“Which version?” Atticus asked. “The old one or the one with Leonardo DiCaprio?”
“Both. Either.”
“They’re okay. The Romeos don’t compare to Gregory, though,” Atticus said.
“I have to agree with that,” I said.
“Okay, Atticus Finch was good-looking, but he was like forty!” Leo said.
“Age is just a number,” I said.
That won a laugh from Atticus, and my shoulders relaxed. Maybe this date wasn’t going to be a total disaster.
“Are you named after someone, Edwin?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “My parents just chose it because it sounded nice.”
“Do they call you Edwin or Eddie?” Atticus asked.
“Usually, they call me my Korean name, Eunwoo,” I said. “When I was in primary school, though, my friends called me Winnie.”
“Winnie,” Leo said, trying it. “I like it.”
“Do not call me that,” I told him. “It makes me sound like I’m Winnie the Pooh or something.”
“Winnie, Winnie, Winnie,” he said.
I punched his arm, and he laughed.
“What about you? Is Leo short for something?” Atticus asked.
“I was named after Leonardo da Vinci,” Leo announced. “Just kidding. It literally just says “Leo” on my birth certificate. I was named after the star sign. My mum’s that kind of person.”
“Leo’s your star sign?” I asked.
He nodded. “I told you, my birthday’s in a few months.”
“I think star signs are dumb,” Atticus announced.
“I agree,” I said, raising my hand, and Atticus high-fived it.
“Hey, I agree too,” Leo said, giving us both a high five. “I didn’t ask to be named after a star sign. At least I wasn’t named Cancer.”
I laughed.
“Or Virgin,” Atticus put in.
Leo stiffened. After a long silence, I said carefully, “Do you mean Virgo?”
Atticus blinked once. He had the type of face where every movement was deliberate, down to the micro-movements of his lashes. “I think you’re correct. Virgo.” He waved a hand. “I don’t know the star signs that well. I don’t even know my own.”
“Let’s find out,” Leo said, taking out his phone. “When’s your birthday?”
“29thof October,” Atticus answered. “But horoscopes are totally rubbish. You see, they say something so vague that they could apply to anyone. It’s the same technique that psychics use when they pretend to read your future —”
“Let’s just read it anyway, for fun,” Leo said and shot Atticus a disarming grin that made him give in.
We spent the next fifteen minutes discussing our horoscopes, and while Atticus spent half of the time talking about how unscientific they were, I could tell he was enjoying himself. We talked about our good and bad luck, as well as love fortunes and career prospects. As time passed, I found myself laughing more and more, and while Atticus scoffed at the websites we read, he was relaxed, hands moving as he emphasised his points.
