“Okay, you know what?” Gabe sets his coffee down, then stands abruptly. “How about you stop being selfish for one minute. Are you forgetting the election is tomorrow? Tomorrow! We have a red-as-hell district, and this is the first time we’ve ever had a real shot at flipping it. And with a supermajority at stake? Big J. If you’re so worried about Maya’s family, you should be on your knees, thanking me for pulling out all the stops. We both know this hijab ban is moving forward if Newton wins—”
“Okay, fuck you,” I yell.
“Whoa.” He gapes at me. “I’m on your side—”
“No you’re not. You don’t give a shit about the hijab ban. You want Rossum to win so you can win. Full stop. So stop pretending you care. Of course I want Rossum to win! But I’m not going to exploit people to get there. Because that’s what you’re doing! You exploited me. You exploited Maya. Have you even looked at the comments? They’re not all fun and heart eyes, Gabe. You think the comment sections are kind to women? To Muslim women?”
Gabe rolls his eyes. “That’s a few people. Stop blowing this up. Ninety-nine percent of them think you’re adorable. You’re going to have adorable babies together—”
“Right, that’s your narrative, isn’t it? You saw the first comments and decided to keep fanning the flames. Does Rossum know what you’re willing to do to win?”
“Jordan doesn’t know shit about this.” Gabe’s face heats up. “You think this is just about winning? My ego?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“Do you even read the local news?” Gabe slams his hand down on Hannah’s desk. “Do you even get what’s at stake? H.B. 28 is the tip of the fucking iceberg, dude. Representative Karpenter from deep red fucking north Georgia’s got one in the pipeline to remove discrimination protections in public schools. In the name of religious freedoms. We all fucking know what that means. Maybe think about your pals Felipe and Nolan before you come after me.”
Gabe’s words knock the wind out of me. A discrimination bill. Here in Georgia. I’ve seen them pass in other states, but our economy’s so tied up with the film industry, Governor Doyle’s never wanted to risk stirring up a boycott. But if Newton wins, and there’s a Republican supermajority . . .
I think of Felipe and Nolan. Thank God they’re graduating in a year. But what about all the kids who aren’t graduating yet?
What about Sophie?
My heart slams around my rib cage, pressure building behind my eyes. I don’t know if I’m about to burst into tears or detonate.
I whirl on Gabe. “That doesn’t make what you did okay.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Jamie, if my main fucking concern the day before the election is winning the goddamn election. I’m sorry Maya freaked out on you, dude. I am. But last I checked, Maya’s not the only girl on earth—”
“Okay, that’s—”
“Your comments are full of girls who think you’re hot,” Gabe continues, completely unfazed. “Dude. You want a girlfriend so badly? Make it happen, Big J. Go slide into some DMs. You know you’ve got, like, three thousand new followers since Saturday.”
I just look at him.
“So, you’re welcome,” he adds.
“I’m . . .” I open Instagram, head spinning. Random girls think I’m hot. Not that I care, but that’s, like, bizarro-world, alternate-universe levels of unexpected. Me? And three thousand followers? From the kiss picture? I wasn’t even tagged. . . .
I tap over to Maya’s profile, almost without realizing I’m doing it. But it doesn’t load her usual feed.
It loads a picture of a lock in a circle. This Account is Private.
I can’t catch my breath. It’s like someone scraped me out from the inside.
This Account is Private.
“She.” I blink. “I think she blocked me.”
I sink back against Hannah’s desk, legs suddenly weak.
He reaches out to pat my shoulder, but I flinch away from him, voice choked. “Oh, now you’re sorry?”
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have done it. Look, man. I’m trying to pull out an impossible win. I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. This is my first rodeo. I’m just stumbling around in the dark here.”
I stare dumbly at my phone.
Gabe keeps talking. “Want to know the truth? I’m really fucking scared. This—all of this—could be for nothing. It rains? Boom. Low turnout.”
I shake my head dazedly. “The weather’s supposed to be—”