Theoretically Perfect (Theoretically Straight #2)

19. Caleb

Saturday, March 23

“Caleb, how does this look?”

Dad steps back from his work–two old twin bed sheets clipped together and fastened to the basement wall with a pair of bungee cords–with a look of satisfaction.

It looks like a hot mess, but I tell him, “Looks great, Dad. Can you help me move the table? I think Wren wants to have their set up over here in the corner.”

He grabs the other end of the folding table, helping me carry it to the opposite end of the basement. I’ve spent all week transforming the usually dark, dank space into a scene right out of a nineties movie. Neon streamers hang from the ceiling, bean bags (borrowed from Wren’s basement) form a circle in the center around a coffee table stacked with old board games Mom pulled down from the attic, and I’ve gathered every pillow, blanket, and cushion in the house to form what I’m calling the ‘pillow pit’ by the projector.

All we’re missing is a Ouija board, and we’d be the opening scene of Slumber Party Massacre 2.

“I think that’ll do it,” I say, wiping my brow. “Thanks for all your help, Dad.”

“No problem, kiddo. There’s still room over there if you want to break out the karaoke machine. I’ve got it all charged up and–”

“I think we’re good,” I interrupt, then cross and wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “You’re the best.”

Dad embraces me, resting his chin on top of my head. “Happy birthday, son. I love you to pieces, no matter how old you get. I mean, you’re seventeen now, so I guess that makes you an old man.”

I pull away from him, giving a sly grin. “What does that make you, then?”

“Ancient.” Dad braces his hands on his back, grimacing, “And I feel every bit of time passing through me. I need to lie down for about twelve hours now.”

The doorbell rings upstairs, and I leave Dad to his dramatic groaning as I race up the stairs, skidding on the tile floor in the kitchen on my way to the front door.

“Happy birthday!” Freddy shouts, thrusting a box into my arms before the door even finishes swinging open. He pushes past me, letting himself in and kicking off his sneakers. His pajamas–if you want to call them that–are an old soccer jersey that he’s cut into a crop top, a pair of striped knit shorts that ruffle at the bottom, and a small backpack slung across one shoulder.

Some much skin on display. I wish I had half the confidence Freddy has.

“Happy birthday,” Wren adds, appearing from around the door like a pale, Victorian ghost child. Their black hair is slicked back off their face, a frilly white nightgown draping down to their knees, and a pair of black leggings hiding the rest of their legs. “Here,” they say, handing me a stack of clear plastic bins, then ducking outside to wheel in a utility cart behind them stacked with more supplies.

“You can’t make him carry all that shit, Wren.” Freddy cocks his hip to the side, giving Wren a withering look. “It’s the man’s birthday.”

“I don’t see you helping,” Wren replies, already halfway down the hall to the kitchen.

I level a look at Freddy who simply gives me a shrug, then follows after them.

“Don’t worry, I got it.” I close the front door with my foot, the top container shifting dangerously, and I have to dip to the side to keep it from tumbling over as I follow after them.

“Papa Bert!”

Freddy’s voice echoes up the stairs as I start my careful descent.

“Hey, Freddy! Hey, Wren! You two look comfy cozy.”

“Are you going to be setting up the karaoke machine?” Freddy asks as I round the foot of the stairs. “It’s not a party until I hear you sing ‘Baby Got Back.’”

“You know, I was just telling Caleb that I could fit it in the corner over there–”

“No karaoke,” I cut him off, hefting the stack of containers onto the table. “Dad, I love you, but no.”

Dad’s karaoke obsession is borderline criminal. If I give him an inch, he’ll take a thousand miles (by singing A Thousand Miles.)

Freddy pats Dad on the shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Papa Bert. We can do karaoke for my birthday, and your party pooper of a son will have no say in the matter.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” Dad says to Freddy, giving him a wink. He glances at me, and I guess he gets the hint because he follows up with, “Okay, I know when I’ve overstayed my welcome. Caleb, do you need anything else before I go upstairs and pretend not to exist?”

I snort a laugh, giving him another hug. “I’ve got it from here, Dad. Go rest your old bones.”

Dad gives me his best salute. “Roger that. Hey, Wren, you’re in charge tonight. Please make sure no one dies while they’re under my roof.”

“I make no promises,” Wren replies, already unpacking their cart onto the table.

“No one is going to die,” I say, ushering Dad towards the stairs. “And if they do, we’ll take them off property before the time of death is called like they do at Disney World.”

“That’s my boy,” Dad calls behind as he hurries up the stairs. “Let me know if you change your mind about the karaoke machine!”

“I won’t!”

“Bert is the best,” Freddy says, flopping into one of the bean bags. “You really lucked out with the Dad Distribution system, Caleb.”

“He’s pretty great most of the time,” I conceded, joining Wren by the table where they’ve laid out a few rows of nail polish. “But the karaoke obsession definitely takes some points off.”

“Still a ten in my book,” Wren chimes in. And there’s something under their words, a sadness that clings on, weighing them down. But before I can press them, they stop what they’re doing to look me up and down. “Is that what you’re wearing tonight?”

I look down at my ripped shorts and hoodie. “No, I just finished getting everything set up! I haven’t had time to change yet.”

“Well, go! Freddy can man the door if anyone else shows up, and I’ll finish getting everything set up down here. It’s almost party time, and we can’t kick things off without the birthday boy.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

“And maybe run a comb through your hair while you’re at it!” Freddy yells after me as I trudge up to the main floor. The television is on in the living room–where I assume Mom and Dad will be hanging out all night, trying not to hover–and I hustle up the stairs to my bedroom, where I’ve already got my outfit laid out on the bed.

Peeling off my hoodie, I realize just how much of a sweat I’ve worked up setting everything up, and I decide that a quick shower is the best option. I grab the towel from the back of my door, making my way across the hall to the bathroom. Setting my phone by the sink, the screen lights up with Theo’s “on the way” message.

Once steam billows up from the shower, I peel back the curtain and dive in, hurrying through the motions. Freddy was right about my hair, and I make the quick decision to condition it so maybe the curls won’t be so crazy.

The doorbell rings while I’m lathering, signaling another arrival.

After I’ve rinsed all of the conditioner out and scrubbed my pits twice, I shut off the water, pulling the curtain back and shivering as a blast of cold air hits me. I wrap myself in the towel, swiping a hand across the foggy mirror to clear a path for my face. My cheeks are red from the heat of the shower, and the patch of soft pink hair plastered to my forehead looks especially sad in its current state.

Okay, it won’t take that long to do my hair.

Over the blow dryer, I hear the doorbell again, and more voices as the next round of partygoers arrive. I check my phone, counting the minutes between when Theo texted me and the normal time it takes him to drive to my house. I should still have time.

Once my curls are under control, I pull the towel around myself tighter, open the bathroom door, and dash back into the safety of my bedroom. I stop short of the bed as I realize someone is waiting for me.

“Oh!”

Theo’s hands fly up to cover his eyes. “God! I’m so sorry, I didn’t–Freddy said you were getting ready but I didn’t think that meant–never mind. I’m going to go now–”

“It’s okay,” I manage through a fit of laughter, pulling the towel tighter around my waist. “Just keep your eyes closed for a second.”

Theo nods, the parts of his cheeks I can see under his hands turning deep red.

I hurry over to my dresser, grabbing the first pair of boxers I can get my hands on. I glance over my shoulder to make sure Theo’s still covering his eyes, then drop my towel and pull them on. “One more second,” I say, moving over to the bed to retrieve the pajamas I laid out earlier. Once I’ve got the bottoms on, I tap Theo on the shoulder. “All clear.”

He sheepishly spreads his fingers, peering through the opening. “Happy birthday,” he says in a diminished sing-song voice.

“Thank you!” I land on the bed beside him, knocking my shoulder into his. It’s only now I realize he’s wearing a normal T-shirt and jeans. “You’re kinda overdressed for the party, aren’t you?”

Theo’s eyes drift down my exposed torso, then snap back to attention. “Oh, yeah, I brought my pj’s to change into once I got here. Figured my parents didn’t need to know all the details about the party. No need to give them extra reasons to say no.”

“Okay, bet. Well, sorry to keep you waiting. We can head downstairs now if you want.”

