Page 24 of Caden & Theo
“With two lava lamps,” I say flatly. “He mentioned them twice.”
Theo laughs again, but it fades. “Do you think you’ll have time? For me?”
My chest tightens. “Always.”
“But like… really?”
I lean down and press my lips to his forehead. “Yeah. It’ll look different. Might feel different sometimes. But this isn’t something I want to lose.”
He swallows. “Even if it gets hard?”
“Especially if it gets hard.”
We fall quiet again, into the kind of silence that feels like both a hug and a punch.
My fingers trace along Theo’s spine, memorizing the shape of him. I don’t want to forget any of this. The way he smells faintly like pool chlorine and citrus body spray. The tiny scar above his eyebrow from when he tried to flip off the diving board in eighth grade. The way he exhales when I touch him like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
I want to say it. It’s right there, lodged behind my teeth, swelling behind my ribs.
I love you.
Not just in the shy, puppy-love way. Not in the flirty texts or the slow kisses. But real and raw. The kind that curls into your bones and takes root.
I shift slightly to look at him. His eyes meet mine—so open, sothere—and I part my lips. “Theo, I?—”
He pulls back suddenly, not far, but enough. His fingers tighten on my shirt.
“Don’t,” he says quickly, voice tight. “Not like this.”
“What?”
He shakes his head, and his smile is trembling. “Not when you’re about to leave. Not when I can’t say it back the way I want to. I don’t want it to be a goodbye thing. It shouldn’tstartwith an ending.”
I close my eyes, my heart thudding hard. “Okay.”
“I mean it,” he says, softer now. “Ifeelit. I just… not right now.”
I nod. “Yeah. Okay.”
We hold each other for a while longer, our legs tangled, our breaths synced like muscle memory.
There’s a soft knock at the door. “Caden?” my mom calls. “We’re ready when you are, sweetheart.”
My heart drops. “I’ll be out in a sec,” I call back.
Theo rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling like it might give him strength. I sit up slowly, rubbing at my eyes.
“Do I look like I’ve been crying?” I ask, my voice rough.
“You look hot, if that helps.”
“It does, actually.”
We both laugh, but it’s tight around the edges.
I grab my hoodie off the chair and tug it on, stuffing my Nokia and wallet into the front pocket. Theo sits up, kneesdrawn against his chest. He doesn’t say anything for a second, then reaches out, grabbing my hand.
“You promise?” he asks quietly. “About my birthday?”
