a nod. "Probably never gets boring, right?"

"I'm a big fan of the work, yeah." Parker grinned before his expression fell for the second time tonight. "Although, it can get a little exhausting feeling like a phony all the time, especially when guests assume I know everything there is to know about the nature side of things?—"

"You're not a phony, Parker," I interrupted his moment of self-doubt. "I know I gave you shit about the fire hazards at the cabin but that doesn't mean you don't know what you're doing out here?—"

"It's not just that." It was his turn to interrupt. "Like I said, I'm a transplant from Ohio and a big city in Ohio at that. A lot of this stuff never came naturally to me. I try my best to just absorb everything like a sponge but I'm still learning. I guess I just get insecure about it sometimes."

"I'm sure Damon and Jacob don't see it that way."

"They don't." Parker let out a small sigh. "And if I even tried to bring this up with them, they'd act like I'd lost my mind. Still. It doesn't make the feeling go away."

"Do you know why I'm a firefighter, Parker?"

"Because you hate fire and relish in the idea of making sure there's less of it in the world?"

"Not exactly." I subtly chuckled as I shook my head. I leaned against the kitchen island, my mind going back and forth about whether or not I should tell Parker the truth or just a cleaned up version of it that might've been easier to hear?—

No.

I wasn't going to clean it up. Not this time.

I wasn't going to keep parts of myself all to myself, hidden away out of fear that I'd be judged as broken, discarded as damaged without a second thought. Because some part of me knew that Parker would never see me that way, bruised and no-good. The connection we had was stronger than that…

Or maybe it wasn't and reality was about to come crashing down hard around me.

Either way, I was ready to go for it. "A long time ago, I got into a really bad fight at a bar."

"You… fought someone?" Parker's tone was lined with disbelief.

"More like he fought me," I corrected. "Honestly, I couldn't tell you why he started it. I'd just been minding my business, keeping to myself like usual. But I think he saw me as a challenge because I was the biggest guy at the bar that night. That used to happen all the time, assholes seeing me as a challenge instead of someone who just wanted to enjoy their drink in peace."

I winced away from the memory, a surge of adrenaline threatening to course through my veins just at the thought of that awful night. "Anyway… he swung first. And maybe because I was just so fucking tired of assholes like him trying to start something with me, I swung back. I know I should've walked away, and of course, it only got worse from there. He tried to hit me with a fucking glass beer mug, so I just?—"

I took in a sharp breath, images of blood flashing behind my eyes.

"You just what, Nicholas?" Parker murmured, seemingly captivated by the story.

"I punched him. Hard. Twice. Maybe three times," I replied. "Enough times so that he would get the hint. Enough times that he wouldn't get up and keep egging me on. There was so much blood, though. His and mine. Mostly his. Turns out, breaking someone's nose is a pretty bloody affair."

"So, that's why you became a firefighter? Because you got into a bad fight at a bar?"

"No, I became a firefighter because I didn't realize how frustrated I was, how much aggression I had built up from assholes like that trying to provoke me my whole life," I said. "I'd played rugby before that, so I figured I was getting out all of my aggression that way, but apparently not. And I knew that I never wanted to be in a position like that again, where someone could make me act so outside of my character, where someone could so easily get under my skin."

I took a calming sip of my apple cider before I went on. "Anyway, firefighting let me get it all out. There was just something about having to focus on the fire, having to tame it. It's such a force of nature that it blocked everything else out, turned out to be the only thing that could. Of course, I'm a lot less aggressive than I was back then, but it's still therapeutic to me. Soothing, even, as strange as that might sound."

I looked over at Parker, then, desperately trying to read the expression on his face, searching for any sign of judgment or rejection…

But all I saw was his familiar smile, as he reached a hand across the island, holding onto mine. "I think I finally get you now."

"Finally get me? What do you mean?"

"Well, you were such a mystery to me before," he replied. "But it's all starting to make sense. You're all about control, Nicholas Cooper. It explains why you always seem on top of everything, even the way you move is so graceful and restrained, like you're considering your every step. But now I understand why. Because you know the consequence of losing control, you try to always keep it close."

Parker smirked before he went on. "It also explains why you're so controlling in bed, too."

"You think I'm controlling in bed?" My tone was filled with faux innocence, as I feigned a shocked expression. "I have no idea why you would say something like that."

"Are you serious right now?" Parker playfully scoffed in disbelief as he moved away from the kitchen island, his cup of cider in tow.

"Where are you going?"

"Why does it matter? Do you need to control where I'm going?" he joked. "How about you stay right there and try to be chill about it?—"

By the time he almost finished his sentence, I was already standing in front of him, blocking his path in the hall. I gently placed a hand underneath his chin, forcing him to look up at me, my words coming out sweet and light. "And just who do you think you're talking to?"

"Ah, there it is." Parker chuckled before he turned around, taking a seat on the living room rug, right in front of the fireplace. "You couldn't help yourself for even five minutes, could you?"

"You don't want me to help myself," I replied as I settled in beside him on the floor. "Admit it. You like it when I'm a little controlling."

"Maybe so." Parker grinned. "You should admit it, too, though."

"Admit what?"

"That you like that I let you control me," he said, a grin still on his lips. "You like it when I'm being all submissive, taking your orders, taking your cock?—"

"Careful." I gently kissed him on the cheek after I spoke. "If you want to finish your apple cider in peace, you really shouldn't talk like that around me."

"What are you going to do to me?" he pressed. "If I keep talking like that around you? If I keep talking about how much I want your cock inside me?"

"If you keep talking like that, I'm going to fuck you," I said, matter of fact, gingerly trailing a finger down Parker's cheek. "But I'm not just going to fuck you. I'm going to ruin you. You're going to be a complete mess by the time I'm done with you, Parker, an orgasmic, spasming, sobbing mess, who can't tell if they want me to stop or if they need me to keep going."

"You promise?" Parker whispered before he set down his drink, his hands sliding underneath my shirt. "Do you promise to make a complete mess of me, sir?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely."