Now, he was trying to make me feel better. “You know what?” I interrupted. “Let’s make a promise to never discuss that kiss again.”
Leo blinked once, then nodded, offering me his pinkie. I was confused for a second, because I was eight the last time I made a pinkie promise, but I took it and we locked our fingers. Then, pinkies still intertwined, I pressed the pad of my thumb against Leo’s.
“What’s this?” Leo asked.
“A pinkie promise,” I said.
“I’ve never done this thumb part before.” He wiggled his thumb to prove his point, warm skin rubbing against me.
“Oh,” I said. “It must be a Korean thing since this is how my parents taught me. The thumbs are meant to be like a stamp, sealing the deal.”
Leo smiled and tapped his thumb against mine, and the whole thing was so cute, I had to pull away and focus on my HSP.
“As I was saying,” I said, spearing a chip with my fork, “it should be easy for you to find someone. Or are you not interested in dating?”
“Er, well. It’s….” His gaze skittered away. “Complicated,” he finished.
“Complicated?”
He nodded, still not meeting my eyes. “Yeah, because…um. Because…”
When it was clear he wasn’t going to finish the sentence, I said, “Just imagine you met the prettiest girl in the world, and she had all the qualities you wanted. Would you date her?”
Leo’s eyes met mine, and a flicker of…something — alarm, horror, fear? — passed over his face. “No,” he said, and it was the sternest I’d ever heard him.
After that, we were silent for a few minutes.
“Sorry,” I said eventually. “I hope I wasn’t asking intrusive questions —”
“No, no, no, it’s all good,” Leo said, waving a hand. “You weren’t.”
I nodded but wondered whether he was just saying that to reassure me. It seemed like the sort of nice thing he’d do.
We spent the next few minutes making small talk about our week. Leo worked as a receptionist at the university gym, and so he had to juggle his shifts with his upcoming assignments. My schedule was more relaxed: I was volunteering at the uni’s queercollective on Thursday, and other than that, I just needed to do my readings and write notes.
After we’d finished our meals, thrown away the rubbish, and walked out of the union house, Leo said, “I’m heading to the library to study, if you wanna join?”
“I would, but I have class in fifteen,” I said. “It’s over in the Thwaite-Wells, so I better start walking there.”
The Thwaite-Wells was one of Lygon U’s uglier buildings, a brutalist rectangular tower built in the seventies and located on the very edge of campus like a shunned cousin.
Leo nodded, and once again, he took me off guard by wrapping me in a teddy bear hug. As I was squished against his body, feeling the strength of his arms and the clean smell of his clothes, I chantedfriends, straight, platonicover and over in my head.
Atticus’s response came that evening when I was sitting at my desk writing an essay about traditional vs social media.
Edwin,
Thank you for explaining that. At first, part of me didn’t believe you, but I think that if you were going to lie, you’d at least make up a more convincing story. Should we try meeting again? I’m on campus tomorrow at lunchtime.
Regards,
Atticus.
I started typing out a response.
Of course I wouldn’t lie. It’s insulting you’d think that —
I made myself stop. While I doubted Atticus would be my future boyfriend, I couldn’t know that without meeting him, and so there was no point in starting an argument via email. Yes, the way he wrote his emails didn’t give me heart-eyes, but maybe he might be the most romantic person I’d ever met in person.
