Page 59 of Unbound
The line went dead.
I pushed myself away from the wall on unsteady legs. Behind me, I could hear Adrian calling my name, his voice getting closer. But I couldn't face him. Couldn't look at him without remembering the taste of his mouth, the way his hands had felt on my shoulders, the way my entire body had saidyeseven as my soul screamedno.
I walked toward the parking lot without looking back, each step feeling like a mile. Each step taking me further from whatever madness had possessed me on that stage and closer to the familiar pain of disappointing the people who loved me.
At least disappointment I understood. At least shame was something I knew how to carry.
The unknown territory of whatever I'd felt with Adrian—that was too dangerous to navigate. Too likely to destroy whatever was left of me.
Better to go home. Better to face their anger and their attempts to fix me than to lose myself completely in something I didn't understand.
Better the devil I knew.
13
ADRIAN
Istood frozen on the stage, my lips still burning from Jesse's kiss, watching him disappear into the crowd like he was running from a fire.
Which, I supposed, he was.
The taste of him lingered—coffee and mint and something desperate that made my chest ache. Ten seconds. That's all it had been. Ten seconds of Jesse Miller grabbing my face like I was the only solid thing in a crumbling world, pressing his mouth to mine with a hunger that had been building for weeks.
Ten seconds that felt like a lifetime. Ten seconds that changed everything.
The auditorium had gone dead silent for exactly one heartbeat after Jesse bolted. Then it exploded.
"Holy shit, did that just happen?"
"Is someone recording this?"
"That's the kid from the protests, right? The religious one?"
"Oh my god, his parents are here somewhere—"
Phone screens lit up like stars across the darkened auditorium. The clicking and tapping of fingers on glass filled the air as two hundred people simultaneously uploaded the moment Jesse Miller's life imploded to every social media platform known to mankind.
I should move. I should get off this stage. But my legs felt like they were made of concrete, and every time I tried to form a coherent thought, my brain just replayed the moment Jesse's eyes had gone wide with terror, like he'd just realized what he'd done.
Like he'd just realized he'd destroyed everything.
"Mr. Costas." Professor Okonkwo's voice cut through the chaos, calm and professional as always. He stepped up beside me, positioning himself between me and the cameras. "Perhaps you'd like to take a moment to collect yourself?"
I turned to look at him, and something in his expression—not judgment, not shock, just quiet understanding—nearly undid me.
"He's going to be okay, right?" The words came out hoarse, barely audible above the crowd noise. "Professor, he's going to—"
"Ladies and gentlemen." Okonkwo's voice boomed across the auditorium, cutting off my panic. "I think we can all agree that was a passionate defence of constitutional rights from both our debaters. The right to freedom of expression, the right to love whom we choose—these are not abstract concepts but lived realities that deserve our respect, not our cameras."
A few students actually looked ashamed and lowered their phones.
"Let's give our debaters time to collect themselves while we move on to our next pair. Ms. Waters and Mr. Rodriguez, you're up."
The man was smooth, I'd give him that. Acting like students making out on stage was a normal Tuesday occurrence in Constitutional Law debates. But I caught the concerned glance he shot my way, the almost imperceptible nod toward the side exit.
Right. Move. Get off stage. Stop standing here like a deer in headlights while Jesse's life burned down around him.
But Christ, my hands were shaking. Actually shaking. I shoved them in my pockets and tried to look like my world hadn't just tilted completely off its axis.