“Actually, there was a reason I came looking for you. I wanted to give you something before we join the others.” He reaches behind him, grabbing a brightly wrapped object from the bed, and offers it to me.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I say, already hooking a finger under the seam of paper to pop it loose. The sparkly paper peels back, revealing a purple leather-bound notebook engraved with blooming lavender. I run a finger over the smooth surface. “It’s beautiful, Theo. Thank you.”

“There’s more,” he says, looking down at his hands now. “Um, if you look at the first couple of pages, I wrote something for you. Well, there’s several of them, actually.”

Flipping open the journal, I find the first page scrawled with Theo’s familiar handwriting. It takes me a second to recognize the structure of the paragraphs. “Are these lyrics?”

Theo nods, his cheeks now fully flushed with color. “I was listening to that playlist you sent me a few weeks ago, the one with the lofi beats, and they just started coming to me. I wanted you to have them, you know, since you inspired them. You don’t have to read them right now or anything. I just wanted to make sure you saw them.”

A swelling in my chest swallows up any words I try to squeeze out.

“Sorry, I know it’s sort of a lame gift, but I couldn’t think of anything else–”

I shake my head frantically, clearing my throat. “No! No, Theo. That’s not–I love it. Really. I just, I don’t know what to say. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says with a chuckle, his gaze finding mine once more. He smiles, and it’s enough to make the swelling in my chest surge till I think my heart is going to pop right out.

“I want to read them now, but I’ll wait till later tonight,” I say, stretching to tuck the journal under my pillow.

Theo nods, and his eyes are lingering on me again. “Are you ready to go down to the party?”

“You should get dressed first,” I say, elbowing him gently. “Freddy will make fun of you if you show up to a slumber party dressed like that.”

Theo leans over, picking up his duffle bag from the floor by the foot of the bed. “Yeah, you’re right. Is it okay if I change in the bathroom?”

I hesitate, glancing over at the cracked door. We’re alone upstairs, which makes me feel brave enough to say, “You can change in here if you want.”

“In here?” Theo echoes, his brow drooping. What I said must click a moment later because then he’s stumbling over his words again, “Like–you mean in front of–like with you in the room?”

“It’s not like you’re getting naked,” I say with a laugh. “But if you don’t want to, I understand. It’s just a selfish birthday wish on my part.”

Theo smirks, some of the panic melting away from his features. “You want me to undress in front of you as a present? Got to say, I wouldn’t have thought of that in a million years.”

“You’ve got to get more creative,” I tease him.

“I’ll try and remember that next time.”

He stands up, taking a second to rifle through his bag and pull out the pajama pants and matching three-quarter sleeve shirt. He tucks them behind his back before I can make out the details of their pattern, then drops them to the floor beside him.

“I feel like there should be music,” he says, fiddling with the hem of his shirt like he’s still trying to decide whether or not he wants to do it.

“Seriously, Theo. I was mostly joking. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with–”

“Oh, this is happening,” he cuts me off, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Whether or not you choose to look, that’s up to you.”

My heart hammers in my chest. “Will you think any less of me if I watch?”

Theo shakes his head. “If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t be able to help myself.”

I snort a laugh. “Says the guy who covered his eyes when I walked in earlier.”

Theo paws at the nape of his neck, his gaze falling to the floor. “I may have peeked once or twice.”

“Theodore Briggs!” I shout, laughing through the giddy nerves in my stomach.

“I’m being honest with you!” He defends himself, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m only human. You’re, like, the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

It feels like my heart is going to explode. Like fireworks are shooting out of my ears. Like lava is dripping down my spine. And as he reaches behind him, pulling off his shirt, I don’t look away. I soak in all of the details of Theo, the boy I love.

The contrast of our bodies is what I focus on first: the light olive color of his skin still warmed from a summer of pool parties. The stretch of his broad shoulders as he pulls the shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor. The tuft of dark hair on his chest that’s filled in over the last six months.

He’s every bit as beautiful as I remember.

“I know you’ve been dying to see what pajamas I picked out,” Theo says, squatting to retrieve the shirt from his set. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Straightening to full height again, he pulls on the pajama top, pausing only for a moment as it gets caught around his chest. Once he tugs the garment straight, I let out a sharp laugh.

“Oh my god, it’s perfect, Theo.”

