Page 77 of Theoretically Straight

Theo shakes his head. “I don’t think I have. Caleb’s mentioned it.”

“You can look through my portfolio if you want,” Wren says, pointing to the huge binder on their workstation. “You can even pick one out if you like. I don’t mind repeating a look. I need all the practice I can get.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.” Theo looks quickly at me, then grabs the book, bringing it over and sinking onto the floor beside me.

“Don’t feel like you have to,” I tell him.

“How come I don’t get to say no?” Freddy asks.

Wren snorts a laugh. “Because you’re already my bitch.”

Theo flips open the book, his eyes widening. “Oh my god, Wren. These are insane! How the hell do you do this?”

“A lot of patience and a shit ton of liquid rubber.”

“They’ve been doing it since we were thirteen,” I explain. “I wanted to be Legoshi from Beastar–he’s this anthropomorphic wolf–for Halloween, so Wren offered to help with the face–”

“And it all went downhill from there,” Wren adds. “It started as cute animals but quickly devolved into nightmarish creatures oozing puss and dripping blood.”

Freddy groans. “Can’t you make me into something cute for once?”

Wren shakes their head. “Sorry, that would take skills far greater than what I possess.”

I pat Freddy’s shin. “I think you’re going to make an adorable… whatever it is.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Less talking,” Wren tells Freddy. “You’ll mess up the peeling flesh effect.”

Freddy rolls his eyes. “Great. Don’t want to do that…”

Theo seems relaxed around us, which is comforting to know. He even reaches over and takes my hand while he browses, which makes my stomach flutter. Wren notices right away, giving me a wink and a smile. Theo finishes flipping through the portfolio while the rest of us chit-chat, mostly reminiscing about our favorite looks from the millions of times Wren has painted our faces.

“What do you think?” Wren asks Theo as he hands them back the binder. “Does anything pique your interest?”

“Um, actually, yeah. Would you be able to do this one?”

He passes over the photo of a younger Wren with a pale face, dark sunken eyes, black lips, and a top hat.

“The Babadook?” Wren takes the picture. “Yeah, totally. This one’s simple enough. I’ll have to see if I still have these claws lying around… it’s been a few years since I did this one.”

“Nice choice,” I say, reaching for Theo’s hand. “We love that movie.”

“Even I watch it,” Freddy chimes in. “But it’s really only because he’s an accidental gay icon. I mean, to this day, I’ll still say I’m ‘Baba-shook.’”

Theo laughs, leaning against my beanbag. His phone buzzes, and he looks up again. “Hey, it’s time for the new Triple H episode. Do y’all mind if we watch it?”

“Nah, go ahead,” Wren says, squirting a nasty-looking green color onto the back of their hand and dabbing it with a sponge. “I’ve got a ways to go with old moldy here.”

Freddy’s eyes get wide. “Moldy? I swear, I’ll get you for this, Wren.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m shaking in my sneakers. Now, close your eyes, and it’ll all be over soon.”

* * *

The afternoon in Wren’s basement flies by. After we watch the Triple H episode–a fascinating dive into an abandoned coal mine in Virginia–it’s Theo’s turn in the chair while Freddy’s mold patches dry. I can tell he’s uncomfortable as soon as the sponge hits his skin, but after a few minutes, he seems to relax. I stick by his side, distracting him with more stories of Wren’s makeovers through the years and bouncing repartee with Freddy. After an hour or so, Theo’s face is almost unrecognizable.

“I don’t have the claws,” Wren says, digging through the drawers. “But I still have the hat. So, if you want to do the complete look, I can just paint your nails black.”

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