Page 65 of Theoretically Straight

He shakes his head.

“Oh, no, dude, are you serious?” I pull our interlocked hands to my chest dramatically. “You’re killing me!” I pick up my phone with my free hand and immediately start playing the goofy 80s song that shaped my bizarre music taste.

Caleb grins, sly and skeptical at first, but then I start belting out the lyrics in a remarkably bad British pop accent, and it’s not long before he’s laughing. His laughter makes my chest swell, and it’s by far the best music I’ve heard all day.

I finally stop singing, turning the music down to ask again. “Anyway, sorry, so where do you want to go now? The park? Target? Your place? My place? Your wish is my command.”

Caleb pauses, considering the options. “Maybe my place? My dad should be home from set by now. He’s pretty cool.”

I smile as I enter Caleb’s address into Maps. “You got it.”

Once I’m out of the parking lot and back on the main road, my right hand falls back into Caleb’s, our fingers interlocked, and it’s incredible how potent his touch still feels to my senses. Does it feel this strong for him, too? Will the feeling fade eventually? Surely, it has to at some point. But for now, his thumb gently stroking mine still feels absolutely miraculous, and I never want him to stop.

“I guess I’ll need to tell Harrison and the others at some point, huh?”

Caleb shuffles nervously. “About us?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, I guess that depends on what we are exactly. Whatthisis.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “Yeah.”

“Are you ready to talk about that yet?”

“Probably not yet, but soon,” I promise. “I just kind of…want to spend today without having to worry about it yet. Is that okay?”

Caleb is quiet for a few painful moments. “I think so.”

“I don’t want to give you mixed signals, though,” I squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I want this. I just don’t know what to call it yet.”

Caleb doesn’t answer. I let the silence settle over us as I drive, hoping he can understand and hoping I know what I’m doing.

Theo sure is laying it on thick. But I like it. I like him. With his weird old lady-named car, his endless playlists, and the way he hangs on every word when I speak like he’s drinking them all in alongside his milkshake.

And when he holds my hand, I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking and if this simple gesture to him, too, feels like holding onto a firework as it explodes between our palms, sending sparks whizzing up my arm and across my body.

His hand tightens around mine. “I want this. I just don’t know what to call it yet.”

He wants this.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved to hear it. A reassurance that this is actually happening and it’s not my imagination. And even though we haven’t talked about what this means for his faith, I can’t help but revel in the newness of the moment.

My house isn’t far, so we’re there in just a few songs. Theo is quiet, and I think he’s nervous about meeting my family–I know I was walking into his house that first night–but he smiles at me after he shifts into park, pulling the keys from the ignition.

He takes my hand in his again on the walk from the car to the door, but when I find it locked, I have to pull mine away to dig in my backpack for the keys.

“Hello?” I call into the house once the door is open. I drop my bag on the stool by the door, waiting for Theo to come in before I shut it. “Dad, you here?”

“He’s still on set,” Lola’s voice calls from the living room.

“Damn,” I mutter, turning back to Theo. “Sorry, I really thought he’d be home by now. He’s been working some long days lately. That’s my sister in the other room.”

“Did she say he was on set?”

“Yeah, they’re shooting some drama near the old downtown area.”

“Seriously? That’s so dope! So, he’s like working with famous actors and stuff?”

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