Page 76 of Theoretically Straight

Theo pulls back from me like I’ve struck him.

“I don’t really know that much about your religion,” I say, wanting to explain myself. “But isn’t this–” I motion between myself and him, “--looked down on?”

Theo sinks his teeth into his lower lip like he’s chewing on an answer.

“You don’t have to answer,” I tell him. “Like I said, it’s really personal, and it’s not even something we need to talk about right now.”

“No, it’s okay. I know it must seem weird. Honestly, I’m not the best student when it comes to the bible and all the rules, but even I knew that me feeling this way about you was going to make things complicated. I guess the short answer is yes. They don’t really say it out loud a lot at church, but they’d definitely have a problem with the two of us being an item.”

An item? Is that what we are?

“But if I’m being honest, I’ve kind of been feeling out of sync with the church for a few months now. Maybe that’s when all this really started, maybe it’s because of Grace, I don’t know. I keep going because it’s what my parents want me to do, but it’s not like I’m really all there, you know? If it wasn’t for Harrison, I’d be napping in the back row every Sunday.”

“So… you don’t feel guilty about us messing around or anything, right?”

Theo pauses again, dropping his gaze. “I can’t say that. But it’s not what you think, I swear. I feel guilty about a lot of things, not just that. It sort of comes with the whole Christianity thing. I’d feel this way no matter who I was making out with.”

“Seriously? Are you just supposed to feel bad about everything you do?”

“Basically,” Theo agrees with a half-hearted chuckle. “Anything that’s not righteous, at least. Which is practically all the things I do on a daily basis.”

“That sounds kind of impossible.”

Theo shrugs. “It’s all I’ve known.”

Anger bubbles up under my skin. I hate this. I hate that Theo doesn’t know a world without guilt and shame for just being human. I hate that he even has to think about what could happen when he leans in to kiss me.

It isn’t right. It isn’t fair.

“I’m still working through everything,” Theo says, leaning closer to me again. “So, thanks for being patient with me. It’s probably going to take a little while for me to come up with a final answer, but for now, I’m trying to put all that aside because what I feel for you is stronger than anything I’ve felt in a church.”

And just like that, my anger morphs into something else, something warm and comforting. I wrap my arms around Theo’s chest, pulling him into a hug.

“Take all the time you need,” I say, resting my chin on his shoulder. “I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

“You’re late!”

Freddy’s voice echoes up the stairs as we descend into Wren’s basement. I tighten my grip on Theo’s hand as we round the corner. Freddy is already in Wren’s makeup chair, his dark brown hair pushed back with a band, and his face covered with patches of something that kind of looks like oatmeal.

Wren steps back from Freddy to get a better look. They are wearing a pair of jean overalls–their normal outfit when it comes to painting, whether it’s faces or canvas–and have their hair pulled back from their face. “Oh good, more victims. Don’t worry. I’ve got something special planned for the two of you.”

“Should I be nervous?” Theo whispers in my ear.

“Only if you’re allergic to latex.”

Freddy motions for me to come over, so I drag one of the old bean bag chairs and drag it over to Wren’s makeup corner, plopping down beside his chair. Theo hovers by the couch, watching Wren work.

“We don’t bite,” they say to Theo, dabbing more of the oatmeal goo onto Freddy’s forehead.

“Speak for yourself,” Freddy adds, chomping his teeth together. “You are making me into a zombie, aren’t you?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” Wren mutters under their breath.

“Have you seen any of Wren’s work before?” Freddy asks Theo in a blatant attempt to rope him into the conversation.

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