Page 49 of Winging It with You

There’s genuine longing in his voice, and while a huge part of me wants to pull him into a tight hug or even change the subject to something lighter, the other part knows Theo probably has needed to talk about this for quite some time.

“So, this has something to do with your sexuality?” I ask, noting that this all seems to have stemmed from his mother’s use of the wordboyfriendonline. I really hope that’s not the case.

“Yes and no. We never talked about it. Growing up where I did, there wasn’t anyone my age who wasoutor for me to date, so, I don’t know…it never once occurred to me I needed to change anything.”

“But then there was?” I ask, sensing a shift in this story’s direction.

He looks up, his eyes finding mine. “I guess you could say I met someone who put a lot of things in my life into perspective.” Theo leans his big shoulder against the wall and I instinctively follow suit. “And then it ended.” There doesn’t seem to be any harbored hostility lingering in his tone. Just a mature and neutralit was what it wasmentality.

“And your family?” I ask, now curious how they fit into all this. “How were they involved?”

Theo laughs to himself, some personal memory probably replaying behind those golden eyes of his. “Oh, they were plenty involved. At the end of the day, I think the whole thing just became something none of us wanted to bring up. So we didn’t, and I think we all got pretty good at pretending…” he says, his voice trailing off quietly as he drops his gaze to ourhands. “I guess you could say we found some uncomfortably comfortable middle ground.”

My heart lodges forcefully in my throat as I take in what might just be the real Theo for the first time. Someone who’s been pretending for his family. Someone who might be tired of it.

And here I am asking him to carry out yet another charade by being my pretend boyfriend.

“Is this…is being here making it worse?” I ask, nervous I might already know the answer.

Theo shifts his weight to his back leg. “I wouldn’t say it’s making it worse,” he says quickly, though the tone in his voice is unreadable. “But I’m not going to lie, it’s a little disorienting trying to keep up with what’s real and what’s…for the show, you know?”

Oh, do I ever.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask. I’ve been so concerned with pulling off the wholefake boyfriendsbit and how Theo’s presence might help me that I haven’t really stopped to consider what he needs out of this.

“You’re doing it.”

“That seems”—I start, but then we lock eyes and for a fraction of a breath, I think he might kiss me—“unlikely.” My voice gets trapped in my throat as I watch his eyes drop to my lips, and I could swear he inched forward ever so slightly. But he doesn’t move in for the kiss I’m practically begging for, and the hint of disappointment pooling in my stomach surprises me. Instead he just smiles, and it does something funny to my insides.

There’s no denying my attraction to Theo. From the second I laid eyes on him, I knew that, conventionally, he was gorgeous. But on days like today, when he’s peeling back those layers andshowing me who hereallyis, I’m left considering how to make a voluntary amendment to ourno sexrule I’m now kicking myself for instituting.

“I’m serious. You’ve gotten quite good at this whole boyfriend thing,” he says, winking at me as he pivots our conversation entirely and slings an unexpected arm over my shoulder. His voice is noticeably lighter.

Boyfriend.

That word rolling off his tongue sounds different. Fuller and more…complicated. Now more than ever, I’m understanding the razor-thin line between real and reality television Theo was just talking about.

“You’re hilarious,” I say, trying to ignore the fact that Theo’s now pulled me in flush against his body and is leading us up the stairs.

I prod him with my elbow so he doesn’t start thinking I like ittoomuch.

Because Iamstarting to like it too much.

15

Theo

Ituango Dam

Cauca River, Colombia

“I’d reconsider eating that if I were you,” Ellie says, popping out of nowhere.

Asher and I both freeze mid-bite of the burritos we grabbed from the makeshift production tent and set up shop to eat at an open picnic table. I think I can speak for both of us when I say we’re both next-level starving and in desperate need of some actual sleep after Jo’s continued assault on our individual REM cycles. And don’t even get me started on the way we’ve been zigzagging all over creation—each flight path and production destination more inefficient than the last.

“Why?” Asher asks with his mouth full, a big ol’ glob of sour cream on the corner of his mouth. His cheeks redden slightly when I hand over a napkin, miming where he should wipe.

I’m grateful for the interruption.

---