He threw his hands up at my words and tried to move closer, then thought better of it and kept himself on the other side of the couch. “Of course it’s not about appeasing you, Patrice. I fucking know that.” He ran a hand over his face and exhaled before he spoke again. In a weird twisted way, I wished he’d say something terrible, something condescending or flippant, so I could retreat and go back to the more familiar place of expecting the worst.

“I don’t do this job to piss off my parents, Patrice. I do it because I believe that I can play a role in seeking justice. I’m not naïve, I understand what it means that that kid risked suffocating to death rather than reach into his pocket. We will address this.”

“Will you address it in the press?”

This time he was the one grinding his teeth. “That’s not up to me.”

My anger at his answer boiled up and then fizzled out just as fast, because I didn’t want to be doing this right now. I didn’t want to have to turn away from what I’d had just minutes ago with Easton because of something that neither of us had done.

It felt so fucking unfair, but he was who he was, and I was who I was, and if I let what I felt for him change that, we’d be over before we really started.

I walked up to him anyway and did the thing that I would’ve never done before Easton Archer came into my life. I compromised again. I took his face in my hands and pressed our lips together. He opened up for me like he always did. I licked into his mouth and pressed my fingers into his skin. My hands tightening on him.

Possessive, even when I didn’t want to be. That pull that made me want to forget myself. Always one brush of skin away from igniting.

“I know this is not all up to you,” I said just as much for myself as for him. We pressed our foreheads together, his hands gripping my wrists. We were there for one, two, three breaths, before pulling apart.

“I’ll call you later,” I said, pointing down. “I’m going to go get ready for class. I’ll keep my eye out for any news on the jury. Good luck.”

Easton only nodded, his face subdued and worried, but said nothing and I wondered if like me, he feared that if we started talking about this it would all come tumbling down.

I walked out of his apartment and took the stairs, my phone burning a hole in my pocket. When I drove off to campus a couple of hours later, I responded to the organizers of the peaceful protest in the only way I could.

You can count on me.