He brushes his hand along the decal in the center of the shirt–a unicorn with a blue, pink, and purple striped mane–pulling off a stray thread. “It’s got the bi-flag colors, but it’s not like, super obvious enough that my parents will say something.”

“It’s incredible,” I breathe.

“Wait till you see the pants,” Theo replies, a new sense of confidence behind his voice.

“Oh, I’m locked in.”

Theo unfastens the buttons of his jeans, taking a second to adjust the band of his boxers before sliding them down and kicking them to the side.

Blood thrums in my veins.

He reaches for the pajama pants, carefully stepping one leg in, then the other. From the front, they look simple enough, just black fabric. But once he’s pulled the drawstring tight, he turns around, and I burst out laughing.

Across the seat of the pants in glittering font, the words ‘Bi As Heck’ pop out in full sparkling glory.

“These I will definitely have to hide,” he says, turning back to face me. “Mom might laugh, but Dad would have a stroke if he saw them.”

I hop off the bed, closing the distance between us. Theo catches me at the sides, his warm fingers sinking into the exposed skin above the waistband of my shorts. “You are so adorable right now,” I say, throwing my arms over his shoulders. “Thank you for my presents.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for being born.”

“You’re welcome?” I say with a laugh. “Although I didn’t really have much say in the matter.”

Theo presses his forehead to mine, his eyes fluttering closed. “You make my life so much better, Caleb. I love you.”

Cue another heart implosion.

“I love you too,” I whisper, leaning my body against his and planting a gentle kiss on his lips. Theo sucks in a surprised breath through his nose, then surrenders himself, the kiss deepening between us.

As we pull apart, my head swimming, he gives me a mischievous grin.

“We’d better get downstairs, or else I’ll want to keep you to myself all night.”

“Yeah, I should probably put a shirt on first. Oh my god, I can’t wait to see Freddy’s face when he sees your outfit.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I?”

“Never.”

Theo’s outfit earns a squeal out of Freddy, a high-five from Wren, a ‘so what?’ from Oliver, and a laugh from Harrison–who has no room to judge, seeing as he showed up with Elise in matching kitty cat onesies.

“Is the projector up and running yet?” Freddy asks from his seat on a beanbag chair.

“Almost,” Andrew responds, fiddling with a mess of wires connected to his laptop. The projection flickers to life, prompting a group cheer, then flickers out again, the cheer morphing into a collective groan.

Theo and I have claimed a spot next to each other in the pillow pit, watching the madness unfold around us.

“Maybe it’s a faulty HDMI?” Harrison suggests, pushing up the sleeves of his furry onesie. “I think I have one in my trunk. I can go grab it. Be right back.”

“Wren, oh my god! They are so pretty!” Elise holds her hand up to the light, marveling at her new nail art. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Parallel park,” Wren says, screwing the cap back onto a bottle of polish. “I hit every cone they had during my driver’s test. I think the old man felt bad for me, though, because he only counted me off for one.”

“Did you want to get your nails painted?” I ask Theo, nodding my head towards Wren’s table.

“Maybe later,” he replies, leaning his head over onto my shoulder. “I kinda want to just vibe right now.”

“Seriously, Wren. You could charge people so much money for this,” Elise continues to gush, getting up from their seat. “Harry, you have to see these–where is Harry?”

“He went to grab an HDMI,” Andrew answers, not looking up from his laptop.

Elise makes an annoyed face. “Why?”

“He says that’s the problem with the projector,” Theo explains.

“Who’s having a problem projecting?” Oliver asks in a booming voice from the beanbag circle. “Ms. Laugherty says it’s all about breath support.”

Freddy cracks up, and Wren rolls their eyes.

“Quit yelling, Oliver!” Elise shouts even louder.

“I wasn’t yelling. I was projecting! Keep up!”

I raise a hand in the air, adding my voice to the fray. “Birthday boy says it’s too loud!”

Elise and Oliver both mutter an apology, the former stalking over to kick Oliver’s beanbag, which starts them up into another argument, but at least they’ve lowered the volume.

Theo shifts, sitting upright to look me in the eye. “Do I need to go break them up?”

“Nah, they’re fine. I warned my parents about the friend group’s lack of volume control, so hopefully, they won’t run down here thinking someone’s being murdered.”

