Page 41 of Theoretically Straight

Caleb and I jump—I feel the shockwave of his movement through our touching arms—and he lets out a quiet yelp, and suddenly, his hand is clutching my hand in a death grip. I squeeze his hand back, adrenaline pumping through me to the point where I’m not entirely sure who grabbed whose hand first, but I’m not letting go.

A second or two later, Caleb whispers a barely audible “sorry” and tries to pull away.

I squeeze tighter. I don’t want to let him go.

Eventually, he stops trying to free himself from my grip.

A few seconds pass where neither of us moves—I’m not even sure if I’m breathing—but when I’m sure he’s no longer worried about it, I carefully loosen my vice grip on his hand, repositioning to a more natural hold. I finally release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and try to relax.

Caleb’s hand also eases comfortably into mine.

The movie continues, but I no longer care about the fate of Father Radcliffe, Sister Loretta, or anyone in this movie.

My hands-on research approach—I laugh silently at my own pun—is producing far more results than Google ever did. Every point of contact with Caleb is electrified, and my insides are on fire. The heat seems to be emanating from my chest, but not exactly where my heart is. Interesting. But it spreads out across my torso, a heat just beneath my skin, and it’s…intoxicating.

For a moment, the sensation seems familiar, but I can’t place the memory. Have I felt this before? Surely not. Surely, I would remember something like this.

“Holy shit, I’ve completely forgotten the ending of this movie. I have to say, I didnotsee that coming.”

My concentration is broken by Wren’s voice, and I feel Caleb’s hand quickly slip out of my grasp before I can stop it. Caleb’s entire arm retreats away, and he folds both arms across his chest.

“Yeah,” Caleb says softly, something indecipherable in his voice. “Neither did I.”

“I mean, why would Sister Loretta kill the groundskeeper? They already established that he didn’t see anything, so it’s not like she was trying to cover her tracks. The motive doesn’t make any sense. This is a serious plot hole.”

I try to meet Caleb’s eyes, but his gaze is fixed on the screen.

What just happened? Did I do something wrong?

Is he…embarrassed? Why would he be–

Oh.

The memory bombards me like a freight train. It’s Valentine’s Day. Sienna and I are in the backseat of my mom’s SUV. Sienna reaches out and takes my hand in hers, her cheeks and her nose flushing a cute shade of pink. The touch sends shockwaves through my arm up into my chest. My throat feels dry, and I take a shaky breath, the sensation strange and overwhelming.Intoxicating.“Hand check!” Mom shouts from the front seat, eyeing me suspiciously through the rearview mirror. Sienna yanks her hand away from mine, shooting her arms up obediently to show her hands to my mother. I slowly raise mine, too, the feeling of shame and rejection immediately overpowering whatever feeling came before it.

Oh my God.

“I gotta pee,” I blurt as I abruptly scramble out of the recliner, not even bothering to adjust it. I head for the bathroom.

“Want me to pause it, Theo?” Wren asks.

“No, it’s fine. I won’t be long.”

I stumble out of the theater room into the hallway, then throw myself into the tiny half-bathroom and spend several minutes staring at my reflection. I didn’t actually have to pee, but now I feel like I might have a panic attack, so escaping to the bathroom was a good call.

Thequestion, therealization, thedreadof what I may or may not have just discovered is threatening to pull me under very quickly.

Do I have a…

Am I…

Is this feeling…

I can’t even allow myself to finish an entire thought. Not even my own inner voice will allow me to verbalize any of these ideas. Thatcan’tbe what this is. It’s not.

This is all coming from the ghost. That’s it. This is that spirit from Saint Catherine’s following me and messing with me.

Sienna was right. I shouldn’t have gone to a place where I believed there may be a dark presence. That’s all this is.

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