Page 31 of Theoretically Straight

“Ugh, same. I will never understand people’s fascination with sports. There are so many other things to do with your time that don’t involve running balls back and forth.”

“Literally, anything else is better. We went to Freddy’s game on Saturday before the tour, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slowly dying in the stands. If I ever end up having to do community service, I feel like those two hours should count towards time served.”

Theo laughs again, the edges of his eyes crinkling, which only adds to the swarm of buzzing nerves in my stomach.

“So, since we’ve established sports are a hard no, what do you like to do? You know, when you’re not trespassing in old churches.”

“The usual things,” he replies, his posture suddenly going rigid again. “Hang out with the crew. Listen to music. Chill. Um, I go to church over at SCC. That takes up a lot of my spare time.”

There it is. We’ve hit the inevitable wall of the conversation. Where can we go from here? Will he try to talk to me about my soul? Will he tell me I’m living in sin because I happen to crush on other boys? Will he offer to pray for me?

Honestly, all those options sound terrible. The anxious feeling in my stomach morphs into nausea as I hold my breath and wait for the onslaught to begin.

But Theo just sits there at the other end of the table, one hand clenched into a fist on the edge as he stares down at his knuckles.

“Cool,” I say eventually, and it’s like an exhale. Maybe I’ve been worried over nothing? Or maybe it’s like Freddy said, and more churches are accepting of the whole queer thing?

Theo blinks, then shakes his head, some of the tension melting from his shoulders. “What about you?”

“Nothing special,” I admit. “Hang with Wren and Freddy, mostly. I love old movies, so we’ll usually raid Wren’s Mom’s VHS collection on the weekends for something terrible. And on rare occasions, I get to visit a set with my dad and see how they shoot stuff. I haven’t been able to go in a while, though. He’s a director of photography, so his schedule is kind of hectic.”

“Whoa, seriously? Like, you’ve been on movie sets?”

I nod, swirling the ice around in my cup. “A few. He mostly directs with streaming shows nowadays, but it’s all the same. The show he’s working on now is filming just outside of Specter for a couple of weeks, so I’m hoping I’ll be able to visit him sometime soon.”

“That’s so cool!” Theo grins again, leaning forward on his elbows. “God, I wish my dad did something even remotely interesting. Even his title, ‘Project Manager,’ sounds like a snoozefest.”

“It definitely has its pros and cons,” I admit. “Sometimes he’s halfway across the world for weeks at a time. Between him being on set and Mom keeping late office hours, it stays pretty quiet around my house most days.”

“I’d love a little peace and quiet sometime. Wait, that sounds bad. My parents aren’t like crazy or anything. They just like to start sh–crapwith my sister sometimes.” He stops, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying all this to you.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“You’re really easy to talk to for some reason,” he continues. “I usually only bring this stuff up with Harrison.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to tell things to a stranger.”

“But you’re not a stranger. At least, you don’t feel like one.” He makes a face. “Never mind, I’m not making any sense.”

“I think I get it, don’t worry. But if I’m not a stranger anymore, then what am I to you?”

Something flashes behind his dark brown eyes, but it vanishes just as quickly.

“A friend. If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

I swallow back the squeal that bubbles up in my throat.

“Sure. Friends it is.”

Friends.I try not to visibly sigh with relief at Caleb’s confirmation. We’re friends.

That should quell the storm within my stomach, knowing that this is the normal way to make friends and I’m doing just fine, but it doesn’t. I still feel strange, like there’s something more going on here. I shouldn’t ask about the orbs again, but…if he’s experiencing this, too, maybe I should.

No, I don’t want to scare him off right away. I have to pace myself.

“Cool,” I say with a smile, desperately trying to sound cool and casual about it, but words are tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them. “So, do you want to hang out again sometime? Maybe this weekend we could watch a scary movie or something? We have a pretty dope theater room at my house with a nice sound system and smart lights and crap, and it’s pretty cool, especially for scary movies. And we technically have seating for eight, so you could invite your friends too if you want since you said Wren likes scary movies too, right?”

Shit, why can’t I stop rambling at him?

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