Harrison returns after a few minutes, and after a few choice words with Andrew’s laptop, the projector whirs to life.

“Movie time!” Freddy announces, running and jumping into the pillow pit like a kid doing a cannonball at the neighborhood pool. Elise, Oliver, and Wren join us too, everyone figuring out the seating arrangements in real time.

“What movie did you want to watch, Caleb?” Andrew asks above the din of chatter.

“I don’t think I ever decided on one,” I admit. “Help me out, people.”

“Something from Studio Ghibli!” Elise is the first to shout.

“ Inception has my vote,” Oliver adds.

“Isn’t there a new Godzilla movie?” Harrison asks.

“ Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, ” Freddy suggests.

“Too sad,” Andrew says, to which Freddy responds by sticking out his tongue.

“ Death Note the Musical,” Wren suggests.

“Please don’t make me watch a musical,” Harrison groans.

“If we’re doing musicals, I vote Chicago, ” says Freddy. “Pop, six, squish, not-uh, cicero, lipschitz–”

“Hold on, hold on,” Theo calms the crowd. “Caleb, we’re going to need some direction here, babe.”

After a moment of deliberation, I say, “I’m in the mood for something happy, so maybe a Disney movie?”

“Old or new?” Andrew questions.

“Older ones are better,” Oliver joins in. “Like Treasure Planet or Atlantis. ”

“I’ve never seen Atlantis, ” I admit.

“Seriously?” Oliver questions.

“And that one’s not a musical, Harry,” Theo adds.

“It’s got my vote,” Harrison replies.

“Princess Kida was a sexual awakening for me,” Wren says with a rare smile. “I’m in.”

“Sounds like we’re approaching a majority here,” I conclude, giving Andrew a thumbs up.

Andrew types away on his laptop. “Got it. Give me just a second to log in, and we’ll get it started.”

The group settles in, Freddy hopping up to dim the lights before the movie starts. Wren lays their head against my leg, and Theo returns his head to my chest. Andrew takes the spot next to Freddy, leaning back into a pillow and stretching his long legs off to the side. Oliver splays out under the spot on the wall where the projection hits, his head at an angle that shouldn’t be humanly possible. Harrison and Elise drag over a couple of bean bags, sinking into them behind us.

The movie begins to play, and I take a second to soak in the moment around me. All of the people most important to me in one place. The boy I love close enough that he can feel my heartbeat. As the title rolls, I sink further into the pillow pit, reveling in the warm, fuzzy feeling that radiates through me.

But like all good things, the peace can only last for so long.

“Harry, put your phone down. You’re missing the movie.”

Elise’s whisper is the same volume as most people’s regular speaking voice.

“Hang on, I just have to finish checking–”

“You always do this,” Elise says with a huff, sitting up tall enough that her head blocks the bottom corner of the movie. “Why can’t you just listen to me for once?”

Harrison mirrors her posture. “Are you being serious right now?”

Elise pulls back the hood of her cat onesie. “When am I not being serious, Harrison?”

“Guys, keep it down,” Oliver interjects.

“Why are you yelling at me, Elise?” Harrison continues, ignoring Oliver. “Can we go one day without you bitching at me over every little thing?”

Theo sucks in a breath, lifting his head from my chest. I miss the weight immediately. “Hey, Harry, chill out for a second–”

“Oh, is that what you think I’m doing?” Elise replies, her volume only increasing. “Newsflash, Harrison. A woman voicing her dissatisfaction with something doesn’t mean they’re being bitchy.”

“Well, you sure do voice your dissatisfaction a lot,” Harrison argues, standing his ground. There’s an edge in his voice I’ve never heard before, and I can feel Theo’s body tense against me.

“Because you never listen to me!” Elise shouts, standing. The upper half of her body is washed in the light from the projector. “And I’m sick of it!” Elise moves for the stairs, stopping halfway there to turn back to me with what I can only imagine is an apologetic glance. “Sorry, Caleb.”

Harrison scrambles after her, skidding on the fabric feet of his onesie. Elise is already climbing the stairs, so he bounds after her, their voices growing distant as their footsteps sound over our heads.

“Should I pause the movie?” Andrew asks, looking over at me and Theo.

