Chapter 6 #3
"According to who? You? Your church? And why should your moral judgment carry more weight than mine?"
"Because some things are simply right or wrong," I said, but even as I spoke, the words felt hollow. Rehearsed.
"Says who?" Adrian pressed. "God? How do you know? Did He tell you personally, or are you taking someone else's word for it?"
The question hit like a physical blow. I opened my mouth to respond with the usual answer—scripture, tradition, pastoral authority—but nothing came.
Adrian waited, head tilted slightly, expression almost gentle. Like he was genuinely curious about my answer rather than trying to corner me.
"Faith," I finally managed. "Faith doesn't require proof."
"No," Adrian agreed quietly. "But it shouldn't require blindness either."
Professor Okonkwo cleared his throat. "Excellent discussion, both of you. These are exactly the kinds of fundamental questions the Founders grappled with. Jesse, would you like to respond to Adrian’s point about institutional authority versus personal conscience?"
I stared at my notebook, words blurring together. "I... I think we should move on to the next topic."
"Of course." Professor Okonkwo's voice was kind but knowing. “Adrian, your thoughts on the Jefferson letter to the Danbury Baptists?"
Adrian launched into a detailed analysis of Jefferson's "wall of separation" metaphor, his voice confident and articulate. I tried to follow along, tried to formulate counterarguments, but my mind kept circling back to his earlier question.
How do you know?
It should have been easy to answer. I'd been answering variations of that question my entire life. But sitting there, watching Adrian speak with such conviction about principles he'd clearly thought through himself rather than inherited, I felt something crack inside my chest.
What if I didn't know? What if I'd never known?
What if everything I believed was just someone else's certainty dressed up as my own?
Friday afternoon, I was walking back from my last class when I spotted the familiar brick facade of the Sigma Alpha house ahead. Home territory. Safe space. A place where I knew the rules and my role and could pretend, for a few hours at least, that my world wasn't slowly tilting off its axis.
I was almost to the front steps when I heard my name called.
"Jesse!"
I turned to find Adrian jogging toward me, his ever present leather jacket making him look like some kind of movie star despite the academic setting.
Behind me, I could hear the voices of my fraternity brothers drifting from the open windows—probably planning the weekend's intramural game or arguing about someone's girlfriend drama.
Normal college problems. Problems that had nothing to do with constitutional interpretation or religious authority or the way my pulse quickened every time Adrian said my name.
"What are you doing here?" I asked when he reached me.
"Walking back from the library. Saw you heading this way." He glanced up at the house, taking in the Greek letters above the door, the perfectly maintained lawn, the kind of aggressive respectability that Sigma Alpha specialized in. "This your fraternity?"
"Yes."
"Huh." Adrian's expression was carefully neutral. "Not what I would have pictured for you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just... seems very traditional. Very structured."
Before I could respond, the front door opened and Tyler Brennan emerged, followed by Mark Webb and Jake Hoffman. Three of my fraternity brothers, guys I'd known since freshman year, stopping short when they saw me talking to someone they didn't recognize.
"Miller!" Tyler called out. "Who's your friend?"
I felt trapped between two worlds—the familiar comfort of my fraternity brothers and the dangerous pull of Adrian's presence. "This is Adrian. From my Constitutional Law class."
"Nice to meet you," Adrian said, stepping forward with easy confidence. "Great house. I bet you guys throw legendary parties."
Tyler grinned. "We do all right. You thinking about rushing? Recruitment's coming up."
Something flickered across Adrian's face—amusement, maybe, or irony. "Thanks, but I'm already committed elsewhere."
"Yeah? Where?"
"Small group. More focused on community service and social justice. Probably not your scene."
The words were polite enough, but there was an edge to them that made Tyler's smile falter slightly. Mark stepped forward, and I recognized the territorial tension that meant trouble.
"What kind of social justice?" Mark asked.
"Civil rights advocacy. LGBTQ+ issues, mostly."
The silence that followed was deafening. I watched my fraternity brothers' expressions shift from friendly curiosity to something cooler, more wary. Tyler's jaw tightened. Jake took a half-step back.
"Interesting," Mark said finally. "Must be... challenging work."
"It has its rewards," Adrian replied smoothly. "Fighting for people who can't fight for themselves. Making sure everyone has equal protection under the law. That kind of thing."
