Page 39 of Unbound
He was going to have to argue for marriage equality. In front of the entire class. With me as his partner.
He was going to have to stand up and make the case that same-sex couples deserved the same rights as everyone else, that love was love, that the Constitution protected all of us equally.
The boy who'd been holding a "Save Our Children" sign days ago was going to have to argue that gay marriage was a constitutional right.
I should have felt triumphant. This was exactly what I'd wanted—forced proximity, intellectual engagement, a situation where he couldn't run away when things got uncomfortable.
Instead, watching the panic spread across his features, I felt something uncomfortably close to guilt.
When class ended, Jesse bolted. He was out of his seat and through the door before Professor Okonkwo had finished explaining the project timeline. I followed, catching up with him in the hallway.
"Jesse, wait."
He stopped but didn't turn around. When he finally faced me, his expression was carefully blank, but I could see the storm underneath.
"I need to request a partner change," he said quietly.
"On what grounds?"
"Conflict of interest. Philosophical differences. Irreconcilable—"
"He won't approve it." I kept my voice gentle, nonthreatening. "Okonkwo specifically said he paired people with different perspectives on purpose. That's not a bug, it's a feature, it's by design."
Jesse's jaw worked silently for a moment. "I can't do this," he said finally.
"Yes, you can."
"You don't understand. I can't argue for something I don't believe in."
"You argue for plenty of things you don't believe in. That's what lawyers do."
"This is different."
"Why?"
He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see him struggling with how much truth he was willing to reveal.
"Because," he said finally, "some lies are too big to tell."
The words hung between us like a challenge. I should have let him walk away—it would have been kinder, safer for both of us. But watching the panic in his eyes, seeing how trapped he looked, I couldn't bring myself to let him run.
"Look," I said, pulling out the assignment sheet Okonkwo had handed us with our partnership details and contact information. "We have three weeks to prepare this. That's enough time to build a solid legal argument without you having to compromise your personal beliefs. Think of it as an intellectual exercise."
He glanced down at the paper in my hand, probably noting his own phone number and email printed there alongside mine. The practical reality of our forced partnership, laid out in black and white.
"It's not that simple," he said quietly.
"Then help me understand what would make it simpler."
He was quiet for so long I thought he might actually walk away without answering. Students flowed around us in the hallway, heading to their next classes, living their uncomplicated lives where constitutional law was just academic theory.
"The library," he said finally, so quietly I almost missed it.
"What?"
"If we're going to do this..." He took a shaky breath. "The library. Tonight. Seven o'clock. Reference section, back corner where it's quiet."
I tried not to let my surprise show. I'd expected more resistance, more attempts to get out of it entirely.