“No, you guys keep watching,” Theo answers, detangling himself from me. “I’m just going to go check on them really quick.” His attention turns to me, “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” I say, giving him a nod. Theo gets to his feet, and I miss the warmth of his touch immediately. Once he disappears up the stairs, I wrap my arms around my chest in an attempt to self-soothe. Thankfully, Wren picks up on my mood and comes closer, snuggling up against me as the scene shifts in the movie.

Oliver looks back after a few minutes, his brow knitting into a furrow. “Wait, where did everybody go?”

Wren throws a pillow at him, and it’s enough to get a smile out of me and lighten the overall mood of the room. When Theo comes back about halfway through the movie, Wren scoots back to their original position but keeps an eye on me.

Theo’s face is pulled tight, the sides of his mouth dragged down into the void of his dimples.

“Everything okay?” I whisper as he settles against me once more. Theo takes a second to reply, staring ahead at the movie, but his eyes never move.

“They left,” he replies. “Said they needed to cool down before they continued talking. Lola offered to drive Elise home.” He falls quiet, his eyes still distant, like they’re looking into the space between our world and the next, searching for something.

“Theo?”

He looks at me, finally, shaking the daze from his eyes. “I’m sorry this happened tonight.”

“You literally had nothing to do with it,” I remind him, patting his chest. “So don’t be sorry.”

“I should have talked to Harry more about what’s going on,” Theo continues, his breath catching in his throat. “At the very least, I should have seen that something was off between them. How did I miss it? What kind of best friend am I?”

“Hey.” I press my hand harder into the warm skin of his chest. It’s supposed to help people who are experiencing anxiety–I’ve been reading up on the topic ever since last fall. “You’re being too hard on yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

Theo nods, his breathing slowly returning to a normal pace. I hold onto him still, making sure he feels safe. That’s all that matters to me at the moment.

About an hour into the movie, Mom comes downstairs with a stack of pizza boxes. We pause the movie, everyone suddenly too preoccupied with the smell of cheese and pepperoni to care about the fates of Kida and Milo.

We dive into the pizza, the conversation drifting from one lazy topic to the next between bites. Oliver and Wren get into a friendly disagreement on which of the Conjuring movies is better while Andrew and Freddy whisper to each other in the corner.

Theo and I find ourselves back in the pillow pit, our legs tangled together under a blanket while his latest playlist plays softly from his phone. He’s been nodding off for the last few minutes, mumbling through replies as his eyelids droop. His early morning shift at Cathy’s must be catching up to him. But I don’t mind, as it gives me an excuse to hold onto him. Theo is so beautiful when he’s sleeping. When the stresses of existing melt away, smoothing the lines of his face and giving into a serenity that only comes from drifting off.

I reach over, brushing aside a curl that blocks his face, and he stirs, eyelids fluttering open.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, letting out a yawn. “I think I dozed off.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, taking the opportunity to brush the hair from his forehead. “This is a slumber party, after all.”

“But it’s your birthday,” he says, voice becoming more lucid with every word. “And I shouldn’t be sleeping it away.”

“It’s my birthday,” I repeat, “and I say it’s totally fine.”

He smiles, that soft, sweet smile that melts my insides. But then it falters, and he digs in his pocket for his phone. “I should check in with Harry.”

“Or you could let them work it out?” I suggest. “You’re not always going to be there to keep the peace between them, Theo. If they’re going to have a relationship, then they’ll have to figure it out together.”

He nods an acknowledgment but checks his phone anyway.

“We should play a game,” I say, raising my voice so everyone can hear. I sit up from the pillow pit, pulling the blanket off Theo and me.

Freddy perks up at this suggestion, pulling away from his intimate conversation with Andrew. “Game? I love games. And I’ve got just the thing for it!” He runs over to his backpack, unzips the top, and pulls out a small, clear bottle. “Courtesy of my mother’s liquor cabinet.”

Wren lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Freddy, you didn’t.”

“Of course I did. It’s a special occasion! Plus, games are ten times more fun when you’re a little tipsy. As long as it’s cool with the birthday boy?”

“Just don’t let me drink as much as Wren’s last birthday,” I say, shuddering at the memory of hugging Wren’s porcelain throne all night.

“We’ll take it slow,” he promises, going for the stack of cups on the table with the pizza and cans of soda. “Anyone else want to get in on the fun?”