"Right." Tyler looked between Adrian and me, and I could practically see the questions forming. "Well, we should probably head inside. Got a chapter meeting."
"Of course." Adrian turned to me, and his smile was sharp again. "See you soon, Jesse. Maybe we can continue our discussion about moral authority."
He walked away, hands in his pockets, completely unbothered by the tension he'd left in his wake. I watched him go, acutely aware of my fraternity brothers watching me watch him.
"Dude," Jake said finally. "That guy's gay, right?"
"I don't know," I lied.
"He's definitely gay," Tyler said. "Did you hear him? LGBTQ+ advocacy? And the way he looked at you?"
"What way?" The question came out sharper than I'd intended.
"Like..." Tyler searched for words. "Like he knew something we didn't."
Mark clapped me on the shoulder. "Just be careful, Miller. Guys like that, they've got agendas. They're always trying to recruit people."
"Recruit them to what?" I asked, though I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.
"You know." Mark's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Their lifestyle. They think everyone's just repressed or confused, waiting for the right guy to come along and convert them."
The word 'convert' hit me like a slap. I thought about Adrian's questions in class, his presence in the library, the way he'd appeared at the gym exactly when I needed help. The careful choreography of our encounters.
"That's ridiculous," I said, but my voice sounded hollow even to me.
"Is it?" Tyler asked. "Think about it, man. I wonder how many times you've run into this guy this week? In class, around campus? And now he shows up at our house?"
Too many times. Far too many to be coincidental.
"Look," Jake said, not unkindly, "we're not saying anything bad about you. We know you're solid. Good Christian, good boyfriend, good brother. But guys like that, they're predators. They target guys like you specifically."
"Guys like me?"
"Clean-cut. Religious. Innocent." Anthony counted off on his fingers. "They think it's some kind of challenge or conquest. Breaking down a good Christian boy."
My stomach clenched. "I should go inside."
"Miller." Tyler caught my arm as I turned toward the door. "You know you can talk to us, right? If anything... weird happens. We've got your back."
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and escaped into the house. But even surrounded by familiar voices and familiar faces, I couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted.
My fraternity brothers thought Adrian was hunting me.
The terrifying part wasn’t that they might be right.
The terrifying part was the possibility that I didn't want him to stop, that maybe whatever he saw in me that made him pursue me wanted to come out. Wanted to be recognized. Freed.
Sunday morning before church, alone in my apartment, I found myself standing in my bedroom holding the grey pair like they might burn me.
Nobody would know.
I could try them on, and if they felt wrong or made me feel too different, I could take them off and forget this ever happened.
I peeled off my standard white briefs and stepped into the grey.
Oh.
They fit like they'd been tailored for me specifically. The fabric moved with my body instead of against it, soft and supportive and completely different from anything I'd ever worn.
I looked in the mirror.
I looked... different. Not obscene. Not inappropriate. Just—defined. Adult. Like someone who inhabited his own body with intention instead of apology.
Like someone who made choices.
The grey would look incredible on you, Adrian had said. But I'm biased.
Except he hadn't said that. Couldn't have said that. We'd never discussed this. He'd just somehow known, and bought them, and handed them to me in the student union with Rebecca sitting right there, and—
I sat down hard on my bed.
This was insane.
This was a test, maybe. Some kind of elaborate setup to expose me. Prove I was what they all suspected.
Except Adrian's note hadn't felt cruel. It felt like... permission.
Life's too short for boring underwear.
I wore the grey pair to church.
I sat in the third pew from the front, my usual spot, wearing my best suit and most penitent expression. Father sat beside me, Mother on his other side, the three of us presenting the picture of faithful devotion that our congregation expected.
Nobody could see them. That was the point, wasn't it? They were hidden beneath my dress pants, my secret, my choice. But I could feel them—the soft fabric against my skin, moving with me instead of bunching awkwardly. A constant, tangible reminder of everything I was trying not to think about.
Pastor Caldwell was preaching about temptation this morning.
About the subtle ways Satan worked to corrupt the righteous, using seemingly innocent encounters to plant seeds of doubt and rebellion.
About the importance of recognizing spiritual warfare when it came disguised as intellectual curiosity.