Page 15 of Unbound
The afternoon stretched ahead of me with no classes and a stack of reading I didn't feel like doing. I ended up in my room, laptopopen to a paper on Fourth Amendment jurisprudence, but my mind kept drifting back to the way Jesse's hands had trembled around his coffee cup. The way he'd looked genuinely hurt when I'd suggested he was afraid to think.
Maybe because he knew I was right.
By the time our weekly house meeting rolled around that evening, I was climbing the walls with restless energy. The six of us gathered in our living room like we did every Monday—partly to handle house business, partly to decompress from the first day of the week, mostly because we were each other's chosen family and this was how we stayed connected.
Andrew called the meeting to order with his usual efficiency, running through the mundane stuff first: who was buying groceries this week (Phoenix), who'd forgotten to clean the bathroom again (Jamie, looking sheepish), whether we were hosting anything for Pride Month planning (yes, obviously).
I half-listened, sprawled across the ancient armchair we'd rescued from a thrift store, letting the familiar rhythm of their voices wash over me. Diana was curled up on the couch with her laptop, probably grading papers or planning lessons. Sam sat cross-legged on the floor, dark clothes and darker expression making them look like they were plotting revolution. Jamie perched on the arm of the couch, practically vibrating with barely contained energy. Elijah had claimed the other chair, watching me with that careful attention that meant he knew something was up.
And Phoenix... Phoenix was lounging dramatically across the coffee table like a Renaissance painting, wearing a flowing skirt and crop top combo that somehow worked perfectly with their combat boots.
"Alright," Andrew said, consulting his phone for notes. "New business. The Kansas State administration wants to meet about our response to the recent protests—"
"Speaking of protests," Phoenix interrupted, sitting up with the kind of gleeful expression that meant trouble, "how's Operation Convert-a-Bigot going?"
The room erupted.
"Oh my god, you actually talked to him?" Jamie bounced so hard she nearly fell off the couch arm.
"What did he say?" Diana looked up from her laptop, concern creasing her forehead.
"Please tell me you didn't sleep with him already." This from Sam, voice flat with disapproval.
"Details, darling. We needdetails." Phoenix was practically purring.
Andrew held up a hand for quiet, but his expression had shifted from business-like to serious. "Hang on. Adrian, what exactly happened?"
I found myself the centre of attention, six pairs of eyes focused on me with varying degrees of curiosity, amusement, and concern. Suddenly the whole thing felt less like a harmless dare and more like something that needed justification.
"Nothing happened," I said, which was technically true. "We had coffee. Talked about constitutional law."
"Constitutional law," Elijah repeated slowly. "Right."
"That's it?" Phoenix looked personally offended by the lack of drama. "You had the boy alone and all you did was discuss legal theory? Adrian, honey, I'm disappointed in you."
"It's called strategy," I shot back. "You can't just jump straight to seduction with someone like that. He probably thinks holding hands before marriage is a sin. He'd probably jizz in his pants if I tried anything too soon.”
Sam's expression darkened. "Someone like that. You mean someone who'd happily see us all dead or in conversion therapy?"
The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees. Sam didn't talk about their past much, but we all knew enough to understand why this hit close to home.
"Sam," Diana said gently, "that's not fair. He's been brainwashed since birth. That's not the same thing as choosing hate."
"Isn't it?" Sam's voice was sharp. "At what point does ignorance become complicity? When does 'I was raised this way' stop being an excuse?"
"When someone's never been given the chance to think differently," Diana replied, that teacher-voice coming out. "When they've been isolated and controlled and fed lies their entire life. You can't blame the victim of indoctrination for being indoctrinated."
"He's not the victim here," Sam snapped. "We are. Every time they show up with their fucking signs,we'rethe victims."
"But what if he could change?" Jamie's voice was soft, hopeful. "What if Adrian could actually help him see the truth?"
Elijah had been quiet through this exchange, but now he leaned forward, pinning me with that direct stare that always made me feel like he could see right through my bullshit.
"What's the endgame here, Adrian?" His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "You actually trying to sleep with him, or just fuck with his head?"
Trust Elijah to cut straight to the heart of it. I opened my mouth to give some flip answer, then closed it again. Because honestly? I wasn't sure anymore.
"Both," I said finally. "Neither. I don't know."
