Page 50 of Unbound
"Yeah," I managed. "Kennedy's trying to thread a needle there. Striking down sodomy laws without opening the door to marriage equality. Which obviously didn't work long-term, but—"
Jesse shifted in his seat, adjusting his position, and I lost my train of thought completely.
Was he aware I'd seen? Or had it been unconscious, his body more comfortable now, less rigidly controlled?
He looked good. Relaxed—or as relaxed as Jesse got. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows. His hair was slightly mussed from running his hands through it. And he was wearing the underwear I'd chosen for him.
I was in serious trouble.
"But?" Jesse prompted.
"But the logic was always unstable," I continued, forcing myself to focus on his face. "You can't say people have a fundamental right to intimate association and then say the government has no obligation to recognize those associations. The conservative justices saw it coming. That's why the dissents were so—"
Jesse leaned forward, elbows on the table, completely engaged. "Do you think Kennedy knew? That he was setting upObergefell?"
"I think Kennedy's a romantic who believes in dignity and liberty, and he was willing to take incremental steps."
"That's not really an answer."
"No," I admitted. "But it's what I believe."
Jesse smiled, small and genuine, and my heart did something complicated.
He had no idea what he looked like right now—arguing constitutional law with actual passion in his voice, wearing underwear he'd chosen for himself.
No idea that I was completely gone for him.
We worked in silence for a few minutes, Jesse taking notes in his careful handwriting, me pretending to read the same paragraph repeatedly.
I shouldn't say anything. It would embarrass him. Make this weird. He deserved to have this private choice without me making it into a thing.
But apparently my mouth had other ideas.
"Grey's a good colour on you," I said quietly.
Jesse's pen stopped moving. He didn't look up. "What?"
"Just saying. It's a good choice."
For a moment, nothing. Jesse sat perfectly still, face angled down toward his notes. Then, slowly, colour crept up his neck. Not his usual full-face flush. Something subtler. More aware.
"You saw," he said. Not a question.
"Accidentally."
"Adrian—"
"Hey." I kept my voice low. The library wasn't crowded, but there were other students around. "I'm not making fun of you. I meant it. Good choice."
Jesse finally looked up, and the expression on his face was complicated. Embarrassed, yes. But also something else. Something that looked almost like pride.
"I wore the black ones yesterday," he said, so quietly I almost didn't hear him.
The air left my lungs.
"Yeah?"
"And the navy on Tuesday."
