Page 17 of Theoretically Straight

I roll my eyes. “Look, just talk to each other about boundaries up front, then you’ll be fine. If sex is that important to you, be sure to bring it up before you catch feelings, or else you’ll just end up hurting each other.”

“Wow,” Wren chimes in, stowing their phone into their back pocket. “Listen to this guy. Have you been listening to that relationship podcast again?”

“Why Won’t You Date Me?is not a relationship podcast,” I defend myself. “Well, actually, I guess it technically is, but really, I just like listening to Nicole Byer talk.”

“Group thirteen!”

The small crowd around us begins to move, gathering at the base of the stone steps and forming a single-file line up the stairs leading to the large wooden doors.

“Isn’t that Theo again?” Freddy whispers to me, gesturing in front of us with a nod of his head. I stand on my tiptoes to try and get a better look, but a stranger steps in front of me and blocks my view.

“I can’t see him,” I say, stepping back. “But I highly doubt it. Why would he be here?”

“Why am I here?” Freddy poses. “Maybe he got kidnapped too?”

“We did not kidnap you.”

“Yeah,” Wren agrees. “If we did, I would have shoved a sock in your mouth.”

“On second thought, maybe it’s not too late?” I grin at Wren, and Freddy retreats a few steps away from us.

“You two have fun. I’ll just go wait in the car.”

“Come on, Freddy.” Wren walks over to retrieve him, pushing him back into our spot in line. “I’ll protect you from the demons.”

“My hero,” he replies, draping himself against Wren as he presses the back of his hand to his forehead.

It’s our turn to go up the stairs, so I do my best to wrangle my friends. We let Freddy go first so he can’t escape when we’re not looking. Once our tickets are scanned, we follow the group into the entryway, the stone walls rising high above our heads.

“Welcome, everyone!” the short woman says, gathering us all into a clump. “The Specter Historical Society would like to thank you all for joining us on the tour of historic Saint Catherine church. Now, before we get started, I do want to remind you that pictures are allowed, but please do stay with the group as there are very clear indicators–”

“That’s totally Theo,” Freddy whispers, pointing to the dark-haired boy on the other side of the group. “He’s cuter than I remember him being.”

I crane my neck to get a better look. He’s with the same girl from the pizza place–probably his girlfriend–and two other guys I recognize from school. One tall and lanky with his hair pulled up into a bun, and the other stocky with glasses and a friendly smile. I can’t remember their names, though.

“They must be Triple H fans,” I say, keeping my voice low.

“Do you want me to talk to him for you?” Freddy asks.

“What? No. Why would I want you to do that?”

“Because you’ll never do it for yourself, and then we’ll be right back to where we started with the whole Logan situation.”

Heat builds in my cheeks. “That was different. Logan at least knew who I was. Theo hasn’t given me the slightest indication he knows I exist. Plus, he’s with someone already. So, no. Please don’t talk to him.”

“Mmm…” Freddy taps a finger against his chin. “Okay, fine. But if I accidentally bump into him at some point and the topic of you just happens to come up in conversation, you can’t blame me.”

“Alright, now everyone knows the rules. We’re ready to begin our tour!”

Oh shit, was I supposed to be listening to that? I’m sure it’ll be fine.

The guide leads the group into the main cathedral first, allowing us to fill a few rows of wooden benches as they tell us the story of Saint Catherine of Bologna. I spend most of the time scrolling on my phone and taking pictures of the cobweb-covered lamps that hang from the ceiling. Most of the windows have been boarded up, but a few of the stained-glass ones are still intact, and our guide explains how they were made in Italy and brought over during the church’s construction in 1922.

“Are you going to talk about the hanging priest?” someone asks during a lull in the guide’s story.

The short woman lets out a sigh before answering, “This is a historical tour of a landmark, sir. We will be sharing only the proven historical events that took place here.”

“Are you saying he didn’t hang himself?” someone else asks.

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