Theoretically Perfect (Theoretically Straight #2)

13. Caleb

Monday, January 22

“It’s just like old times.”

I grunt an acknowledgment as I climb into the passenger seat of Wren’s navy blue sedan, letting out a yawn. It’s been months since I’ve had to ask Wren for a ride to school, but with Eileen being held hostage by Theo’s archaic dad, I’m just grateful that they’re still willing to drive out of their way to get me.

“Theo must be in pretty deep shit,” Wren continues, shifting the car in reverse and resting an arm on the back of my seat as they turn to look behind. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as last time, I think. At least he still has a phone. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk last night, so I’ll get the details at lunch, I’m sure.”

“What did his dad say to you yesterday? I swear, you looked like you were about to explode when you got into Theo’s car to leave.”

“Oh, just the usual nonsense. He thinks that I’ve corrupted his perfect son and pressured him into thinking he’s bi so that I can turn him away from the love of God or whatever. I popped off at him, and it probably just made things worse.”

“Good for you,” Wren congratulates me, but it doesn’t help the pit in my stomach. “Let me know the next time you’re going toe-to-toe with the guy, and I’ll come back you up.”

“I don’t think Theo’s going to let me anywhere near him for a while, which is fine by me. The way he speaks to Theo… I’ve never seen someone with such disdain for their child. It just makes me so mad.”

“We can’t all hit the jackpot when it comes to parents, Caleb. My moms may yell sometimes, but it’s only about stupid shit, never an attack against who I am. My dad, on the other hand, is a mixed bag, but that’s only because he’s an emotionally stunted man-child who never wanted to have kids in the first place.”

“Shit, Wren. You make my parents sound like saints.”

“Nora and Bert are great, but I’m sure they’ve got their own hang-ups. The point is, no parent is perfect, but at least ours accept us for who we are.”

“True. I shouldn’t take that for granted. I don’t know what I’d do if I were in Theo’s shoes.”

Wren nods, their attention drifting over to me after we come to a stop at a red light. “How are you two? I know that you patched things up after the bullshit that happened in the newlywed suite, but it still seems like something’s off.”

“We’re okay for now,” I say, fidgeting in my seat. The heat from the vents is starting to make me sweat, so I crack the window to get a breath of cool air. “He pretty much said the stuff with his dad is the reason he’s been acting so weird. But he’s promised to do better at talking to me, so that’s all I can really ask right now.”

The light changes and we’re moving again, Wren’s attention back on the road. “Still think it’s worth all the fuss?”

I look at them, my questioning expression making them elaborate.

“Having a boyfriend, I mean. A few months ago, you’d have done almost anything to have someone like Theo. Now that you do, I’m curious if you’ve changed your opinion at all.”

It’s a legit question. If I had a time machine and could go back to warn past Caleb of the trials ahead, would it have made a difference? If I hadn’t taken the time to get to know Theo, to fall for his awkward charms and adorable optimism, maybe I would have thought twice about getting involved.

But I had fallen for him. And the feelings I still have for him throw all the hypotheticals out the window. The truth of the matter is that I love Theo Briggs. And no amount of religious drama or disapproving parental glares is going to change that anytime soon.

“Theo is worth it all,” I say finally, and it’s both a resolution to myself and an answer for Wren. “I can’t say I’d feel the same about anyone else. But for him, yes. A thousand times, yes.”

Wren’s nose scrunches. “Oh my god, that was so sweet I might cry.”

I snort a laugh. “Don’t start, or I’ll do it too.”

Wren nods, then puts on their blinker, turning a few blocks earlier than usual.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a Monday, people suck, and I’m cramping like a motherfucker, so we’re getting coffee. Mr. Reynolds can eat my shorts.”

“Wren, have I ever told you you’re my favorite person?”

They crack a sly smile. “It never hurts to hear it again.”

The first half of the school day drags by, not helped by the gloomy weather outside. Even though Wren and I stopped at Spookies for a caffeine fix, we still made it in time for first period. From the classroom windows, I watch the low clouds drift overhead and worry about Theo.

I think back to last year, after Sienna went and outed Theo to his parents, and we could only see each other at school. Even if that happens again, they can’t keep us away from one another. We’d find a way to make it work.

By lunch time, the anticipation of seeing him has grown to the point that I can’t sit still as I scan the cafeteria for a head of familiar dark curls.

“Caleb, you’re about to shake my lunch onto the floor.” Freddy shoots me an annoyed look from across the table.

“Sorry.” I press a fist into my thigh to keep my leg from bouncing.

“Did you guys have fun on your little ghost adventure?”

Wren slides into the seat next to me, and I’m thankful they’re here to field Freddy’s questions while I search for Theo.

“There were fun moments,” Wren says, unzipping their lunch bag. “And some that were not so fun.”

Harrison and Elise arrive next to the lunch table, already engrossed in a conversation of their own.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that we’ve never seen them in the same place? It’s weird, that’s all I’m saying.” Elise gives me a smile as she sits next to Freddy.

“There’s plenty of people that we’ve never seen in the same place. That doesn’t mean that they're leading some secret double life.” Harrison pops open a can of soda with a hiss .

“What are you two going on about?” Freddy asks, getting pulled into the discussion.

“Elise thinks that Principal Miller is moonlighting as the new janitor.”

“They look the same!” Elise argues, her volume shooting up.

“Wait, are you talking about the janitor with the ponytail down to his butt?” Wren asks.

Elise nods emphatically, and even though I’m still on high alert for Theo, I can’t help but be pulled into this ridiculous conversation. “But Principal Miller is bald.”

Harrison points in my direction. “Thank you.”

“He could be wearing a wig, obviously,” Elise rebuts, crossing her arms. “It’s not impossible. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You can’t argue with that,” Wren concludes, unwrapping their sandwich. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Are we talking about Stranger Things ?” Oliver pipes up, sliding into the seat at the end of the table. “Because I’ve got a theory about how they’re going to keep putting off the last season till everyone just forgets about it.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Harrison says, leaning closer to Oliver. “I keep seeing this stuff online about how they’re filming the finale…”

“Psst.”

Freddy tosses a baby carrot at me. It bounces off my chest and lands on top of my salad.

“You two haven’t asked me about my weekend yet.”

Wren and I both lean forward over the table. “Sorry,” I apologize, tearing my attention away from the search for Theo. “How did things go with Andrew?”

Freddy grins, his tanned cheeks turning ruddy. “Good. Like, really good. Like, I can’t stop thinking about him, good.”

“Does that mean the two of you–” Wren makes an obscene hand gesture that goes on a bit too long.

Freddy nods. “Twice. It was incredible. He was so sweet and nervous, but when things got going, the boy was a natural.”

“That’s amazing, Freddy,” Wren says, reaching a hand across the table. “And kind of gross. See? You had nothing to worry about.”

Heat builds in my gut, and it takes me a second to realize that I’m jealous of Freddy in this moment. Jealous of the ease that seems to surround his relationship with Andrew. Everything comes so easily to them, while I have to fight tooth-and-nail for Theo on a daily basis.

It’s not fair. It shouldn’t have to be this hard.

And, of course, there’s the sex thing. It’s hard not to be jealous of that.

“Hey, Theo.”

Harrison’s greeting pulls me away from my thoughts. Theo has finally made it to the lunch table, an apologetic grin on his face as he looks at me, and me alone. The heat in my stomach flickers, morphing into something completely different than the jealousy I was wrestling with. Fuck, I missed him. How stupid is that? I saw him literally yesterday.

Wren slides down, and Theo takes the spot next to me, bumping his shoulder into mine as he sits. “Hey, babe,” he mutters in my ear, and electricity surges from one side of my body to the other.

“Hey yourself,” I reply, the cafeteria around me going quiet as my world narrows to include only the two of us. His hand finds mine under the table.

“Sorry I couldn’t pick you up this morning.”

“Don’t be. I totally get it.”

“Dad insisted on driving me and Nate to school himself. If you think I took it hard, you should have seen Nate when we pulled up. I’ve never seen him run away so fast.”

I laugh, which in the grand scheme of things feels silly, but I won’t deny myself the little joys of being with Theo, even if our situation is less than ideal.

“How long do you think he’ll hold Eileen hostage?”

Theo shrugs. “I guess that depends on how well I behave.”

I cringe. “That’s so fucked up, Theo. Eileen is your car! You paid for her with your own money. He shouldn’t be able to take her away.”

“Yeah, I thought about that argument too, but I know it wouldn’t get me anywhere. Dad would just spout off some ‘under my roof you live by my rules’ bullshit, and we’d be back at square one.”

“Did he take anything else away from you?” I ask, already feeling guilty for my part in his punishment.

“No, not yet. Mom did rope me into helping out with a church thing this weekend as ‘punishment,’ so she kinda came to my rescue. She even wanted me to invite you to come along to help out, which I totally don’t expect you to do–”

“She wants me to come along?”

“Yeah. She’s trying, Caleb. I honestly think she’s doing her best to understand me.”