“I will,” Oliver says, joining Freddy at the table. “As long as it’s not tequila. I’ve had a bad experience with tequila.”

Theo raises an eyebrow, suddenly more alert. “You drink, Oliver?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Theo Briggs,” he says in his best impersonation of an international man of mystery. “But seriously, only a handful of times.”

“You’ve never drank before?” I ask Theo, even though I shouldn’t be surprised.

He shakes his head. “My parents don’t keep alcohol in the house.”

“Theo, are you in?” Freddy asks.

“You don’t have to,” I assure him. “I know you have to drive home later.”

“Yeah, it’s probably not the best night. But don’t let me stop you! I’ll just have another Coke.”

“I’ll take Theo’s,” Wren says, joining Freddy and Oliver. “Are we going to play a drinking game?”

“Ooo!” Freddy exclaims, pouring from the small bottle and then cracking open a soda. “I like the sound of that. Andrew, did you want any?”

“I’ll pass,” Andrew replies. “But I’m all for playing along.”

“Gather round everyone!” Freddy continues, passing out cups to Oliver, Wren, and myself. We take our seats in the circle of bean bags, Theo and Andrew grabbing their drinks before joining us as well. “We’ll have a game of Never Have I Ever, I think.”

“Remind me how that works again,” Oliver says, crossing one long leg over the other.

Freddy launches into the rules without hesitation. “We go in a circle and make a statement like, ‘Never have I ever shoplifted.’ And then whoever has done the thing the person says they’ve never done has to take a drink.”

“Are there any rules on the statements?” Andrew asks, settling into the seat beside Freddy. “Like, topics to avoid?”

“Nope! Nothing is off limits,” Freddy answers.

“But don’t worry, Andrew,” Wren says, lifting their cup in a ‘cheers’ motion. “There’s only a handful of things that Freddy hasn’t done by this point, so he’ll have to keep it obscure.”

“I’ll start off,” I say, lifting my cup into the air over me. “Never have I ever driven on the highway.”

Everyone but Freddy takes a sip from their cups. Oliver coughs, and Wren makes a face. “Jesus, Freddy. Is there any soda in here?”

Freddy swallows with a wince. “I may have been a little heavy-handed. My bad. Just take smaller sips.”

“You’re next, Theo,” I say, knocking my knee into his.

“Uh, never have I ever been out of the country.”

Wren and Andrew both take a drink.

“Where did you two go?” I ask, curious.

“Australia when I was seven, to see my dad,” Wren answers.

“Guatemala. For a church trip,” Andrew explains.

“My missionary man,” Freddy jokes, patting Andrew’s hand. Andrew’s cheeks flush red, even though he’s not had a drop of alcohol. “Oliver, you’re up.”

“Never have I ever gotten a hickey,” Oliver says.

Wren, Freddy, and I take a drink. It burns all the way down.

Theo raises an eyebrow at me, and I have to look away. “It was you, dummy. When we were making out in the dark in Eileen’s backseat. You left one right here.” I point to my collarbone.

“I didn’t realize I did that,” Theo says sheepishly, then clears his throat.

“I’m not complaining.”

Wren raises their cup next. “Never have I ever touched a dick.”

“No fair,” Oliver says, taking a sip. Everyone else follows suit. “That’s AFAB privilege.”

Wren sticks out their tongue. “Suck it, loser.”

Andrew’s turn now. “Never have I ever gotten an F in a class.”

Freddy and Oliver both take another sip, their cheeks tinted red.

“Your turn, Freddy,” Wren says.

“Oh, god. This is the hard part…never have I ever had sex in a car–shit, no, I can’t say that. Never have I ever had sex in a church–wait, that’s not exactly true either anymore, is it, Andrew?”

Andrew coughs, his face flushing as all eyes turn to him.

“Never have I ever had sex on a park bench.”

Wren is the only one to take a sip here, and Andrew sighs with relief as the attention shifts to them.

“Don’t give me that look,” Wren huffs at Freddy. “My ex lived by the park and shared a room with her little sister. Sue me.”

“Back to me,” I say, my tongue loosened and my brain a little fuzzy by this point. “Never have I ever punched someone in the face.”

