Chapter 1 #3
"Let me help you." I grabbed the sign before he could, examining it with exaggerated interest. "Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin." I nodded appreciatively. "Classic. Less aggressive than your buddy's 'God Hates Fags' out there. You're the good cop, huh?"
"It's not—I didn't—" He reached for the sign, but I held it just out of reach.
"Tell me something, Jesse." I stepped closer, dropping my voice low. "Do you actually believe this bullshit? Or are you just going through the motions?"
His eyes met mine then, and the naked conflict in them caught me off guard. There was something happening behind those eyes—a war I hadn't expected to see.
"I believe in God," he said quietly.
Not what I'd asked. Interesting.
"So do lots of people who don't spend their Friday nights harassing others," I pointed out. "Including some of us 'sinners' in here."
He looked away. "May I please have my sign back?"
I relented, handing it to him. Our fingers brushed in the exchange, and he jerked back like I'd shocked him.
"You act like I'm radioactive," I observed.
"No, I—" He clutched the sign to his chest like a shield. "I really need to get back."
"I'll walk you out." It wasn't an offer.
Surprisingly, he didn't protest as I held the bathroom door open with exaggerated courtesy. We walked side by side down the hallway, an odd pair—me completely at ease, him looking like he expected the ceiling to collapse at any moment.
"So," I said conversationally as we approached the main room, "do you come to all the protests, or is this a special occasion?"
"My church organizes them regularly," he answered stiffly.
"And do you enjoy it? Standing in the rain, telling people they're going to hell?"
He hesitated, just a fraction too long. "It's my duty."
We'd reached the entrance now. The bouncer—Mack—raised an eyebrow at me, and I gave him a reassuring nod.
"Well, Jesse from Topeka Covenant," I said, "it's been enlightening. Maybe next time you need a bathroom break, we can have a proper conversation. One where you actually say what you're thinking."
He looked at me then, something vulnerable and raw in his expression. "What makes you think I'm not saying what I'm thinking?"
"Because if you were, you wouldn't still be standing here talking to me. You look lost.”
The door to the bar opened again, spilling light and music into the night. A petite blonde woman burst out, her face a mask of concern that quickly morphed into something harder when she saw me.
"Jesse! We've been looking everywhere for you!" She grabbed his arm possessively, shooting me a suspicious glare.
"Rebecca," he said, sounding relieved and something else. Resigned, maybe. "I'm sorry. I just needed to use the restroom."
"In there?" Her voice dripped with disgust as she glanced at The Harbour.
I gave her my most dazzling smile. "He was just defending the faith to us heathens. Very impressive. Almost had me considering a life of celibacy."
Jesse's eyes widened, but Rebecca was already tugging him away. "We're leaving. Pastor Caldwell called it for the night."
She pulled him toward the parking lot, his sign dragging awkwardly at his side. At the last moment, he looked back over his shoulder at me.
And there it was. That look. Not just fear or confusion—but longing. So raw and honest it stopped me in my tracks. A desperate, hungry look that didn't belong on the face of a true believer.
Well, fuck me sideways.
I watched them disappear into the night, Jesse's tense shoulders and Rebecca's proprietary grip telling their own story. I stood there longer than I should have in the open doorway, the rain soaking through my thin t-shirt, replaying that look in my mind.
"Are you communing with the rain gods, or can we go back inside?" Elijah's voice startled me. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "You're getting drenched."
"Did you see that?" I asked, pointing toward the now-empty parking lot.
"See what? The protesters finally leaving? Yeah, praise whatever deity you prefer."
I shook my head, following him back inside. "Not that. Him. The blonde one."
"The one whose girlfriend dragged him away like he was contaminated? Hard to miss." Elijah's voice was dry as he led me back to our friends.
They were still at the bar, now deep in debate about something. Phoenix spotted us first, raising their glass dramatically.
"The prodigal son returns! Did you scare the poor homophobe?"
"I may have... engaged with him a bit," I admitted, accepting the fresh beer Diana pushed toward me.
"'Engaged'?" Jamie raised her eyebrows, camera already up. "That's Adrian-speak for 'flirted shamelessly,' isn't it?"
I shrugged, grinning. "Maybe. He was cute, in that all-American, probably-has-a-flag-in-his-bedroom way."
"You're impossible," Sam muttered.
"You should have seen him," I continued, unable to get the image of Jesse's face out of my mind. "So buttoned-up. So... contained. Like if he allowed himself to feel anything, he might explode."
Phoenix's eyes lit up dangerously. "Oh my god, you're into him."
"I'm not into him," I protested, perhaps too quickly. "I just find his repression... fascinating."
"Uh-huh." Phoenix was grinning now, a mischievous spark in their eyes. "I bet you couldn't get him to loosen up."
Thompson shook his head. "Don't even start, Rivera. We don't mess with those people."
"I'm not suggesting we mess with him," Phoenix argued. "I'm suggesting Adrian could... save him." They batted their eyelashes innocently. "A little conversion therapy of our own."
"That's not funny," Elijah said sharply.
"I'm serious!" Phoenix insisted. "You didn't see this guy. He's textbook closet case. Probably praying away the gay every night."
I thought about Jesse's conflicted eyes, the way he'd lingered despite his obvious fear. "He's definitely struggling with something."
"So help him out," Phoenix suggested. "The Adrian Costas Gay Awakening Experience. Limited time offer."
"That's actually the worst idea I've ever heard," Diana said, but she was smiling. "And I've heard Phoenix suggest we do a swimsuit calendar fundraiser in February."
"Which was genius," Phoenix muttered.
I took a long drink, considering. The image of Jesse's backward glance wouldn't leave me.
"Oh god, he's actually thinking about doing it," Thompson groaned.
"It would be a public service," I argued, warming to the idea. "Free this poor repressed soul from his chains of heteronormativity."
"You're the worst," Elijah said, but I could tell he was fighting a smile.
"The absolute worst," I agreed cheerfully. "So, what do you say? Bet I can get church boy to come around in... let's say two weeks?"
"Two weeks?" Phoenix scoffed. "With all that religious programming? Try a month, minimum."
"Fine. One month to make Jesse Miller question everything he believes." I raised my glass. "Who's in?"
A chorus of groans and laughs answered me, but glasses clinked against mine one by one. Even Sam reluctantly joined in, muttering something about "being there to pick up the pieces."