Page 112 of Theoretically Straight

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. I can’t deny that I’ve been wanting to ask this question, but now I can’t stop thinking about how it might make Theo feel worse. And that’s the last thing I want to happen. But he’s asking me, and I’m incapable of telling him no.

“Do you regret it? Being with me, I mean. Do you regret starting this relationship?”

Theo doesn’t answer right away, leaning back against the door. My heart hammers against my chest like a rabid animal trying to thrash its way out of a cage.

“You don’t have to answer,” I say quickly, trying to backpedal. “It was a stupid question–”

“No, it’s not. I’m just–I’m having trouble getting the words right. Give me a second?”

I nod, too scared to say anything else, or I might dig myself a deeper hole.

Theo exhales after a moment, his eyes finding me again. “The short answer is no. The longer answer is a bit more complicated. But what I want to make sure I get right is I am so glad to have you in my life, Caleb. When I think about how we spent our entire lives in this town, going to the same schools, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d met you earlier. Would it have been such a shock if you showed up when I was ten, and this connection of ours could have happened gradually instead of all at once?

“But I can’t answer those questions. I can’t go back in time or play this forever game of ‘what if?’ All I can do is tell you how I feel right now. There was this moment last night when my parents were arguing when I truly thought I would never see you again. Looking back, it sounds silly, but at the moment, I was petrified.”

I tighten my grip on his hand.

“It wasn’t my parents yelling, or getting kicked out of my house, or being shunned by the church–none of those possibilities scared me more than waking up every day and knowing that I wouldn’t get to hold your hand.”

“Theo….”

“I love you, Caleb. And I know it sounds stupid, saying it out loud, but I think that’s how I know things will be okay, no matter how they turn out with my parents. This–” he holds our hands up between us, “–feels more real to me than anything else. So even if people tell me that it’s wrong, or if my dad tries to argue theological semantics, they can’t take away the honesty of how I feel about you.”

“It’s not stupid,” I say, my voice cracking. “I feel the same way about you, too.”

Theo lets out a shuddered laugh. “That’s a relief. It would be really awkward if you said you just wanted to be friends.”

I pull him forward over the armrest, planting a kiss on his forehead. “Not a chance.”

He laughs again, this time wholeheartedly, but it gets cut short with a yawn. “Sorry, I’m running on half an hour of sleep and a prayer.”

“What time do your parents expect you home?” I ask, checking my phone.

He rubs his eye. “I told them I was working on a project with Harrison, so I’ve got maybe another hour before they’ll start getting suspicious.”

“Then you need a nap. Come on.” I let go of his hand, climbing into Eileen’s back row and throwing one leg up on the seat. I pat the open space, beckoning for Theo to join me.

“God, I love you so freaking much.” Theo adjusts the volume dial again, then joins me in the back, nestling himself up against me and leaning his head on my chest.

“Sweet dreams,” I whisper, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.

Not a minute later, he’s snoring.

Waking up next to Caleb feels like nothing short of a dream.

Unfortunately, the dreamy feeling doesn’t last long, having to rush home quickly before my parents start wondering what I’m up to.

Thank God for Harrison covering for me. Thank God for Caleb insisting I nap with him instead of trying to talk more or even make out—which, quite frankly, I would have preferred over the nap, but I was so freaking exhausted I don’t think it would have been very romantic. Thank God for Eileen giving Caleb and me a place to be alone without fear.

I haven’t really felt like thanking God for much else lately, but I’ll thank Him for those things, at least.

When I get home, only Dad and Nathaniel are home, and I say nothing to either of them. I go directly to my room, and I don’t come out until dinner.

Mom tries desperately to pretend that everything is fine as we eat together at the table, but I don’t have the energy to placate her. Nor do I have the energy to fight. I just sit and eat my roast chicken in silence, avoiding eye contact with everyone. So does Dad.

Dad doesn’t look at me. He hasn’t looked at me since Sunday.

It hurts, but not any more than anything else does.

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