Wren and Andrew take a sip.

“Babe, what the hell?” Freddy asks, looking at Andrew.

He shrugs, not matching Freddy’s gaze. “I used to fight a lot in middle school. It’s not a big deal. Go on, Theo.”

“Right, uh, never have I ever skipped school.”

Freddy, Wren, Oliver, and I take a drink. This one burns less, or maybe I’m just getting used to it by this point. My throat is pleasantly numb.

“Never have I ever had a wet dream,” Oliver says, holding up his cup.

“Aw, come on,” Wren huffs, taking another drink. Freddy, Andrew, Theo, and I follow them. And suddenly, my hazy mind is filled with thoughts of Theo in bed, under the sheets, and the kinds of things he would dream of–would he dream of me that way?

“You okay?” Theo asks. “You’re staring at me.”

“I’m good,” I say quickly, adjusting my shorts as inconspicuously as I can manage. It’s harder to rein in my wild thoughts, but I somehow manage that, too.

“Never have I ever had a crush on a teacher.”

Freddy and Theo take a sip.

“You have to tell us which ones,” Wren says, giggling.

“Mr. Harris, eighth-grade social studies,” Freddy answers. “He was a smoke show, for sure.”

“And yours?” I ask Theo, enjoying the color spreading over his face.

“Ms. Livingstone. Sophomore Social Studies.”

“Oh my god, good choice,” Wren says, giving Theo a thumbs up. “Andrew, you’re next.”

The game continues for a couple of rounds, and after Freddy has to refill our cups, I’m even more lightheaded. Am I drunk already? I can’t seem to organize my thoughts. It’s like there’s a disconnect between my brain and my tongue.

Theo looks so cute in his pajamas. I wish he was closer to me. I want to hold him again. A round of laughter spreads through the group, and I join in, even though I didn’t catch the joke. Theo’s looking at me now, an expectant expression on his face. Is he waiting for me to say something?

“Caleb?” he says gently. “It’s your turn.”

My turn? Right, the game. I remember now. We’re playing a game. A game where I’m supposed to say something I’ve never done. What’s something I haven’t done? God, Theo is so fucking adorable. I just want to kiss him.

“Never, I have never,” I say, the words slurring. “I mean, have I ever had sex with Theo. Never. But I want to. Shit, I don’t think I’m supposed to say that.”

No one lifts their cup, but there is more laughter. Theo is looking at me now, a mixture of shock and something else I can’t really interpret on his face.

“Maybe we should take a break for a bit,” Wren says, staggering out of their bean bag chair. “Andrew, I can paint your nails now if you still want.”

“Yes, please,” he replies, standing as well and helping Freddy to his feet. Freddy sways a bit but follows them over to the table. A soft snore from Oliver’s bean bag tells me that Theo and I are the only ones still conscious in the circle.

“Sorry,” I say, my tongue still weirdly thick in my mouth. “I don’t know why I said that. I mean, I think it was the vodka, but I don’t–I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Theo says, that weird expression still twisting the edges of his mouth. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Unfortunately, I’ve lost the ability to hold back the words. “But I think I made you upset, didn’t I? God, that was so stupid of me. I shouldn’t have said anything–”

“Caleb,” Theo cuts me off, the unreadable expression morphing into a smile. He clears his throat before adding in a hushed voice, “I want the same thing.”

It takes me a moment to realize what he’s saying. He wants the same thing. Me. He wants me. He wants to have sex with me. The tips of my ears smolder like hot coals.

“You do?”

He nods, reaching out his hand to take mine. “Yes, dummy. Of course, I do. You are my boyfriend, after all.”

“When?” I ask, still emboldened by the fog in my brain.

“I don’t know,” Theo admits, scratching the back of his head. “When the time is right, I guess. And when we’re both sober, for one thing.”

I nod, feeling a little foolish for being in this state to begin with.

“We don’t have to rush it,” Theo continues. “But I just wanted to let you know I want it, too.”

“Oh my god, I love you so much,” I blurt out, pulling on his arm till he rolls over onto my bean bag, his head landing beside mine. He kisses me, slow and sweet, and I know the alcohol isn’t the only thing I’m drunk on. His lips are a vice in and of themselves.

“I love you too, Caleb. Happy birthday.”