A spark of hope kindles in my chest. “Okay, sure. I’d love to come along.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Of course! I’ll be there to keep you sane,” I say, resting my head on his shoulder. “I love you, Theo.”

He sets his head against mine. “I love you too.”

“Ew, you guys are so gross.” Wren elbows Theo in the side, breaking our bubble and thrusting us back into the real world. “Are you still able to come over this afternoon, Theo? I’ve got inspiration coming out of my ass, and I need as many victims–-I mean models –as possible.”

Theo shakes his head, giving Wren an apologetic smile. “My dad is picking me up right after school. I may not be able to come over for a while.”

“Boo,” Wren pouts, turning to the rest of the table. “Any other takers?”

“I’ll do it!” Oliver calls from the opposite end. “I want to be in your catalog!”

“You’ll regret those words,” Freddy warns, frowning.

Wren shoots him a look that could curdle milk, then turns to Oliver. “You’ll be immortal, Oliver Hammond.”

He strikes a dramatic pose. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I’ll miss you,” I say to Theo, trying not to sound as bummed as I feel.

“Ditto, babe.”

“Are you going to shave my face? I’ve been working on this mustache for, like, three months.”

Oliver spins in Wren’s makeup chair, his long legs reaching the ground where the rest of us have to brace against the footrest. Wren digs through their drawers, assembling the components needed for their latest masterpiece. Freddy and I have taken over the bean bag chairs surrounding Oliver, ready to offer moral support if he should start to regret his decision to allow Wren anywhere near his face.

“What mustache?” Freddy asks, squinting as he leans forward.

“Rude!” Oliver quips, hand moving to cover his top lip. “Caleb, tell Freddy that my mustache is beautiful.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Is the alleged mustache in the room with us right now?”

“Double rude. You two are just threatened by my innate masculinity. It’s understandable. I’m the epitome of the male form.”

Freddy grins, knocking his knee into mine. “If we figured out a way to bottle some of Oliver’s delusion, do you think we could sell it?”

“Sell it? If I had a fraction of that self-confidence, I’d be unstoppable.”

“Wren,” Oliver pouts, sticking out his bottom lip, “they’re being mean to me.”

Wren lets out a sigh, fastening their apron around themselves before pointing a brush at the two of us in a threatening gesture. “No bullying my canvas, boys. If he leaves, one of you has to take his place.”

Oliver sticks his tongue out at us, and Freddy rolls his eyes. “Snitches get stitches, Oliver. Remember that.”

“Are you ready?” Wren asks, squeezing a huge glob of white goo onto the back of their hand and dabbing their brush into it.

Oliver retracts his tongue, giving Wren a nod, then flinches as the brush smears the first bit of white paint onto his skin. “That’s freaking cold.”

“Sorry,” mutters Wren. “It’ll warm up as we go. Now stop talking.” They brush against Oliver’s lips, and with the contrast of the white paint, I can just barely make out the line of thin hairs that runs under his nose.

“Oh, hey, there it is. You’re right, Oliver. Your mustache is beautiful.”

“Thank you– blegh !” Oliver spits and sputters, having gotten a taste of the white paint.

“I told you to stop talking,” Wren chastises him, dabbing their brush before attacking Oliver’s mouth once more.

“You ask for the impossible,” Freddy chimes in. “Asking sweet Oliver to be quiet is like asking the sun not to shine. The birds not to sing. Caleb not to chew with his mouth open.”

I kick Freddy’s shin. Oliver cracks up, and Wren shoots us both a dirty look.

“That was pure poetry,” Oliver says, trying his best not to move his lips.

“It was pure something,” mutters Wren, squeezing more paint onto their hand.

I snap a picture of Oliver in the chair, sending it to Theo.

Caleb

Oliver has already had a mouthful of face paint, and Wren’s only just getting started. His tongue is going to be eight different colors by the time they’re done.

Theo

oh my gosh, he looks like a ghost. What is Wren making him into?

Caleb

They haven’t said yet. But if he keeps talking so much, it may be something with its lips sewn shut.

Theo

that would be sick as hell.

I miss your face.

Caleb

I miss you too. How’s the no-car life?

Theo

my dad drives like, five miles under the speed limit and puts his blinker on half a mile away from his turn. I’m about ready to tuck and roll.

Caleb

Yikes. Does he at least let you play music?

Theo

nope. It’s nothing but sermons and sports radio. what a day to forget my headphones at home.

Caleb

Oh my god, you poor thing. Is there anything I can do to help?

Theo

keep sending me updates on Oliver. I need to know someone else is having a worse time.

Caleb

I don’t think that’s possible.

