Page 84 of Bi-Partisan

“Oh my God, Jamie, you have to stop pacing,” Mina snaps, cutting me off mid-answer.

I stop short and pivot to give her a pointed look. Usually we’re both pretty good at keeping a level of professionalism with each other while we’re around the rest of the staff. It’s not like her to slip up—if anything, it’s me that’s the one to forget that boundary, which means I really don’t want to have to call her out on it. Especially not when we’re all exhausted after a week of debate prep.

Thankfully, I don’t have to because she immediately corrects herself. “Sorry, sir,” she says with careful emphasis, “but you need to stand still, preferably behind the podium. You need to get used to answering questions under the same conditions you’ll be in tomorrow.”

“I know that, but I can’t be behind that freaking podium anymore.” I blow out a frustrated breath and run my hand through my hair. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we’re even doing this debate at this point. It’s not like they have any sort of monumental effect on elections anyway, which is what we really need at this point. Going back and forth with Mitchell for an hour and having to suffer through his passive aggressive digs at my loyalty and/or sexuality isn’t going to sway the minds of enough voters to make this election any less of a toss up. Yet we’ve been going at this for hours upon hours every night this week, anyway, and I swear to God, I think I’m starting to go a little insane.”

It isn’t until the last word leaves my mouth that I realize I’ve been raising my voice. I glance around the room between Ben, Riley, and Mina, finding them all looking at me warily.

“Maybe we should take a break,” Riley suggests carefully.

“The debate’s tomorrow, and we still don’t have solid answers for agriculture subsidies or redistricting,” Ben argues.

I wince slightly because while he didn’t outright say it, I know by “solid answer on redistricting” he means that I can’t answer the question without sounding like I’m on a tirade.

“Yes, but continuing to work when we’ve clearly hit a standstill won’t get anything done,” Riley fires back.

“No, Ben’s right,” I say. Then I take a second to center myself, inhaling slowly, then exhaling. “I’m good. We can keep going.”

After another deep breath, I head back over to the podium. “What was the question again?” I ask, looking at Riley.

She hesitates for a moment, then checks her notes. “Healthcare coverage for pre-existing conditions.”

“Right,” I say with a nod. I open my mouth, ready to restart my answer, but then my phone buzzes on the podium. “Sorry, give me a second y’all.”

I flip the phone over to look at the screen and see Adrian’s name flashing up at me. My brow furrows. He rarely calls me out of the blue, usually opting to text instead. Plus, he knows I’m in debate prep, so whatever it is must be important.

“Um, can we take five? I think I need to take this,” I say.

“Go ahead,” Ben says.

“Thanks,” I say as I walk toward the door, answering the phone on my way. “Hey, darlin’. Is everything okay?”

“Hey,” Adrian says. He sounds exactly like he usually does over the phone, which puts me more at ease. “Everything’s fine, why?”

“You almost never call me out of the blue,” I say.

“Sorry, I know you’re in debate prep, but—“

“I’m not complaining,” I assure him quickly. “I’ll never complain about getting to hear your voice. I just thought something might be wrong.”

“No, nothing is wrong,” he says, then he makes a noncommittal noise. “Well, actually, something is a little wrong because my surprise is kind of spoiled. I didn’t think about the building’s door being locked when I got here, and Mina wasn’t answering her phone. Can you come let me in?”

I furrow by brow. “Wait, what?”

“I’m outside. Can you let me in?”

“Outside?” Despite my confusion, I navigate through the bullpen of volunteer desks, out the door to our rented office suite, and down the hall toward the lobby. I nearly trip over my own feet when I see him through the glass door.

He smiles at me, and I hear his voice through the phone I still have held to my ear. “Hi.”

Exhaling sharply, I hang up the phone and rush over to pull the door open for him. “Adrian? What are you doing here?”

He steps through the entryway and sets his overnight bag on the floor as the door shuts behind him. “You’ve seemed more stressed than normal lately, then Mina texted me about how tightly wound you’ve been the past few days with debate prep. So, I thought I would, you know, surprise you.”

I stare at him for a long moment, not fully processing that he’s actually here.

His face goes a little guarded. Worried. “Should I not have? I ran it by Mina, and she thought it would help, but if I overstepped…”

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