Page 34 of Unbound
"Jesse?" Rebecca's voice sounded far away.
But all I could hear was the hammering of my own heart, loud enough I feared Adrian might hear it too.
His sign made my chest tighten:"Conversion Therapy Doesn't Work - But Conversion to Love Does."
He said something to his friends, then started walking toward our barrier.
"Oh no," Rebecca whispered beside me. "Jesse, don't—"
But I couldn't move. Couldn't look away. Adrian approached until only the metal barrier and ten feet of grass separated us. This close, I could see the details of his face, the way his jaw was set with determination, the way his eyes never left mine.
"You don't have to be here, Jesse," he said, his voice carrying easily across the space between us. Not shouting, not performing for the crowd. Just talking to me like we were the only two people in the world. "You could be over here. With us. With me."
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. My chest felt tight, like I couldn't get enough air. The sign in my hands trembled.
"Don't listen to him, Jesse." Rebecca's fingers dug into my arm, anchoring me to this side, to this life, to everything I was supposed to be. "He's trying to confuse you, you worked so hard to be better and you are. Don't let him tempt you."
Adrian's friends had joined him, forming a line facing ours. But where we stood rigid with condemnation, they stood relaxed, comfortable in their own skin. A few were holding hands. One—a tall man with kind eyes—had his arm around another man's shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The contrast was devastating.
On my side: clenched fists, angry chants, signs dripping with warnings of damnation. Faces tight with fear disguised as righteousness. Mrs. Caldwell's mouth twisted in disgust. Mr. Peterson red-faced from shouting. Even Rebecca, sweet Rebecca, looked strained and afraid.
On Adrian's side: Easy smiles, genuine laughter, signs that spoke of love instead of judgment. People who looked like they'dfound something precious and wanted to share it with the world. A woman with short grey hair wearing a shirt that read "PROUD MOM" stood next to a young man who could have been her son. Their joy was infectious.
"Look at them," Adrian said, and his voice was gentle now, almost pleading. "Look how free they are. Look how happy."
I looked. God help me, I looked and I saw everything I'd never known I wanted.
"SODOM AND GOMORRAH!" Father's voice boomed jarringly behind me. "REPENT OR FACE GOD'S JUDGMENT!"
"Jesse..." Rebecca's voice trembled as her fingers dug into my sleeve. "Remember what they say about wolves in sheep's clothing."
But I was already caught in his gaze, wasn't I? Had been since that night in the bathroom, since the coffee shop, since the gym. Since the moment Adrian's eyes had met mine and something primal within me stirred despite every sermon, every warning bell ringing in my head.
Her grip tightened. "They don't understand people like us. They only want to—"
"He sees me," I whispered hoarsely, cut off by her sharp inhale.
Because that was the unbearable truth cracking open my chest. In Adrian's eyes, I wasn't righteous Jesse from Topeka Covenant or dutiful future-husband material or anybody's poster child for purity. He saw through every carefully constructed layer to the raw, untested thing beneath - and still kept looking, keptwanting to look.
"Jesse." Adrian took a step closer to the barrier, his voice dropping to that low, intimate register that made my pulse stutter. "You don't have to carry that hate. It's not yours. It was put on you."
The words landed like stones in my chest. My sign slipped in my sweating hands as Adrian gestured to the celebration behind him - to couples holding hands, to laughter ringing across the quad, to people moving with the easy confidence of those who'd never been taught to hate themselves.
"Look at them," he said, softer now. "Look how free they are."
And God help me, I did. I looked past the rainbow flags and saw what I'd never allowed myself to want - the simple, terrifying possibility of existing without constant calculation. Of breathing without checking each inhale for impropriety. Of beingseenand not found wanting.
My knees nearly buckled when Adrian's gaze found mine again. "You could have this too."
My knees felt weak. The sign slipped in my sweating palms. Around me, the chanting continued, but it sounded distant now, like voices calling from the bottom of a well.
"TRADITIONAL MARRIAGE!" someone shouted.
"SAVE OUR CHILDREN!" came the response.
But Adrian just stood there, steady as a lighthouse in a storm, offering me something I didn't have words for. Safety. Acceptance. A world where I didn't have to apologize for existing.