Theo

yeah, me either. but we gotta try, right? Dad roped me into coming to his small group tonight, so I may not be able to talk till later.

Caleb

Stay strong. I love you 3 3 3

Theo

love you too. 3

Oliver looks like a mime at this point, any color of his face bleached out with white as Wren grabs a small glass bottle of liquid rubber, uncapping it with practiced dexterity, and slathering a layer onto the side of Oliver’s face.

“That smells like gasoline,” Oliver says, a bit of concern creeping into his features.

“You’ll get used to it,” I tell him. “Or you’ll pass out. Either way, it gets better.”

“He’s kidding,” Wren adds quickly. “The only time someone has passed out is when Freddy huffed all of my spirit gum remover.”

Freddy pops out of his beanbag seat. “Whoa, whoa, huffing is a strong word. I was simply enjoying the intoxicating aroma, and then I got really sleepy.”

“You’re not inspiring a lot of confidence,” Oliver says, wincing as Wren lathers on a second coat.

“Just think of the catalog,” Wren mutters, using their clean hand to pat the top of Oliver’s head. “That’s got to dry for a little bit, so you get a break.” A buzzing noise from their pocket, and Wren pulls out their phone, a frown spreading across their face. They swipe the screen, setting down their supplies and stepping quickly past Freddy and me. “Dad? What’s up?”

Freddy shoots me a concerned look, and I just shrug. Wren hasn’t mentioned anything about their dad since his surprise visit over the Christmas holiday. For all I know, I thought he was back in Australia.

“Yeah, I have a second. Hold on.” Wren looks back at us, pointing a finger upstairs, then disappears around the corner.

“What do you think that was about?” Freddy asks.

“Who knows? Knowing him, it can’t be anything good.”

Oliver leans forward in the makeup chair. “Who are we talking about?”

“Wren’s dad,” I explain, keeping my voice low. “He’s not exactly the best guy.”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” Freddy says with a huff. “Let’s just say he makes Theo’s dad look like the father of the freaking year.”

“Whoa, what’s his deal? I don’t think I’ve ever heard Wren talk about him before.”

“For good reason. He was–well, I guess he still is–an alcoholic, so he hasn’t been around for much of Wren’s life. He fucked off a few months before they were born, leaving their mom to fend for herself. But a few years ago, he started reaching out to them, saying he wanted to connect with his child–”

“He says daughter,” Freddy interjects. “Because the piece of shit refuses to call Wren anything but their dead name.”

“That’s so shitty,” Oliver breathes, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Wren’s moms put up with it because Wren asks them to, but I know it bothers them. Wren wants to keep that door open for some reason.”

“He’s their family,” Oliver says, frowning. “I get it. It can be a hard thing to let go of.”

“Not for me,” Freddy scoffs, flopping back down in his bean bag chair. “My dad was a homophobic asshole till the day he died. Mom was smart to leave him when she did. I never wanted anything to do with him.”

And once again, I’m reminded that I need to hug my parents tonight, because in the parental lottery, I’m a winner through and through.

Oliver’s frown deepens and it’s weird seeing him without a smile.

“We’re all a little fucked up,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “But I trust Wren to do what’s best for them. And let’s be honest, their moms will absolutely go scorched earth before they’d let anything hurt Wren.”

“Truth,” Freddy adds. “You should have been here when they broke up with their middle school boyfriend. I thought Patricia was going to murder the kid and bury him in the backyard. She’s got the power tools to make it happen.”

“She would have done it too.” Wren stands at the base of the stairs, stowing their phone in their back pocket. “Mom has always wanted an excuse to dig up Mama’s rose bushes. She was just waiting for a good reason.”

“Everything okay?” I ask as they cross the room, immediately busying themselves with brushes and bottles.

“Super.” They keep their back turned to us, pulling open a drawer and digging through it. A soft sniffle carries over the silence.

Freddy and I exchange looks, but before I can even get out of my beanbag, Oliver is out of his chair. He places a hand on Wren’s shoulder, and as they turn to face him, Oliver wraps them up in a tight hug.

Wren doesn’t move, the top of their head barely visible over Oliver’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry people suck sometimes,” Oliver says, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

Freddy’s eyes are wide as he looks back at me, and honestly, I’m just as shocked as he is. Wren eventually wraps their arms around Oliver’s waist, and the two of them stay like that for a little while, neither saying anything else.

When they do break apart, Wren sniffles again and wipes the end of their nose on their sleeve, clearing their throat. They reach out, brushing a hand against Oliver’s cheek. “You’re ready for another layer.”

Oliver nods, settling back into the makeup chair.

“I’m in your hands.”