Edwin: What’s your address again? I can swing by now.
Yes, I’d been to his place on Monday night, but I’d been too distracted then to pay attention to where exactly he lived.
Once he sent his address, I texted him, letting him know I’d be there in 15. I packed my backpack with my things, including my keys, wallet, and a water bottle, and then headed out into the night. It was only eight, but the city was relatively quiet. I took a tram to Leo’s street and stopped at a convenience store on the way, the only place that was still open that sold coffee.
Leo was waiting for me in the lobby of his building. He wore shorts and a baggy grey hoodie, which made his upper body look even broader than usual.
“You brought coffee?” he said, perking up at the sight of the two takeaway cups in my hands.
“You said you were addicted,” I said, handing him his cup. “I got hot chocolate for myself. Hopefully, the sugar gives me an extra burst of energy.”
“Thanks for coming,” Leo said as we walked to the elevator. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” I said. “How’s your project?”
“It’s fine. I don’t need to think, which is good. Just finish it so I can take photos of it.” We arrived on his floor, and he led me into his studio and to his desk. His model was more finished than what I’d seen the last time I visited, but it was still only the bones of a building. Walls, half-completed windows, beams.
“How can I help?” I asked.
He dug through the items on his desk to reveal several pieces of cream and grey cardboard. There were faint pencil marks on the card. “Can you cut these out? You can use this box cutter, and where’s the…here.” He pushed scraps of paper to the side, revealing a green cutting mat.
“Seems easy enough.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty simple, just time-consuming.”
We settled at the desk, Leo giving me a stool to sit on. I placed my hot chocolate in the corner of the desk where there was no risk of it staining the model materials. Leo continued working on his model. He already had several pieces cut out, and now he was carefully gluing a staircase together. I glanced around his studio. Paper was scattered over his bed, looking like architectural plans. On his side of the desk, next to the coffee I’d bought him, were two empty mugs.
“What were you doing before this?” Leo asked. His desk lamp was on and pointed at his model, and his eyes were intent on it, hands steady, but his voice was laid back as always.
“Working on an assignment.”
He looked at me. “It’s not due soon, is it?”
“Nah,” I replied. “Not for two weeks.”
I used the box cutter to carve out the pieces of card, trying to be as careful as possible. I couldn’t ruin Leo’s project with wobbly edges and wonky lines.
“Have you heard much about the double date?” he asked.
I had, actually. Atticus let me know that his friend was confirmed to come and that they’d made a reservation at a restaurant in Chinatown. I relayed that information to Leo, who said, “It’ll be fun.”
“Hopefully. Who knows, you might really like Atticus’s friend. He said her name was Elena.”
“That’s a pretty name,” Leo mused. “But I don’t have my hopes up.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I don’t want to be disappointed. Besides, it’s unlikely that she’s my type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, frowning. “You’re judging her before you’ve even met her.”
I sensed him glancing at me before he returned his eyes to the model. “You’re right. Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologise,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s probably smarter to go in with no expectations.”
“That’s what happened with Atticus,” he said.
“True.”
