Page 22 of Bi-Partisan

He huffs out a laugh and runs a hand through his hair. “I never really thought about it like that, but yeah, you make a good point. And it was pretty great sex.”

I smile slightly. “So your theory was confirmed, then?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says with another laugh, this time more genuine. “Although, it was pretty much confirmed the moment you smiled at me from across the bar, if I’m being honest.”

I feel my face heat, and I look down at my tea to cover it. Is he really flirting with me right now? “So, in your message, you said you needed to talk about the photos. Was it just to apologize, or was it something else?”

“It was something else.” He takes a deep breath as if to steel himself. “My team has been on damage control all day trying to figure out what to do about this. I don’t know if you’ve seen the photos—”

“I have.”

“Okay, so then you know that there’s really no way I can deny or spin any of this. Honestly, I’m not sure if I would want to anyway. It was always my intention to come out publicly at some point. Queer rights has always been a major part of my platform, and I’ve never been one to hide who I am. But I was going to wait until after the election. I didn’t want it distracting from the issues. But now that it’s out there, we thought it best to lean into it.”

“So you’re going to come out?” I ask.

“Yeah. Mina’s already drafting a few options for Instagram captions,” he says.

“Are you planning on addressing the photos?”

“That’s kinda why I’m here.”

My grip around my mug tightens as I brace myself for what could possibly come next.

“I want to preface this by saying that I completely understand that what we had was a one-time thing, and what I’m about to ask you is not my way of trying to, like, trick you into something more. Honestly, I don’t really have time for anything more, anyway. I work close to eighteen-hour days sometimes when we’re in session, and when we aren’t, I’m back and forth between DC and my district in North Carolina. Plus, I’m up for re-election, so my campaign takes any free time I do have.” He hesitates a moment, a quick look of nervousness passing over his face before it’s replaced with one of determination.

“That being said, the optics of admitting that this was a one-night stand are not great. Voters tend to trust politicians who are in committed relationships over those who aren’t. I haven’t had a big problem being single, which is largely because I’m still young. But in the eyes of the public, a one-night stand makes me look non-committal and irresponsible. And that’s not just a hypothetical. The frontrunner to be the Republican nominee for my district has already Tweeted out something to that effect, and people are agreeing.”

Usually, I’m not an impatient person. But the longer he talks without getting to whatever it is he wants to ask me, the more my anxiety frays what’s left of my composure. “Jamie, is there a question somewhere in here?” I ask, my voice coming out like a croak.

His face softens, and for a brief moment, it looks like he wants to reach his hand across the table to cover mine in some reassuring gesture. But he doesn’t. “Sorry, darlin’, I’m getting there.”

My breath catches at the slip of the endearment, but thankfully he doesn’t notice my reaction as he continues. Actually, he doesn’t even seem to notice he said it, unlike the first time it slipped out last night.

“So, about half of the internet is saying exactly what you’d expect. But some people—actually a surprising amount of people, both supportive and homophobic—are under the impression that we’re a couple, which is where my team’s idea comes in. They think we should lean into the assumption.”

Molly, with her impeccable timing, chooses that exact moment to jump up on the table. But my brain is too stuck on what Jamie said to bother with scolding her or even moving her. I just stare at him, dumbfounded. There’s no way he’s suggesting what I think he’s suggesting, is there? “You mean…”

“They think, and I agree, that if when I come out, I frame last night as a night out with my boyfriend and my friends, that we have more of a possibility of saving my chances of at least making it past the primaries,” he clarifies.

Okay, apparently he is. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he says with a grimace. He swallows and presses his knuckles to his sternum again. “Look, I know this is weird, but please know I wouldn’t be asking you this if I could see another way for me to potentially recover from this scandal. I don’t know how closely you follow politics, and out-of-state politics at that, but North Carolina was redistricted.”

I nod, remembering an article I saw a few weeks ago. “I read something about that. The potential new district lines are being contested due to gerrymandering, right?”

“Yeah, please don’t get me started on that, or else we’ll be here all night,” he says through clenched teeth before taking a deep, relaxing breath. “Anyway, my district was chopped up, so now it’s much more conservative leaning than it was before. I could have probably tried to run in one of the more liberal nearby districts, but there’s no way I could stand a chance at making it past the primaries against their incumbents. Besides, Cary is my home. I was born there. My parents live there. And the frontrunner for the Republican nomination is everything you think of when you think ‘awful Republican.’ He comes from old money and has been in politics longer than I’ve reliably been able to tie my own shoes. He’s pro-gun, anti-abortion, and pro-family—which seems to be political code for ‘I want women to stay at home popping out children and baking pies like it’s the fifties.’ He also wants to bring North Carolina back to its traditional roots—which, again, seems to be code for ‘I’m homophobic and racist.’”

He glances down at where Molly is sprawled out on the table, then reaches out to scratch her head as his voice takes on an almost defeated tone. “My point is, I really can’t afford to lose this election, not if I don’t want to see the good I’ve managed to do in the past year go to complete waste. There’s still so much change I want to make happen. There are so many things I want to get done—that I promised to get done—and I feel like I’ve barely made a dent.”

He’s so earnest that I can’t help feeling a little moved. After everything I looked up about him and his platform earlier today and hearing him talk now, I’d definitely consider voting for him—if I could, that is. And the vulnerability in his voice and on his face almost has me reaching across the table to take his hand like he seemed to want to do a few moments ago.

“I know I probably have no right to be asking this, especially when we barely know each other and we were under the impression that we would never hear from each other again. And I will completely understand if you say no. Really. There would be no hard feelings.”

He lifts his head and locks eyes with me, and it’s almost too much. But I also can’t look away.

“But if you would at least consider doing this, I would owe you big time. If there is anything you need or want in return, all you have to do is ask, and I’ll do everything I can reasonably and ethically do to make it happen.”

I should say no. He’s giving me the out. I should take it. In fact, I open my mouth to do just that. But instead, what comes out is, “Can I have some time to think about it?”

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